Disaster averted.
For now.
Five minutes later, Elody is zipped into her coat with her polar bear hat jammed over her curls, twirling in circles while we wait for the elevator. When the doors slide open, she bolts inside and nearly trips. I lunge and scoop her up before she can face-plant.
“That was close!” she says, arms locking around my neck.
“Sure was.” I press my mouth to her hair. “But I’ve got you.”
Always.
The elevator doors slide shut, and the breath I didn’t realize I was holding releases from my lungs.
The ride down is a barrage of questions about the toaster we now need to replace, along with a detailed plan for what happens on Tuesdays at school. I barely register half of it. My mind is already sprinting ahead to practice, film, sitter coverage, travel, and how I’m supposed to hold everything together without giving the McIntyres another weapon to use against me.
Life is a juggling act, and I’m one dropped ball from imploding.
Once in the parking structure, Elody slips her hand into mine as she skips toward the Escalade. I lift her into the booster seat, buckle her in, and check the straps twice.
Then again just to be sure before giving her a kiss on the nose.
After closing the door, I slide into the driver’s seat and pull out. I don’t make it a block before the dash lights up with an incoming call from Richards Family Law.
My stomach drops as I glance in the mirror. “Hey, bug. Daddy’s going to take a quick call, okay?”
With a nod, she goes back to staring out the window.
I tap the steering wheel button. “Hey, Mark.”
“Morning, Laiken,” he says. “Got a minute? I have a few updates.”
“Yup. Go ahead.”
“We received notice that the McIntyres filed another motion. They’re pushing for expanded visitation and potentially joint custody.”
My grip tightens on the wheel. “On what grounds?”
“Stability concerns. They cited your travel schedule, late pickups, and reliance on childcare. They’re arguing a more traditional environment would be better for Elody.”
Traditional.
Right.
Because the parent who stayed is the unstable one.
Got it.
“I’ve been here every day,” I say, forcing my tone to remain calm. It isn’t easy, but I do it anyway. Everything hinges on me holding it together.
“I know,” Mark replies. “But they’re documenting everything. Missed pickups. Late drop-offs. Nanny inconsistencies. They’re trying to build a narrative.”
I stare out the windshield as snowflakes stick to the glass before melting into streaks.
“My sitter was late twice,” I grind out.
“And they’re using it.”
Of course they are.
