I almost smile. “You make it sound easy.”
“No.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles. “I make it sound necessary. Now, let’s go, birthday girl. I have a surprise for you when we get home.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I say, but am secretly giddy that he did. “My birthday isn’t high on the list of things we need to worry about.”
“Oh, how wrong you are,bella,” he says.
Outside, the afternoon sun is too bright. Too normal.
I slide into the passenger seat of Maverick’s SUV and reach for my phone to check the time.
My stomach drops.
“Oh no.”
Maverick’s already behind the wheel. “What?”
“It’s almost pickup time.” I click my seatbelt into place. “Livy gets out in twelve minutes.”
“We’ll make it.”
“You don’t know how crazy school pickup lines can be. They’re lawless places.”
“I have handled hostile negotiations across three continents.”
“Have you handled six minivans, two crossing guards, and a mother in yoga pants who thinks the curb belongs to her?”
His gaze cuts to mine.
I lift a brow.
He starts the engine. “Fair point.”
Despite everything, a small laugh slips out of me.
For a few minutes, I let myself hold on to that. The warmth of his hand over mine. The low rumble of the engine. The simple normal thing waiting at the end of this drive.
My daughter.
Her backpack.
Her wild hair.
Her dramatic retelling of whatever happened at school.
Maybe today she argued with a teacher. Maybe she tried to convince Sabrina thatDon Livyneeded a deputy. Maybe she bragged about the lunch Rosa packed and declared school food beneath her forever.
I need that.
I need one normal thing.
By the time we pull into the school lot, the pickup line is already wrapped halfway around the building.
“Told you,” I say. “That’s why I always get here early.”
Maverick studies the line. “This is inefficient.”
“This is elementary school.”
