“Okay.”
***
Flora’s is already busy when we walk in at nine-fifty.
Elle’s hand is tucked into mine as we step up to the counter, and her eyes light up. She’s more interested in the display case than anything else.
“Hello, beautiful Miss Elle!” Rose calls from behind the counter.
“Hi, Mrs. Potts.” Elle smiles back.
“What am I getting you this morning?”
Elle leans over the cabinet, studying the rows. Then she looks up at me. “Can I get the pink one, Daddy?” she asks, pointing to a glazed donut thick with icing.
“You can get the pink one.”
We take the table near the back wall. I choose it automatically—sightline to the door, wall at our backs, view of the tables and chairs and the washroom door. Elle swings her legs under her chair and spreads out the paper and crayons Rose gave her.
“Why are we here again?” she asks, selecting a blue crayon.
I pause, considering my words. “Someone is coming to meet us.”
“Who?”
I hold her gaze. “Stacey.”
Her head tilts slightly. “Is that the lady from outside school?”
“Yeah.”
She nods once. “She knew my name.”
“She did.”
Elle nods once, absorbing that. She swipes her fingertip through the donut icing and licks it off thoughtfully.
“Is she your friend?”
“No.”
She frowns faintly at that, and I draw a slow breath, keeping my voice steady. “Stacey is your mom, bug.”
Elle goes still for a second, the blue crayon hovering above the paper.
“My mom?”
“Yeah.”
She looks toward the door, then back at me. “But I call her Stacey?”
“You can call her whatever feels okay.”
Her brows pull together, and I hate every second of this. “Do I have to hug her?”
“No,” I say immediately. “You don’t have to hug anyone you don’t want to. And I’ll be right here the whole time.”
She watches me with her clear blue eyes, then nods.
