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My brows dipped together. “Why do you have my socks, honey?”
She grinned. “Because you left them for me to put on when you laid my outfit on the bed.” She pulled something from behind her back. “And these!”
I blinked a few times. Had I really done that? Left my underwear and socks for her to wear instead of her own? I guess I had.
Saylor tilted her head. “Are you sad, Daddy?”
Shoot. “No, honey, I’m not sad. Just a little tired, that’s all.” The last thing I wanted was to worry my little girl before I dropped her at school. So I scooped her off the floor as I stood and put on my best fake smile. She giggled.
“I was wondering why my underwear were so tight that they were going up my butt. I guess it’s because they’re yours…”
Saylor’s eyes widened with a sparkle. “You’re not really wearing my underwear are you, Daddy?”
“I don’t know. Do you have pink ones with little purple butterflies on them?”
She nodded fast.
“Hmm. Okay, well, good thing then. Because the ones I have on are black and don’t have any butterflies on them.” I rubbed my nose with hers. “You don’t really think I can fit into your undies, do you?”
She giggled again, and it felt like a salve had been rubbed on the gaping wound in my heart. I carried her into her room and opened her dresser drawer, pulling out a pair of her underwear and socks. “Here you go. But you better get a move on. We only have ten minutes before we have to leave for preschool.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
A half hour later, I rounded the corner back onto my block after dropping Saylor at school. I felt angry and bitter, but also a whole lot scared as I opened the door to the diner and looked around.
Maya held up her hand and smiled and waved like we were besties having a friendly breakfast. Is she serious? I took a deep breath before marching to the table. My face was anything but friendly.
“Hello, Colby.”
The first thing I noticed is that she was dressed differently than last night. Today she had on a business suit, while last night she’d worn jeans and a top I couldn’t even remember. I only knew she’d been casual, and now it looked like she was all business. Her dark hair was tied up, and she had on a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. I had no idea she even wore fucking glasses.
I nodded and sat down. “What do you want?”
The waitress walked over. “Can I get you some coffee or juice?”
I waved her off. “Nothing for me, thank you. I won’t be staying long.”
Maya smiled at the woman. “I’ll take a coffee, with milk and sugar, please.”
I barely waited until the waitress disappeared. “So what do you want from me?”
Maya folded her hands in front of her on the table. “I need you to marry me. They’re trying to deport me.”
My brows jumped. “Are you freaking high?”
“No. I’m very sober.”
“Then just mentally insane? I’m not fucking marrying you. I can’t stand the sight of you.”
“If you do it, I will sign over full custody of Saylor. My attorney has advised me that I have two ways to stay in the country at this point: either file for custody of my daughter and apply for a green card as the primary caretaker of my child, or marry an American citizen. You’re the most logical choice, and I’m told we would likely sail through the immigration process if we say we’ve been together since Saylor was conceived.”
I stared at her for the longest time before speaking again. “Saylor’s doing great. Thanks for asking.”
Maya took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m trying to keep emotions out of this, Colby.”
“Well, isn’t that grand of you? It must be nice to be able to see your child as nothing more than a business transaction you can barter.”
The waitress returned with coffee and poured a cup for Maya. She looked back and forth between us. “Are you guys ready to place an order?”
Maya shook her head. “We need a few more minutes, please.”
“No problem.”
I leaned forward. “You don’t even want custody of her, do you?”
“Like I said, I think it’s best if we keep emotions out of this conversation. Let’s just make it simple. I need something from you. You need something from me. Marry me, and as soon as I get my green card, we’ll divorce, and you will forever not have to worry about custody.”
I glared at her. “I’m not worried about it now. No judge in the world is going to give you custody.”
“You’re speaking from an emotional place because I’ve made you feel threatened.”
I lifted my chin. “Go fuck yourself.”
“Do your homework, Colby. Consult a family law attorney. Whoever you pick is going to tell you that I will get visitation once I file that paperwork. It may be limited at first. But courts like mothers in their children’s lives, especially a little girl. Eventually, when I do everything correctly and a little time passes, I’ll be awarded shared custody.”
