After picking up Cara from school and then taking her to her dance class, I was too tired to cook, so I decided to stop at one of the diners we pass on the way home. Had I paid attention and seen the two bikes out front, I would have turned around. But I didn’t. So here I am, sitting across the booth from my daughter, waiting for our orders, while Adam and one of his biker friends sit with two women, eating, laughing, and being generally obnoxious. They haven’t seen me yet, and I hope to keep it that way.
“How was your class today, Mom?” Cara asks me sweetly.
My expression softens as I look at her, my worries fading away. “It was great, Cara. My students learned a new letter of the alphabet. How was your day?”
“Good!” she beams. “It was library day, so I got a new book.”
“Which book did you get?” I ask her, just as a waitress brings us our drinks.
“Thank you,” I tell the young girl, then look at my daughter expectantly.
“Thank you,” Cara tells her, then starts to sip on her milk shake.
“You’re welcome.” The girl smiles, then leaves our table.
“It’s a book about a unicorn,” Cara continues, wiping the milk off her lips with the back of her hand. “Can we read it tonight?”
“Sure,” I tell her, playing with the straw in my juice. “After dinner and bath time.”
I suddenly feel eyes on me, and I try my hardest not to look in their direction. From their angle, they can see me but not Cara.
Maybe he’ll just pretend that he doesn’t know me.
Or is that just wishful thinking?
I hear Adam’s friend, the bald guy, call out, “Where are you going, Rake?”
Shit.
Is he coming over here?
I don’t want to look over and check.
Would he be rude to me in front of my daughter?
I’d kill him if he did that, but to be honest I don’t think he would.
“What are you doing here, Bailey? Why are you there every time I turn around?” I hear him growl. I can now feel everyone in the diner staring at me. Goddamn the man. Did he have to be so loud? Adam never did care what people thought, but I don’t want to get attention like this with my daughter here.
I don’t even lift my head. “What? Do you own this diner too?”
“Cute,” he replies, voice closer now. “I could if I wanted to.”
Egotistical bastard.
I look up to see him almost at our table. “Well, until you do own it, you should probably just leave me alone.”
“Who are you here with?” he asks, then comes to a stop when he sees Cara sitting there, peering up at him with curious brown eyes.
“Who’s the hottie, Rake?” his friend calls out.
Adam turns to his friend and says, “Shut the . . .” He turns to look at Cara, an apologetic expression on his face, then takes a seat next to me, opposite her.
“You never told me you had a kid,” he says to me, tone gentler now as he studies her intently.
“How do you know she’s mine?” I ask him.
“She looks just like you,” he says, giving Cara a little smile. “I’m Ra— I’m Adam. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Cara,” my daughter replies, flashing Adam an unsure look.
“That’s a pretty name,” he tells her sincerely. “And how old are you, Cara?”
I know exactly where Adam is going with this, but he’s wrong. Cara isn’t his child.
“I’m six.”
I can almost see him mentally calculating how long it’s been since we were together. If she were Adam’s, she’d have to be at least seven years old.
“She’s not yours,” I say under my breath, so only he can hear me, trying to put him out of his misery.
“Of course she isn’t,” he says in a soft, yet bitter tone.
He has no idea. None.
Let him be bitter—I couldn’t care less. I owe him nothing.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
Our food arrives, and Adam waits quietly as the waitress sets it down.
“Thank you,” Cara tells her politely, while I do the same. She smiles, then winks at Adam before she leaves. I ignore the stroke of jealously that hits me, because it has no right to be there.
“Listen, Bailey,” he starts, looking a little uncomfortable. “Anna and Lana haven’t spoken to me properly since that night. . . .”
He rubs the back of his neck, then watches Cara as she picks up a fry and pops it in her