As we finish eating, a dessert is placed in front of us.
“Oh, I didn’t order this,” I say, looking down. However, it’s something I will for sure eat because it looks incredible.
“No, it was paid for by someone else.”
“Umm… okay. Who should I thank?” I ask, looking around.
The waiter goes to point, then shakes his head. “They’ve gone. Sorry.”
“Want some cake, baby?” I ask Annabelle.
Typically, I wouldn’t feed her sweets of any kind, as I want her to get used to eating all the right foods. The type of nourishment that’s good for her little body. But a small amount here and there shouldn’t affect her too much. I laugh when she takes the piece of cake from the fork and slathers her mouth with it. There’s chocolate going everywhere, and a smile that makes my heart pick up a beat as I watch her. “Good, right?” I say to Annabelle while she’s eating the rest of it. Wiping her face down with a baby wipe, I pick her up to pay.
“Your bill has been paid.”
“Sorry, what?” I ask.
“Your bill, it’s been paid,” he says as if I don’t understand him.
Well, I don’t.
“Was it someone wanting to do a good deed?” I ask, completely confused. This isn’t a fancy restaurant, but they do great steaks and amazing deserts. I like to bring Annabelle here when I am too lazy to cook since they serve some fantastic things for kids.
“Not that I’m aware of. It was a man, though, if that helps.”
“Okay, thank you,” I say, then walk out. As I arrive at my car, a figure is standing next to it. Blond hair, blue eyes, and his hands are shoved in his pockets as he leans against my car, waiting for me.
“Kat.”
Fucking hell, his voice sends shivers all through me, and not the nice kind. If I weren’t holding Annabelle, I would be throwing something at his head.
“Mitchell,” I spit out his name.
I hate his name as much as I hate him.
Mitchell’s eyes leave mine and flick to Annabelle, then back to me. “She’s beautiful,” he says, stepping away from my car and toward me.
I grip Annabelle tightly and hold her back. “What are you doing here?”
“You’ve been ignoring my calls. I got to town and didn’t know where you lived. So, I went out for drinks, and I saw you sitting in that restaurant when I passed. You’re impossible to miss, Kat.” His lip lifts in a soft smile, and I want to punch that smile clean off his face.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I want to know my daughter,” he says, then looks back at Annabelle, who’s currently leaning on my shoulder half asleep. I guess the food coma has hit her hard.
“Fuck off, you piece of shit,” I say, pushing past him and unlocking my car, then strapping Annabelle in her car seat. I struggle because I’m so angry, and it takes me a few tries to get the buckle to behave. Shutting her door quietly, I walk around to the driver’s side.
“I will fight if I have to, Kat. I have rights.”
“Fuck you,” I say while shuffling into the car and shutting the door behind me.
My hands shake as I drive home. I can’t help but think about that bastard and what he did to me. This whole thing has shaken me to my very core. I never expected to see him again.
Getting Annabelle, who’s now fast asleep, out of the car, I make my way inside and lay her in her bed, and then head down to pour myself a glass of wine. I try calling Rochelle, but she doesn’t answer, so I call my mother.
“Mitchell just showed up. Wants to have rights to Annabelle,” I barely manage to say without my voice cracking.
“I’ll be right there,” she says, and hangs up.
Wiping at the tears that have formed, I probably have mascara all over my face. It’s not that I didn’t want Mitchell to be in Annabelle’s life. I did. And I tried hard at the time. But when I received an envelope with cash inside asking me to get rid of the ‘problem,’ I cut all ties with him. Mitchell was a one-night stand, and I shouldn’t have expected much from that. So, I didn’t add his name to her birth certificate. She has my last name, not his.
Almost through my third glass of wine, my mother and father walk in the door, and they both stop when they see me sitting on the couch with wine in hand and tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Tell me everything,” my father says.
I get along with him more than my mother, but it was her I called. It was her that I needed.
“I went out for dinner with Annabelle to the local restaurant, and when we left, Mitchell was there, leaning against my car. He wants rights to Annabelle,” I say, looking up to her room where she’s now sound asleep.
“He doesn’t deserve them. He missed everything. The asshole,” my mother spits out.
I smile because she hardly ever swears. I kind of like this side of her.
“You raised her. Mitchell can’t come in thinking he can change that.” Mom reaches for my glass and takes a sip. “We will get a lawyer tomorrow, and we’ll cover all costs to find a solution.”
“I agree,” my father says.
“What if he gets her?” I question, the tears falling again. “She doesn’t know who he is. He didn’t want her. So why now?”
“He won’t get her,” my mother says, determination set in her eyes.
Rochelle is at my front door the next day, and I let her inside. My head hurts from drinking all that wine last night, but she doesn’t care as she starts screaming, “That prick,” while shaking her head. “He can’t do that.”
“He can. But hopefully, it doesn’t go through,” I reply, waving with my hand for her to come in, and then I fall on the couch.
“So, Mom knows, huh?” Rochelle raises an eyebrow, and I smile, trying to contain my laughter.
“Yep.”
“And she didn’t flip her shit?” She sits next to me.
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “But I’m not holding my breath… it could still happen.” I stand and head off to finish getting ready.
“I can come tonight if you want… to keep you company,” Rochelle offers.
“I’m working,” I tell her. Mom has Annabelle. I know no harm will come to her, and Mitchell will never be able to reach her while she’s there and protected.
“I know, I like the place. I can see why you like working there,” she offers with a shrug, getting up and following me around as I get dressed.
I turn to face her. I didn’t expect that from her. Rochelle must read the shocked look on my face because her nose scrunches up.
“They respect you… and I mean a lot. The bartender, the security guards, they all talk highly of you. You run a tight ship, but they’re thankful for that.”
“You got all that from the one night you come in drunk?”
She waves her hand at me. “Please, I didn’t start off drunk.” Rochelle smiles, making me smile for the first time since Mitchell arrived.
“I don’t need you to come. Go, spend more time with that man of yours.”
She blushes at my words. Her hand goes to play with her shirt, and I know it’s an instant warning sign.