PART 9:

” “Is it?” Adrian set the phone down without answering. He went to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water he didn’t drink, and stood at the sink staring out at the parking lot. The geraniums on Mrs. Castellanos’s window sill were dark shapes against the glass. Mr. Washington’s apartment was lit up.

He’d be playing his saxophone soon, the same three songs he always played. Everything was the same as it always was. Except it wasn’t. Because now there was Selena, with her sad eyes and her sharp honesty and her dangerous offer to let him want something more than survival. His phone buzzed again. “My schedule’s insane this week. Board meetings and investor calls, but I’m free Friday night.

Would you want to do something? Nothing fancy, just us.” Adrian typed, “I’d need to find someone to watch Emma.” “Bring her.” He stared at that text like it was written in a foreign language. “You want me to bring my 8-year-old daughter on a date with you? Is that crazy?” “Completely.” “But Adrian closed his eyes. This woman was going to ruin him.

But I’ll ask her if she wants to meet you. Three dots, then “Really?” “Don’t make me regret this.” “I won’t. I promise I won’t.” Adrian set the phone down and pressed his hands flat against the counter. His heart was pounding. This was a terrible idea. This was the worst idea he’d had in years. But when Emma had asked him about Selena earlier, there’d been hope in her voice, not suspicion, not worry, hope.

Like maybe the idea of her dad being happy with someone wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. His phone buzzed one more time. “Thank you for giving this a chance. I know what it costs you.” Adrian typed back, “You have no idea what it cost me. But yeah, we’ll try.” “That’s all I’m asking. He looked down the hallway toward Emma’s room one more time.

The door was still cracked open, light from the hallway spilling across her floor. She was still asleep, still safe, still the center of everything that mattered. Don’t screw this up. Adrian said quietly to himself. To Selena. To the universe in general. Then he turned off the lights and went to bed. Knowing sleep wouldn’t come easy, but hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d made the right choice.

For the first time in 8 years, Adrian Vale was letting himself want something more than just survival. And it scared him more than anything he’d ever done. Friday came too fast and not fast enough. Adrian spent the week in a strange state of controlled panic, fixing leaky faucets and replacing light fixtures while his brain ran continuous loops of everything that could go wrong.

Emma, meanwhile, had become obsessed with the idea of meeting Selena, asking questions Adrian couldn’t always answer. What’s her favorite color? I don’t know. Does she like animals? I didn’t ask. W- what if she doesn’t like me? That question had stopped Adrian cold while he was making Emma’s lunch on Wednesday morning.

He’d set down the peanut butter and turned to look at his daughter, who was sitting at the kitchen table with her dolphin book open, but not reading it. “Why would you think she wouldn’t like you?” he’d asked. Emma had shrugged, eyes on the page. Sometimes people don’t like kids. Mrs.

Patterson always looks mad when I’m in the hallway. Mrs. Patterson looks mad at everyone. That’s just her face. But what if Selena’s like that? Adrian had sat down across from her. Then she’s not someone we need to worry about. But I don’t think she is. How do you know? I don’t, not for sure. But when I told her about you, she listened like it mattered.

She didn’t get that look people get sometimes when you talk about your kids and they’re just waiting for you to stop. Emma had considered this seriously. Okay, but if she’s mean to you, I’m going to tell her off. Please don’t tell off the woman I’m trying to date. Only if she’s not mean. Now it was Friday at 6:00 in the evening and Adrian was standing in front of his closet trying to figure out what you wore when you were introducing your daughter to a billionaire CEO at a public aquarium.

Selena had suggested the aquarium, neutral ground she’d said, and Emma would probably enjoy it. Adrian had agreed because he had no better ideas and because the thought of sitting across a dinner table trying to facilitate conversation between an 8-year-old and a woman he barely knew sounded like a special kind of torture.

He settled on dark jeans and a button-down shirt he usually saved for parent-teacher conferences. Good enough. He checked his reflection, decided he looked tired but presentable, and went to find Emma. She was in her room wearing her favorite purple dress and her light-up sneakers. Sitting on her bed with her hands folded in her lap like she was waiting for a job interview.

You okay? Adrian asked from the doorway. I’m nervous. Yeah, me too. Really? Really. Emma looked up at him with those two knowing eyes. What if this is weird? It’s definitely going to be weird. But good weird or bad weird? I don’t know yet. That’s what we’re finding out. Adrian sat down next to her on the bed.

Listen, if at any point tonight you’re uncomfortable or you want to leave, you tell me. We’ll go. No questions, no being mad. This is just as much your call as it is mine. What if I like her but you guys fight? We’re not going to fight. How do you know? Because we’re both trying really hard not to screw this up, which means we’re probably going to be extra polite and boring. Emma cracked a smile.

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