Chapter 10: The Room He Found
By the time we left the café, Lily was rubbing her eyes with one fist and gripping her stuffed rabbit with the other.
Mara had arranged a short-term apartment through a friend. It was plain and small, with a narrow kitchen and a bedroom whose curtains didn’t quite meet in the middle. But the lock worked. Lily’s travel crib fit beside the bed, and the place smelled faintly of laundry soap instead of airport coffee.
Noah’s security team checked the entrance and the apartment, then stepped back. No one tried to tell me what I had to do next.
I fed Lily, changed her, and kept our routine as close to normal as the day allowed. Bottle. Rabbit. Nap. When she finally settled, I stood beside the crib and listened to her breathe.
My phone rang.
The number was unfamiliar.
I almost let it go to voicemail. Then the screen lit again, and a message appeared.
It’s Ryan. Please. I need to talk to you before you make a mistake you can’t undo.
My fingers tightened around the phone. Mara looked up from the kitchen table.
“You don’t have to answer.”
“I know.”
I let the call ring out. A few seconds later, it came again.
This time, I picked up.
“Emily,” Ryan said. His voice was softer than I remembered. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For answering. I know I’ve handled things badly.”
The apology landed too smoothly, like a phrase he’d practiced until it sounded gentle.
“What do you want?”
“To see you. Not fight. Not drag this out through other people. Just talk face-to-face.”
“Where?”
“I found a place near you. A quiet room. We can have privacy.”
“No.”
He paused. “No?”
“Public place. During the day. Mara will be nearby. Lily stays with me, and you don’t take her anywhere.”
“I’m her father, Emily.”
“And I’m telling you the conditions for meeting me.”
For a moment, I heard only his breathing.
“Fine,” he said. “A café. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
He agreed to the one I suggested, a busy place with broad front windows and tables close enough together that a private conversation wasn’t possible. Mara came with me and sat two tables away. She didn’t hover. She didn’t need to. I could see her whenever I turned my head.
Ryan arrived carrying a diaper bag.
He wore the blue shirt I’d once bought him for a work dinner. His face looked tired, his hair a little uncombed. He paused beside Lily’s stroller and softened his expression.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured.
Lily stared at him, then tucked her rabbit under her chin.
He glanced at me.
“I brought some things she might need.”
“Put the bag beside the stroller.”
He obeyed. Then he pulled out the chair across from me.
“I’m glad you came,” he said.
I didn’t answer.
For a minute, he asked about Lily’s sleep and whether she’d been eating. His voice stayed warm. He looked like a man trying to show concern, and I felt my body reaching for the old answer—the one that would smooth the silence, reassure him, make the air easier to breathe.
She’s fine. I’m fine. We can work this out.
I pressed my thumbnail into my palm until the words stayed where they were.
Ryan leaned closer.
“I’m sorry about the locks. I was angry. I didn’t think you’d actually leave.”
“You changed them.”
“I know.”
“And I couldn’t access the account.”
His eyes flicked toward Lily, then back to me.
“That’s not why I asked you here.”
He reached inside his jacket and took out a folded sheet of paper. He slid it across the table.
“Just read it.”
I kept my hands in my lap.
“What is it?”
“A statement. It says you left Texas with Lily voluntarily, without warning me. That I didn’t stop you. That I didn’t force you out.”
The paper rested between us.
The café’s espresso machine hissed. Someone laughed near the counter. At the next table, a child dropped a spoon and a parent bent to retrieve it. The ordinary sounds made Ryan’s quiet voice feel more dangerous, not less.
“You want me to sign this?”
“It would clear up a lot.”
“Clear up what?”
“People are asking questions. I’m trying to keep things from getting worse.”
“You posted that I might be unstable.”
“I was upset.”
“You told people I took Lily without warning. Now you want me to sign that your version is true.”
“I’m not asking you to say anything untrue.” His voice sharpened, then softened again. “You did leave without telling me.”
“I left after you changed the locks.”
He looked down at the paper, as if the words might have changed while we were speaking.
“This doesn’t have to become a fight.”
“It already is one. You just want me to sign before anyone else sees it.”
His jaw tightened.
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
A familiar pressure opened in my chest. I could almost hear the old argument forming: If I just gave him something, he’d calm down. If I made it easier for him, he might stop making everything harder for me.
Then Lily gave a small, drowsy squeak in her stroller. The stuffed rabbit had slipped sideways against her cheek. I reached over and tucked it back into her arms.
I looked at Ryan.
“I’m not signing it.”
His gentle expression vanished.
“Emily, don’t be stupid.”
“No.”
He lowered his voice. “You have no idea how this looks.”
“I know exactly how it looks to you.”
“You think everyone’s going to believe your story?”
“I’m not asking everyone to believe anything. I’m not signing a lie.”
His hand flattened on the table beside the paper.
“Then I’ll make sure they hear my side. I’ll make sure everyone believes you’re unfit to raise Lily.”
Across the café, Mara pushed back her chair. I lifted one hand, asking her to wait.
Ryan watched the gesture. His mouth tightened, but he kept his voice low.
“You want to do this in public?”
“You wanted to talk in public.”
For a beat, neither of us moved. The paper lay between us, his polished apology already used up.
I slid it back toward him.
“I came because you said you wanted to talk about Lily. I won’t sign away my account of what happened.”
May you like
His eyes stayed on mine.
“Then you’ll regret making me do this.”
