[Addison]

The door to the car clicks open.

An expensive Italian loafer is followed by the pinstriped leg of an elegant and sophisticated man. He towers over me, at least 7 inches taller and twice as wide, his strong arms and shoulders barely contained within the jacket of his well-tailored suit. From the Rolex at his wrist to the studs in his ears, and the ring gleaming on his hands, everything is diamond bright, as sharp and fine as the cut of his square chin and the angle of his high cheekbones.

“Excuse me,” his smooth voice, deep and rich, rumbles through my body, as he removes his sunglasses and looks at me with eyes so blue they appear almost black. “I can take her from here.”

Holding out his hands, his cold facade melts as he looks at the little girl with such love and concern that I find myself melting as well. But she doesn’t go to him, she clings to me even tighter.

“Mom,” the little girl murmurs, burying her head into my chest. “I found my mommy.”

“You little monster!” An out-of-breath young woman pants as she rushes up to us, her bobbed red hair falling in front of her freckled face. “You ran off again! Just wait until I tell…”

She reaches out to grab the girl but pauses when she notices the man standing next to me. “Mr. Grant, I, um, I can explain.”

“You’re fired,” his tone is blunt and cold as he dismisses the young woman with a hard glare.

The young woman’s eyes widen, tears rolling down her cheeks as she backs away, tripping over her own feet. “Mr. Grant, Sir, I can explain I…”

“Leave,” his tone remains flat, his anger almost palatable as he stares the girl down. “Now, Ms Watson. Do not expect a reference.”

Bowing, the young woman scuttles away not once looking over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” the velvety-voiced gentleman apologizes. “I can take her from here, Ms….”

It takes me a moment to realize that this ruthless, mysterious man is speaking to me. I pull my attention away from the fleeing nanny and find myself face to face, with this powerfully handsome man.

He reaches out for the girl again, placing his hands on her waist. “Come here, Livy, let’s leave the nice lady.”

The little girl. Livy shakes her pigtails and holds on tighter.

“Olivia Grant,” his voice is stern but kind as he insists she lets me go. “I’m sure the busy lady has things to do.”

“No,” the first word she says is murmured into the space where my neck and shoulder meet. It reminds me so much of Jayson when he was this age that I want to hold her forever. I miss this warmth and devotion. She reminds me of how it feels to be a mom.

Which brings my thoughts right back to that hospital room.

“Since Olivia is so fond of you,” the man speaks catching my eyes once more as I manage to pry the sweet girl off of my neck and place her into his waiting arms. “Maybe you could come eat with us. I know a nice place around the corner.”

Looking at the sweet domesticity of the two of them together, the love and kinship of a true family connection, an unsettled pang in my heart makes me warm and sad all at once.

“No,” I say a bit too quietly, lost in my melancholy mood. “But thank you, Mr…”

“Grant,” he turns his warm smile towards me. “Hunter Grant.” He pulls a business card from his suit pocket, shifting the little girl’s weight as she settles into his arms, sucking her thumb as she leans against his chest. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind, Ms…”

“Mrs.,” I correct him. “Mrs. Stone. Addison Stone. And yes,” I look back at the hospital one last time. “But I wish you the best. I’m just glad I was here for Olivia when she needed me. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Addison,” he repeats, my name resonant and melodic on his tongue. “I hope I will get a chance to see you soon.”

As he tucks the little girl into his car and settles himself next to her, his words feel more like a promise than a hope. Watching them drive away, I head on my path, walking home so that I can clear my mind. So much has happened. I’m at a loss.

Should I leave Michael? Is it time to get a divorce? I don’t believe that there isn’t anything happening between him and Evelyn.

The jingle of my keys as I pull them from the door sounds loud in the quiet, empty house. Closing the door, I pick up the remnants of our scattered rush from the house, scooping up discarded toys and carrying them up to Jayson’s room.

Placing one of his stuffies on his bed, my eyes land on a framed picture on the nightstand next to the cupcake he never ate. The picture is from the day his adoption became official. He is still a small baby, only one year old, held in my arms as his father stands next to me, the two of us smiling

Family. We are a family.

Something vibrates on the hardwood floor beneath his bed. Peering underneath, the glowing screen of his tablet catches my attention as it vibrates again, informing Jayson of an incoming message.

“What’s that doing under here?” I pull it out, “Playing games at night when you should be sleeping, little man,” I smirk, looking for his charging port.  That should be…”

In glowing white letters, the message says it’s from the same number I recognize from earlier, the one that had sent the birthday pictures.

The note reads, “From MOM: Jayson, I am so sorry. I made a mistake. Next time, I will get you something extra yummy. Please forgive me.” It is signed with several heart emojis and the name “Mama Evelyn.”

It is signed with several heart emojis.

“I love you, Mama Evelyn.”

A flash of images, of moments from the last two days flutter through my mind. The way Evelyn looks not only so much like me, but like Jayson who shares the same white blonde hair and bright golden eyes. The way he calls her mama. The way Lauren treats her as if she were the daughter-in-law instead of me.

What if she’s more than the one who got away? What if she’s Jayson’s real mother?

“Oh God,” Suddenly sick, I rush to the bathroom and vomit what little bit I’ve eaten as the world spins. Unable to breathe, unable to think, I fall forward, my head hitting the wall as everything goes black.