Another question I didn’t get the chance to answer before he opened the door and disappeared down the hallway, like he hadn’t just changed my whole goddamn life.
Own Alcott? Fuck yeah, I wanted to own Alcott. But could I do it? There was a big difference between working for a business and running it. Was I up for it?
Why not me?
“Holy shit.” I swept up my phone, wishing I could talk to Katy. She was only twelve, but that girl was my best friend. When something good happened, she was the first to get the news.
Except when I called her number, expecting to hear her voice combatting the noisy chaos from the bus, it went unanswered.
“What the hell?” Where was my daughter?
Katy never forgot her phone. Never. And not just because she was a responsible kid. From the time she was eight, I’d made sure she not only had a phone but also a watch. She might live with her mother part-time, but I wanted full-time access to my child. Day or night.
That phone, her watch, were essential to my peace of mind.
Fear raced through my veins as I typed out another text.
call or text Katy I’m starting to worry
I waited, willing the phone to ring, but it stayed quiet.
She was fine. Even as my heart raced, my palms getting clammy, in my head I knew she’d probably just left her phone at home. She hadn’t forgotten it before, but for a kid, it was bound to happen. Maybe the watch hadn’t charged last night.
And if something bad had happened, Rosalie would have called me. Confidence in my ex was severely lacking, but when it came to emergencies, she didn’t have the stomach to gut them out. She’d call.
So I did my best to work for a few hours, but worrying was as constant a distraction as my silent phone.
It was nearly lunchtime when it rang. I flew for it, twisting so fast in my chair that I knocked over my coffee cup—thankfully empty.
The school’s name lit up the screen.
“Hello?” I answered, already out of my chair.
Fuck. I knew it. Something was wrong. I should have acted sooner. Should have checked in with Rosalie. Should have called the school.
“Hi, Mr. Dawson.”
“Miss Adler.” Later, I’d analyze why I recognized her melodic voice. “Is Katy okay?”
“She’s, um…she’s having a bad day. Any chance you could get away from work for a quick visit?”
“On my way.” I strode from the office, not slowing to tell Korbyn where I was going. He could assume I was on my way to lunch. Then I raced across town, breaking every speed limit posted until I was at the school and jogging down its hallways.
Similar to my visit last week, Della’s classroom was empty save for Katy in her desk, arms folded on the surface. Instead of being in her own chair, Della was crouched beside my daughter, her hand trailing up and down Katy’s spine.
“Hey, Dandelion.”
Katy’s head flew up, her face streaked with tears.
My heart cracked. Did all dads hurt when they saw their kids cry?
“What happened?” I picked her up from the desk, hoisting her up from beneath her arms, and hauled her into my chest.
There’d come a day when I couldn’t pick her up. Thank fuck, it wasn’t today.
Katy’s arms wrapped around my neck, holding tight, as she pressed her face into the crook of my neck.
Outside, kids were playing on the playground. Their shouts and laughs carried through the tall windows. I just held my daughter closer. “Are you hurt?”
Katy shook her head.
A sliver of panic faded. “Are you in trouble?” Please, don’t be more cussing.
This time it was Della who shook her head, giving me a kind smile as she stood. “She started crying in class today. I pulled her aside and gave her some space, but she’s had a hard time stopping.”
Damn. I bent, setting Katy on her feet. Then I pulled her arms away because she wouldn’t let go before dropping to a knee so we could talk face-to-face. “Lay it on me, shortie.”
That earned me a slight smile.
Katy hated any endearment or nickname besides Dandelion.
She sucked in a shaky breath, then blew it out as her shoulders slumped. “Mom took my phone and my watch so I couldn’t even call you today and she did it because she knows I was going to text you on the bus and she’s mad at me because she promised she’d take me to this restaurant and then she changed her mind and I got upset and she said I was acting like a brat even though she was the one who broke her promise.”
“Wow.” I pulled in my lips to hide a smile. That was a load to unpack. Mostly, I was just really glad she was okay.
Over Katy’s shoulder, Della ducked her chin, fighting a laugh.
“That’s a lot,” I said.
Katy nodded, wiping beneath her eyes. “Mom’s the brat.”
“Hey, now. Don’t say that.” I’d used plenty worse when it came to Rosalie, but I didn’t want Katy to walk that road.
“It’s true.” The scowl on her face was adorable. I’d take that over the tears anytime.
“We’ll get this all sorted out, okay?”
“Okay.” Katy sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve.
Rosalie had no right to take that phone from Katy, not without checking with me first. I’d given Katy that phone and watch. I floated the bill. She should have asked me first. A conversation I’d have with my ex soon.
The restaurant thing we’d tackle next week. I had a hunch the place she wanted to go was called Jar something. She’d mentioned it last weekend on the drive to Rosalie’s place—too quickly for me to recall the name and too late for me to actually take Katy there for dinner. She’d also mentioned something about a girl in seventh grade and her mom who owned it or something.
Whatever. I’d get the scoop tonight. After Rosalie returned Katy’s phone.
“Better?” I asked. “Think you can make it through the rest of the day?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“That’s my girl.” I tucked a lock of her hair behind an ear. “I’ve missed you this week.”
“Missed you too.”
Della cleared her throat. “Katy, if you hurry, I bet you can still eat a quick lunch and have five minutes on the playground.”
“Okay.” She flashed her teacher a smile, then flew into my arms, hugging my neck so tight I couldn’t breathe. Then she was gone, hair streaming behind her as she ran out of the classroom.
I sighed, letting my heart finally sink back into my chest.
Della wasn’t in overalls today. Instead, she was in a black dress with puffy sleeves. The boots she wore only came to the ankle, giving me the perfect view of toned legs encased in green and black checkered tights.
Of course she had great legs. Tonight I’d probably imagine them wrapped around my waist. Not exactly thoughts I needed to be having about my daughter’s teacher.
I shoved to my feet, giving her a nod. “Appreciate the call, Miss Adler.”
“Della,” she corrected, just like she had last week. Somehow, calling her Della felt too intimate. It erased that imaginary boundary between us. But that didn’t stop it from rolling off my tongue.
“Della.” Pretty name for a pretty woman.
She cocked her head, studying me. Her eyebrows came together with the slightest crease.