LUCIAN
Ask me where my head’s been these past few days and I wouldn’t be able to give you a clean answer.
Not a useful one, anyway.
It’s irritating.
Distracting.
A lapse I don’t usually allow.
I don’t lose focus, especially not over women.
I don’t wake up thinking about someone who has no place in my life.
And yet.
Somehow, she’s quietly slipped into the entirety of my thoughts.
I tell myself it’s curiosity.
An itch that comes from something unfinished and unresolved.
She doesn’t fit any pattern I know.
Not the women who orbit men like me.
Not the ones who want access or money or proximity to power.
She looks at me like I’m an inconvenience and just something she tolerates.
That alone should’ve been enough to dismiss her from my head.
Instead, I find myself anticipating the way her eyes narrow when she sees me every morning.
I wait and crave that small, unimpressed glare she sends my way every single time and for whatever dry, sassy comment she throws at me next.
I don’t want her.
Not in any sentimental sense.
I want answers.
I don’t like variables I can’t control.
And it’s glaringly obvious that Corinne Sterling is fast becoming one.
It was Thursday and I’d just wrapped up my last meeting for the day before heading out to get the kids. This story is hosted at g.com.
I’d love to say it was just another obligation, something to check off my list, but that would be a lie.
Picking them up, dropping them off, being there at the edges of their day had done more than I expected.
It gave me time with them that I hadn’t realized I was missing.
Time to actually listen.
To notice the small shifts.
Even Eli was talking more.
Not much, not suddenly, but enough that I caught it.
He answers me more.
Looks at me longer.
Sometimes he reaches for my hand without thinking.
Somehow, without trying to, I found myself paying closer attention and that alone makes the time worth it.
The moment I stepped out of the car, I noticed her absence.
She wasn’t there, holding the kids and waiting.
Instead, one of the other staff stood by the gate, layered in heavy makeup that did nothing but draw attention to how hard she was trying.
It sat on her face like armor.
Even Lucas shifted beside her, frowning like he couldn’t wait to put distance between himself and the situation.
The boys spotted me at the same time and bolted forward without hesitation.
“Daddy,” Lucas called, relief clear in his voice as he ran into my leg.
I bent automatically, Elias already reaching for my hand, his grip tight.
I pulled them closer, brushing a hand down their heads when I noticed the lady still loitering behind them instead of moving on.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear slowly, like she was performing for an audience of one.
“Good day, Mr.
Delacroix,” she said, voice dipped low, stretched sweet.
I didn’t return the smile she was clearly fishing for.
“Where is Ms.
Her expression faltered with surprise crossing her face before she recovered.
“Oh.
Last I heard she wasn’t feeling too well,” she said.
“She had to take a sick day.”
I frowned, then retraced the morning in my head.
She had been quieter, yes, but she hadn’t looked ill.
Just… tense with the usual annoyance directed at me.
I gave the woman a brief nod, already done with the conversation.
Whatever she’d hoped for, she wasn’t getting it from me.
I guided the boys toward the car without another word, opened the doors, buckled them in.
By the time the car pulled out from the lot, my thoughts were already drifting far off.
On the drive home, I caught sight of Eli twisting something between his fingers.
It was another dinosaur sticker and he had it cupped in his palm like it was something fragile.
“What’ve you got there, buddy?” I asked.
He didn’t look up right away.
Just turned the sticker over once, then again, like he was thinking his words through.
“It’s for Riri,” he said quietly.
“It’ll protect her.
Make her well soon.”
I sucked in a breath and before I could respond, Lucas leaned forward from his seat, excitement lighting up his face.
“I’ll give her my favorite truck car then,” he announced.
“The red one.
The fast one.
I glanced at them.
Two small faces, so earnest it hurt.