Page 126 of Clinically Delicious
His response came thirty seconds later.
Gabriel: I never judge your stress-baking. It’s delicious. Be safe.
Then, a second one a moment later.
Gabriel: Miss you already.
My heart did something complicated.
This is so dangerous.
Falling for him is so, so dangerous because what happens when the custody case is over and we don’t need to be married anymore and—
“I’m ready!” Megan announced, reappearing in leggings and a T-shirt with a unicorn on it.
“Perfect. Let’s go before I start on muffins.”
The park was busy for a Thursday morning with moms pushing strollers, a few nannies with their charges, and some older kids who were apparently skipping school or on some kind of field trip.
Normal people doing normal things.
Not people in fake marriages trying to win custody battles against legal sharks.
Just act normal, Cate.
You can do normal.
You’ve been normal before. Probably. At some point in your life.
Megan made a beeline for the swings, and I settled onto a bench nearby, watching as she pumped her legs, going higher and higher.
She was laughing.
That pure, unselfconscious laugh that kids have before the world teaches them to be careful with their joy.
What if Tonya wins?
The thought hit me like a punch to the stomach.
What if Richard Castellano is as good as everyone says and he tears apart our marriage and proves it’s fake and the judge decides Megan should go live with Tonya and Richard in their probably perfect house with their probably perfect life and...
Stop it.
Stop spiraling.
Anthony Gallagher said we have a good case. He said Tonya abandoned Megan for three years.
But what if it wasn’t enough?
What if the judge looked at Gabriel, a single father, demanding job, long hours and then looked at Tonya who was remarried, stable, and claiming she’d “found herself” or whatever bullshit excuse she’d given for abandoning her daughter and decided Megan would be better off with her mother?
And what about me?
I’m not even her real stepmother. I’m a fake wife who’s been married for less than a week. I’m a nanny who got promoted to spouse in the world’s fastest relationship escalation. I’m a culinary school washout who stress-bakes at 3 AM and once broke a child’s arm with a skateboard.
Why would any judge think I’m a suitable parental figure?
“Cate! Watch this!” Megan called, and I looked up just in time to see her jump off the swing at the peak of its arc.
