“What are you saying… Why would he…” Someone knocks on the door, and I immediately leap to my feet. “Oh bloody hell, that must be him.” I look at the kids. “How do I look?” I ask naïvely.
All three give me the same look.
I screwed myself.
“Thank God things were supposed to remain professional!” Logan reminds me.
“Maybe if you take off your apron,” Emily suggests.
“Oh, you are right.”
Quickly removing my apron, I toss it into the kitchen. With a nervousness stemming more from my heart racing uncontrollably than from the pending lawsuit, I head to the entrance to greet our lawyer, hoping not to make a mess as usual.
Rowan
I arrive at Seth’s much later than planned. I let him know I was going to be late. He said it would be fine, but I’m not so sure coming here was a good idea, especially seeing that ridiculously attractive smirk on his face as he opened the door.
“Hey,” he greets me nervously.
“I’m so sorry for being late,” I apologise immediately. “I didn’t realise how long I had been in the office.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He steps aside to let me pass. “We’ve been anxiously waiting for you.”
I enter his apartment as Seth closes the door behind me.
“The kids,” he then says. “They couldn’t wait to meet you.” Seth points to three children standing in the middle of the living room. “Guys,” he turns to them. “This is Rowan. I mean, Mr Kennedy.” His face turns suddenly red.
As I look at the kids, a familiar feeling washes over me—a mix of anxiety and hope, a shaky feeling I can’t seem to control. Their innocent expectations and emotions mirror my own, and it’s hard to ignore, even though it’s not my future at stake.
“Rowan,” I correct Seth. “Rowan is just fine.”
“I’m Mason.” The oldest of the three steps forward and holds his hand to me. “These are my siblings, Logan and Emily.”
The way he presents himself to me, displaying a confidence that is not part of him, instinctively makes me smile.
“Nice to meet you guys.”
“Are you the one who will help us stay here?” The youngest of the three asks me.
“I am the lawyer who will handle your case,” I reply diplomatically.
“Let’s not put Rowan under pressure right away,” Seth interjects, his hand resting on my shoulder, a simple gesture devoid of malice that triggers another set of emotions I am no longer used to: familiarity, need, presence.
And hope.
“Come and sit down.” Seth invites me to follow him. “On the sofa, we’ll be comfortable.”
I unbutton my jacket and sit down.
“We’ll make room for you,” Logan says, hurrying to clear the small table before me. “There, you’ll work better that way.” A half-smile and frightened look provokes a smile in me as well.
I knew it would be a mistake to come here.
I remind myself that this isn’t my story, these kids aren’t part of my life, and my life is different now. But the words feel hollow. I’ve never been good at deceiving myself.
I set my briefcase on the coffee table. The kids and Seth watch intently as I open it and took out the documents.
Can I truly trust him? Is he capable of being a good father? Can I allow these kids to live in this apartment, in this environment, with an uncle who seems to be a mess with legs, arms, and those piercing blue eyes?
