Page 18 of Nolan

"Is this pretty?" Ashlynn holds up her drawing, beaming with pride.

"It's the most beautiful butterfly I've ever seen," I tell her, and I mean it. At three years old, she sees the world with such wonder, such uncomplicated joy. I wish I could borrow some of that innocence, just for a little while.

"Let's make another one for Daddy," she declares, already reaching for a fresh sheet of paper.

My heart contracts at the mention of him. "That's a wonderful idea."

As Ashlynn begins her new masterpiece, I move around the kitchen, gathering supplies for our afternoon craft project. We're going to make handprint butterflies, her hands as the wings, decorated with buttons and glitter. I've been planning it for days, searching Pinterest for the perfect craft that's both age-appropriate and not too messy.

"Are we doing the hand painting now?" Ashlynn bounces in her seat, finished with her drawing.

"Almost." I lay out newspaper on the kitchen table, then place paint, glitter, and buttons in small containers. "We just need to,"

The doorbell rings, interrupting my explanation. I glance at the clock,2:17 PM. We're not expecting anyone.

"I'll be right back, sweetie." I wipe my hands on a towel and head for the door. Through the window, I see a woman, slender, blonde, familiar in a way I can't place.

When I open the door, she smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Something about her makes me instantly uneasy.

"Can I help you?" I ask, keeping one hand on the door frame.

"Is Nolan home?" Her gaze drifts past me, scanning what she can see of the living room.

"He's at work right now." I don't offer more information than necessary. Something tells me I shouldn't.

"And who are you?" There's an edge to her voice, sharp enough to cut.

Before I can answer, Ashlynn appears at my side, tugging on my jeans. "Who's that lady?"

The woman's eyes fix on Ashlynn, and her expression changes, softens, but in a calculated way that makes my protective instincts buzz with sirens and lights.

"Hi there," she says, crouching down. "You must be Ashlynn."

Ashlynn shrinks back against my leg, suddenly shy. I place my hand on her shoulder, drawing her closer.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" I ask again, more firmly this time.

The woman straightens, her smile now brittle. "I'm Lisa. Ashlynn's mother."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I've seen photos of her, just a couple, tucked away in a drawer in Nolan's office. Photos I happened upon when searching for extra batteries one day. But those pictures were from years ago, before Ashlynn was born.

"Ashlynn," I say, keeping my voice calm despite the adrenaline coursing through me, "why don't you go back to the kitchen? I'll be there in just a minute."

"But we're gonna make butterflies," she protests.

"We will, I promise. Just give me one minute, okay?"

Reluctantly, she nods and disappears back into the kitchen. I turn back to Lisa, keeping my body positioned to block the doorway.

"Nolan never mentioned you were coming." My voice is steady, but my heart is racing.

"It was meant to be a surprise." Her smile doesn't waver, but there's something cold behind it. "May I come in? I'd like to see my daughter."

"I'm sorry, but I think it's best if we wait for Nolan." I pull my phone from my pocket. "I'll call him now."

Her expression hardens, as if not going to take no for an answer. "I have a right to see my child."

"I understand, but I'm responsible for Ashlynn while Nolan's at work, and he hasn't authorized any visits." I dial his number, praying he'll answer quickly.

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