Page 123 of Mr. Almost

“Happiness looks good on you, brother.”

Then he leaves as my eyes find that photograph again.

Happiness does look good on me.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

OLIVIA

“I’m just stoppingto grab Ari, and then I’ll be home. Dinner at home tonight?” I tell Mason as I sit outside the day care to get our little girl.

“Of course. You want me to cook, or do you prefer takeout?” he asks.

I smile to myself. This man is so considerate. He didn’t even think about me cooking. He assumes he will take on that duty. I don’t mind cooking, but I like that he is happy to take on the tasks and not assume they are mine.

“I was thinking pizza,” I admit.

“Pizza it is. See you soon. Love you.”

My heart is so full every time he says those words. I know he means them too. He could not say a word and I would know because his actions prove it to me every single day.

“I love you too, Mason.”

As we hang up, I take a minute in the car to calm my racing heart.I miss him, and it’s only been a few hours. I know this is likely the honeymoon phase, but I hope it never ends.

Finally feeling like I am put together, I exit the car and go into the day care. I stop at the desk, looking around for Ari, but I don’t see her. Usually she is running toward me by now, knowing what time I usually come.

One of the assistants comes over.

“Ms. Knight. What are you doing here? Did Ari forget anything?” she asks.

“What? I’m here to pick Ari up,” I tell her, my heart starting to beat faster.

The panic is starting to set in as I search for her again.

“It says you picked her up around noon. Marigold signed you out.” The woman looks confused.

No. No. No. This can’t be happening.

“Where is my daughter?” I hiss out before moving past the desk and start looking for her myself.

The assistant attempts to stop me, but I push past her. I don’t care. I need to find my daughter.

“Ari? Ari!” I call out.

Another woman steps in front of me. “You checked your daughter out, ma’am. I helped you. Remember?”

She is talking to me like I am crazy, but I know I’m not.

“You’re Marigold?” I ask.

She nods.

“Good.” Pulling out my phone, I dial the police. “My daughter is missing from her day care. The incompetent worker insists that I picked her up, but I didn’t. I need help right away.”

Marigold’s eyes widen as she starts to back away.

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