Page 98 of Mr. Almost

“Good. Don’t hurt her. She is a really good mommy, and I don’t want to have to miss you again.”

My heart breaks hearing that. Stopping, I pull her into my arms, hugging the daylight out of her.

“I won’t. I love you too, Ari. You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you too, Daddy.”

“Good. Now, should we go get that ice cream?” I ask her, trying to keep the emotions from my tone.

“Yes. Can we take Mommy some home?”

“Of course. We can’t leave Mommy out.”

As we walk back, Ari says the sweetest thing that will stick with me for the rest of my life.

“Thank you for loving us, Daddy. I’m glad you’re home with us now.”

Chapter

Nineteen

OLIVIA

“The boss wantsto see you in his office,” Iris says on the other end of the phone.

I swallow hard. I have no clue what I did to get called up there, but I don’t want to go. Not because I’m worried about the meeting. Even if they fire me, I will find another job.

No, that’s not why I’m shaking in my shoes right now. It’s the fact that to get to the offices, I have to pass that conference room. The one where my heart broke. Even knowing it was all a lie, it’s still traumatizing.

Tristen is working the front desk with me again, which makes me happy. The last two weeks, it seems like they have been cycling people through shifts with me. I much prefer working with Tristen. After the girls’ night we had with Chloe when Mason took Ari out on a date, we have become closer. She’s less of a coworker and more of a friend now.

“They need me upstairs. I’ll be back.”

Tristen gives me a sympathetic look. I told her all about why Iavoid the offices during girls’ night. Ever since, she has made it a point to always be the one to go up there when needed. She truly is a good friend.

“I’ll be here. Let me know if you need anything,” Tristen tells me.

“Thank you. You’re a good friend,” I tell her, squeezing her arm.

Then I head to the elevators. Standing there waiting for it, my nerves only get worse. My mind is already playing back the memory of standing here all those years ago. Nervous and excited to tell Mason about our child. Hoping that he would want her as much as I did. I remember thinking about the connection we had. Wondering if we could help it grow and be a real family.

Stepping inside the elevator, I try to push those memories away. They aren’t doing me any good. Unfortunately, trauma responses don’t tend to wait until it’s convenient to hit you. By the time the elevator opens, I’m a shaking mess.

Iris standing on the other side of the doors doesn’t make me feel any better. She takes one look at me before she grabs my arm, looping it through my own as she leads me down the hall.

“How about we stop in the break room and grab a bottle of water? I’m parched,” she tells me.

I know what she’s doing, though. She saw the panic on my face, and instead of commenting on it, she is giving me a moment to collect myself.

As we continue walking down the hall, I see the door to my nightmares is open. I tense the closer we get.

Iris is a true savior, though. She notes my reaction and pivots, taking me down a side hall.

“Such a maze up here. So many ways to get around. I swear sometimes I get lost,” she jokes.

I can feel myself relax the further from the room we get.

“I didn’t realize there was more than one way around,” I admit.

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