Page 25 of Single Mom's Daddies
Saffron crouches beside Alex and studies the half-finished castle. “Did you build this all yourself?”
He nods. “I’m making a tower strong enough to survive an earthquake.”
“That’s ambitious.”
“It already broke twice.”
“Then you’re persistent too. That’s even better.”
Mila edges closer. “Do you know how to braid hair?”
“Yes,” Saffron says.
“Better than the last one?”
“I don’t know how she did it.”
“Bad.”
Saffron smiles. “Then probably. French, Viking, regular?”
The tension in the room shifts when Mila grins. “Viking!”
“I can do some serious Viking braids, but with your hair cut to the chin like that, they’ll be skinny braids. Does that work for you? If not, we could get you a wig.”
Mila giggles. “Yeah!”
I watch it happen. They don’t warm to anyone right away. But they’re not cold to her. And that’s rare.
Saffron doesn’t rush them. Doesn’t talk down to them or try to charm her way in. She’s just calm. Easy.
I study her as she chats with them about LEGO towers and what book Mila’s reading. There’s something behind her eyes—focused but faraway. Like she’s here and somewhere else at the same time. It nags at me, that shadow.
But I remember what Nikolai said. We ran the check. She’s clean. Not a fed. No priors. Nothing in the system that raises red flags.
Except one thing.
“Ivy’s birth certificate,” I say as we walk back toward my office, “doesn’t list a father.”
She doesn’t look surprised. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“No. Just something we noticed.”
“Speaking of fatherhood, who’s Mila’s father and who is Alex’s father?”
This may get interesting. Most people don’t understand. “The three of us are.”
A line furrows down the middle of her brows. “How’s that?”
“They both are our children.”
Nikolai smirks. “The three of us were there when they were made. So, we’re their fathers.”
“Hm. I imagine Father’s Day gets loud around here.”
Nikolai chuckles, and I can’t stop smirking at her. “You could say that. Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“No. Should it?”
