Page 5 of Undeniably Corrupt
“Is it serious?” The words slip out before I can stop them, but I don’t take them back. There’s no ring on her finger, and I don’t know why I care, but I do. I want her to be happy, and I want her life to be full, but I also never wanted her with anyone but me.
She smiles, and my chest squeezes at how beautiful and familiar it is. “Pretty serious. I think for us, it’s forever.”
Fuck.
“Lucky guy.” My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I already know it’s Champagne wondering where I am. “I need to get going.”
“Sure. Have a good rest of your day, and thanks again for stepping in like that.”
“It’s the least I could do.”
Because once upon a time, I broke her heart. And without intending to, broke mine in return.
2
Glancing left and right, I jog across the street, wrapping my coat tighter around my body, trying to brush off my morning. I can’t shake it. That ancient, jittery, uneasy feeling as though I have to look over my shoulder, twitch. I haven’t had it this bad in a while, though I suppose it’s never quite gone. It’s not from my boss or even that woman. It’s from that guy. There was something… almost familiar about him.
Those eyes.
Whatever. The day is done. Perhaps I just need some sleep. Something I know I won’t be getting a lot of tonight.
The campus daycare looms ahead, and I race there, anxious to see my girl. Students don’t get priority here, but if you work for the university and attend classes, suddenly you’re in. It’s why I quit my job as a CNA, or certified nursing assistant, and started at the café, which is technically on campus, because what I lose in experience, I save in paying for daycare and more regular hours.
I hit the buzzer beside the glass door, and they let me in.
“Hi Liora,” the receptionist greets me.
“Hi. How’s it going?”
She smiles brightly. “Good. She had a good day and is adjusting nicely to her classroom.”
I practically sag with relief. The daycare I had her in before was less than ideal since it was a woman in my building who basically had five other kids just hanging out in her apartment. As much as I hate having to leave Hazel, as a single mom, I have no choice, and this place is worlds better.
“That’s great. Thanks so much for telling me.”
“Sure thing. I’ll go get her while you sign out.”
I fill out the required boxes on the sign-out sheet, and by the time I’m done, I catch the sound of Hazel’s heavy stomps followed by her crying out for me. Her blonde head comes into view, and my chest clenches. I crouch down and scoop up my little girl just as she launches herself into my arms.
“Mommy!”
“Hi, baby.” I kiss her cheeks and throw a wave to the receptionist. “Bye. See you tomorrow.” We leave the building, and I walk with Hazel in my arms up the sidewalk. “How was your day?” I ask as we cross the street and get in line for the T.
“Good,” she singsongs.
“Who did you play with?”
“Bryce, Blakely, and Cecelia,” she says in her toddler voice.
“Fun. Are you hungry?”
She nods and proceeds to tell me all about playing on the playground and coloring a Princess Peach as we ride on the T toward our neighborhood. For two and a half, my girl has a ton of words.
Thirty minutes later, our building looms up ahead. Nervously, I hold tight to Hazel’s hand, looking left and right and mercifully not seeing Ricky as we quicken our steps to the front door. I jiggle the key until it finally twists for me and push into the building. The dank scent of must and something chemical immediately hits me, as it always does, and we run upthe four sets of dimly lit and half-broken stairs to the fourth floor and into our studio apartment.
I hate living here. I hate everything about it, but until I can finish school and afford something better, this is what it is.
I go to the kitchen, which is little more than a mini fridge, a two-burner stove, a counter with a toaster oven, a microwave, and a few cabinets. I get going on making us both peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with apple slices while she plays with her dolls and Bunny by the window. Yet no matter how hard I try to focus on the task at hand, I can’t get that guy out of my head. I’ll admit, I did think he was unhoused, and I felt bad for him.
