Page 129 of Ink Me Three Times
She tries to recover, but it’s too late. I see it now, seeher. All smoke and mirrors. A performance wrapped in motherhood branding.
“You don’t want Penny,” I say, standing up. “You want control. You want to win. But you’re not getting her, Trina. Not now. Not ever.”
Her expression twists, something mean and real breaking through the gloss. “You think the court’s going to side with a tattooed single dad and his parade of nannies and flings?”
I lean down, calm and low. “You don’t know my life. You sure as hell don’t knowmeanymore.”
Then her tone shifts.
She tilts her head, leans forward. Her voice drops low, syrupy sweet and sharp as glass.
“But maybe we don’thaveto make this ugly,” she says. “You’ve got your setup. Your shop. Your little nanny.” She smirks slightly. “It’s a cute life. Stable, even. I can see why you wouldn’t want to mess that up.”
My jaw tightens, but I don’t speak.
I can see the real her snaking out like venom.
She watches me, then taps a manicured nail on her mug. “I’ve got debts,” she says simply. “And I need a fresh start. Something clean. Easy.”
I narrow my eyes, not liking where this is going.
“So here’s the thing,” she declares. “You pay me off, I walk away. I won’t file for custody. I won’t come back. You’ll never hear from me again.”
For a second, I think I misheard her. I just sit there, blinking, trying to make sense of what she’s saying.
“You’re joking,” I finally manage.
She shrugs, almost cheerfully. “Not really. I figure we both get what we want. You keep your daughter. I get a chance to, you know, rebuild. On my terms.”
She’s here for money. For leverage. For me to buy her absence, like Penny’s some card she pulled out of a deck when she needed a damn payday.
And just as I’m about to lose it, about to tell her exactly what kind of heartless, selfish piece of…
Bark
Clatter.
Screech.
A woman gasps.
Pickle.
He bursts through the café door, muddy and panting, leash dragging behind him, a tail of chaos. He skids across the tile, paws scrambling for traction, nails clicking loud as drum beats.He crashes into a chair leg, rebounds, then barrels straight for me.
“What the…”
I shoot up just in time to catch him before he launches himself onto my lap.
“Pickle!” I groan, grabbing his harness. “What the hell are you…”
And then the door swings open again.
Ivy.
She’s breathless, cheeks flushed, eyes scanning the café, and when she finds me, they stop cold.
Because she doesn’t see Trina offering me a bribe. Doesn’t hear the venom she just spit.
