Chương 2
“You’re big.”
“That’s your reason?”
Lily pointed toward the sugar packets.
“You put those back.”
Alexander frowned.
“What?”
“When that man bumped your table, the sugar things fell over, and you fixed them even though you didn’t knock them down.”
Emma looked embarrassed by her sister’s explanation.
“That sounds dumb.”
“No,” Alexander said.
“It doesn’t.”
Sophie studied him with enormous brown eyes.
“And you look like people listen when you say stuff.”
Alexander rubbed a thumb over the cardboard sleeve around his coffee.
Twenty-seven years in the Army had apparently reduced themselves, at least visually, to responsible sugar-packet management.
He found that oddly comforting.
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
The girls exchanged looks.
Emma appeared to regret the entire operation.
Lily stared at her shoes.
Grace bit her lower lip.
Sophie answered.
“Pretend you’re our dad.”
Alexander stared at her.
“No.”
Sophie’s face collapsed so rapidly that he immediately regretted the firmness.
“I mean, I can’t actually pretend to be your father to deceive your mother.”
“You don’t have to deceive Mommy.”
“That is usually part of pretending.”
“We can tell her.”
Emma covered her face with one hand.
“Sophie, this is a terrible plan.”
“It was your plan.”
“I said find a grown-up.”
“You said find a safe grown-up.”
“I didn’t say make him Dad.”
Alexander glanced toward Claire again.
She had opened her phone and was showing Daniels something.
Mercer leaned toward the screen despite not being invited.
Claire stepped away.
Alexander had seen versions of that dance in offices, family gatherings, command meetings, and diplomatic receptions.
A person claiming space one inch at a time.
A person surrendering it because defending every inch was exhausting.
“What does Mercer say about your family?” Alexander asked.
Emma’s expression hardened.
“That we’re broken.”
The word landed differently than the rest.
“He says Mom works too much because there’s no man at home,” Lily said.
“He says she makes bad decisions because she’s tired.”
“He says girls need a father or they get difficult,” Grace added.
Emma’s jaw tightened.
“He told Mom she should stop pretending she has a choice.”
Alexander’s fingers stopped against the coffee sleeve.
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Where?”
“Our kitchen.”
“He was at your house?”
Emma nodded.
“He brought dinner.”
“Did your mother invite him?”
“No.”
“Did she let him inside?”
Grace answered before Emma could.
“He put his foot in the door.”
Alexander felt something cold settle beneath his ribs.
Not anger exactly.
Anger was hot and often stupid.
This was narrower.
He had learned to distrust people who confused persistence with permission.
“What happened after that?”
“Mom told him to leave.”
“Did he?”
“After Emma called Mr. Daniels,” Lily said.
Emma looked down.
“I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Why not the police?”
The question came out more sharply than Alexander intended.
Emma stiffened.
“Because Mom said not to make it worse.”
There it was.
The sentence Alexander had heard in a hundred forms from people balancing fear against consequences.
Don’t make it worse.
Don’t embarrass anyone.
Don’t create paperwork.
Don’t risk the job.
Don’t provoke him.
Don’t turn something unpleasant into something official.
Adults built elaborate prisons from those sentences.
Children learned to live inside them.
Alexander lowered his voice.
“Your mother know you’re scared of him?”
“She knows.”
“Then why is he here?”
Emma glanced toward Daniels.
“Work.”
Alexander waited.
Emma sighed.
“Mr. Mercer’s company is buying something from Mommy’s company.”
“Not buying,” Lily corrected.
“Investing.”
“You don’t know what investing means.”
“I know it means rich people have meetings.”
“That is unfortunately not entirely wrong,” Alexander said.
Lily gave him a pleased look.
The café door opened, letting in a gust of cold air and three men in Army service uniforms.
Alexander recognized Major Collins first.
Collins was talking to Captain Reed and Lieutenant Warren and had not yet looked across the room.
Alexander immediately turned his attention back to the children.
He did not want rank entering the situation before facts did.
Then Claire Bennett looked toward his table.
Her entire body changed.
“Girls?”
Emma whispered something Alexander did not catch.
Claire moved through the café so quickly that her tote struck the back of a chair.
“Emma?”
She saw Grace’s coat under the table.
“Oh, God.”
She dropped into a crouch.
“Girls, what are you doing?”
Her gaze rose to Alexander, alarm replacing relief.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize yet,” he said.
Her eyebrows drew together.
“That is a surprisingly ominous way to say that.”
Sophie emerged first.
“We found a dad.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Sophie.”
“A pretend one.”
“That is not improving this.”
Alexander stood slowly.
Claire rose too, gathering her daughters with practiced movements, checking faces and coats and backpacks almost without looking.
Up close she appeared more tired than frightened.
There were faint shadows beneath her eyes, and the sleeve of her blouse had been buttoned incorrectly at one cuff.
“I apologize,” she said again.
“They shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“They didn’t.”
Emma stepped beside her mother.
“We were hiding.”
Claire’s face tightened.
“I know.”
“From him.”
“I know.”
“Then why are we still here?”
Claire looked toward Mercer.
That hesitation answered more than anything else had.
Richard Mercer approached before she could respond.
He smiled at the girls first.
“There you are.”
Nobody answered.
His smile remained.
“You scared your mother half to death.”
Sophie reached behind her without looking and found Alexander’s hand.
Mercer noticed.
His expression changed by almost nothing.
That almost nothing was enough.
“And who is this?” he asked.
Claire opened her mouth.
Sophie spoke first.
“Our dad.”
Claire made a strangled sound.
Emma stared at the floor.
Grace whispered, “Pretend.”
Lily whispered back, “You weren’t supposed to say that.”
Mercer looked directly at Alexander.
“You their father?”
“No.”
Relief passed visibly through Mercer’s posture.
“Well, then.”
He turned toward Claire as if Alexander had ceased to exist.
“We need to finish the conversation.”
“No,” Claire said.
Mercer’s smile thinned.
May you like
“Claire.”
She flinched so slightly that Alexander doubted anyone else noticed.
