Page 36 of Worship Him

Thomas blinks, taken aback for a moment before regaining his composure. “I see. And you’re certain?”

“Absolutely.” I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “Understandably, this changes everything.”

He nods slowly. “I understand your perspective, but this could complicate matters further.”

“I don’t care about complications,” I snap. “The most important thing for me right now is my child.”

He holds up a hand, attempting to calm me down. “Adam, I get it. But if we halt proceedings now, it’ll look like we’re stalling for some advantage. The court might not look kindly on that.”

“I’m not stalling,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m reevaluating everything in light of new information.”

Thomas sighs, adjusts his tie, and shifts in his chair. “If we proceed with this strategy, it could drag everything out even longer.”

“Let it drag,” I say firmly. “I need time to figure out how Avery fits into everything.”

He nods again, slower this time. “Alright, but you should be prepared for a prolonged situation.”

“I’ll deal with it,” I say with more confidence than I feel.

“Very well,” he replies, standing up. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements and keep you updated.”

“Do that,” I say as he heads for the door.

Once he’s gone, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My thoughts drift back to Avery again—how she giggled when I made silly faces at her and how natural it felt holding her.

The reports on my desk suddenly seem trivial compared to what’s at stake now.

My phone buzzes with an incoming call from one of my department heads, but I let it go to voicemail.

Right now, nothing is more important than figuring out how to navigate this new reality with Avery in it.

And dealing with Destiny? Well, that’s a storm I'll face head-on when it comes.

For now, it's all about making sure my daughter has everything she needs.

After the meeting, I head to Destiny’s apartment for another visit with Avery. The building is decent enough, but as I step inside her unit, I can’t help but feel a pang of discomfort. It’s cramped, even if it’s well-kept and pretty up-scale.

My home—the home we shared—is spacious, filled with light and possibilities. This place feels like a compromise.

My jaw clenches. This isn't right. My daughter deserves better.

Destiny greets me with a nod, her expression guarded. She steps aside to let me in. I take in the small living room, its corners filled with baby toys and a stroller tucked against the wall.

“Adam,” she says, breaking the silence.

“Destiny.” My tone is clipped. We’ve barely spoken since the courtroom disaster. I get the feeling that today won’t be any different.

I follow her to Avery’s room, taking a closer look at the room this time. The crib sits against the far wall close to the window and rocking chair, and she’s lying there, cooing at a mobile above her.

I walk over and pick her up, feeling the tension ease as she fits perfectly in my arms. “Hey there, little one.”

Destiny hovers nearby, her arms crossed. The tension between us is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

"She needs a diaper change," she says.

I lay Avery on the changing table, fumbling a bit with the diaper. I managed last time, I can do it this time.

Destiny watches, her expression unreadable.

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