Page 100 of Finders Keepers

He walks me through the process of filing for a protective order, and by the time we hang up, my delicious lavender latte has gone cold. I check the time on my phone, 3:32pm. My seat beside the window suddenly makes me feel too exposed and the feeling of being watched from earlier creeps back in.

Is he here? Could he have found us? No, that’s ridiculous. He’s miles away still in Oklahoma. But still…my racing mind and anxiety are getting the better of me.

I gather my things quickly, thank Beau again for the recommendation, and head out.

As I walk to my car, my phone buzzes with a text from Gavin:“Hope your day’s going good.Do you prefer garlic sticks or garlic knots?”

A small smile breaks through. I type back:“I’ve had better days. Tell you about it tonight? And your choice.”

His response is immediate:“Okay, I’m here if you need anything before then.”

I unlock and slide into my car, feeling slightly better and look at the flowers still in the passenger seat. At least I’m not facing this alone anymore.

I watch Sophie in her chair at Gavin’s dining table, her fork pushed into a meatball as she begins eating it.

“And then Tommy shared his blue crayon with me because mine broke, and Ms. Lucy said my drawing was so pretty because I stayed in the lines!” She beams. “Oh! And we saw lots of butterflies today! Did you know their tongues are on their feet? That’s what Ms. Lucy said!”

Gavin’s eyes smile with amusement as he drinks his glass of sweet tea. “I did know that, actually. They have taste receptors in their feet. Pretty cool, right?”

“Yeah, it’s the coolest thing ever!” She nods enthusiastically, finally remembering to take a bite of her meatball. She’s already demolished half her noodles.

I push my dinner around my plate, Dale’s words from earlier still echoing in my head. A protective order. The thought makes my stomach churn, and my appetite has practically disappeared. What if it makes Matt angrier? What if—

“Mommy?” Sophie’s voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. “What kind of birthday cake do you want Ms. Lucy to make you? She makes the bestest cakes!”

“The best cakes,” I automatically correct. “And I haven’t really thought about it, baby. Maybe just regular?”

“Regular?” She asks, putting her cup back onto the table. “Ms. Lucy can make any cake in the whole wide world! Tommy told me she made him a rocket ship cake for his birthday!”

Gavin reaches under the table and squeezes my knee gently. I tense at his touch, my nerves still frayed from thinking about Matt, but then I feel the warmth of his hand on my skin. I exhale slowly and let myself relax into his reassuring gesture, drawing comfort from the simple connection. His fingers give another gentle squeeze, as if to say everything will be okay, and I find my anxiety easing just a little.

I know he can tell something’s wrong; he’s been shooting me concerned glances all evening.

“Well,” I say, trying to sound more upbeat for her sake, “what kind of cake do you think I should have?”

Her little face scrunches up in deep thought. “Maybe… maybe a flower cake! ’cause you love flowers! With lots of pretty colors!”

“That’s actually a really good idea, Soph,” Gavin chimes in, and I’m grateful for his support. “Your mom does love flowers.”

“Yeah!” She says. “And we can put purple on it ‘cause it’s your favorite color too! Can we ask Ms. Lucy tomorrow? Please?”

“We’ll see her this weekend, baby. We can ask her then.” I manage a real smile this time. My birthday is still a week away, but Sophie’s excitement is contagious.

She begins pushing her fork into more noodles. “Can I go play with Nugget now?”

I glance at her mostly empty plate. “Eat two more big girl bites please.”

She takes two enthusiastic bites, scooping up the last bit of sauce with her noodles, and then she heads to the back patio where Nugget was fed his dinner. Through the kitchen window, I hear her sweet voice asking him for his paw. “Nugget, shake! Good boy!” Her giggles float back to me, the sound warming my heart despite my lingering worries.

As soon as the back door closes, Gavin immediately turns in his chair. “Okay, what happened today? You’ve barely touched your dinner.”

I lean back, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I called Dale earlier. They served Matt the divorce papers last week.”

“And?” His jaw tenses slightly at the mention of Matt’s name.

“And he…he didn’t take it well.” I lower my voice even more. “He got violent, punched at the storm door and shattered the glass. Dale filed a protective order.”

He sets down his fork, his whole demeanor changing. “Okay, good. That’s a good step.”

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