Page 147 of Wicked Proposal
“We’re not. But unfortunately, Ms. Winters’s probation is very clear on the relevance ofmiddle-school geographyto her case.” He whips out a file from his suitcase and hands it to me. “Page 4, paragraph C:The Respondent Mother shall not remove the subject child from the State of New York without prior written authorization from the Department of Child Protective Services and the express permission of the Family Court.”
Next to me, Mia’s face drains of all color.
“I’m assuming from Ms. Winters’s face that she was not yet aware you were taking her there,” Lee says with a pointed look at Mia. “Am I correct, Ms. Winters?”
“Yes,” she says right away. “We hadn’t, um—discussed it. Yet.”
“Good.” He checks a box on his clipboard. “Because, if you had, I would have had to report you.”
“I’m sure Mia just forgot,” Mrs. Deloera chimes in. “Right, dear?”
She gives the quickest nod in history.
“Then that’s settled.” The older woman waves at Eli, then at the rest of us. “Have a wonderful weekend within state lines! I’m sure you’ll find another exciting place to visit.”
“Ms. Winters,” Lee says by way of goodbye. “Mr. Johnson.”
Then they’re both gone.
As soon as the door clicks shut, Mia leans against it. “Blyat’.”
I frown. “Did you just swear in Russian?”
“Took a page from your book,” she exhales. “Turns out, it’s useful when you’re around kids.”
“Mommy?” Eli comes trudging over, his eyes lucid. “Does this mean we can’t go to Russia? Or Montana?”
“That’s right, honey.” She crouches, gathering him up in her arms. “I’m so sorry. We’ll go another time, okay?”
“It’s because of Mr. Lee,” he spits. “Ihatehim!”
“He’s just doing his job. He wants you to be safe, okay? That’s why he’s so strict all the time.”
“But I’m safe with you,” he argues. “I’m safe with Yulian.”
“Then we’ll just have to prove that, won’t we?” She kisses the top of his head. It’s such an affectionate gesture, so uniquelythem,I feel the urge to look away. Tear my gaze off this family that doesn’t belong to me. “And how do we do that?”
“By being good,” he recites.
“That’s right. By being good.” She presses one more kiss to his brow, then smiles. “Now, why don’t you go pick tonight’s dinner? You can have whatever you want.”
“Even ice cream?”
“Even ice cream.”
He doesn’t look happy, but at least he’s pacified. He trudges to the takeout menu drawer. He can’t read yet, but he must know what the logos stand for, because he starts sorting the leaflets into “yes/maybe/no” piles.
Regret grips my chest. I’m not used to it at all, let alone in situations like these. Low stakes, where no one’s bleeding out on a dirty warehouse floor, or under a white-clothed table.
I’m not used to apologizing, either.
“I talked too much. I shouldn’t have.”
“You couldn’t have known.” Mia finds my clenched fists and rubs them, softly smoothing over the tension. One by one, she unfurls the fingers of my right hand until she can intertwine them with hers. “Thank you, though. For offering this. I’m sorry we couldn’t make it happen.”
Next time.It’s on my tongue, but it’s also a lie. Because I have no idea if there will be one. If Mia will ever be by my side again.
What kind of piece of shit would do that to her? Put her in danger all over again, just because he’s scared to let go?
