Page 88 of Claimed By the Bikers
“Been dealing with Tyler drama.” She rolls her eyes. “You know how men get when they think they can just waltz back into their kids’ lives whenever it’s convenient.”
Tyler is the father of her two kids, but never quite ready to be a real partner. I’ve heard his name mentioned, but never met him.
“He’s not taking responsibility well?”
“Oh, he loves playing daddy when it suits him. He shows up with toys and promises, gets the kids all excited, then disappears for weeks when work gets busy.” Lizzy moves to the next table, her movements sharp with frustration. “Now he’s talking about how we should be a ‘real family,’ how he wants to move us closer to his job site, how the kids need stability.”
“That doesn’t sound terrible.”
“It’s not terrible. It’s just…convenient timing.” She pauses in her work, staring out the window. “Six months ago, he could barely remember their birthdays. Now he’s making arrangements for our lives without asking what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“I want him to be consistent. I want to finish my nursing degree.” She sighs. “Is that selfish?”
“Not even a little. You have time to figure things out without rushing into decisions that will affect you and your kids for the rest of your lives.”
The restaurant door chimes, and Mrs. Andrew enters with her usual Tuesday morning energy. Lizzy immediately straightens, switching from frustrated baby mama to professional hostess.
“Morning, Mrs. Andrew. Your usual table?”
“Please, honey. And don’t forget extra cream for my coffee. Doctor says I need the calories.”
As Lizzy helps Mrs. Andrew settle in, I find myself thinking about timing and choices, and how complicated relationships become when children are involved. Lizzy’s right to want consistency from Tyler before making major life decisions. Twenty-seven is still young enough to figure things out without rushing into situations that might not work.
But then again, twenty-four isn’t exactly ancient wisdom territory either.
“You want some advice?” I ask when Lizzy returns.
“From someone who’s living with three men and pregnant by one of them? Yes, please.”
“Tell Tyler to prove himself with actions, not promises. Tell him you need to see real consistency before making big decisions about your family’s future. If he can’t respect that, then he’s not ready to be a real partner anyway.”
“What if he says I’m being unreasonable?”
“Then he’s proving your point. Good partners put the family’s well-being first, not their own convenience.”
Lizzy considers this, twisting her dishrag between her hands. “What if I’m wrong? What if I should give him another chance since the kids love having him around?”
“You’re not wrong for wanting stability for your children. You’re just not letting his promises override your need for proof that he’s changed.”
I hear Atlas’s voice from the kitchen, sharp and focused in a way that makes me pay attention.
He’s on his phone, pacing the small space behind the prep area.
“When did it arrive?” His tone has shifted from casual to business mode. “All of it? No, that’s not possible through normal channels.”
I stand up. Atlas doesn’t usually take calls during morning setup unless they’re important.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Lizzy, following the sound of his voice toward the kitchen.
He’s stopped pacing, standing near the walk-in cooler with his back to me. His free hand runs through his hair, a gesture I recognize as a stress response.
“We’ll be there in an hour,” he says finally. “Don’t let anyone else handle the inventory until we arrive.”
When he turns around, I’m standing in the doorway watching him. His expression shifts from business to neutrality.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
