Page 53 of Enemy Ex's Secret Baby

“Stella, it’s okay. You two will have your fun and I’ll see you another time, how about–” Axel starts to intercede.

“Fine, he can come,” I say finally, although my voice is so quiet, I’m not sure he heard me.

Lola did. All the way from her spot behind the counter where she’s brewing another container of coffee. She freezes and looks over her shoulder at me. Are you crazy? her eyes ask. After the way Axel and I have been at each other’s throats the past four months, she’s right to be concerned.

Little does she know, it’s not about that. Not about that at all.

“You sure, Gill?” Axel asks me.

Gill. Just a diminutive of my name. Yet, for him to call me that in front of other people. In front of my daughter–

Our daughter.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I say. Ignore it. Means nothing.

Stella leaps up in celebration, kissing me on the cheek. “Yay! Thank you, Mommy!” Then she rushes over to Axel and grabs his hand. “Mommy made us a picnic basket with food and everything. She made pigs in a blanket. They’re my favorite. Can we take your car? I like your car better than Mommy’s. It’s bigger!”

Axel shakes his head around like it’s full of marbles. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! One thing at a time.”

Stella drags him by the hand outside, but Axel doesn’t seem to resist. I sigh in their wake and look back at Lola. She shakes her head. “You’re crazy, Gillian.”

“Me? Your brother is the crazy one. Why would he want to spend his Saturday with his worst nightmare and her daughter?”

Lola’s face softens. She doesn’t reply with words. Just shakes her head and smiles.

What the hell kind of response is that?

Stella waves through the window at me. “Come on, Mommy!” she calls out, voice muted by the glass.

It’s just one afternoon. It will be fine. It might even be good.

Better not get ahead of myself with that one, though.

I head outside and grab the picnic basket out of my VW bug while Axel gets Stella settled in his car. She’s right. His car is bigger. And the air conditioning probably works a hundred percent of the time instead of seventy percent. I pop the basket into the backseat beside her, climb into the passenger seat, and sigh.

“You have no idea how excited I am to see the famous Seton lot in action,” Axel remarks just before turning on the car.

I look out the window and grimace. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

18

AXEL

When we arrive at the Seton lot, I immediately get it. Everything snaps into place. From the pictures, all I’ve ever seen is a dusty lot covered in weeds with rickety chain link fence on two sides. However, right now, it is alive.

Children run through the grass playing games of Red Rover and tag while parents are posted up with strollers and wagons, picnic blankets scattered across the ground. There’s a table set up by the PTA that’s making root beer floats and another booth with facepainting.

There are various banners left up from the last protests. “Save our park!” and “Seton lot belongs to us!” Phrases I would roll my eyes at before.

Now, though…it’s clicking into place.

“You okay?” Gillian asks.

“Sorry?”

“You’ve got kind of a glazed-over look on your face,” she says with a half-smile. “Too much stimuli?”

Yes, but not in the way she means it. I couldn’t fathom until this moment why so many people cared to fight for a measly plot of land. Other than one kid sobbing about a skinned knee, I don’t see one sour face in the whole place. Everyone is grinning ear to ear. It’s almost unsettling. But then I remember that some people are just…happy.

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