Richard squeezed Eleanor's hand. Lucas looked away. Mia tugged his sleeve. Dad, can we make cookies? Sure kiddo, let's do that.
Anything to escape this room. The kitchen was a mess of flour and chocolate chips within 20 minutes. Mia stood on a stool hands deep in cookie dough grinning like this was the best day of her life. Margaret supervised offering tips and stealing bits of dough when she thought no one was looking. Lucas leaned against the counter watching his daughter laugh and felt something loosen in his chest.
This was good normal. The kind of moment that reminded him why he'd made the choices he'd made. She's wonderful Margaret said softly coming to stand beside him. You've done an amazing job with her. Thanks Mom.
I mean it Lucas. I know it hasn't been easy raising her alone working full-time. You've sacrificed a lot. He didn't know what to say to that. Margaret studied him.
Are you happy? The question caught him off guard. What? Happy? Are you happy with your life?
Lucas watched Mia press cookie cutters into dough. She makes me happy. That's not what I asked. He met his mother's eyes. She was watching him with that look the one that said she saw through every wall he'd ever built.
I'm fine Mom. Fine isn't happy. It's enough. Margaret sighed. You're 32 years old Lucas.
You should be building a life not just surviving one. I have a life. I have Mia. I have work. And what about you?
What do you have for yourself? Nothing. The answer was nothing and they both knew it. But before he could figure out how to respond the back door opened and Victoria walked in shaking snow from her hair. She stopped when she saw them.
Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. You're not, Margaret said warmly. We're making cookies, join us. I should Please, we'd love to help. Victoria hesitated, then nodded.
Okay. She moved to the sink to wash her hands. Lucas stayed where he was, suddenly very aware of how small the kitchen was. Mia looked up. Do you like cookies?
Victoria smiled. I do. What's your favorite kind? Chocolate chip. Classic.
Me, too, Mia beamed. We're making those right now. You can help. And just like that, Victoria was pulled into the chaos. Mia handed her a cookie cutter shaped like a star.
Victoria took it, looking slightly bemused, and started cutting shapes from the dough. Lucas watched them work side by side, his daughter chattering away about school and friends and her favorite books. Victoria listening, asking questions, actually engaging. It was such a small thing, but it hit him like a freight train. This was what he'd given up, not just Victoria, but the possibility of this.
Of someone else in Mia's life, someone who cared, someone who fit. Margaret caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. He looked away. Dad, look. Mia held up a misshapen star.
It's you. That's me? Yeah, see? It's all pointy. Victoria laughed.
Actually laughed. The sound was startling, sharp, and genuine, and so familiar it hurt. I think it's perfect, she said. Mia grinned. I'll make one for you, too.
What shape should you be? Victoria considered this seriously. A heart. Okay. Lucas excused himself.
He couldn't watch this anymore. Couldn't stand there and pretend it didn't tear him apart. He went upstairs to the bedroom and closed the door. He heard her come in an hour later, soft footsteps, the quiet click of the door. Lucas was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to think about nothing.
"Your daughter is very sweet." Victoria said. He didn't look at her. "Thanks." "She talks about you constantly.
My dad this, my dad that. You're her whole world." "She's mine, too." Silence. Then the mattress shifted as Victoria sat on her side of the bed.
"Can I ask you something?" Lucas's jaw tightened. "Depends on the question." "What happened?" "With her mother?"
He closed his eyes. "You don't want to know." "I do." "Why?" "What difference does it make?"
"I don't know." Victoria said quietly. "But I need to understand." "You were so careful." "So responsible."
"How did you end up" "a single father?" He sat up, anger flaring hot and sudden. "Is that what you're asking? How did the guy who had his whole life planned out end up with an unplanned kid?" Victoria flinched.
"That's not what I meant." "Isn't it?" "No. I'm asking because" She stopped, started again. "Because 7 years ago, you told me we couldn't be together.
That we had to end things because our parents were getting close and it would be too complicated. You chose them over us." "We both did." "And then 6 months later, you had a baby with someone else." The accusation in her voice was clear.
Lucas laughed bitterly. "You want the truth?" "Fine." "Her name was Amanda. We met at a bar.
I was drunk and angry and trying to forget you. We hooked up once. Once. And she got pregnant." Victoria's expression was unreadable.
"She didn't want to keep it." Lucas continued. "Told me flat-out she wasn't ready to be a mother. But she didn't want an abortion, either. So we made a deal.
She'd carry the baby to term, sign over custody, and walk away." "I'd raise Mia alone and never ask her for anything, and you agreed to that. What choice did I have? She was pregnant. The baby was mine.
I couldn't just—" He broke off, shaking his head. I did what I had to do. You became a father. Yeah. And gave up everything else.
Lucas met her eyes. Not everything. Just the things that didn't matter anymore. It was a lie, and they both knew it. Victoria looked away.
I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I'm sorry you had to go through that. Don't be. Mia's the best thing that ever happened to me. I believe you.
More silence, thick and uncomfortable. What about you? Lucas asked. Billionaire CEO, that's a long way from art history major. Victoria's mouth twisted.