69

THEA

I swallow. “That I’m delicate. That I should be careful. That I smell different. And then she implied I should keep to myself. That whores don't get kept as wives.”

The words feel like acid all over again, even now. My fingers curl unconsciously at my side, nails biting into my my palm.

Ezra doesn't move at first. Is he even breathing?

He continues to stare at me, and then, slowly, he lifts his head and smiles, but it's the wrong kind of smile.

It not charming or flirty like the one he always flashes me. Not even close. 

It's wicked. Empty of humour.

“Did she touch you?” He asks, voice low, eyes raking my body for any signs.

“No.” I say quickly, stepping towards him, hands out so I can touch him.

I pull him to my self and place my head against his chest, hugging him tight.

He inhales deeply and hugs me back, nose buried in my hair. 

God. I love this man. Is it even right?

“I'm sorry.” I murmur against his chest.

“You did nothing wrong.” He says, still holding me.

“No. I tried to burn your bank account to the ground and ended up running into her and—”

“I'm sorry too then.” He says, pulling me back. 

“So, the both of us are…” I wander off, my eyes darting to the wall clock.

4 fucking 30.

“Shit shit shit shit.” 

I whisper in panic, hurriedly pulling away.

“What happened?” Ezra asks, suddenly alert, his eyes scanning mine for some unspoken threat.

“I…” I grip my temples, trying to breathe. “Shit. I lost track of time. I—I forgot I’m still a mother.”

He blinks. “Finn?”

I nod rapidly, already fumbling for my phone but I can't find it. “His school closed thirty minutes ago. I was supposed to pick him. I always pick him.”

Ezra glances at the clock and gently catches my wrist, steadying my hand. “Call the school. Let them know you're on your way.”

“I—” I start to argue, but he’s already pulling out his phone and handing it to me. “You can use mine.”

I shoot him a look that should be a glare, but it’s too full of panic to land properly.

I call.

The receptionist answers. Finn is safe, sitting with the headteacher, snacking and chatting, oblivious to the fact that I've kinda forgotten him. 

They say it’s fine, that I’m not the first late parent. But I still feel the guilt clawing up my throat.

When I hang up, I blow out a breath. “I can make it if I leave now. Just—”

I stop.

Because I remember.

The backseat.

Oh, God.

The backseat is a goddamn warzone of shopping therapy. Shopping bags stacked on shopping bags, shoeboxes and tissue paper and an aggressive number of hangers. The only clear spot is the driver’s side—barely enough room for me, let alone my son.

Ezra sees the shift in my face. “What now?”

“My car,” I say flatly. “It’s full. Like, really full. I’d have to bury Finn in suede and silk to fit him in.”

Ezra’s lips twitch, but he wisely schools it into something more neutral. “Okay. Then I’ll drive you.”

I blink. “What?”

“I’ll drive,” he repeats, already rounding the desk to grab his coat from the chair. “We’ll take my car. Yours can stay here. I'll have it towed to your place before night.”

I hesitate. “Ezra…”

“I’m not letting you race across the city in a panic just to realize you have nowhere to put him,” he says gently, stepping toward me. “Let me help.”

I want to say no. I do.

Because I’m still figuring out what parts of my life he gets to touch.

But right now? With guilt chewing through my gut and the clock taunting me?

I nod.

He presses a kiss to my temple before guiding me out of the office with one hand at my back.

And for a brief moment—just a sliver of time between the chaos and the guilt—I let myself lean into it.

Into him.

He's going to really meet Finn.

For the first time.

How do I introduce him to him?