10!

MABEL

I made it halfway across the lobby before I realized I'd left my pen in Vanessa's living room.

It was a stupid, expensive pen, a Montblanc I'd bought myself after landing my first six-figure contract. I used it for every client signing. Lucky charm, Jenny called it.

I couldn't leave it behind.

The doorman looked up as I approached. "Forget something, Ms. James?"

"My pen. I left it upstairs."

He called up to Rose, who cheerfully told him to send me back up. "Ms. Latham's already left for her meeting, but I'm still here. Come on up!"

The elevator ride felt different this time. Slower. My reflection in the polished doors looked pale, nervous.

Get it together,* I told myself. *It's just a pen.

But my hands were shaking as the doors opened.

Rose was waiting in the foyer, holding my Montblanc. "Found it on the coffee table," she said with a smile.

"Thank you. I would've been lost without it."

"I totally get it. I have a lucky mug that I refuse to let anyone else use." Rose's laugh was warm and easy.

"Hey, since you're here, do you want to see some of the pieces I was thinking might work for the charity gala? I pulled a few looks from Ms. Latham's closet that might be a good starting point."

I should have said no. Should have taken my pen and left.

But something in Rose's genuine enthusiasm made me hesitate.

And beneath that, the desperate, foolish hope that I might catch another glimpse of Liam.

"Sure," I said. "I have a few minutes."

Rose led me back into the living room. Sunlight streamed through the massive windows, making the space feel even more open and airy than before.

She had three dresses laid out on the sofa, all elegant, all very Vanessa.

"I was thinking of this one," Rose said, holding up a midnight blue gown with clean lines. "It's classic, but the cut is modern. What do you think?"

I was about to respond when I heard it.

Footsteps.

Small, running footsteps.

My entire body tensed.

"Rosie! Rosie, look what I made!"

And then he appeared.

A little boy burst into the living room, his dark curls bouncing with each step.

He was wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt and jeans, his cheeks flushed with excitement. In his hands, he clutched a drawing, bright crayon marks on white paper.

My heart stopped.

It was him.

Liam.

My son.

He was more beautiful than any photograph could capture. His eyes, warm brown, sparkling with joy, were so alive, so full of wonder.

His smile was wide and gap-toothed, completely uninhibited.

He looked exactly like the baby I'd held for those few brief moments in the hospital.

And nothing like him at all.

Because he wasn't a baby anymore. He was a little boy. A person with thoughts and feelings and a whole life I knew nothing about.

"Liam!" Rose laughed, crouching down to his level. "I thought you were playing in your room."

"I finished my drawing!" He thrust the paper toward her proudly. "It's you and Mommy and me at the park!"

Rose studied it seriously. "This is amazing! You even got my hair right. I love it."

Then Liam noticed me.

His eyes went wide, and he took a small step back, suddenly shy.

"Who's that?" he whispered to Rose, loud enough that I could hear every word.

Rose straightened, smiling at me. "Liam, this is Miss Mabel. She's going to help your mommy pick out pretty dresses."

Liam stared at me for a long moment, his head tilted to one side.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but stare back at this child, my child, who didn't know me at all.

"Hi, Liam," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

He took a tentative step forward, still clutching his drawing. "You're really pretty," he said softly.

My throat tightened. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them back furiously.

"Thank you," I said. "You're very handsome."

He giggled, a sound so pure and joyful it physically hurt to hear. "Boys aren't handsome. Boys are cool."

"You're right," I said, kneeling down so I was at his eye level. "You're very cool. Especially in that Spider-Man shirt."

His face lit up. "Spider-Man is the best! Do you like Spider-Man?"

"I do," I lied. I had no idea if I liked Spider-Man. I'd never thought about it. But if my son loved Spider-Man, then I loved Spider-Man.

"He can climb walls and shoot webs and save people," Liam said, his words tumbling out in an excited rush. "And he's really brave. When I grow up, I'm gonna be just like him."

"I bet you will be," I said softly.

Liam stepped even closer, studying my face with the unfiltered curiosity only children possess. "Are you a princess?"

The question caught me off guard. "What?"

"A princess," he repeated, completely serious. "You look like a princess. Like the ones in my storybooks. You're really, really pretty."

My vision blurred. I couldn't stop the tears this time, they slipped down my cheeks before I could catch them.

Rose noticed immediately. "Mabel? Are you okay?"

I wiped at my face quickly, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. Sorry. I just... I have a nephew about Liam's age. He reminds me of him."

It was a lie. I had no nephew. But I needed some excuse for the tears that wouldn't stop coming.

Liam looked concerned. "Are you sad?"

"No, sweetheart," I whispered. "I'm happy. You just... you seem like a very special boy."

He beamed at that, his shyness evaporating. "Mommy says I'm special too! She says I'm her best thing ever."

The words were a knife to my chest.

*She's right,* I thought. You are the best thing. You're MY best thing.

But I couldn't say that. Couldn't tell him the truth.

So instead, I reached out and gently touched his curly hair, just once, just for a second.

It was soft. Exactly as I'd imagined it would be during all those sleepless nights.

"Your drawing is beautiful," I said, nodding toward the paper still in his hand. "Your mommy is going to love it."

"I'm gonna give it to her when she gets home!" Liam said proudly.

Rose glanced at her watch. "Speaking of which, buddy, it's almost time for your snack. Why don't you go wash your hands?"

"Okay!" Liam turned to me, his smile bright and trusting. "Bye, Princess Mabel!"

And then he was gone, running down the hallway with the same boundless energy he'd arrived with.

I stood there, frozen, my hand still tingling from touching his hair.

Rose touched my arm gently. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"He doesn't usually warm up to strangers that fast," Rose said softly. "He must really like you."

I looked down the hallway where Liam had disappeared.

"You're pretty. Are you a princess?"

His words echoed in my mind.

And for the first time in five years, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I could get my son back.