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Lust, instalove, or whatever the hell you want to call my bizarre kinship with Ark should have never overridden my moral obligation to ensure my daughter’s safety.
I’m disgusted with myself, but instead of taking it out on the person deserving of my wrath, I do what I do with every man I cross paths with.
I make out my neuroses are his fault.
“You sh-should go.”
Ark balks, shocked by the whiplash of my moods, before he smooths his ruffled expression with a frown. “Of course.”
Another wave of stupidity crashes into me when he gathers his suit jacket from a chair tucked under the kitchen table.
He wasn’t heating Tillie soup from a can. He was making it from scratch. Freshly diced chicken breast, carrots, celery, and beans are spread across the kitchen counter, and there’s enough bread to last us a week.
I’m torn on how to respond to his generosity.
How can I build trust and protect my daughter at the same time?
To Tillie, it is as simple as letting Ark in like she did when she invited him into our home.
During our conversation before she fell asleep, she said she likes Ark because our shared cab ride was the first time she’d seen me interact with a man and not physically shake.
Although I tried to push off her observation as me being too worried about her to remember the gender of the person we were sharing a cab with, she said I’ll never stop being frightened of the unknown if I don’t take the occasional leap of faith.
My online therapist has expressed similarly. She’s accused me multiple times of pushing the insecurities and distrust othermen gave me onto undeserving victims, and that I’ll never be happy until I learn that not everyone is out to hurt me.
Her advice is easy to set aside. She doesn’t know what is best for my daughter and me. But Tillie’s advice is harder to ignore. She’s an old soul. She has been here before and has knowledge beyond her years, so maybe she’s right. Perhaps I should stop lumping the distrust a minority gave me onto every man I encounter.
My dive into the deep end minutes ago favored me in a way I could have never anticipated. I can only hope it serves me as well this time around.
“W-wait.”
Ark stops partway out my front door but doesn’t turn around. He keeps his eyes to the front and his hands balled at his sides, leaving the ball entirely in my court.
It should make what I’m about to say easier, but my voice still comes out rickety. “You can s-stay. If-if you want?”
His chest rises and falls three times before he mutters, “Don’t do that.” I stare at him like he can read minds when he adds, “Don’t ever feel like you need to compromise her safety to make an adult feel comfortable. She”—he cranks his head back to face me before he nudges it to Tillie’s room—“comes first.Always.”
Since every word he speaks is gospel, I nod without thought.
His smile sets my pulse racing, but it does nothing to ease the tension since it sees him leaving without another word shared between us.
7
ARKADIY
As I exit Mara’s building, my steps more reluctant than the ones I used to climb the rickety stairwell, I squash my phone to my ear.
It rings once before Darius answers. “Sir.”
My breaths fill the air with a white cloud when I instruct, “I need you to collect me from?—”
“I’m out front,” he interrupts, humored I thought I could travel anywhere without his shadow.
As I flare my nostrils, striving to cool my skyrocketing body temperature, I scan the street, seeking a blacked-out SUV. My mind is spinning, trapped in a vortex of lust and despair. I love the way Mara looked at me when I pinned her to the refrigerator and kissed her senseless, but her stare when she pondered her daughter’s safety in my presence…
Fuck.
It cut me to pieces.