Chapter 15 - Mark started coming around on Thursdays.
It wasn't a formal arrangement. He would just text to say he was off shift and had picked up coffee, or pastries, or a new teething toy for Clara.
He never overstayed. He never pushed.
One Thursday in October, it rained. A cold, bitter Chicago downpour.
Mark arrived soaked, holding a cardboard carrier with two coffees.
"You didn't have to come in this," I said, handing him a towel at the door.
"I promised you a latte," he said, drying his hair. "I don't break promises."
The words hung in the air.
He froze, realizing how they sounded. He knew my history with broken promises.
"Lucy, I didn't mean—"
"I know," I said softly. "It's okay."
We sat on the rug in the living room. Clara crawled over to him, pulling herself up using his knee. He smiled, steadying her with one large, calloused hand.
I watched them.
"You’re good with her," I said.
"She’s easy to be good with." Mark looked up at me. His eyes were dark, serious, and entirely focused. "You both are."
I looked down at my coffee. My pulse fluttered.
It was terrifying. The idea of letting someone in again. The idea of trusting a man who wore the same uniform as the man who had broken me.
May you like
But Mark wasn't Alex.
I was beginning to realize that.
