In a fit of desperation, I pick the phone back up and dial the only person that may be able to help.
“Rafaela speaking.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, the hot tears streaming down my cheeks as I try to sound as calm as possible. “Hey, it’s Heather Cook from the Cozy Nook.” I hope this call doesn’t end in another disaster, but Rafaela is my only hope.
She seems rather pleased to hear from me, which is a huge relief. “Of course I remember you. The girl with the adorable laugh.”
I blush at that, clearing my throat while trying to remain professional. “You and I had a conversation last night regarding a certain transaction. Do you remember?”
Rafaela chuckles, and it makes me smile despite not knowing why. “Of course I remember. Have you changed your mind about my offer?”
I take only a second to make sure I truly want this, and when Emma calls for me again, my mind is made up. I would do anything, no matter how crazy, to provide for my child. “I called to ask if that offer is still on the table.”
“Of course it is.” I can imagine her dark eyes glistening as she realizes she’s won. “I’ll drop by to pick you and Emma up right away so we can discuss this in person.”
“Sounds good. I’ll text you the address.” We exchange goodbyes, and I hang up with a feeling of uncertainty in the pit of my stomach. Hopefully, Rafaela's help will be just what I need.
Eight
Rafaela
I’ve never been much of a kid person. Whether that’s because of the life I live or by conscious choice, I’m not completely positive. My father’s business doesn’t exactly create a conducive environment for children to be around.
There’s something about little Emma, though, that pulls at my heartstrings. She’s absolutely adorable with her auburn waves and freckles. The term that comes to mind is, cute as a button, and I’m not usually that sappy.
I never would have imagined that spending the morning with a preschooler would be a productive use of my time, but I can’t think of anything better right at the moment. It’s worth it to see Heather in this light. She gazes at Emma with so much admiration that her eyes light up and her face literally beams with motherly pride.
Emma is the perfect mini me of Heather and watching the two of them together creates all kinds of feelings stirring in me that I’m not sure how to put words to. Contentment. Satisfaction. Longing. This whole situation started as a bet with my cousins, but I’m having trouble remembering that.
We end up at a kid friendly restaurant. Emma hops up in the booth excitedly, and Heather slides in next to her. While I would rather be seated pressed up against Heather, I slide in across from the two of them, enjoying the unobstructed view.
“Order whatever you’d like,” I instruct.
“Oh, mama, can I have cakes?” Emma squeals, picking up the crayons that the hostess set in front of her. She starts scribbling on the paper menu.
“Pancakes.” Heather clarifies, looking m
y direction. “They’re her favorite.”
“Pancakes sound amazing,” I say to Emma, and she grins brightly.
“Cakes, cakes, in a pan. I like to eat them with my hands.” Emma starts to sing.
I give Heather a quizzical look. “Don’t you know? Everything can be turned into a song,” she says.
I’m completely floored by the sheer amount of happiness and exuberance emanating from the small body across the booth. “Can I help you color, Emma?”
“Yes,” she says in her sing song voice.
I pick up the green crayon and make a few lines under the array of scribbles that Emma has drawn. The waitress walks up to the table, and we order pancakes for everyone. This elicits another round of giggles and song from Emma.
Her happiness is so innocent, so pure, so contagious. I don’t try to stifle the laughter that bubbles up my throat. I can’t remember a time that I ever felt so carefree.
“I’m glad you called,” I tell Heather sincerely.
“Me, too,” she says, with a small smile.
“I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to offend you by making it sound like a…a proposition. I would like very much to date you, and I always help out the people I date. It’s just who I am.”