And maybe there’s some hope for us. I just need to figure out how to open myself up to others.
ChapterThirty-Three
Siobhan
We’re eatingquesadillas when my phone rings. It’s Mitchell. I wish Nando had sent some margaritas with extra tequila—or just the bottle of tequila.
I wipe my thumb with the paper napkin before I slide it over the screen and set the speaker. “Yes?”
“Child services or some agency came to see me. What the fuck, Siobhan?” The frustration in his voice is worse than yesterday. “I swear I didn’t do anything to her. Instead of believing me, you sent a therapist, and God knows who else. Tomorrow, I have to go to some office to take a polygraph test. Again, what the fuck?”
I look at Iskander, who shrugs.
“Sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Let me text Lang and see if he’s available,” Iskander mumbles.
“Is Anya okay?” Mitch asks.
I blow out some air. “She’s in surgery.”
“This situation is fucked up, you know? And I can’t even imagine how you’re doing because this is hitting home. I wish I could be there for you. I hate knowing you’re alone.”
Iskander links our hands, and I say, “I’m with my family.”
“Well, that’s new, but I’m glad there’s someone around.”
“They need to make sure it’s safe to bring him here,” Iskander whispers after muting the microphone on my phone. “The legal team arrives tomorrow, and they might bring him along.”
“What do I tell him?”
He shrugs. “Probably that you don’t know.”
I frown, confused. “Why are they doing this?”
“In case something happens to Anya. She didn’t sign the guardianship paperwork. That means that if she dies or doesn’t wake up for a long time, the state has to take custody of Rumi. To prevent that, they need her next of kin.”
It’s hard for me to breathe. Too hard. They can’t take her away. I’ve heard stories, too many horror stories of children being taken away and never going back to their parents. It’s not how well or bad they’re treated by the fosters. More like they lose their family forever. It’s only been days, but I can’t imagine my life without Rumi.
Iskander lifts my chin. “We’ll make sure she’s safe. No one will take her away, okay?”
I nod a couple of times. “What do I do with Mitch?”
“It’d be best if he doesn’t know why they’re doing that, but you might want to give him an update.”
Once I take a deep, cleansing breath, I unmute the phone and say, “Listen, I really don’t know who or why they went to you,” I say, still trying to come up with something.
“Don’t bullshit me, Siobhan. I know you’re hiding something. Can you at least tell me if I have a kid?”
“You do,” I mumble. “She’s a beautiful fourteen-month-old girl.”
“Rumi?”
“Yes, how do you know?”
“We had names. Rumi, if it’s a girl. Adhan if it was a boy. How’s Anya?”
I stare at the phone, unsure of what to tell him.