A hurricane was tearing the city apart. I told Vivian Simmons, again and again, to make sure he picked Ian Abbott up from preschool on time.
He promised. Every word of it.
But three hours after the final bell, my son was still trapped inside that thundering, lightning-split building, crying for his mother.
I cut my business trip short and rushed to get him myself. On the way home, we ran straight into Vivian. He was holding a hair tie.
He stared at the boy who shrank behind me, not sparing a single glance at his scraped, bleeding arm.
Instead, he snapped, "Didn't I tell you to walk home on your own?"
"Scared of a little storm. What kind of man are you?"
I was about to fire back when his precious junior colleague popped out, all giggles, and slid her hand through his arm with practiced ease, lifting the hair tie from his fingers.
"Exactly, sweetie. You should learn a thing or two from your daddy."
"He braved a whole hurricane just to find me a hair tie. Isn't he amazing?"
They smiled at each other, impossibly close.
My son gripped my hand. His voice was barely there.
"But Mommy, Daddy's being brave for some other lady."
"That kind of brave isn't right, is it?"
I smiled faintly and stroked his head. "So does Ian know what we should do?"
He nodded, every word landing solid.
"Teacher said bad habits that don't belong should be thrown away, bravely."
"Mommy, let's throw Daddy away too."
——
Vivian's brow creased.
"One time I'm late, and this is the kind of thing that comes out of your mouth."
"Who raised you into such an ungrateful little brat?"
He fixed me with a cold stare, the meaning unmistakable.
I tucked the boy behind me and said, quietly, "Just once?"
"This month alone, it's been three times."
Vivian's face darkened, but I kept going, slow and even. "June first. Children's Day."
"I had a fever. I asked you to go to the parent meeting at the preschool. You didn't."
"Because you and your 'junior colleague' took her niece to the amusement park."
"June fifth. Ian was at the hospital on an IV drip. You didn't pick up the phone. He walked home alone."
"Because your junior colleague suddenly wanted pineapple cakes from the West Side, and you had to go buy them for her."
"June tenth—"
"Enough!"
Vivian glared at me, his patience gone. "They're all little things. You really have to keep a tally going to this day?"
I pushed up Ian's sleeve and bared the wound, already scabbed over.
"Little things?"
I clenched my teeth and stared at him, biting off each word. "On the fifth, Ian walked home by himself and was nearly hit by a car."
"The doctor said these scars are hard to remove. He'll carry them his whole life!"
Vivian stayed perfectly unbothered.
"I've said it before. A real man doesn't make a fuss over a few scratches."
"Doesn't make a fuss?"
I gave a faint smile and glanced at Rain Whitlock's arm, at the scar so faint you could barely see it, my jaw tight.
"If it's really nothing, then why did you pull every string you had just to erase one 'unimportant' scar for her?"
Rain laughed softly, hooked her arm around Vivian's, and stuck her tongue out at me.
"Katherine Cooley, don't get so worked up."
"A scar on a boy isn't ugly anyway. But I'm different. I'm delicate, you know."
"It's my fault, so don't blame him, okay?"
Vivian gave her nose a helpless little pinch and said gently, "It's not your fault."
"Some people just go looking for trouble where there is none. Ignore her."
I watched him pluck a leaf from her hair without a second thought, his gaze nothing but tender.
Something inside me snapped clean.
The wind howled. Over the loudspeaker, a voice warned that a second wave of the storm was about to hit.
Vivian didn't hesitate for a second. He stuffed Rain into the car, then climbed into the driver's seat himself.
