We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 15

We spent hours exploring the pier, playing carnival games where Oliver’s aim proved surprisingly good, winning a small stuffed bear he immediately named “Sir Fluffy. We rode the carousel twice at his insistence, Oliver beaming proudly from atop a painted horse while I stood beside him, one arm protectively

around his waist.

“Did you do this with your mommy?” he asked as we sat on a bench, sharing a massive ice cream cone that was rapidly melting in the warm sun.

The question caught me off guard. “No,” I answered honestly. “My parents–the people who raised me–weren’t really the amusement park type.”

“That’s sad,” he said simply, licking ice cream from his fingers. “Everyone should get to ride carousels.”

I swallowed the sudden tightness in my throat. “You’re right. They should.”

As I watched him eat, chocolate smeared across his cheek, I realized I was experiencing a childhood I never had–through him. The Wrights had provided education, clothing, shelter–all the material necessities–but never this simple joy, this uncomplicated delight in sticky ice cream and carnival rides.

For lunch, we found a small restaurant overlooking the water. Oliver chattered enthusiastically about each ride, each game, creating elaborate backstories for Sir Fluffy between bites of his grilled cheese sandwich. I listened, entranced by his imagination, his unguarded happiness.

Thank you for being my mommy,” he said suddenly, his eyes serious as he reached across the table to place his small hand on mine. “You’re the best

mommy ever.”

Something cracked inside me–a wall I’d built long ago to shield myself from disappointment. “Thank you for being you, Oliver,” I managed, squeezing his hand gently.

By late afternoon, Oliver was yawning, his energy finally flagging after hours of excitement. I carried him to the car, his head heavy against my shoulder, Sir Fluffy clutched tightly in one hand.

“Best day ever,” he murmured sleepily as I buckled him into the back seat.

As we drove back to Wicker Park, I felt a peculiar contentment settle over me. For one day, I’d set aside my worries about contracts, about the Wrights, about the impossibility of raising eight million dollars. For one day, I’d simply been “Mommy” to a child who seemed to need me as much as 1, surprisingly, needed him.

The feeling evaporated the moment I turned onto my street. Two familiar figures stood by my apartment entrance–Elara and Selena Wright, their rigid postures radiating anger even from a distance.

“Stay in the car, okay? I told Oliver, my heart suddenly racing. “I need to talk to some people.”

“Who are they?” he asked, suddenly alert, peering through the window.

Just… some people I work with,‘ I said, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘I won’t be long.”

I approached my adoptive mother and sister with leaden feet, trying to project a confidence I didn’t feel. Elara’s face was a mask of cold fury, while Selena wore a smirk that sent chills down my spine.

“Where have you been?” Elara demanded without preamble. “We’ve been waiting for over an hour.”

3:49 pm D M

Chapter 15

‘I was out,” I replied, stopping several feet away from them. “What do you want?”

“What do we want?” Elara’s voice rose. You humiliated Brad at the Commerce Building yesterday! The eight–million–dollar contract is completely off the

table now!

My stomach dropped. “I didn’t humiliate him. He attacked me.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Cedar, Selena cut in, her Louboutins clicking as she stepped closer. “Men like Brad need to be handled with finesse, not rejected like some self–righteous prude.”

Elara moved forward, her Chanel perfume suffocating. “Jonathan is furious. He was counting on that contract to offset the Mason project losses.”

The familiar fear gripped me–Jonathan’s anger and violence was the last thing I wanted, “I can fix this,” I said quickly. “I can find a way to get the eight

million.

“How exactly?” Selena sneered. “By designing more mediocre furniture no one wants?”

“Give me a few days,” I pleaded, glancing back at the car where Oliver watched with wide eyes. “I’ll figure something out.”

“You have one week,” Elara stated coldly. “Or Jonathan will—”

Her threat was cut short by Selena’s sudden, piercing scream.

Comments

3