Sofia's POV
"You didn't think to inform me that you have a child?"
Josh's voice is like broken glass, piercing and cutting through the quiet of the living room. His eyes move to the small girl sitting on the cream rug with her legs crossed, humming as she puts together her puzzles.
I keep my voice steady. "She wasn't in on the deal but, she's part of me."
Josh moved closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear, and his eyes were full of rage. "You brought a kid into my house without asking."
I crouched down next to Eliza and touched a wayward hair on her forehead. She stares up at me with big brown eyes, not knowing what is going on.
I say quietly, "You don't have to be involved. She won't bother you. She's six and she needs a home." I didn't say that the babysitter I had lined up had a family emergency and my backup plan didn't go through, so I had nowhere else safe to take her.
"She needed your house," he says angrily. "Not ours."
Ours. I didn't think he would use that word. The frigid coil gets tighter around my ribcage.
"I am standing up for her," I say. "And I wasn't going to leave her behind. If that's a problem—"
"It's a problem." His voice turns into a growl. "A kid running down the hall, nannies, noise, and other things going on. Sofia, this wasn't part of the deal."
"No," I replied, making myself maintain my intense gaze. "But I didn't think I needed to tell you to be careful with your heart."
Josh looks at me for a long, throbbing minute. He then scoffs, turns around, and marches right into the study, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make Eliza look up from her puzzle.
"Is he mad?" she asked in a timid voice.
I crouched next to her and brushed her hair. "No, dear. He's just shocked. Sometimes, adults become furious when things surprise them." It tastes bad in my tongue.
The quiet in the mansion is different now. It used to be sharp and clean. The kind of quiet that bounces off furniture that hasn't been used and rooms that haven't been utilized. There are faint hums and light footsteps all around. Eliza fills it without even trying; her laughter is like little sunbeams breaking through the snow.
But Josh stayed away from her like she was a nuisance in his perfect world. When he hears hers, I hear his footsteps disappear into the halls. It's tense and quiet around the dining table, which is ten feet long. While Eliza talks about colors, clouds, and her dreams from the night before, Josh just stares at his plate without looking at her.
After dinner, I tried putting her to bed. "Why doesn't he talk to me?" Eliza asked while looking at me expectantly.
I say, "Some people take time," as I fix her blankets. "Like flowers that take a long time to bloom."
She makes a face. "He's a cactus."
I held back a laugh. "Maybe."
He might be worse than a cactus. He can be stonewalling and not give in. His walls might be taller than I thought. But I also notice the little things. He stops by the stairs when she's performing below, just long enough to listen. The way his eyes dart to the living room door when he hears her hiccupping from crying after a horrible dream. He never goes in, but he sees. And that's something.
I found him in the kitchen three nights later. It's late. He was at the counter with his tie loose and his shirt sleeves rolled up as I headed to the refrigerator to grab some water. His slumped shoulders and scotch glass in his hand are unlike anything I've ever seen him do. Josh Reynolds, a corporate magnate, temporarily laid aside his armor, making him look nearly normal.
"Is she yours?" He asked without looking up.
I have to think for a minute before I realize he's not talking about whiskey. "Yes," I answered with my head down.
"And what about her father?" He asked again, still not looking at me.
I held on to the fridge handle with my heart racing. "Not in the picture."
"That's vague." He smirked and took another drink of whiskey.
"It's also not your business." I lost it and grabbed a bottle of water too hard.
Then he looked up. Dark and hard to predict. "Everything in this house is my business."
"No," I responded, walking towards him with a hushed voice. "Our marriage is a business. There is a distinction between her and family."
Josh tilts the glass towards his lips. "Do you think this is a good place for a kid?"
"No," I say, and I mean it. "But I'll make it work."
There is a lengthy time of silence. Then he nods towards the corridor, which might mean he doesn't want to go, or he agrees to go.
"She stays. But she is yours. I'm not interested in playing Daddy."
A mixture of relief and rage fills my chest as I exhale. "I never told you to."
"Okay." He passed by me and brushed against me just enough for me to smell his cologne. It stays in the air for a long time after he's gone.
The next day, Eliza manages to sneak into his workspace. I hear her small feet thudding down the hall, and then I hear the massive oak door creaking open. It was too late by the time I got there.
She is inside, standing in front of his desk with a rough drawing she created with her big crayons. A man in a gray suit, a woman with curly hair, and a little girl standing between them. Underneath it, in weak pink letters, it says "FAMILY."
Josh is looking at the paper like it could blow up.
I whispered, "Eliza," as I walked into the room. "Come on, dear. Don't worry about it—"
She responds, "I made it for him," and lifts the paper. "Look? That's me, You, and Mommy!"
A lump forms in my throat, which I swallow. Once more, I tried, "Eliza."
Josh carefully rose from his seat. His face is unreadable as he circles the desk and pauses directly in front of her.
Pointing to the photo, he asks, "Is that me?"
She nods. "You're the one wearing the suit. I made you smile in the drawing because you don't smile very often."
He looks at it for one more second. He doesn't say anything, but he takes the paper from her and heads to the trash bin. My heart sinks.
I came forward and said, "Josh."
But he's already put it in.
Eliza blinks. "Why did you?"
"Because," he responds in a calm voice. "We're not a family."
Her lip shakes. I approached her and wrapped my arms over her petite body, bringing her close. She puts her face at my waist and sniffs.
"Come on, sweetheart," I plead, my anger growing. "Come on."
I looked back once as I escorted her out. Josh is standing near the window with his back to it. He never looked at us.
I didn't sleep that night. I observed Eliza cuddled up next to me, her little fingers holding onto the edge of the blanket like she was scared of being ripped away. I should have known better, I shouldn't have allowed her to get close to him. She isn't involved in this war. She's the only good thing left in my life. And now she's in pain.
I stare at the ceiling with my fists closed. This wasn't in the plan. But now it is. He can't take away what's mine. Not again.
I got out of bed when Eliza was sound asleep. I need to think clearly, without letting my feelings get in the way. I need to be cautious with my retaliation.
Then, as I walked by Josh's study again, I saw something weird. Someone had left the door open. The lights were on. I saw the crayon drawing tacked up on the wall behind his desk, on the far wall.
I stopped. Something in me felt a bit uncomfortable.
A voice from behind me broke the silence. I turned around and it was Josh. The rave within me built up.
"You shouldn't have seen that," Josh said.
But I don't know what to say. I don't know how to make sense of the man who tossed away a child's drawing and the one who secretly saved it. I ignored this and headed straight for my room.
A present was waiting for me at the breakfast table when I woke up the following morning. A photo of Josh and my dad standing side by side, both grinning, was there. The message that accompanied it read, "Things aren't always what they seem."
I had trembling hands. I tried to fathom out what the letter meant and trace who sent it, but I couldn't.