Chapter 60
Maya's POV:
Finally, a fucking weekend off.
Chloe had been raving about the new interactive exhibits at the Museum of Science—kid-friendly activities, educational escape rooms, the whole nine yards. Perfect for a four-year-old with too much energy.
After breakfast, Amy and I piled into my Toyota and headed out. The museum was in the new district, about twenty-five miles away. Traffic on the Pike was light for once.
Except we didn't make it.
Twenty minutes in, the engine started making this god-awful grinding noise. Then it just... died.
"Shit."
I coasted to the shoulder, hazard lights flashing. Cars whizzed past, honking like I'd personally ruined their Saturday.
I turned the key. The dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree—every warning light blazing red. The engine didn't even try.
"Mommy?" Amy's voice was small from the backseat. "Are we broken?"
"Yeah, baby. We're broken."
I should've bought new.
I slumped back in my seat. "Sorry, Amy. I don't think we're making it to the museum today."
Before she could respond, my phone rang.
Adam.
I answered. "Hello?"
"Where are you?" His voice was sharp. Urgent.
I blinked. "What?"
"Amy told me yesterday you were going to the museum today. I'm heading to the same area for a meeting—figured I could give you a ride."
My chest tightened. "We're... actually stuck on the side of the highway. Car broke down."
Silence. Then: "Send me your location. Don't move. I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Adam, you don't have to—"
"Maya." His tone left no room for argument. "Stay in the car. Lock the doors. I'm on my way."
The line went dead.
---
Exactly ten minutes later, the sleek silver Aston Martin pulled onto the shoulder behind us. Adam stepped out, wearing dark jeans and a gray henley—casual, but still looking like he'd walked off a magazine cover.
He circled my car first, checking the hood, the tires.
Then he knocked on my window.
I rolled it down.
"Engine's shot," he said. "You'll need a tow. I already called one—they'll be here in twenty."
"Thank you."
He opened the back door and unbuckled Amy's car seat. "Come on, princess. Let's get you out of here."
She squealed and threw her arms around his neck. I grabbed our bag from the trunk—water bottles, snacks, Amy's emergency jacket.
Adam took it from me. "I've got it."
We climbed into his car. Amy bounced in the backseat, chattering about dinosaurs and rocket ships.
Adam glanced at me as he started the engine. "The tow truck will take your car to the shop. I'll have my guy handle it—you won't have to deal with the paperwork."
"Adam, that's too much—"
"It's not." He pulled back onto the highway, smooth and controlled. "I was going to the museum anyway. This is just... convenient."
---
Forty minutes later, we pulled into the museum's VIP lot. Adam led us through a private entrance, past the crowds of families waiting in line.
A woman with a staff badge hurried over. "Mr. Sterling! The family escape room is ready whenever you are."
Adam disappeared upstairs for his meeting. Twenty-five minutes later, he came back, looking relaxed and ready.
"Meeting over?" I asked.
"Done. They approved the funding." He crouched down to Amy's level. "Ready for an adventure?"
"Yes!"
---
The escape room was styled like a fairy-tale castle, with glowing murals and enchanted-looking props.
A voice came through a speaker. "You have sixty minutes. Remember—only teamwork will unlock the door. Good luck!"
The lights dimmed. An animated character appeared on the screen.
"Welcome to Guardian's Home! Only a family who truly loves each other can break the spell. Are you ready?"
"Ready!" Amy shouted.
Adam turned to me, extending his hand. "Let's do this."
I hesitated. Then I placed my palm in his.
His fingers closed around mine, warm and steady.
---
The first puzzle appeared on the wall.
"Father's strength, Mother's reach, Child's eyes—three must unite."
Adam scanned the room. "There—on the ceiling. Maya, I'll lift you."
"I can just use a chair—"
He was already behind me, hands gripping my waist. "Trust me."
He lifted me like I weighed nothing. I grabbed his shoulders for balance, my pulse hammering.
"What does it say?" His voice rumbled beneath me.
I forced myself to focus. "It says, 'A child sees the world most clearly.'"
He set me down gently. "Amy, look around from your height. Tell us what you see."
Amy dropped to her knees, studying the floor. "There! Arrows!"
Sure enough—glow-in-the-dark arrows, only visible from a child's perspective. We followed them to the first key.
---
The next puzzle required us to stand back-to-back, untying knots by touch alone.
"Trust and communication," the speaker announced. "That's what makes a family strong."
Adam and I stood with our backs pressed together. I could feel every shift of his muscles, every breath.
"Move left," I whispered.
"Like this?"
"Yeah. Now pull."
We worked in silence, our movements syncing naturally. My heart pounded against my ribs.
---
The final door swung open. Lights flooded the room.
"Congratulations! You've proven that love is the strongest magic of all."
The manager handed me a photo. "The system took this automatically."
It showed the three of us, mid-laugh. Adam's hand on my shoulder. Amy in front, grinning.
We looked like a family.
My throat tightened.
---
We spent the rest of the afternoon at the dinosaur exhibit. Amy dragged Adam from fossil to fossil, asking a million questions he answered with infinite patience.
I hung back, watching them.
What if this was real? What if every weekend could be like this?
I shook my head, hard. Don't.
---
Dusk was falling when Adam drove us home. Amy had crashed in the backseat, clutching her dinosaur plushie.
The car was quiet except for the soft hum of jazz on the radio.
I broke the silence. "Thank you. For letting Amy feel what it's like. To have a family doing things together."
He glanced at me. "What about her parents? Your brother and sister-in-law. How can they just dump their kid on you and not even check in?"
"They're going through a divorce."
Ryan said it.
"That's no excuse." His voice turned hard. "Even if they're fighting, they should still take care of their own child. Amy's so sweet—how could they abandon her like this?"
I looked out the window, guilt gnawing at me.
Then I asked, so quietly I wasn't sure he'd hear: "Do you like her? Amy, I mean."
"Of course I do."
"If she were yours..." I swallowed. "If she were your daughter. Could you accept that?"