Chapter 11 11
Blair swallowed hard, glancing at the loaf of bread she’d just put aside. Maverick sat nearby, eyes wide, sensing her tension.
She hesitated, torn between fear and the practical reality she couldn’t ignore.
“I… I’ll get it done,” she said finally, forcing her voice steady. “Give me thirty minutes.”
The phone cut instantly.
“…impossible,” Blair muttered, tossing the phone onto the counter with a small thud.
She ran a hand through her hair, pacing the tiny kitchen. “I don’t even have the ingredients here. God, he’s so…”
Her lips pressed together as she glanced at Maverick, who was nibbling quietly on a piece of bread. “So demanding… so impossible…” she repeated under her breath, frustration bubbling into a huff.
She bent over the counter, scanning the sparse pantry.
A few coffee beans, some powdered milk, and a packet of sugar the one she had left. Not enough. Not nearly enough. Her mind raced: Where am I going to get everything in thirty minutes?
“Okay, Blair,” she whispered to herself, determination creeping into her tone. “You can do this. For Maverick… for us.”
Her eyes flicked back to the clock. Twenty-eight minutes left.
Maverick sat cross-legged on the small kitchen rug, a colorful comic spread across his lap. His little fingers traced the drawings as he read, but suddenly, he put it down and got to his feet.
He shuffled over to Blair at the sink, peeking up at her with wide, serious eyes.
“Mommy… can I ask you a question?” he said softly.
Blair turned, giving him a warm smile despite her racing thoughts. “Yes, baby?” she replied, carefully pouring the coffee beans into the grinder.
Maverick’s lip trembled slightly. “Mommy… everyone has a daddy. But I don’t.”
Blair froze mid-blend.
“Mommy… you always say Dad is too busy, he’ll come back… but he never shows up. And I want a daddy to play tag with me,” Maverick’s small voice wavered.
Blair’s heart tightened. She knelt down, gathering him into her arms for a quick hug, her own voice trembling slightly.
“Maverick… you… your daddy is—” she stammered, words catching in her throat.
A sudden ding from the counter cut through the moment. Blair glanced over, eyes widening. The caller ID read: Lucas Brooks.
“Excuse me, son, let Mommy get this call. I’ll be back in five,” Blair said softly, her hands trembling slightly as she set Maverick’s comic aside.
Maverick nodded, though his curious eyes lingered on her, and returned to his comic quietly.
Blair picked up the phone.
“Miss Rivers,” Lucas’s voice came through. “My driver isn’t available. The delivery needs to be handled personally. Can you manage that?”
Blair’s chest tightened. Her fingers gripped the phone, and her pulse raced. “I… I… I can… I’ll try…” she stammered, faltering under the sound of him.
There was a brief pause. Then his voice, slow and precise, cut through her hesitation. “Try isn’t an option.
Her knees felt weak. The calm authority in his voice, so familiar yet unsettling, left her barely able to speak.
“I… I’ll be there,” she whispered, forcing the words out.
The moment the call ended, Blair sank to her knees, pressing her palms against her face. Her head throbbed, the memory of his voice still echoing in her skull.
“How… how am I supposed to tell you… that he’s your father, Mav?” she whispered to herself, her voice cracking.
She wiped her tears quickly, taking a deep breath, and began packing the coffee carefully into the insulated bag. Her hands shook slightly, but she forced herself to move.
Maverick padded over, tugging gently at her sleeve. “Mommy… I wanna go deliver the coffee. Can I go with you?”
Blair froze, her chest tightening at the small hopeful look on his face. She bent down to meet his eyes. “You… you really want to?”
He nodded eagerly, bouncing on his toes. “Yes! I can help!”
Blair paused at the door, coffee bag in hand, her heart hammering. What if he finds out… what if Lucas Brooks realizes… Mav is his son? Her stomach twisted at the thought.
“Stay here, baby. Mommy will be right back,” she said, forcing a calm smile as she knelt to his level.
“No, Mommy! I wanna go!” Maverick tugged at her arm, pouting.
Blair’s chest tightened. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to steady her thoughts. “Mav… it’s not safe. Mommy has to go alone, okay? I promise I’ll be back super soon.”
“I don’t care! I want to help!” he insisted, his little fists clenching.
Blair knelt lower, holding his shoulders gently. “I know you do, baby. I really do. But this one… this one is too big for us both. Mommy’s gotta be brave, alright?”
He looked up at her, eyes wide.
Blair exhaled, standing and clutching the coffee bag tighter, her mind racing with the thought of Lucas and the secret she had to protect at all costs.
“Alright, baby, let’s go deliver coffee, okay?”
“Yay!” Maverick cheered, his little backpack bouncing as he grabbed her hand.
They booked a taxi, and soon the city lights blurred past the windows.
Maverick pressed his face to the glass, tracing shapes in the fog with his finger. Blair, meanwhile, sat stiffly, the cup tray balanced carefully on her lap, her thoughts miles away.
Every street they passed felt like it carried her closer to a secret she’d buried years ago.
Even thinking his name made her chest tighten.
Maverick tugged her sleeve. “Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Is the person you’re giving coffee to nice?”
She forced a small smile. “He’s… he’s important, baby. Just someone Mommy works for.”
“Delivery for Mr. Brooks,” Blair said, trying to sound calm.
The guard checked a tablet, then nodded. “You can drive through. Straight to the main building.”
The gates creaked open, revealing the Mansion. Maverick gasped softly. “Wow, Mommy… it’s like a castle!”
The door opened before she could knock. A gray-haired maid with kind eyes peered out.
“Yes?”
“Delivery for Mr. Brooks,” Blair said softly, her voice steady but her palms slick.
The woman’s expression eased. “Oh, come in, dear. The master’s expecting his coffee. You can leave it in the foyer — I’ll take it to his office.”
Blair stepped inside, her breath catching at the sight reminding her of five years ago.
Maverick clung to her leg, whispering, “Mommy, it’s so big!”
Two younger maids appeared from a side hallway, whispering as they watched.
“Who’s that?” one murmured.
“Delivery,” the other whispered back, leaning closer. “But look — that boy…”
Their gazes flicked toward Maverick, who was now peering curiously at a painting on the wall. His messy dark hair caught the light — the exact shade as Lucas’s.
“He really looks like Sir Lucas,” one of them said quietly, eyes wide. “The same eyes, even.”
The older maid shot them a sharp look. “Enough. Get back to work.”