Leticia flipped through her file. All right, she could work with that. She’d have to move the Leiversham meeting to one o’clock tomorrow in order to oversee the delivery because God knew that, despite supposedly being professionals who did this every day, deliverymen never seemed able to do anything without damaging something unless she was around.

Of course, that might have something to do with how unique art pieces were. They could be hard to handle properly unless you knew what it was supposed to look like and the materials and how all the parts interlocked together.

All right. So. Move the meeting tomorrow to one. Watch over the delivery at noon, make sure it was installed…

Leticia froze as movement out in the hallway caught her eye. It was a child, a small girl.

Why was she back here in the office area?

Leticia looked around. There wasn’t an adult in sight.

Getting to the offices was definitely not something that someone did by accident. You had to go up to the second floor, then go behind one of the doors clearly marked Do Not Enter or Staff Only, and then you had to get down at least one hallway before you got to Leticia’s office, where this girl was.

Hmmm.

“Excuse me?” She called.

The little girl turned. Leticia couldn’t be sure how old she was. Six? Seven?

She was a cute little thing, Leticia had to admit. Blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a tiny button nose. She looked like a regular advertisement for a department store or something. The quintessential American child.

“Are you lost?” Leticia asked, coming to stand in front of her.

Oh. It probably made the kid uncomfortable to be craning her neck up at Leticia like that. Leticia crouched down so that they were at eye level.

“Hi,” the girl said. “I’m Molly. I’m looking for my dad?”

Oh, Christ. This was Carter’s daughter. The reason that he didn’t want to be with her anymore. The reason that he’d lied to her.

This should be fun.

“Well, hi, Molly,” Leticia said. “How did you get all the way up here? Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

“Yeah, but we’re on a field trip,” Molly replied.

“Sounds to me like you should be on the tour,” Leticia said, “And not going into areas where kids aren’t allowed.”

This was why kids drove her nuts—what was the problem with following rules? Okay, so Leticia didn’t follow many rules herself, but still.

“But I’ve already seen everything,” Molly said. “I knew everything the tour guide was gonna say. Daddy’s taken me here so many times. I was bored.”

Leticia couldn’t really argue with that. “Okay, fair enough. You like art that much? Or just your dad?”

“No, I love art!” Molly replied. She set her backpack down and unzipped it, pulling out a notebook. “See?”

She handed the notebook to Leticia, who flipped through it. “This stuff is actually really good.” She cleared her throat, knowing that her tone of surprise probably came off as condescending. “Sorry. I just—these are just really good, for a kid your age.”

“My dad lets me practice a lot. He says I’m like Artemisia Gentileschi.”

Leticia raised an eyebrow, impressed that Molly could both say the name and that she knew who the artist was. “You seem to know a lot.”

“My dad works in art museums,” Molly said, as if that explained it, and maybe it did. But just because Leticia’s mom was a teacher didn’t mean she knew tons about the education system. She was still allowed to be impressed.

“All right, Molly.” Leticia stood up. “Put that away, and I’ll take you to your dad.”

Molly beamed at her. “Thanks!”

“But don’t expect me to defend you if he’s upset that you gave the school group the slip,” Leticia warned. “They’re probably all worried about you.”

“Nah, they don’t pay attention to me. Because I’m quiet.” Molly shrugged.

“There’s nothing wrong with being quiet,” Leticia replied. “My best friend, Sharon, she’s real quiet most of the time.”

“Yeah, but everybody thinks it’s ‘cause my mom is dead. And I’m just quiet. It’s who I am. But they think it’s because I have no mom so they leave me alone and pretend I’m not there.”

“Oh.” Leticia didn’t know what to say to that, especially when it was delivered in such a casual tone. “Well, I don’t think that people should judge you for that. You know, growing up, a lot of people wouldn’t talk to me because I was from Mexico.”

Molly looked up at her with round eyes. “But that’s not nice!”

“You give me hope for the next generation,” Leticia told her. “Oh, look, here’s your dad’s office.”

Just in time, too. Civil rights were not a topic she wanted to get into with a seven-year-old.

Leticia knocked on the door. Carter answered it, and for a moment he looked confused—which he had a right to be, seeing as she’d basically been avoiding him for the past couple of weeks. But then his gaze dropped down and he saw Molly.

If Leticia had any doubt that Carter cared about his daughter—and she hadn’t had any doubts, but if she’d had them—they would have been washed away by the look of joy, then the look of horror, then the look of fond resignation on his face as he realized in rapid succession what Molly must have done.

“I forgot that they had a field trip here today,” he said to Leticia before looking at Molly. “Molly? What is this?”

“I wanted to see you,” Molly said. She stood firm and looked like she was daring him to get mad at her about it.

Leticia had to hold in a snort of amusement. She had to admire the girl’s stubbornness.

Molly crossed over to Carter, hugging his leg as though that would make everything better. Judging by the delighted smile Carter gave as he looked down at her, looking as if he were smiling and happy in spite of himself, Leticia had a feeling that Molly’s ploy was a success.

Carter looked up, shuffling his feet a little. Leticia hadn’t ever seen him look so awkward. “Thanks for, uh, thank you for bringing her here.”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” Leticia told him. “She was nearby. Apparently, she’s quite the artist.”

“I showed her my drawings!” Molly told him. She beamed, proud that she’d shared her work. Leticia wished that more artists felt like that. So many of them, even Tom, felt like they had something to prove. They felt that, if they shared their artwork ,it would be judged, so they had to be aggressive about it, perfect about it, screaming their vision from the rooftops instead of simply sharing it because they loved it and wanted to.

She hoped that Molly could hold onto that joy even as the rest of the world tried to get to her.

Leticia looked back at Carter. “Seriously, though, it was no problem. Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad she’s safe.” There wasn’t too much that Molly could get into at the museum that would lead to bodily harm, but there were plenty of alarms she could have accidentally tripped, never mind the fact that kidnapping was always a possibility.

“I really appreciate it,” Carter repeated. Then he looked down at Molly. “All right, you, we have to get you back before your teacher realizes you’re missing.”

He glanced over at Leticia. “And what do we say to Leticia?”

Molly gave a happy little gasp. “You’re Leticia! You’re much prettier than I thought you’d be.”

Leticia was startled into laughing. “What did you think I’d look like then?” She asked.

“I thought you’d look like my dad’s old coworkers. None of them were young and pretty.”

Carter rolled his eyes. “Molly, that’s not at all nice to say.”

“But it’s true!” Molly replied.

“Even if it’s true, we don’t have to say it if it’s not nice,” Carter said. “Now, say thank you.”

Molly smiled up at Leticia. “Thank you!”

Leticia tried to smile back. She probably looked incredibly awkward about it. “No problem.”

She looked back at Carter. This was the longest conversation they’d had in the past couple of weeks. She suddenly found herself wanting to shuffle her feet the way that he had, feeling wrong-footed somehow. “I’ll leave you to it then,” she said. “And just…”

Leticia gave a wave—why did she wave? What was that? —and then backed into her office and shut the door.

Could she have been more awkward? She groaned and collapsed into her chair, putting her head in her hands.

This was her one chance with Carter, to show that she could be good with kids, and yet… she’d been a complete idiot.

Hold on. Who said that she wanted a chance with Carter? The guy hadn’t told her about Molly. He’d obviously been awkward in front of her, uncomfortable with the idea of her being around his daughter. Why would she put herself through that? Why would she even want to be with a man who had a kid? She was always uncomfortable with kids. Case in point, her interaction with Molly. She was sure that Sharon or Melanie or even Debbie could have done much better.

Why, why did the guy that was so perfect have to come with something that made Leticia uncomfortable? Something that she’d never been good with?

At least it wasn’t a baby or a toddler. A seven-year-old, sure, awkward, but she could handle Molly better than, say, a two-year-old. She could at least talk with Molly and interact with her without having to get into one of those illogical black and white arguments that toddlers always seemed to drag her into.

And since he already had a kid, that meant Carter probably wouldn’t want her to have a kid. Which Leticia could get behind. She had never wanted to be pregnant, and she hadn’t been a fan of the idea of adopting—not that adopting was a bad idea or anything. She totally supported adopting. She just didn’t want to adopt a baby.

So, really, this was the next best thing to a guy who didn’t want kids at all. But why would she deal with this when she could find said guy out there somewhere?

Leticia groaned. She was just chasing herself around in circles like a fox hunting an elusive rabbit. The truth was that she didn’t want to go through the trouble to find some guy who may or may not exist when she had Carter in front of her. Carter was amazing. The sex was fantastic, she was comfortable with him, he was respectful and appreciative of her bold flirting and assertive nature, they worked well together at the museum, and she didn’t get tired of spending time with him.

Somewhere, somehow, somebody upstairs was laughing at her.

It was probably her grandmother.

It didn’t matter at this point, though, did it? There wasn’t anything she could do to really prove to Carter she would be good with him and Molly, not when she wasn’t even sure herself. Certainly not when it seemed that he had already made up his mind about her and them.

Still… that look on his face, the love that she’d seen washing over him when he caught sight of Molly. And then the horror that had followed right afterwards, the way that he had gone pale as he had realized what must have led to Leticia bringing Molly to his office door.

It was touching, honestly. She knew that parents loved their kids. She’d seen it before. Her parents, for one, would look at her and she knew that, even though she was an adult and had been for some time, they still saw her and would always see her as their darling girl.

Leticia felt herself softening towards Carter a little. Who wouldn’t want only the best for their child? Leticia was far from a good role model. Carter had met her in a club, for crying out loud. She had said she didn’t like kids. She was loud and brash and not exactly the best at balancing her schedule. She was a bit of a workaholic. Who in their right mind would look at her and think, ‘Ah, yes, that’s the kind of woman I want to be the stepmother for my child’?

Nobody, that’s who.

Seeing his face when he caught sight of Molly, though… That moment of love… Part of her knew that she’d treasure that look for years to come. It was just so sweet. And when he’d looked down at Molly as she’d hugged his leg—like he knew that it was a shameless trick to get him to soften up, but he couldn’t help but fall for it anyway because he loved his daughter that much—i

t gave Leticia a warm feeling in the center of her chest. She couldn’t deny that.

Leticia straightened herself up. No use dwelling on it, she told herself. Carter had made his choice and she had made hers, and she couldn’t entirely blame him for his. Molly was obviously important to Carter, beloved by him, as she should be, and Leticia couldn’t get in the way of that.

She’d just have to make do.