Page 82 of The Surrogate Nanny
As she should because there are a lot of freaks out there.
“Go ahead, baby.”
“I’m Kiyah,” she blurted out.
“It’s nice to meet you, Kiyah. Would you like a snack? Well, if it’s okay with your mother?” he asked.
“Mommy, can I have a snack?”
I eyed the wicker basket of snacks on a bar that had several kid-friendly options. There was a mini fridge below the bar, and I was surprised to see juice boxes.
“Sure, but just one.”
I released her, and she zoomed to the basket, picking out a bag of her favorite cheese crackers.
“Can I have juice?”
“Um—”
“Go for it,” Jonathan interrupted, motioning for me to sit on the couch as he gathered some items from his desk. I sat and placed Kiyah’s backpack at my feet and helped her with her juice box once she returned to me. “Here is a legal pad and some crayons for Miss Kiyah to keep her busy.”
“Thank you. You seem really good with children,” I replied absentmindedly, still surprised by his thoughtful consideration.
“I should be. I have three of my own.”
“Oh, wow. You and Mrs. Baker must have your hands full.” He flashed his ringless finger as he pulled a chair near the couch I was seated.
“No, it’s just me.”
“I’m sorry for assuming, I—”
“Don’t worry about it. We divorced, but it was for the best. But that’s enough about me; let’s talk about you. I’ve reviewed your file extensively, Mrs. Houston, and—what is this? Are you giving me your car?”
He’d paused to entertain Kiyah, who had brought him a toy.
“Kiyah, leave him alone,” I hissed, trying to corral her back.
“She’s not a bother. You learn how to multitask when you’re a single parent,” he remarked. “As I was saying, I reviewed your file, and I’m not going to lie, this one…well, it’s a doozy.”
“Right,” I huffed, standing to my feet. “Thank you for your time and the snacks, but we’ll be on our way now.”
“Whoa, hold on, Mrs. Houston. Please sit down.”
“I rather not waste both of our time. I’ve heard it all before. I’m sure you’re going to tell me that Vance Oil is too big of a corporation to go up against, and we’ll be tied in court for years for possibly a payout that wouldn’t be worth that much effort.”
“That’s mighty presumptuous of you, Mrs. Houston. Sit,” he said with firm authority, pointing at the couch. Shamefully, I sat. His tone didn’t leave any room for argument.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…I’ve been dealing with Vance Oil, and I’ve gone through 16 lawyers, and I’m a little jaded.”
“A little?” he laughed.
“More than a little.”
“I get it. My business can be cutthroat at times, and we lawyers sometimes get a bad rap, but we’re not all the same, Mrs. Houston. I’m just here to help, but I can’t help you if you run from me.”
I nodded resoundingly. “I’m sorry. Please continue.”
“It is a fact that your case is challenging but not impossible.”