Mummy, Please Marry Uncle Biker Daddy

Mara I didn’t know my marriage was officially dead until I saw the balloons. Pink and gold. Cheap foil. Tied to the mailbox like they belonged there. They looked wrong against the house. Too bright. Too cheerful. Like someone had tried to decorate over a crack in the wall instead of fixing it. Lily was already unbuckling herself in the back seat, humming under her breath. Five years old and excited in a way that made my chest ache. She had on the dress she picked herself. Too much tulle. Glitter that would end up everywhere. She’d insisted on wearing the crown too. “Mommy,” she said, leaning forward between the seats. “Daddy said he’d be here early.” My hands tightened on the steering wheel. “He did?” I asked, keeping my voice even. She nodded. “He said he had a surprise.” Of course he did. I forced a smile and got out of the car, smoothing my shirt like that would smooth anything else. The house looked the same as it always had. Small. Modest. A little tired. I’d cleaned it top to bottom the night before, scrubbing until my fingers hurt, because cleaning was something I could control. The balloons were new. That should have been my first warning. Inside, the house smelled like cake and sugar and the faint chemical tang of the cleaner I’d used on the counters. Lily ran ahead, crown crooked, shoes abandoned by the door. “Daddy!” she yelled. I stepped inside and froze. Evan was standing in my kitchen like he still belonged there. And beside him, leaning casually against my counter like she’d earned the right, was a woman I had never seen before. She was younger than me. Not by much, but enough. Long dark hair, styled carefully. A tight smile. One manicured hand resting on Evan’s arm. The balloons weren’t for Lily. They were for her. “Mara,” Evan said, like my name still fit in his mouth. “Hey.” I stared at him, then at her, then back at him. Lily skidded to a stop beside me, her small hand slipping into mine. She looked up at me, confused, then at the woman. “Daddy,” she said slowly. “Who’s that?” Evan hesitated. Just long enough. “This is Vanessa,” he said. “She’s… a friend.” Vanessa smiled wider. Too wide. The kind of smile that wanted to be admired. “Hi,” she said brightly, bending slightly at the waist. “You must be Lily. I’ve heard so much about you.” I felt something cold settle in my stomach. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t throw the cake sitting on the counter in his face, even though for half a second, I really wanted to. Instead, I leaned my free hand on the kitchen counter and breathed. In. Out. Because losing control in front of my daughter wasn’t an option. “You brought her here,” I said quietly. Evan frowned like I’d offended him. “It’s Lily’s birthday. I thought—” “You thought,” I repeated. “You thought bringing your girlfriend into my house was appropriate.” Vanessa’s smile slipped, just a little. “I didn’t realize this would be such a big deal,” she said. “Evan said you were… mature.” That did it. I straightened slowly and looked directly at her for the first time. Really looked. She was pretty. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was the way she stood there, unbothered, like she hadn’t just walked into someone else’s life and started rearranging furniture. “This is my home,” I said. “You don’t get to be here.” Evan stepped forward. “Mara, don’t do this. Not today.” “Not today?” I asked. “You cheat on me, leave, and then show up with her on our daughter’s birthday, and you think I’m the one doing something wrong?” Lily’s hand tightened in mine. “Mommy,” she whispered. “Why are you shaking?” I looked down at her and forced my voice to soften. “I’m okay, baby.” I wasn’t. Evan sighed like I was exhausting him. “Vanessa and I are together now. I wanted to be honest.” Vanessa nodded like this was all very reasonable. Honest would have been not sleeping with another woman while you still shared a bed with your wife. Honest would have been not bringing your mistress into the space where your child felt safe. “You need to leave,” I said. Evan’s jaw tightened. “I’m Lily’s father.” “And I’m her mother,” I replied. “And I’m telling you to leave. Both of you.” Vanessa glanced at Evan. “Maybe we should go.” For a second, I thought he might argue. He had that look. The one he used to get when things didn’t go his way. Then Lily spoke. “Daddy,” she said quietly. “Is she the reason you don’t sleep here anymore?” The room went very still. Evan didn’t answer fast enough. That was answer enough. Lily looked up at me, her eyes too serious for her face. “Can we still have cake?” My throat burned. “Yes,” I said. “We can still have cake.” I looked back at Evan. “Get out.” This time, he did. Vanessa followed, her heels clicking against the floor, her head held high. She didn’t look back. The door closed behind them, and the house felt louder without them in it. I sank into the chair at the kitchen table and pressed my fingers to my eyes. Lily climbed into my lap without being asked and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I don’t like her,” she said matter-of-factly. I huffed out something that might have been a laugh. “I don’t either.” She rested her head against my shoulder. “Daddy used to be nicer.” I closed my eyes. “So did a lot of things,” I said softly. Outside, the balloons bobbed in the breeze, bright and stupid and wrong. I watched them through the window and made myself a promise. This was the last thing Evan Collins would ever ruin for us. I just didn’t know yet how much harder he was going to make that promise to keep.