A Daughter
"Guess that's enough for today. I need to get going. My daughter—who I left for just a moment with the neighbor—woke up and is throwing a fit because she didn't see me beside her," Zavier explained with a helpless look.
His expression, however, was a sharp contrast to the soft, joyful smile still lingering on his lips.
Audrey froze. Wait. Daughter? So Zavier already has a kid?
Quietly, she mocked herself—mocked that reckless assumption that had just spiraled out of control when she thought Zavier had been on the phone with Kimberly Roderick.
And now, it felt like reality was taunting her back. Who would've thought Zavier Lawrence already had a child?
"I'm already looking forward to our next outing. Alright, let me drive you home," Zavier said, shooting a glance at Audrey, who was still standing there stunned. She snapped out of it with a jolt.
"No need, senior. I can head home myself. You should go—your daughter must be scared and confused waking up without her dad around," Audrey declined with a quick wave of her hand.
Zavier looked at her with hesitation. Ever since he'd ended that call, something about Audrey had felt... off. She seemed surprised, but was clearly trying to cover it up.
Realizing he was watching her with concern, Audrey gave a small nod as if to reassure him, leaving Zavier no choice but to respect her wishes.
Still, he couldn't shake the unease in his chest. His little girl was crying.
"Alright. Thanks, Audrey. Next time, drinks are on me," Zavier finally said before hurrying off.
And there Audrey stayed, rooted to the spot, watching his figure grow smaller in the distance. His words still echoed in her mind.
A daughter?
Audrey scoffed under her breath as she trudged toward the shoreline, her steps heavy, her thoughts sharper than she'd like. She couldn't stop mocking herself. How on earth had she ever thought he wouldn't have a child?
If that girl was around a year old, then everything suddenly made sense—the unanswered question that had always lingered: why had Zavier rushed into marrying Kimberly Roderick?
Because of that child.
The one Kimberly had been carrying before their marriage was ever official.
Audrey knew—it wasn't her business. It never was. Still, that didn't make it any easier to swallow. Her chest ached in a way that was all too familiar, like pressing on a wound that hadn't healed. One that now bled fresh from the same place.
She didn't know if she hated that baby girl she'd never even seen… or not. What she did know was that she was hurting. Disappointed.
But why?
If disappointment only shows up where hope once lived, then what exactly had she let herself hope for?
By late afternoon, she was still there—alone, quietly seated by the beach, doing nothing but staring at the waves curling and breaking over and over. Just trying to calm the acid twist in her chest.
It wasn't until she noticed the sky had dimmed that she pulled herself to leave. Not because it was getting late, but because heavy clouds had rolled in, dark and low.
Just like the weight sitting in her heart.
"Hey, where've you been? You vanished all day," came the familiar voice as she stepped into the house.
And of all things she could handle right now, this—noise, chatter, Vale Maximillian Sigourney—was at the very bottom of her list.
"Go away. I'm really not in the mood for your nonsense," she snapped, waving him off as she sank onto the front porch bench. Pulling her knees to her chest, she tried to avoid the scattered drops of rain dripping from the roof above.
Vale studied Audrey's rumpled expression, brows knitting in confused concern. Instead of listening to her very clear request for him to leave, he reached into his pocket, pulled out her house key—her house key—and slid it into the lock like he owned the place. Since when had Vale Sigourney ever listened to anyone else?
"Get inside. It's cold out here—you'll catch something. And if you're sick, you can't work. If you can't work, you can't eat," he declared, once again strutting around like he paid the bills.
Audrey sneered at him, but still stepped inside. Whatever. It wasn't like she could be stopped from entering her own damn house, right?
"Don't just sit there. Go take a shower. You smell like sunshine," Vale muttered as he followed her into the living room without an ounce of shame.
Audrey had just sunk into the couch, savoring the warmth of her home, when she shot him a withering glare. Vale met it with a shrug, completely unfazed by her irritation.
"Go on. Shower. Now. I'm not talking business with someone who smells like they've been slow-roasting in the sun. Shoo, shoo!" Vale grabbed her arm, trying to haul her up off the sofa.
"I don't care! I don't want to talk business—I don't want to do anything! Let me go!" Audrey shouted, hysterically yanking herself free.
She struggled against his grip, though it was a useless fight. Vale was stronger than he looked. She had no idea where he kept all that strength hidden in that wiry frame of his.
"You can't talk like that," Vale snapped. "Like it or not, you have to work—even if it's only three guests a month. You need to live. That means you need food. That means you need income. So yes, you have to work."
Audrey flinched as those words hit her—a cruel mirror of what she'd said to him two days ago, when her heart had been knotted in jealousy and self-loathing, comparing herself to Zavier Lawrence's wife.
And now here was Vale, taking her own words and throwing them back at her like knives. He'd use anything as ammo to get his way. Even if it hurt.
"Did you really have to bring up the three-guests-a-month thing?"
"I'll bring up whatever it takes to get you back in the game," he shot back, dead serious.
"I said no!"
Vale rolled his eyes. "Well, that's awkward. I already accepted a reservation. Under your name. Unless you want to shut this inn down for good and kiss your credibility goodbye, I suggest you deal with it.
I mean, it's not like you've got any other job, right? Even if you have savings or some kind of social safety net... aren't you even a little embarrassed? What would Zavier Lawrence think if he saw you just loafing around, doing nothing?"
"You—Vale Sigourney! Who told you it was okay to take reservations without checking with me first?" Audrey exploded.
She didn't even know what angered her more—Vale's nerve, or the ugly truths he'd just rattled off like it was casual small talk. And the worst part? She knew he was right. Deep down, she knew.
This crazy man had a point. She had nothing to show for herself—not to Zavier, not to anyone. The only reason she hadn't completely fallen apart was that Zavier never once brought up her failing inn.
She couldn't keep wallowing like this.
"…Fine. Give me their contact details," she said at last, exhausted by the argument. But Vale wasn't letting her off that easily.
"I already told you. I don't do business with people who reek of sunlight," he said again, maddeningly smug.