Skyler stood outside the daycare, mask up, scrolling through the manager's photo. Laura. Blonde curls, hazel eyes Goodwin DNA in miniature.
The door opened. A frazzled woman emerged, clutching the girl's hand.
"What's going on?" Skyler asked.
"Outbreak stomach bug. Closing early." The woman exhaled, relief flooding her face. "You must be her mother. The man I spoke to said one of the parents would pick her up."
Skyler started to correct her then the woman added, voice low and urgent:
"Miss, I know your job is texting, but please take your time with her and stop changing nannies every day, okay? For kids, pattern is crucial this is not good for her."
Before Skyler could respond, Laura broke free and toddled straight to her.
"I'm hungry," she lisped, tugging Skyler's coat.
Skyler's denial dissolved. She couldn't refuse.
Fifteen minutes later, they sat in a high end family restaurant white tablecloths, children's menu in gold foil. Skyler's membership had gotten them in; her cold had nearly kept her out. She texted Dean: Change of plans. Laura's starving.
Laura climbed down from Skyler's arms, marched to the table, and pointed at the picture menu.
"Mac and cheese. And the chicken stars."
Skyler smiled, exhausted. Of course she knows exactly what she wants.
The food arrived. Laura ate with perfect table manners fork in left hand, napkin dabbed at lips then noticed Skyler wasn't touching her plate.
"You not hungry?" she asked, mouth full.
"No, dear," Skyler said, pinching her cheek. "I'm waiting for your dad."
Laura's eyes lit up. Etiquette vanished.
"When's he coming? Is he tall? Does he really sing?" She dug into her tiny purse and pulled out a glossy photo Dean on stage**, from one year ago**, mid-comeback tour, sweat on his brow, grin wide.
"Zoey said this is my dad."
Skyler's heart stuttered.
The restaurant doors swung open. Dean walked in, hoodie up, nose red, eyes scanning. He told the host, "I'm with them," and crossed the room in three strides.
Laura saw him.
She launched.
"DADDY!"
She crashed into his legs, arms locking around his thighs. "I wanna stay with you!"
Dean froze, phone halfway to his ear. He looked at Skyler pure panic.
Skyler shook her head slowly. Not mine. She slid her phone across the table, open to the manager's texts.
Laura's hug was iron. Dean couldn't move.
"Sky, call my manager," he whispered. "Ask him what the hell "
Skyler's smile was soft, stunned. "Damn, your genes are something else."
Laura's head drooped against Dean's chest—fast asleep, mid-hug.
Dean stared down at her, shock melting into something raw and electric. A grin tugged at his lips, unstoppable. My daughter.
Skyler handed him her phone. He dialed.
"Doch, what the fuck why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried, man," the manager said, voice lighter now. "You ghosted for a month. Zoey had the DNA test done three years ago sent me the results when you vanished. I kept it quiet until you surfaced. Congrats."
Dean's eyes flicked to Skyler. She looked away, jaw tight.
"But Liverpool festival penalties, contracts "
Dean hung up.
He looked at Laura, then at Skyler.
"She's mine."
Skyler nodded, voice quiet. "Yeah. She is."
Dean's gaze dropped to the sleeping girl.
"Oh shit. I need… everything. Crib. Car seat. Fuck. She can't live with me"
Laura stirred, murmured, "Daddy…"
Dean's panic cracked. He pressed his cheek to her curls.
"We'll figure it out," he whispered. "I've got you."
Skyler stood, gathering her coat.
"Dean"
He looked up, Laura still nestled against him.
"You're going to need help," she said quietly. "At least until you figure this out."
Relief flooded his face.
"Thank you."