“There you are.”
Nathaniel’s deep voice rolled over me like a velvet thundercloud. He stood in the doorway, his tailored suit an odd contrast to the faded walls of the playroom.
In his hand was a small bouquet of daisies, their yellow centers almost too cheerful in the dim light.
“Clara, don’t bother Ms. Tiffany too much,” he said with a teasing edge.
Clara giggled and ran off, leaving me alone with him. I straightened, brushing imaginary dust off my skirt to distract from the unease prickling at my skin.
“You’re good with kids,” I remarked, forcing a smile.
He smiled back, that practiced charm in full force. “They remind me of simpler times.”
“Simpler times,” I echoed, tilting my head. “Not exactly how I’d describe your life.”
His expression flickered, just for a moment. A crack in the armor.
“You’d be surprised,” he said, turning to place the flowers in a vase on the counter.
The room suddenly felt smaller, his presence overwhelming despite the space between us.
I watched him interact with the staff and children, his actions deliberate, almost rehearsed. Was this the real Nathaniel? Or just another mask?