Just My Luck (The Kings)

Warm morning sunshine beamed through the kitchen windows. I looked across the kitchen island at Abel, who was busy plating breakfast for the kids. Ben and Tillie were sitting at the island, Tillie with her sketch pad beside her, Ben chattering away as Abel pulled slices of french toast off the griddle.

I looked down at the Abel’s Brewery logo on my T-shirt and smiled. Today the ownership of Abel’s Brewery would be official. By the end of the business day, Russell King would no longer control Abel’s business.

We did it.

“Morning!” I chirped with a sunny smile.

“Hi, Mom.” Tillie didn’t look up from her sketch, and Ben continued his one-sided conversation as Abel listened.

When he turned, Abel stopped and stared.

Heat and passion flared in his eyes. I was in a simple T-shirt and black leggings, but Abel made me feel as though I was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. A warm blush crept up my cheeks.

My eyes swooped down and back up again, only to find him still looking at me. I rounded the counter and popped a kiss on his cheek. We’d never been openly affectionate, and it stopped Abel in his tracks.

“Morning.” I smiled up at him and turned to grab myself a plate to keep my blush from deepening.

My chaste kiss didn’t seem to register with the kids. Tillie kept drawing, and Ben was reliving the slightly scary movie I’d reluctantly agreed to let them watch last night.

He bumped his sister’s arm. “Remember the witch? Man, she was gross . . .”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tillie complained. “I don’t really like scary movies.”

“Did you have a nightmare?” I asked my daughter, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She shook her head and continued quietly working on shading her drawing.

“Do you ever have nightmares, Abel?” Ben asked during his stream of consciousness.

The loaded question hung in the air as I looked at Abel. He’d stopped plating the french toast, and a deep line formed between his eyebrows.

He nodded slowly as he looked at Ben. “Yeah, I do.” He lifted a shoulder. “Sometimes.”

“What are they about?” Ben asked.

“Ben,” I scolded. I knew what Abel’s nightmares were about and that he certainly didn’t want to rehash them to a nosy seven-year-old over breakfast.

“It’s okay,” Abel said, turning to Ben. “I was in an accident once and a woman got hurt. Her little boy died. Usually if I have a nightmare, it’s about that.”

Ben’s wide, innocent eyes were pinned to Abel as though he knew he’d done something wrong by bringing it up. “Oh.”

Abel reached across the island to squeeze Ben’s shoulder and reassure him that he hadn’t done anything wrong by being curious. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re allowed to ask me things. And I will always be honest with you.”

Comforted, Ben’s eyes flicked to me, and I offered a soft smile and nod of reassurance.

Abel slid a plate in front of Ben and another near Tillie.

Ben took a huge bite, and syrup dribbled onto the plate. Around his bite, he continued, “My therapist says that bad dreams are normal and our brain’s way of dealing with things. Is that what your therapist says?”

Abel made me a plate and deposited it in front of me before dropping a soft kiss on my forehead. “Uh . . . I don’t have a therapist, bud.”

Ben hummed as he frowned over his food. “Oh . . . well, maybe you should.”

A shotgun burst of laughter escaped me as I mused over the directness of my child. My hand covered my mouth, and I apologetically looked at Abel.

As though he was totally unfazed, a smile hooked at the corner of his mouth. “You might be right. Maybe I should talk to someone.” He forked a mouthful of french toast before gesturing toward Ben’s plate. “Eat up and you can tell me what you like about it.”

Abel glanced at me and winked. My ovaries nearly exploded as I watched how at ease he was with my kids. Somehow we’d formed a warm little cocoon, and I never wanted to leave. My eyes moved to his lips when he smiled and mouthed love you.

My heart tumbled over itself. Abel was full of surprises.

“Eat up. Your mom and I have a big day today. I’m thinking tonight we can celebrate.” He turned to me. “Maybe we can let them horse around the farm for a little while.”

He had plans later in the morning to meet with JP and finalize everything with the business. It poked at a tender spot in my chest that Abel wanted to share it with his sister.

I smiled. “I’ll call Sylvie and set it up.”

It made my heart so happy that things were finally falling into place for the King children. Sylvie had always wished her siblings had a normal upbringing with stable parents. At least we could do that with our kids.

Ours.

It was painfully easy to see a life with Abel unfolding in front of me. Part of me wondered if he ever wanted his own children. I rarely let my mind daydream, but as I watched him share a casual breakfast with my kids, I couldn’t help but wonder what he would look like with our baby in his arms.

Floating on a cloud, the morning couldn’t have been more mundane.

It was absolutely perfect.

By lunchtime, Abel still hadn’t returned from his meeting with JP, and I was dying of curiosity. My attorney had assured us that the process was pretty painless, and with the proper paperwork filed, everything should go off without a hitch.

Still, I was anxious to see Abel and have him confirm that it all went well.

Distracted, I seated a few patrons interested in ordering lunch. A solo woman walked in and found a spot at a high-top table near the bar.

I smiled politely and slid the lunch menu toward her. “Welcome to Abel’s Brewery. I’m Sloane, and I’ll be your server today. Can I get a drink started for you or are we waiting on any others?”

The woman had dark hair and ice-blue eyes. Though her features were severe, there was a softness at the edges when she smiled. “Miss Robinson?”

“Oh, you can call me Sloane.” I smiled brightly, but only to cover the tiny alarm bell dinging in my head. How does this stranger know my last name? “What can I get started for you?”Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

The woman stood. “Are you Sloane Robinson?”

“That’s me.” She gave me a once-over, taking in my branded T-shirt and simple leggings. A flash of something crossed her face—pity, maybe? The woman slipped a thick manila envelope from her leather bag and placed it in my hands. “You’ve been served.”

The weight of the envelope was heavy in my hands. I stared at the woman as she slipped on a pair of sunglasses and strode out of the brewery without looking back.

The words Personal and Confidential were stamped in red ink on the front.

“Everything okay?” Reina asked from behind the bar as her hand moved in rhythmic circles across the wooden top to clean it.

“Yep.” My gaze flicked to her briefly before returning to the envelope. “I think so.”

I carefully slipped my finger under the seal to open it. I slid the stack of papers free from the envelope and stared down at the thick, blocky letters. My eyes scanned the legal document as my heart ticked and panic rose in my throat.

Due to legitimate changes in circumstance, which include those as set forth below, modification of the present custody provision is warranted and father JARED HANSEN should be awarded sole, primary physical custody of the minor children.

Blood drained from my face as the information failed to process. My eyes darted across the pages, trying to make sense of the mass of legal jargon in front of me.

In support of JARED HANSEN’s petition for issuance of a Temporary Order of Change of Custody, JARED HANSEN states:

a.The minor children were subjected to a relocation from their family home in California to a one-bedroom cabin in Outtatowner, Michigan, in which they shared with their mother and an unknown, non-relative male.

b.The minor children were then subjected to an additional relocation when mother SLOANE ROBINSON entered into a marriage with an unknown male, Abel King, for whom she worked. [Exhibit A]

c.The mother and minor children remain in the home of Abel King, despite the felony conviction which is a part of his violent and negligent criminal history. [Exhibit B]

I blanched as the clicking of glasses and the grainy smell of the brewery got closer, and black seeped in at the edges. Blood hummed between my ears as I read the papers over and over again.

Sole, primary physical custody of the minor children.

None of this seemed real.

Petitioner Plaintiff Father JARED HANSEN is currently employed, can provide the minor children a more suitable home, better schooling and education, better financial support and stability, and better supervision and guidance over the minor children if custody was modified to provide the Petitioner with physical custody over the minor children.

Plaintiff father is requesting that this matter be referred to the Friend of the Court for investigation and recommendation.

He was coming after my children.

My knees buckled and I began to tumble.