Rain lightly rapped at the glass windows of Willow Heights Medical Center, warping the vision beyond what could be seen.
In his office on the top floor, Dr. Cole Kingston leaned back in his chair, untied the navy silk tie that had tightened him up, on the clock, since 7 a.m. His unused stethoscope hung beside a framed photo of a small girl in pink glasses, her curls a halo, and her smile infectious.
"Daddy, why don't I have a mommy like the other children?"
Those had floored him last night. Sophie, age five and much too perceptive for her years, had posed them with outstretched, questioning eyes and a tremble in her voice.
Cole wasn't ready with an answer.
His ex-wife, Eliana, had simply walked out two years before. Told him motherhood wasn't her calling, nor wife to a man coming home with blood on his scrubs and exhaustion in his eyes. She'd swapped for Paris, galleries, and bottomless wine glasses rather than bedtime tales and morning cuddles.
Sophie had only asked for one thing, for someone to stand beside her at the 'Kindergarten Family Day' next month. Cole had tried, begged, and even offered to fly Eliana in, but she had refused. "I'm not playing house for a school event," she'd scoffed before hanging up.
Now Cole sat staring at the raindrops and wondering how he would explain another disappointment to Sophie.
Then, his phone buzzed.
"Hi, the temp aide from Pediatrics is still in the lounge if you want to sign her hours. And she brought cookies. You might not hate her." -Nurse Tasha.
Cole breathed. Cookies were more appealing than sympathy. He got up, arching the crease out of his shoulders, and walked down the hallway.
The lounge was quiet, apart from the hum of the coffee machine. There was a woman at a table, wearing a dusty rose cardigan, scribbling in a journal with a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie parked beside her cup. Her curls were tied up into a haphazard bun, and she had the kind of mousy beauty that didn't demand attention but held onto it anyway.
She looked up when he entered.
"Hello. I'm filling in for Dr. Larkin's assistant today. I guess you're Dr. Kingston?" Her voice was soft but assured, and her smile inched up to her eyes.
He nodded. "That's me. And you are…?"
"Alice Blake," she said, getting up. "I already gave my hours with Nurse Tasha, but she said you might need to sign them."
Cole advanced, taking the clipboard she extended to him. He read the neat script before signing.
"You made these?" he said, gesturing toward the cookies.
A blush rose up her face. "Guilty. I bake to keep my hands busy when I'm anxious."
"Why were you anxious today?"
Her lips twisted. "Starting a new temp job in a kids' ward where it appears that every parent there has his or her act together."
Cole gave a short laugh. "Trust me most of us are faking it."
"Maybe," she said, meeting his eyes, "but at least you're faking it while saving lives."
He paused. Something was refreshing about her. She wasn't trying to impress him. She wasn't fawning over the billionaire-doctor or asking him if he was the same Cole Kingston who co-owns Kingston Medical Technologies with his brother. She just saw him.
A man.
A father.
Weary. Flawed. Human.
Something reckless awakened.
"Hey, mind if I ask you something weird?" he forced out before he could think better of it.
Alice blinked. "Uh. Sure?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "There's an event at my daughter's school. Family Day. Parents attend as a group, have cupcakes, craft macaroni picture frames, that sort of thing. My ex won't attend, and Sophie's at the age where this sort of thing is a big deal.".
Alice tilted her head, curiosity piqued.
He continued, "She asked me why she doesn't have a mom like the other kids, and I don't know how to keep disappointing her."
Her expression softened.
"So," Cole said, taking a breath, "I want to ask if you'd pretend to be her mom. Just for the day. I'll pay you, of course. It's purely for Sophie. No strings."
Alice stared at him. For a minute, neither of them did anything but look.
"So you want me to pretend to be your ex-wife?" she asked slowly.
"No. Just pretend to be Sophie's mom. Not mine," he replied. "I know it sounds insane. You don't even know me. But Sophie is… special. And I'm desperate."
She looked down at her half-eaten cookie.
"I'm not really mother-type," she said in a whisper.
"Nor was the woman who gave birth to her," Cole replied, his voice strained with pain he had not meant to show.
The stillness stretched between them again. The hum of the refrigerator. The sound of thunder in the distance.
Finally, Alice lifted her head. "One day. Just Family Day."
He nodded quickly. "Yes. Just that."
"And we tell Sophie the truth?"
He hesitated. "We tell her you're helping. Playing pretend. But we let her dream for a couple of hours that she has a family. Like the other kids."
Alice's gaze sparked. She'd like to know what ghosts he saw behind her lashes.
And then she nodded.
"I'll do it."
—---------------------
Three days later, Alice stood outside the glass doors of Sophie's kindergarten classroom, clutching a bouquet of daisies in her hand and butterflies of nerves fluttering on espresso.
Outside, kids were swarming around rainbow-colored tables. Paper hearts, glitter glue, and markers filled every available space. The sound of laughter filled the air.
Cole crouched down next to Sophie, lacing her sneaker. Dark hair dipped forward, and Sophie, who was wearing a lilac tutu, reached up and stroked it back softly. He smiled at her, and the gentleness in his eyes lodged in Alice's throat.
This man was not what she had pictured, a successful doctor with a name posted on hospital wings.
"Alice!" Sophie screamed as she spotted her, sprinting across the room.
Alice dived to the floor just in time to grab the bundle of joy who crashed into her arms.
"You came!" Sophie grinned. "Daddy said maybe, but I hoped."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Alice whispered, holding her tight. She breathed in bubblegum shampoo and cinnamon, and her heart altered.
It wasn't pretend.
Not at this moment.
Cole hovered a few feet away, watching them.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, all melted away; the din, the crayons, the pretending, and what remained was a man who had begged a stranger to make his daughter feel loved.
And a woman who never realized she needed to be needed until now.
The table of cupcakes was scattered, and frosting covered Cole's cheek. Alice laughed, reaching up to wipe it with a napkin. Her hand skittered across his skin, and their gazes met once again.
Sophie, standing between them, looked up.
"I wish this were real," she said simply. "I wish we were an actual family."
Neither of the grown-ups spoke.
Alice swallowed. She saw Cole looking at her, which he already was the rider of that question in his eyes he hadn't dared to ask yet.
But something was beginning.
And not even pretending could hide it much longer.