#MAMA DANI😭❤️❤️❤️ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rose-tinted-juls · 2 years ago

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WHAT IN THE JESUS CHRIST OMG!!!! i was waiting for this chap SO BAD since the cliffhanger of chap 7, finally it's here and it's even more insane!

1. sophie lying about elise to max: a bit painful but understandable; also just to think she's mick's kid AWHHH 🥺

2. tbh it's very funny for me that this fic singlehandedly makes me like max more every time. like when i watch him race (and win almost every single freakin race) and/or in interviews (or whining like he did with the george thing in baku) i don't like him kinda at all, but then i read a bit of wymtm and suddenly when i hear his name in a podcast or whatever i just start grinning-giggling. this makes no sense, but it further proves the talent and power of Dani. (also why was emotional and maybe even the tiniest bit sad when they agreed on staying just friends. as if i didn't wish for this for many chaps lmao)

3. ELLIE SAID DADA!!!! AND TO MICK!!!! two things about this: one, my heart burst reading it omg and i still get giddy when i remember it; and two, poor girl's gonna get confused if and when the time comes for the actual dad to get in the pic and take on his role, will she think that suddenly she has two dads? 😭

4. actually now i think about it, you gotta give it to her that she's a smart baby. she has the most perfect timing, saying dada but also not saying mama. i love her and this tiny cute smartness and reading the scenes with her gives me real baby fever tbh hehe

5. "he painted another picture. he can't remember the last time he had a surge of inspiration, since his fingers ached for a paint brush, mind foretelling stories he had yet to put on canvas. he felt like himself again, happiest in a mess of paint, happiest creating something worth sharing with people." THIS RIGHT HERE. such a gorgeously written paragraph, i'm speechless. also, the fact that sophie brought this out from him, that her mere presence and personality could do this is so awhhh 🥺😭❤️

6. UH OH MAX AND PIERRE WILL HAVE A TALK!!! and one of them knows the baby is sophie's, the other thinks she's mick's... ooh the up and coming drama!!

7. while daniel is being clueless to this whole situation still lmao. just waiting for their date happily, painting away <33 i love this man with my whole heart if you can't tell.

...similarly to how i love Dani. you queen, one of the most important pillars of this fandom, i bow to you and would kiss the back of your hand in admiration if i could. thank you for blessing us with this masterpiece.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖

MASTERLIST

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; more lies and another shift in dynamic. what's changed? 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 7.8k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; explicit language

“H-hi. Can I come in?”

The sky is angry, howling and blowing rough air into the apartment. Elise hides her face in her mother’s chest, tiny hands gripping on her soft cotton shirt, catching bits of Sophie’s skin and making her wince. Rain patters onto the cement in front of her door, she can hear the way the water splatters against it. It’s rapid, loud, violent. She feels the soft vibrations of Ellie’s whines against her skin, but she can barely hear it above the sounds of the storm

She’s stuck, frozen, unable to move as she stares at Max standing at her front door. His white button up is soaked through, sticking to his pale skin and defining the muscles along his abdomen. The top two buttons are undone, and the knot of his dark blue tie hangs lowly. Dirty blonde hair sticks to his forehead, allowing the droplets to slide from strand to skin. She sees the way he grimaces at the wind’s taunting whistles, the sound of thunder booming, but most of all she sees the wide stare that he gives her and the baby in her arms.

“Sophie?”

His voice brings her back to reality. The storm is louder now, it's angrier, shaking her doors and beginning to make a mess of the inside of her home. She can hear things begin to clatter behind her, the sound of frames and vases threatening to topple over.

“Sorry!” Sophie yells over the wind, “Yes, yes. Come in. Sorry.”

Sophie steps aside, allowing Max to step in and out of the storm raging outside. He shuts the door for them, fingers fiddling with the lock before twisting it shut. Max leans against the white painted wood, letting out a huff as his fingers fiddle with his tie to undo it completely. It hangs over his chest, heavy from the rain. She watches his fingers find their way to his soaked hair, pushing it back and off his forehead. He looks around him, staring at the puddle forming at his feet.

“I’m sorry, I’m making such a mess.”

Sophie could care less about the puddle of water at her front door, or the way Ellie has yet to stop pinching the skin over her breast. She’s numb, her ears are ringing. The world ceases to exist for a moment, she feels like she’s floating, watching the scene unfold before her. It feels like her head is throbbing, but she wonders if it’s just her imagination. Maybe she’s dreaming, that the overwhelming week behind her has caught up to her and her dreams. Maybe Max really isn’t here, maybe she and Elise had fallen asleep a long time ago. Maybe she’s just imagining the baffled look on Max’s face, his curious blue eyes that stares at her expectantly.

Max clears his throat. Ellie pinches her a little harder. Fuck, she thinks, this isn’t a dream.

Sophie hisses softly, prying the baby’s fingers one by one off her. Ellie has grown quiet, wide blue eyes staring at the man in front of them. She’s still huffing, trying to catch her breath from the fit she was throwing before their guest arrived. Sophie rubs her baby’s back, follows the little girl’s gaze all the way to the man at their front door. There’s no fear, no usual look of skepticism that Sophie expects from her daughter. The one year old just stares curiously, studying the very wet man who just smiles at her and offers her a gentle wave.

“Hi there,” He says softly. Max’s gaze flickers up to Sophie, index finger pointing weakly at the girl resting on her hip. “Is… is she…?”

Max’s finger shifts slightly to the left, pointing straight at her. Yours, his finger finishes the question for him. Is she yours? Panic settles like it had been threatening to for the last couple of weeks, the feeling all too familiar. This is the part where she stumbles over her words, she’s backed into a corner, she has to tell him. What choice does she have? There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She’s stuck in her home, in the middle of a storm, with Max staring at her expectantly. There’s no escape— she has to try to stop escaping.

Sophie turns her head and looks from her daughter back to Max’s wandering finger.

“Uh… no.” The lie slips past her lips easily, way too easily, “No no. Friend’s kid. He works nights and I watch her for him.”

Max clicks his tongue, “Ah.”

Relief. It’s a nice feeling.

Max doesn’t poke or prod like she expected him too. Instead he waves at Ellie again, who just stares at him. His smile is boyish, he looks younger in the soft light of the moon coming from the balcony window. His dirty blonde hair flops back over his forehead, his cheeks are rosy, and there’s a slight chatter of his teeth. But he makes no fuss and pays no mind to his own discomfort, instead trying to get a smile out of the little girl. He twitches, shiver running up his spine.

“I’m so sorry, let me get you something to change into.”

“That would be nice.” He smiles, teeth clicking against each other.

A pair of Mick’s shirt and shorts, plus a soft white towel later, Max is seated comfortably on the opposite end of the couch from Sophie and Ellie. Not a peep from the little girl since he’s walked in. Her eyes are still wide, still curious, still trying to figure out if she can trust him or not. Elise’s brows are furrowed, lips in a slight pout, as she stares at Max. She still holds onto Sophie, but her head remains turned.

No one says anything, just letting the wind and rain make all the noise. Max sets different toys in front of Ellie, hoping to elicit any reaction from the stoic little girl. But Elise just looks at the toy as he sets them down for no more than a second before staring back up at him. It’s amusing to watch unfold, to see the pile of toys grow in size and Ellie’s lack of reaction.

“It’s okay baby girl,” Sophie coos, flattening the wild curls on the crown of her baby’s head, “He’s nice.”

Max’s smile widens, shifting a little closer to her. His grips onto one of the toys the little girl had refused earlier, reaching it out to her as a peace offering. Ellie eyes the toy skeptically, eyes flickering from it to the man holding it out for her.

“I’m Max,” He says softly, “What’s your name?”

Elise looks up at her mom, eyes searching for reassurance. Sophie smiles, nodding. “Say, my name is Elise.”

“Elise,” Max repeats, “that’s a very pretty name.”

Ellie turns back towards Max, reaching out and shoving the toy out of his hand. Max smiles, chuckling softly before bending over and grabbing another toy to offer the little girl. The little game goes on a couple more rounds before she finally accepts her favorite plush giraffe. The storm is quieter, aside from the wild winds and heavy rainfall. Elise isn’t phased by the large drops of water beating on the glass, too distracted by her favorite toy in between her fingers. Sophie rubs her baby’s back, pressing a kiss at the top of her head before looking up at Max.

“What was going through your silly little head to drive out in the middle of the storm?” Sophie raises her brow.

He laughs softly, “Not much honestly. I just wanted— needed to see you.”

“Couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

He shakes his head. “Unfortunately not. But I am sorry for intruding on babysitting duties.”

A pang in her chest. Guilt is loud, it mocks her, makes her confidence waver a bit. But Max is too busy smiling at Ellie to notice the way Sophie’s gaze scans the room, or how she shifts nervously in her place.

“Well… it’s not such a bad thing.” Sophie mumbles, “She was crying for a while, and I was at my wits ends on how to help her. You came just in time I think.”

Max smiles, nodding wordlessly. His stare is kind towards the little girl. Sophie watches quietly, eyes flickering from Max to Ellie, and back. Rain beats down on the glass of her balcony doors again, much harder, even more relentless and angry than a couple minutes prior. It’s the only sound that fills the otherwise quiet air between them. Elise pays no mind to the way her mother fidgets in her seat, or how Max uses her as a distraction while they try to find something to say. She didn’t mind it one bit.

“The lines were down.” Sophie speaks up again, lifting her daughter off her lap and onto the couch in front of her.

“Hm?” Max doesn’t look up from the game he plays with Elise.

“I was trying to return your calls but the lines were down… I wasn’t trying to avoid you or something.”

The guilt is evident in her voice, it pulls Max’s attention from Elise. He straightens his posture, nodding as he comprehends what she’s said. He finds a bit of comfort in her words, a bit of reassurance that everything isn’t as bad as what’s been brewing in his mind. He offers her a warm smile, reaching over to rub the top of her knee. “I know. I was trying to call you too.”

The balcony doors shake with the wind again, and Ellie freezes in her place. Sophie sees the grip on the giraffe’s neck tighten ever so slightly and knowing her daughter, her bottom lip is probably quivering. Though the thunder and lightning has let up, the wind and rain are still relentless. It comes in waves of slow and hard, beating down and shaking the windows wildly. Sophie feels the uneasiness in her daughter’s body. Max’s gaze drops to the little girl on the couch, pouting just as much as the little girl is. He scoots a little closer, index finger coming up to rest under the girl’s chin. Sophie holds her breath, watching her daughter warily as Max tries to comfort her.

Ellie is not the most trusting baby. Not one to cry or wail when a stranger is around, but she’s guarded enough to not melt into a new person easily. And on any given day, a stranger that entered their home not even thirty minutes ago offering to hold her would receive a cold shoulder and Ellie’s version of an icy stare.

Max holds his hands out to her, offering to hold her, “C’mere doll, it’s okay.”

Ellie looks up at her mom again, searching for a bit of reassurance. Sophie smiles, giving her an exaggerated shrug and a flick of her chin towards the man who still has his arms out for her. The baby looks back at the large hands in contemplation. She only takes another second to contemplate it before releasing the giraffe from her tiny hands and lifts her arms up towards Max.

Sophie’s heart skips a beat, watching as Max grins and lifts Ellie up and over onto his lap. She quietly observes the interaction, how she sits so comfortably in his lap, arms reaching out and resting on his chest. Max coos, mumbling softly like they’re having some sort of secret conversation. Sophie doesn’t listen, her own thoughts drowning out the world in front of her. She can’t help but smile, relaxing and resting into the couch as she watches Ellie clap along with Max.

“You’re really good with her,” She says softly, “And she seems to like you.”

“What’s not to like?” Max asks, voice pitched and his lips curved upwards as he gives the baby a warm smile. Ellie reaches out for him, and he takes her tiny hands in his own. Max shakes Ellie’s hands in his own, making a face at her, before smiling at Sophie. “My sister has two boys. Love them like my own, so… I love kids.”

“Didn’t know you have a sister.”

“You never asked.”

Sophie stares down at her lap, biting down on her lip. She doesn’t expect to see his hand rest on her knee, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“I’m teasing.”

Her smile is tense, even as she rests her hand on his own. He wraps his hand around her fingers, his hold never leaving hers. Sophie looks back up, head resting on the couch as she looks up at Max and her daughter. Her heart nearly melts at the sight of Ellie resting on his chest, Max’s other hand rubbing small circles on her back. Ellie’s eyes begin to droop, far too heavy for the little girl to keep open.

“Don’t move,” Sophie whispers, “She’s finally falling asleep.”

Max cranes his neck enough to catch the flutter of the little girl’s lashes. He smiles, leaning his head back onto the couch and returning his gaze to the girl sitting next to him. They sit quietly, letting the roaring wind and ever present rain lull the baby to sleep. It’s almost sweet, the way they sit there, Sophie’s hand in his, exchanging gentle smiles, while her– albeit, maybe their– daughter falls asleep. The idea of him maybe finding out, the idea that maybe Max could be Elise’s father, doesn’t scare her as much as it did. She finds a bit of comfort in the way Ellie lays on his chest, the way he holds her so comfortably. For a brief moment, she imagines a life where she could share Ellie with Max.

Or Daniel.

Fuck, maybe even Pierre.

When Sophie is sure that Ellie is in deep sleep, she helps Max slowly lay her down on the couch. His hand supports her head and neck, the other on her back, as he slowly leans forward to rest her body onto the couch cushion. They sit on either end of Ellie, unmoving and quiet, watching as the baby shifts around to get comfortable on the couch. And when she finally stills, they both move to sit on the floor by her. Elise’s head rests by Max, feet by Sophie, and she snores softly. She stares at her daughter affectionately, fingers gently brushing curls away from her face.

Max steals a glance over at Sophie, and he can’t help the way his heart softens at the sight of her. She looks down at the baby girl, eyes holding so much emotion and joy. It’s a side of her that he has yet to get acquainted with. Though very reminiscent of the girl he met in the bar, there’s something different. There’s more solemnity in her gaze— a bit of gentleness he’s never seen before.

“You take care of this little one often?” Sophie lifts her head to look up at him. She nods, refusing to give any other kind of explanation. Max hums, “Ever want one of your own?”

His stare is serious, not a glint of playfulness or humor. Blue eyes shift left to right, searching her face for an answer. The lies sit at the back of her throat, but she swallows them down.

“Do you?”

Max chuckles. “One day. I’d want a little boy and girl.”

Sophie smiles, nodding. “I think you’ll be a great dad.”

“I hope so. I never had a great relationship with my dad.” Max confesses, “I didn’t have the greatest male role model in my life. And one day, when I have kids I want to be everything that my dad wasn’t for me.”

She gives him a questioning look, watches as his gaze shifts down to his lap, expression suddenly sullen. She doesn’t say anything, but Max clocks the clear worry on her features. He smiles— it’s small, almost beckoning for her to clip the pity smile because he was fine. Really he was. It was a sad reality, but one he has lived with all his life. He doesn’t know any different, so he’s fine.

Sophie sighs softly, reaching out to grip his hand in her in a comforting squeeze. He watches as she shifts in her seat, moving closer to him before resting her head on his shoulder. The silence, the little gesture of affection is comforting. Max can’t help the smile on his face, head coming down to rest on top of hers. Goosebumps litter his skin at the gentle gesture, at the closeness, and her subtle form of comfort. They sit quietly, letting Max’s honesty simmer above them.

He picks up his head, getting a better look at the baby, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the way she sleeps peacefully. “She kind of looks like you, ya know. Do you get that a lot?”

Sophie looks back, studying her baby’s face. She has always been told that Ellie looks a lot like her, save the curly hair, bright blue eyes, and– according to Mick– her nose. Sophie shrugs, “Sometimes. But I think it’s because we spend so much time together.”

Max chuckles, nodding. Sophie retracts her gentle touch, but stays put in her spot right next to him. They’re shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, and yet Max’s hand misses hers and the way she held on so tightly. But he doesn’t say a thing about it, just offering her a tight lipped smile instead. The door rattles against the wind picking up again. They both turn to watch the balcony door shake with the wind until it dies down again. It’s funny really, the way they seem to tiptoe around conversation and take any and every opportunity for an interruption. And yet they sit right next to each other, side to side, skin to skin, Sophie can feel the heat his body radiates.

The boy turns his face, truly unaware of just how close they were. Their noses brush, breath fanning over the other’s face. His heart beats sporadically, her’s in the exact same state. Neither make a move, just reveling in the butterflies of being just close enough. Sophie’s breathing is shaky, shallow, her nerves clear with every inhale. But before either of them could make a move, Ellie shifts behind them. Max coughs awkwardly as Sophie turns around to pat her daughter’s chest and hush her back to sleep. He shifts over to give her room, licking his lips as he stares up at her, watching as the baby girl stops fussing, falling back asleep.

There’s a bit of frustration that festers in his chest over another missed opportunity to move forward in whatever they share between them. He feels a little stuck with Sophie, a bit stagnant with the way he seems to be pulling her close all while she pushes him away. And maybe it’s not on purpose— truly maybe her life is a lot more complicated now than when they had first encountered each other. But even then, he wishes there was a way for her to see that he just doesn’t care. He wants to help, she just has to let him in.

His mind wanders over to Pierre, the words they exchanged hours earlier. What does he know that Max doesn’t— and more importantly: why does he know? He thinks about the screaming match he witnessed between the two, the disgust in Sophie’s eyes when she looked up at the Frenchman and furthermore the… anger in his own. There was a clear passion between the two, in some form or another, and it only further agitates Max. Why him?

Sophie turns back around when Ellie has settled back down, leaning into Max’s side and her head resting against his shoulder. Her stomach does turn when he wraps his arm tightly around her, the way he presses his nose against her hair, inhaling softly. No kiss, no attempt at making a move, just a simple form of affection.

“Tired?” He mumbles against the top of her head.

She shakes her head, humming softly. “No, I'm fine. You?”

He shares the same response, pulling away to offer a small smile. Sophie looks up at him to return the gesture and once again they find themselves in the same predicament just moments before. Noses brushing, lips only a few centimeters from the other. This is it, someone should just make the move.

But Max is frozen, stuck in a weird limbo of wanting to kiss her and a fear of rejection. So he opts for the next best thing.

“I like you Sophie.”

The words tumble past him without much thought. His heart begins to pick up the pace, nerve endings coming alive. He sees the way Sophie’s body goes rigid under his arm before it relaxes, the gentle look in her eyes as she looks up at him. There isn’t a hint in her facade to tell him whether or not she feels the same way. It’s quiet, just soft breathing and the harsh winds outside the four walls of her little apartment.

“I like you a lot actually. I liked you when I met you in the bar in London, when your chair got stuck and you nagged the barkeep for pasta. And I like you now, all guarded and yet so sweet. And I wish that I could meet the you that you’ve become, but you won’t let me in. I feel like I can’t reach you most times no matter how hard I try.”

Sophie can feel her heart trying to climb up her throat, it rattles her ribs and thumps in her head. She wonders if he can see the panic in her eyes, in the way she had stiffened for a moment too long. She didn’t know what to say, how to respond to a sincere confession. The way he said it, filled so much care and desire. What can she say? The guilt is back, louder this time. It chants her lies back in her face, chants her wrong doings. It paints his sad eyes in the forefront of her mind, a sort of reminder of how her selfishness and unwillingness will ruin a man as kind as Max.

“Do I even have a shot Soph?” The hope in voice almost kills her. “Is there something more here, or am I crazy?”

She doesn’t know. She looks at Max and she can’t decipher a single thing about the way she feels for him. It’s hazy, confusing. The attraction is clear, it’s always been there, Sophie knows that. The foundation of their very relationship was built off a night of attraction and the consequences of it. And while they are fond memories, ones that make her blush and enjoy his company, it does beg the question of the possibility of something more. Because if Sophie is being honest with herself– and Max– she’s never considered it. She’s never had the time to, and truth be told, she’s never thought that she would ever have to.

She likes Max, she really does. But perhaps not in the way he likes her.

“Max-”

“Oh no,” Sophie can see the way his expression shifts from hopeful to hopeless, the pained smile and sad eyes. “I guess I am crazy.”

Sophie shakes her head. “I like you. You have to know that I do. I like you, I care about you.”

“But?”

“But…” Sophie pauses, inhaling deeply. “But it’s not the same.”

Tears sting at both their eyes, it's evident in the way they’ve glossed over. There’s more to the reality, more that Max is unaware of to no fault of his own. If anything, Sophie is to blame. She should’ve said it, should’ve admitted it right then and there. Let this be the first of honest interactions between one of the three possibilities. But the truth is stuck in her throat. She debates if it would just be salt to the wound, if she’d be aggravating the pain she can already read on his face.

“Maybe we were never meant to be more than one night in London.” The chuckle he lets out is dry, almost pained. He pulls his arm from around her shoulder to ruffle his hair— a nervous tick. “I wish it weren’t the case.”

“I’m so sorry Max.”

Guilt. It’s all she feels.

His smile is sad. “Don’t be Soph. I’m still so glad that I know you. And really, I’d still like to. Even if there isn’t a shot for me to be something more to you… at the very least I’d like to be your friend.”

Tears fall onto Sophie’s cheek. Max’s smile is pained, but sweet. It reassures her that everything is okay… that he is okay. He lifts his hand up to cup her face, thump swiping away the trail of wet left by her sadness.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you Max. That’s not fair to you.” She confesses.

“Oh Soph, you could never make me feel that way.” He cups her cheek, “You’re a girl I’d love to know forever, in any capacity.”

She jumps onto him, arms wrapped around him as she squeezes him tightly. Max’s arms snake around her middle, hugging her close. They hold each other in the dark apartment, a feeling of a chapter writing it’s end, and a new beginning. Sophie twists her head, pressing a kiss against Max’s cheek before she pulls away to hold his face in her hands. She can see the redness in his eyes, the bit of sadness and the piece of hope in those baby blues.

“Friends?” He asks, hopefully.

Sophie nods, a few stray tears falling onto her cheeks. “Friends.”

He nods, turning his head slightly to press a kiss against the palm of her hand. “Okay.”

Quiet. It settles between them comfortably as Sophie’s hand slides down into his own, giving it a soft squeeze. It’s easier to breathe now. The tension that was once there dissipates, and all that’s left to do is laugh. They giggle softly, wiping away tears and bumping shoulders because they are far too awkward to know what to do now. She shakes her head, eyes taking a quick glance over at her daughter before looking back at Max, who opens and shuts his mouth like he has something to say.

“What?” Sophie asks.

“Well in the name of this… newfound friendship, I just wanted to say that you don’t have to like you have to run away when things get tough for you.” Max says softly. “I feel like we’ve crossed a couple boundaries of awkward and… well… boundaries in general. And I know we agreed on friends all of five seconds ago but… sorry, this is just a round-about way of me saying that if you have problems, then I can help you. Or try to, at the very least.”

Max shifts in his place on the floor, straightening his posture and taking Sophie’s hands in his own. She tilts her head, confused at the sudden declaration.

“Where is this coming from Max?”

He contemplates mentioning Pierre, the conversation they had hours earlier. I’m just trying to save you the trouble… And I’m trying to save her too. There’s a bit of jealousy that sparked up inside of him when Pierre said that. The only memory he had of the smug fuck is that of when he barged into Sophie’s shop unknowingly to stop a screaming match. He’d never forget the anger, the hurt, on her face when she stared up at Pierre. The way she begged him to leave and he just refused. He has the villainous image of Pierre that he can’t quite shake, and the fact that he might know a little bit more than him makes him a little sick.

Instead he shakes his head, “I just don’t want you to feel like you need to push me away if you’re going through stuff.”

Sophie nods, scooting closer to him. She reaches out to him, cupping his cheek. He leans into her touch, an almost sad smile splayed on his lips as he stares up at her with his ocean blue eyes.

“Okay Max. But everything is okay now, okay? So don’t worry.” Max nods and Sophie pulls her hand away.

Sophie rests her head on her arm on the seat of the couch. Exhaustion begins to take over, and her eyes begin to feel heavy but she fights it. But Max catches the tiredness in her features, and he pats her lap. Her head jolts up at the sound, and he laughs softly.

“C’mere.” He tugs on her hand, urging her to move closer.

She yawns, sitting up and shaking her head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Sophie Adams, just lay down on my lap.”

She can’t help the grin, the blush of her cheeks as she crawls the short distance to rest her head on his lap. His finger combed through her hair, a soft hum buzzing from the back of his throat. Somewhere between Elise’s fussing and aimless conversation between the two of them, Sophie falls asleep on his lap while Max keeps his head propped on his hand. It’s uncomfortable, but he dare not move and disturb the girl fast asleep on his thigh.

It’s a knock and Elise’s soft babbles that wake them the next morning. Sophie is the first to jolt up, hair a mess and eyes bleary with sleep. Max groans softly, the muscle of his left thigh aching as she lifts her head, hand coming up to rub the area. Sunlight pours in from the balcony doors harshly, it burns his eyes and he’s forced to turn away and bury his face in the couch cushions. He would’ve left his head down, maybe even fallen back asleep, if it weren’t for the little hands patting the back of his head. And he wouldn’t have cared if it weren’t for the threat of those tiny little hands pulling on his hair.

“Ellie, no thank you. That’s not very nice.”

Sophie pays no mind to Max, pays no mind to the way he stares up at her, or the way she suddenly feels about her appearance. If her daughter was her reflection– with her curls wild and dried drool on the corner of her lip– then she must look like a wreck. Her hand comes up to flatten her baby’s arm against her side, a way to discourage her previous actions, before she messes with the curls on top of her head. Another round of knocks, Sophie has to fight a groan. She’s about to answer the door when the knob begins to jiggle. She holds her daughter closer to her, taking a few steps back as she eyes the door, waiting to see who would poke their head in when the culprit would finally manage to unlock it. Max has moved to his feet, stepping in front of the two girls. His arm is stretched behind him, hand on her hip firmly.

“Hey Soph, you awake?”

Sophie releases a breath. It’s just Mick.

Her best friend steps into the apartment, blue eyes shifting from curiosity to shock as he comes face to face with Max. No one says a word, no one moves a muscle. Fuck, Sophie thinks, inhaling sharply, Mick.

“Max,” Sophie pips, stepping around his hold and over to Mick, “This is Elise’s dad, my good friend Mick.”

Almost on cue, almost as if the one year old is on the dirty little secret, Elise reaches up towards Mick. She flicks her hands open and closed, waiting for her uncle to pay any mind to her. But he’s far too busy giving her mother an incredulous look and awkward smile to Max. She begins to whine softly, resting all her weight against her mother’s arm, leaning towards Mick, babbling louder and stretching her arms as much as her little body would allow her to. But to no avail, he still doesn’t notice. The little girl is frustrated, wriggling in her mom’s arm as she begins to whine even louder.

“Dada!”

Sophie, Mick, and Max all look down at the little girl, who still reaches out for her Uncle. In any other circumstance, Sophie would be over the moon. But right now, all she wanted to do was throw up. Mick coughs up an awkward chuckle, taking the pleading child from her mother’s arms and into his own.

“H-hi baby girl,” Mick says, his tone barely brushing with excitement. “Did you have fun with your m-”

“Aunt.” Sophie cuts in.

Mick’s eyes grow wide as his gaze flickers over to her, “Aunt. With your Aunt.”

Elise doesn’t respond. She rests her head on Mick’s shoulder, nuzzling her face closer to his neck and her tiny hands against his chest. Max on the other hand, doesn’t seem to notice the messy lies being told. Sophie wonders if it was all believable, or if he was too tired to notice. Her anxiety is through the roof because truly, there is no way that she could actually get away with this. Not with the way Mick stares at him, and definitely not with the way Ellie only knows two words now. What was she gonna do if her daughter called her Mama? What then?

“You have a lovely little daughter, mate. Hope you don’t mind that I intruded last night, I just wanted to keep Sophie company.”

“Hey, no problem mate.” Sophie could kill him for his overly friendly tone, the bit of sarcasm laced between his words, “Glad you could. Soph gets into a bit of trouble when left to her own devices.”

Mick shoots her a quick glare at the last part, one she gladly returns.

“I should go.” Max chuckles, picking up the bag of his sopping wet clothes.

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

“It’s right there.” Sophie’s ears grow hot over Mick’s words, head quickly turning in his direction.

“Don’t you have to feed your daughter or something?” Sophie raises her brow, eyes wide as she begs him to shut up and leave her alone. Mick rolls his eyes, grumbling as he turns toward the kitchen counter to make the baby girl a bottle. Elise is enthralled by her uncle, smiling widely up at him as she babbles dada over and over and over.

Sophie walks Max two feet to the door, holding it open for him to walk out first before she follows behind him. She leaves the door slightly ajar, hands still holding onto the golden knob, twisting anxiously.

“We’re okay right?” Max asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“I was going to ask you that.”

Max’s smile is small, a light nod as he reaches out towards her. But he stops himself, hand falling back to his side. “We’re okay. Friends right?”

“Friends.” She affirms.

It feels nice. Sophie feels a bit more at ease, lungs light as they expand with every breath. She never thought it would feel this nice, to have Max right in front of her and her daughter right behind her. Sure he was unaware of the circumstances, of the possible connection he might have with the baby inside, but those little details didn’t matter to Sophie at that second. All she cared about was that for once, things are nice.

She wonders if it would be this nice with Daniel.

Probably not with Pierre. But maybe Daniel.

“Come visit the hotel when you can,” Max offers, “And bring the little one too if you’d like.”

Sophie smiles, nodding as she releases the doorknob and takes a step towards the Dutch man in front of her. She lifts herself onto the tip of her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll visit when I can.”

“Good.” Max chuckles, finally taking a step back. “Give Elise a hug for me.”

“Drive safe.”

“Always.”

Sophie stands outside of her door until she see’s Max climb into his car, waving at him once more before slipping inside. She backs up against the door as she shuts it with a smile and a huff. She doesn’t acknowledge the way Mick squints his eyes at her, studying the way she prances over and plucks her daughter from his hold.

“You’re nuts.” Mick concludes, handing Sophie Ellie’s bottle. She hums softly, handing her baby the eight ounces of milk, sitting her in her chair before moving about the kitchen to prepare breakfast. “In what scenario do you think that all this is gonna end well?”

The niceness from a minute ago dissipates with Mick’s words, rising above them and evaporating in the now humid Kamari air. Sophie rolls her eyes, pulling out pancake mix and maple syrup. She knows Mick has his arms crossed over his chest, wild blue eyes burring holes at the side of her head as he awaits her answer. She tiptoes to grab a spatula and pulls open a drawer for some measuring cups before she finally turns her head to see Mick in the exact form she pictured him in.

“I know lying is going to bite me in the ass, but I just need a bit more time. I’m not ready Mick, I’m just not. Everything is happening way to fast, I just need to fucking breathe.”

“Sophie-”

“I’m gonna tell him. I’m gonna apologize and I’m gonna tell him, but the timing has to be right. Forgive me if I thought telling him after he drove through a storm to see me was not the appropriate time to say ‘hey this is my daughter and she could be yours too!’”

Mick throws his hands in the air, defeated and turning away. “I’ll make the eggs.”

“I’ll make pancakes.”

They huff as they work on opposite ends of the kitchen, all while Elise sits in her high chair watching the scene before her unfold. She’s not phased by their bickering, a little too preoccupied by the little more than four ounces of milk left in her bottle. They cook in silence, allowing all their aggression to be passed into the breakfast they prepare together. The metal fork clinks against the inside of the bowl as Mick beats the eggs, a little louder than necessary. And at the other end, Sophie is shutting her fridge a little more firmly than she normally would.

Breakfast gets done just before Elise gets fussy, the bottle now empty and the little girl whining for a little more to quench her hunger. They eat without much conversation with each other, only engaging with Ellie who does not mind one bit. It isn’t uneasy or uncomfortable, even if the earlier conversation was technically left unresolved. And when plates are empty and bits of pancake left uneaten, Mick sets his fork down and looks up at Sophie.

“What are you doing Sophie?” His voice is defeated, face stoic and void of any sympathy that used to be there.

“Listen,” Sophie drops her utensils, “I’ve been doomed the moment Pierre stepped into the shop-“

“You doomed yourself. You keep lying Sophie and for what?” Sophie had never seen him so frustrated. He is reminiscent of his father with the way his brows are tense and eyes darker. He is biting down on his molars, she can see it in the way his jaw muscles flex. “Is this really for Elise or yourself?”

“Watch it.” Sophie warns.

“No be honest Sophie, it’s just you and me. What do you get out of this? Because one second you didn’t need any of them and now you’re playing house. So what do you want at the end of all of this?”

She’s frozen. Maybe she had lost a bit of purpose in the whirlwind of Pierre, Max, and Daniel. She just didn’t expect anything that happened in the last year or so. To lose the better part of her 20s to a product of one of three one night stands. She didn’t expect to have a baby so soon, didn’t expect to see any of them after the one night. But here she is, with a one year old and unknowing fathers. She never thought her brief moments of fun would come back to her, didn't think that she’d ever have to consider letting them into her and her daughter’s life.

But Mick was right, what changed? What was suddenly so appealing about any of them?

“They remind me of who I was.” Sophie bites down on her lip. “Which sounds so stupid but I look at them and I remember who I was before Elise. I love my daughter, I love her with everything in me but… Sometimes I miss who I was before her. So hopeful and excited. And when I see Max and Daniel, I just think of her.”

Mick’s expression softens. “Oh Sophie.”

“I’m going to tell him. Them. Then it’ll be their choice. I know that even if they run I’ll be fine because… Because I’ve always been fine without them. And I have you, and Corinna, Gina, Teddy. I have all the people who matter to me and Elise.”

Mick doesn’t say anything to her profession. To her swearing that she’ll tell them because frankly, he isn’t sure he believes her. But he smiles anyway, nodding as he reaches over the table to squeeze her hand.

Quiet again. Sophie’s learned to be well acquainted with it, to enjoy the brief moments she has of it before she’s thrust into more bouts of chaos. She loves the quiet, awkward or not.

“Ellie said Dada.”

There’s a bit of pride in Mick’s smile, blue eyes flickering from Elise and Sophie, who share the same expression. Sophie looks over at her daughter, reaching out to run her fingers through her curls. Ellie leans into her mother’s touch, eyes still cast down on one triangular piece of pancake she had yet to eat.

“She did.” Sophie says softly. “Where the heck did she learn that?”

Mick chuckles, shrugging, “Dunno, beats me.” His index finder comes up to rub Ellie’s cheek, pulling the little girl’s attention from the sticky breakfast food. “Can you say Uncle Mick?”

“Dada.”

“No, no baby, Uncle Mick.”

Her stare is blank, blue eyes boring into his.

“Dada.”

Monday doesn’t come soon enough. Daniel would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been waiting for the weekend to pass by, watching the hours tick away on the analog clock across his desk in his office. He’d become well acquainted to the cadence of the red second hand, ticking by each number over and over and over. It was hard to focus when all he seemed to think about was her.

He painted another picture. He can’t remember the last time he had a surge of inspiration, since his fingers ached for a paint brush, mind foretelling stories he had yet to put on a canvas. He felt like himself again, happiest in a mess of paint, happiest creating something worth sharing with people.

He used a lot of warm colors— reds, oranges, yellows— all a connotation to the way he had been feeling inside. Warm. Trees with extended branches, orange leaves holding onto dear life while the yellow ones are mid-air, just about to kiss their inevitable end on the ground beneath its home. The landscape extends further than his canvas will allow, at least that’s how Daniel remembers it. He stared at the painting, stared at the line that shifted from the grass to the peachy sky. He could still see what lies beyond the plain, just over the small hill he worked so hard to emulate on the canvas. He remembers the hours that would tick by while he laid there, the tickle of each blade of grass against his tan skin, the gentle kiss of a soft breeze that cools his skin. He’ll never forget the pure contentment he felt lying there.

Daniel had searched long and hard for that kind of serenity, everything falling short of the same satisfaction except for when a paintbrush was in his hand or when he had first met Sophie.

He wonders if he comes off silly for holding onto a woman he spent one night with for as long as he did, wonders if he had finally lost his mind like most artists do. Has he succumbed to delusion, succumbed to the idea that maybe she was holding onto him too?

Maybe.

Pierre sits at the desk in his hotel room, teeth biting down on the back of his pen as he watches the sun set. His phone lies face up, like he’s expecting something.

He is.

He groans softly, pushing himself off the chair to pace the room. He stares at his feet as they tread the tan carpet. Back and forth, back and forth, over and over. The pad of his thumb takes the place of his pen, teeth pinching at the skin. Maybe she tossed his business card? Maybe she misplaced it, I could drop off another… no but then she’d kill me at that point. Keep your distance Pierre.

His patience is running thin, tethered together by a single thread and Sophie’s lack of communication threatens to break it. She doesn’t owe him anything—he knows it. He knows that at the end of the day, he can never be mad at her for not reaching out. Never in a million years could he ever be mad at Sophie for the choices she made beyond him. To some degree, he gets it. He understands why she ran, why she resents him, why she keeps him at an arm's length. He fucked up, he doesn’t deserve another morsel of her time. And yet he prays for it. He looks up to the heavens when he lies in bed, the cross at the end of the chain clutched tightly in his fist as he mumbles to God. He prays for forgiveness and just one more chance.

He just wants to explain. He only asks for a small portion of her time, to sit and listen to what he has to say. He doesn’t deserve it, but it’s all he wants. He won’t beg, he won’t instigate, he just wants to talk. And if at the end all she does is shut the door in his face then that’s it. He’ll quit for good and he means it.

He’ll walk away even if he remembers the way she looked at him last. The bit of sympathy in her eyes, the bit of hope that it gave him. He saw how she looked at him when he begged her to tell him, to say that that beautiful little girl is his. Pierre saw the way her face softened at his cries, and it lit a fire inside of him. Her lack of an answer was only fuel to the flame. Hope is cruel, it holds him on a leash and keeps him stuck on the same cycle until someone comes to cut him loose.

“Ah, merde.”

What was Pierre if not persistent? He’ll just tape a new calling card on the door of her shop and slip away before she sees. It’s fine.

Pierre twists the knob of his front door, hand slipping one of many pieces of cardstock into his back pocket while doing so. What he wasn’t expecting was to see Max in the hallway in front of his room, fist raised like he was about to knock.

“Max?”

“We need to talk.”

NOTE: i didn't realize that the last time i posted a chapter was in march. oops. my bad. anyways, how are we feeling about this chapter???? i hope you liked it and are excited for the next one because.... you're not ready.

as always, s/o to my bestie @ricc3rodeo for beta reading <3

& ofc, feedback is always appreciated. smooches.

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#my mamma mia fan lil heart is still very happy that it has this ongoing story #i honestly can't wait for chap 9!!!#OMG #everyone go read this!!!#juliana's fic rec #f1 fic #fic: wymtm #my fanfic commentary #my fave fanfic

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