Baby Girl

POV: When your ex-daddy is still managing your life for you, even though you don’t want him to.

“Emery,” he calls out, the weight of the unspoken command sitting in the air between us.

I wheel around to gape at him, already feeling annoyance dancing around in my stomach. “What are you doing here?”

Derek stares at me for a long, drawn-out moment before straightening and gesturing at his car. “I’m here to take you to your doctor’s appointment.”

“And how, pray tell, do you know I have a doctor’s appointment?” I demand, the words clipped. They match the glare I’m sending his way.

“Because I was the one who made it for you,” he counters, his hazel eyes as nonchalant as I have ever fucking seen them.

His answer takes some of the wind out of my sails. It doesn’t help that he looks ridiculously good right now, in his work clothes and leaning up against his car, freshly shaven and hair done to perfection. The only thing missing are his sunglasses, which are on my head, acting like a headband. Hopefully he doesn’t notice them.

I cast about for anything else to make him go away or less smug, either is fine, and I finally land on the truth. “I booked an Uber.”

He shrugs. Derek. Shrugging like some moody-ass teenager. I don’t know whether to laugh or scream. “Cancel it.”

“No,” I clap back.

Derek nods and stands there, his stupid hands shoved in the stupid pockets of his stupid charcoal-gray trousers.

Thankfully, a little blue hatchback pulls into the student parking lot that matches the description of the car picking me up, and I turn back to face the oncoming car, happy with my win, since he didn’t argue back.

As the car pulls up, Derek comes to stand beside me as the driver gets out of the car and glances questioningly between Derek and myself. “Emery?”

“That’s me,” I reply as I step forward, but then Derek has to go and open his big stupid mouth.

“Actually, we aren’t in need of your services today. I apologize for the inconvenience. Here, let me compensate you for your lost time.” Derek pulls out an honest-to-god money clip, peels off a crisp—fuck me, is that a Benjamin?—and offers it to the guy.

“Actually, no. I still want the ride.” I reach for the door handle, but I can literally see the dude doing the math and know I’m going to lose this battle.

My fare is worth one quarter of what Derek is offering him to cancel on me. And then he can grab another job and earn more than double.

The guy shoots me an apologetic smile, takes the cash from Derek, gets back in his car, fiddles with his phone for a moment, and then drives off, which is when I receive a notification from him that I was a no-show but still gave me a five-star review.

What the fuck?

I turn to Derek, eyes wide with…with…fuck, I don’t even know what I feel right now.

Irritated.

Frustrated.

Incredulous—because, did that just really happen?

Angry.

Really fucking angry. Like my insides are volcanic lava seconds away from eruption.

“What the hell is your problem?” I demand, voice grating over the last few words.