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adelindschade · 2 years

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Nesta as a Single Mother AU (Snippet) Part 2

Anyone have title recommendations? I’ll make these sporadically but I suck at titles. Rhys + Cassian is in this one!

Edited: Previous Chapter

Tags: @lucienvxnserra @eirini-thaleia @melphss @abraxos-and-ataraxia

“YOU MADE IT!!”

“I wish I could get that kind of greeting,” Emerie lamented as they watched the eager girl dash towards the door. She spied the redhead before Nesta could swivel her head to see if Gwyn was the one to trigger the infamous bell.

Gwyn swept up Beatrix in her arms, giving the warmest hug she could muster, and lowered her down gently.

It was Beatrix’s incentive to call Gwyn from Emerie’s phone and suggest she join them for breakfast. The trio had to hightail it out of there in the early morning hours before anyone else did. Nesta was flighty and not at all ready to share another awkward interaction with her estranged sisters and the strangers they brought with them.

That meant skipping the grand breakfast Helion promised to overnight guests and opting for the nearest diner they could find. It was small, quaint, and the booths were sticky – but the promise of pancakes drenched in syrup brought Beatrix back to life from her groggy slumber, and hot coffee slowly revived Emerie and Nesta as well. Beatrix raised her cup of coco to clink with theirs.

“Cheer, bitches!” Beatrix boldly acclaimed.

Nesta gasped in horror as Emerie hollered obnoxious laughter, almost snorting her coffee. Beatrix gleamed, proud of herself to see Emerie fall on her side in a heap of laughs.

“That’s you – that’s all you,” Nesta pointed accusingly to the shameless woman, not the least bit humored. “Bea, baby, no, those are adult words, and we can’t say that.”

“This is my child,” Emerie wheezed, hugging the grinning girl. She kissed her head, her cheek, and pulled her into her chest.

“That is my child,” Nesta corrected, rewarding them both with flat expression. “I put in the nine months and the six hours of labor, only for you to corrupt her.” she leaned back, exasperated. “Em, we’re supposed to be a team! I can’t have my daughter cursing. What will people think?”

“You’re not a bad mom,” Emerie assured, crinkling her nose. “You have no need to be self-conscious. Also, I think it’s funny as hell.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Nesta whispered. “I’m begging you.”

That was when the doorbell chimed, and Gwyn strolled in.

They made good conversation while waiting for pancakes and waffles. Nesta took the opportunity to ask Gwyn questions, eager to get better acquainted, while Emerie and Beatrix shot paper straw covers at each other, and flicked sugar packets.

“Mature,” Nesta admonished playfully. “Pick those up when you’re done.” At that moment, a paper straw cover struck her between the eyes, and the three women around her cackled. “Gwyn,” she whined.

“I’m an excellent shot. My sister and I always did that. You’re looking at the reigning champ,” Gwyn vindicated, pointing to herself. Emerie clapped in her triumph. Beatrix beamed as she found another reason to idolize her favorite teacher. “I work with kids. It’s not surprise I am one at heart.”

“You know what, nope, okay, you started a war,” Nesta gathered up her straw and aimed at Gwyn. As she raised her arms to shield herself, she sprung it on Em, and shrilled a laugh when it got lost in her cleavage. “That was not – I didn’t mean – you know what – never mind. I made my point.”

Gwyn had a twin sister, Catrin, and both were raised by their mother, a Librarian. They had scholarships at the Catholic University that employed their mother, where Gwyn studied music theory after many years participating in choir, and Catrin was training to meet Olympic qualifications as a prolific swimmer.

Their father – Lucien – was absent due to the fact her mother was a nobody, and Lucien had a prominent last name and an overbearing (step)father. They tried living together but it was difficult to cohabitate with his prejudicial father pressuring him to break ties, and she made the choice for him. Gwyn’s mother took her daughters back to her hometown, where they lived a fulfilling, unassuming suburban life.

Gwyn didn’t miss what she could’ve had, presenting herself as grounded and genuine. The world Lucien had been born into was anything but, and very overwhelming to her modest, simple midwestern upbringing. Her mother did it on her own, but she also had the church, and that community made an impact on Gwyn who never strayed too far from her teachings. Those gatherings are what inspired her to teach children rather than adults, Nesta learned.

“And then the thing with Az happened,” Gwyn fumbled. “No one really knows about my personal life outside my hobbies, really, and then I see him, with no warning, at this big extravagant wedding because I was invited by my dad– and if he asked what I was doing there, I’d have to come clean about it, which is a lot to unload, and it’s still really weird to think about who my dad really is. I don’t want Az to look at me and then think of them because we couldn’t be farther apart. We’re basically strangers, you know? We’re so different and disconnected,” she mashed her fingers together.

Nesta could understand her fretting. Gwyn was a small-town sweetheart from middle of nowhere Indiana. She grew up sheltered, sharing a room with her twin up until college, when Catrin’s scholarship provided on-campus housing, while Gwyn opted to remain home since it was safe – and the commute to Purdue wasn’t far at all. How does one grow up in that bubble and then reconcile her past with her present after it’s imploded by the fact her father was now the sole heir to a massive empire, as well as an successfully entrepreneur of his own right with the name belonging to a scandalous family dating back generations?

“Is he the reason why you moved?” Emerie asked. “Indiana is pretty far from Denver.”

“No. I just… needed a change of scenery,” Gwyn vaguely replied. She fixed on Nesta. “I noticed the University of Chicago sticker on your car. Did you attend there?”

“Yeah, I did, and before that, I lived in a small township just outside Milwaukee with my family. I moved to Chicago with her father,” she gestured to Bea, “because he was promised a stable factory job. He worked full time and I studied.”

She didn’t need to share any more details than that.

“I got the family shop,” Emerie smiled, chipping her in backstory. “My father ran it on the southside until he passed away. I took over and it paid the bills. I didn’t see a reason to take on more debt for an education that didn’t really apply to what I was doing.”

“What brought you three to Denver?” Gwyn asked.

“Daddy went to prison,” Beatrix replied before the rest could.

Gwyn’s eyes went wide, and Emerie swallowed stiffly. Nesta sharply exhaled and prepared to elaborate on the unpleasant truth.

“Tomas hasn’t ever been present in her life. He doesn’t even think she’s his,” Emerie whispered lowly for Gwyn’s ears only.

“Drunk driving,” Nesta reluctantly explained, feeling ashamed. “He got charged with a drunken disorderly, driving under the influence, leaving the scene of a crime, you name it, they tried to stick it to him,” Nesta admitted hesitantly. “He was sentenced for two years and ordered to pay restitution for the damage he caused in the collision. At that point, we already split up and lived apart, but I thought that would be a good opportunity to move out of the state and begin fresh.”

It was a risk to move to the Denver area but one she had to take. The timing was too perfect. She had just graduated college, with plenty of debt to tow; Emerie was thinking of relocating as she tried rebranding – favoring fashion over practical gear – and her location wasn’t ideal for the clientele she sought; Tomas was behind bars after his third DUI – prompting the court’s three strike rule, and no longer a looming threat for the time; and Nesta had seen an advertisement for a higher position at the Denver Headquarters.

All signs pointed to taking the leap, and so she applied. She may have initially majored in the literature and communications, having once entertained the idea of becoming a journalist who traveled abroad, until motherhood reshaped her future. By then, she reconfigured her credits to suit a more practical background.

She despised dealing with sums and other computations, but she wasn’t terrible at them. Her grades reflected as such. She ranked on top of her class and obtained honors along with her degree.

Nesta had been a bank teller at the Chicago branch, and then worked her way up to the loan department. She had a great record and promising outlook from her previous reviews. Her superior pushed her to apply for the out of state position, and a series of interviews later – mostly over phone – had proved to be worthwhile as she was presented with a job offer.

Nesta would be foreseeing mounting bills on top of the ones she already struggled to pay. She desperately needed more money coming in to cover those, and the benefit of a clean slate in a new state was a impossible chance to pass. So, after signing her name and sealing her fate, she broke the news to Emerie, already heartbroken at the prospect of their separation.

Instead, Emerie followed her, enjoying the perks of legal cannabis and strong LGBTQ+ protections, and had been waiting for Nesta to decide. (She was confident Nesta would take the promotion). Emerie was eager to leave Chicago just as much as Nesta was – especially the southside part of it.

She packed up what she could in her decade old Ford Focus and drove fourteen hours across the Midwest with a three-year-old fast asleep in the back. Emerie had sold the building her father had purchased decades prior for his business, making some profit, and used those funds to put a deposit down on commercial space on the higher end of leases. Granted, the revenue the location stirred eased some of the pressure, as heavy traffic ensured a steady flow of customers.

Nesta was making twice as much as she had in Chicago, still living with her best friend, who helped with her daughter as she muddled away at the office for full-time and relishing in a clean slate. Nesta felt like a brand-new person taking on the world. She couldn’t have asked for a better graduation present.

Then she got a call from a lawyer about her father’s accounts.

Nesta dreaded the day, but she anticipated the high of her latest accomplishment wouldn’t last long. His mistakes always ended up dragging her down. Yet, she was pleasantly surprised they had better news in store. They couldn’t find her after she failed to update her address (an attempt to thwart Tomas) but when she moved to Denver and actually filed paperwork to reflect the change, the law firm had been notified somehow, and managed to get a hold of her.

Her father had passed away – to which she already knew – but because she failed to attend his funeral, or will reading, she had been neglected to inform he bequeathed her a sizable sum of money she had no clue how he attained. It troubled her how much he tucked away in such short time, when the latter half of her childhood had been defined by the squalor that he did little to lift them out of.

The prouder part of herself wanted to throw the money back in his face but he was dead, and that solved nothing. She hated how she actually had a need for it, more dependent on it than when she was a powerless teenager. When she had a chance, she took the first ticket out of that crummy cabin, and that was Tomas. That got her nowhere – maybe even worst off.

She hated herself for being incapable of declining it, but she’d be selfish to turn down the sum when she had a daughter to relied on her. She once accused her father of being too proud to ask for help. She would not follow his footsteps and mark herself a hypocrite.

She reconciled her humiliation by reasoning that, even though he could not provide for his daughters during life, at least he was rectifying his failure in death. She had asked for him to step up. She couldn’t fault him for finally doing so, even if it was too late in her case. Nesta would not take any gratification from it but at least she could be relieved Beatrix would not endure the same strife Nesta had.

It was a blessing and one step closer to forgiveness.

She paid off her student loans – all of it – two-hundred-thousand dollars of debt cleared off in one sweep. She tackled the credit card debt she accumulated over the years that she spent trying to catch up on bills. Tens of thousands she blamed on Tomas who couldn’t hold a job and spent his paycheck at the bar right he cashed it out.

She left one bum only to support another. Just her luck. At least her father wallowed in silence and kept his hands to himself. In anything, she stepped down to settle for someone worse, if that was possible.

She had to be the responsible parent now, with a good supportive job, in a new city, and cutting off as much expenses as she could to ensure she wouldn’t continue the cycle of poverty. She needed that money even if it cost her some pride. Beatrice depended on her. She would not make the same mistake as her deadbeat father, or the bum grandfather she would also never know.

Instead, Nesta begrudgingly gave him the credit he was owed, and explained to Beatrix that ‘grandpa saved money for college because he loves his girls very, very much’. Nesta didn’t know if it would be possible to repair his image if he were alive given his habits, and certainly nothing could rectify the damage done to his eldest, but Beatrix might be able to salvage a better version of him than Nesta could ever believe, since he could no longer sabotage whatever narrative Nesta curated on his behalf.

If he couldn’t take care of his daughters in life, at least he could do right for his granddaughter, and that’s what Nesta counted on the most. In a way, he may have redeemed himself, though Nesta wasn’t ready to give him full absolution. Maybe later in life, when she had less to be bitter about, and all those unpleasant reminders were forgotten down the road. She had much more to look forward to in the future than to cling to such petty strife from the past. She was all too happy to abandon back in Wisconsin, and then in Chicago.

Denver would be different, she convinced herself, and so far, it had been proven true.

Beatrix would not be as lucky to be spared from an absentee father. Nesta had to be forthcoming but kind. Lying wasn’t something she could come to terms with – not to her daughter. She deserved the truth.

Daddy did a bad thing, and when we do bad things, we have to face our consequences. Sometimes that means time out, and sometimes, when you’re my age, that means jail – which is like adult time out, she explained when Bea was younger.

No, and we don’t want him to, Nesta replied to Bea when she asked if he’d come back. That’s why we have to keep it a secret. We don’t want him to know where we are. If anyone asks, you can lie – it’s a white lie, meaning it’s okay, and it doesn’t hurt anyone.

“Beatrix, we talked about this,” Nesta calmly addressed her daughter. Beatrix frowned deeply. “This is a secret, and we can’t tell strangers about Daddy, okay?”

“Misses Berdara is our friend though,” her daughter justified.

“That’s okay, and she is our friend,” Nesta agreed, clutching the girl’s tiny hand. She wasn’t in trouble and Nesta wanted her to know that. “Let’s practice keeping this a secret. Remember what we agreed on? We don’t talk about Daddy-”

“-and we don’t talk to Daddy,” the girl finished in a mumbled.

“He’s not in our life anymore, baby, and there’s a reason for that. He’s not nice to be around,” Nesta nodded, mindful to keep composed and her voice even. Beatrix would not be subjected to the same wicked temper Nesta’s mother employed on her.

“He’s mean,” Beatrix turned to Gwyn. “Mommy says he’s a bully.”

“The worst bully. The kind that hurt people, and take their lunch money, and call them all sort of awful names,” Emerie participated.

“And we shouldn’t talk to bullies,” Gwyn agreed, consoling her student. “Your mom is right. We have much better things to talk about, and we’re going to have plenty of fun!”

‘Thank you’ Nesta mouthed in relief. Gwyn nodded empathetically.

That’s why Nesta was so private. No social media. Not for her or her daughter. No photos or mentions. It was as if she was completely erased off the web besides mentions on a few she couldn’t scrub clean – like the alumni list on her alma mater, or her web link through work that listed her name, position, e-mail, and office extension. She made sure they didn’t provide a photo.

She instilled in her daughter never to divulge her full name, or phone number, or address unless Nesta approved it. She was so careful to make sure Beatrix only wrote her name in the guest registry, always paranoid one slip up would lead Tomas to her door. If he didn’t break more laws, he’d be out by now, well past the probation period. Beatrix was three when they left Chicago – and five when his sentence expired. Four years hadn’t done much good for her nerves when she hadn’t truly covered all her tracks.

What she had accomplished was change her number, her address (unlisted, of course), delete social apps, and everything else imaginable to be unreachable outside of work. Nesta had her personal mail sent to a P.O box in another zip code, while Emerie relegated hers through the business or directly to their door. Nesta would not expose Bea to any danger or possible detection.

She also knew leaving the father’s name blank on the birth certificate would hinder Tomas from backtracking on his words. He denied his daughter and Nesta honored it. He would be a terrible husband, but part of her hoped Beatrix might have been exempted from his cruelty, just as Tomas was from his own father’s brutality while his mother took the brunt of it. Not quite the life Nesta envisioned for herself, but she liked to think Beatrix could’ve had a semi-decent father figure when Nesta had none.

Reality reminded Nesta that likely would never be the case. Tomas was selfish and self-centered like that. It’d be kinder to rear her daughter up as a single parent than aspire in vain for Tomas to mature and take accountability. That’d only disappoint them both and waste more years she could’ve spent doing something far more productive. That was a hardship Nesta willingly took up.

All it took was a DNA test to unravel everything Nesta established to protect Bea. That’s why his name always brought about a surge of panic and her face showed it for a second before she quelled it down. She couldn’t afford for him to change him mind.

Nesta’s father was a lowly bum who lost his fortune, but Bea didn’t need to know about Nesta’s impoverished childhood. That could be rectified. For all of their safety, Bea had to know her father was dangerous. If push came to shove, as Emerie stated before, Colorado carried the Stand Your Ground defense, and Nesta hated to think it would come to that when the last time was too close of a call.

Nesta never held a gun in her life, nor did she plan to. Not with her daughter in the house. She couldn’t live with herself if an accident happened.

There was plenty of money left, and God knows if he had been alive, her father would have found a way to squander it, so Nesta did his memory a favor, and saved the rest for a rainy day.

She tried to find a place on her own to truly cement their new start but even with her funds, finding realty in Denver was difficult. Everything was inflated and apartments were too small for Nesta to feel comfortable. Four years after the move, she still couldn’t find the perfect house, but Beatrix had plenty of ideas that she wanted to fulfil. Then it could be their perfect home.

A ranch would be perfect, with a pasture for horses, but too far of a commute for her city job, and the demands of the property would compete with her full-time career. A whimsical house, like a colorful Victorian, or charming Tudor, with a fenced in yard and plenty of greenery would be nice but too expensive for her budget, she learned. Nesta thought she had a lot to work with until she compared the average listing prices and her heart dropped to her stomach. So, renting was the next best thing, much to her disappointment.

She thought about purchasing a lot and the overmarked costs that came with new constructions in one of those dime-a-dozen pop up neighborhoods where all the houses look alike but that wasn’t something either of them liked. Nesta considered a fixer-upper, but she didn’t like the endless, expensive question marks that came with surprise repairs on top of the ones she already accounted for.

There was a two-acre sized lot in the mountains that seemed promising. A forty-minute commute in the scenic greenery. There were others already plucked with construction crew on site. The wildlife and forest fire risk didn’t scare her as much as the steep road that would turn treacherous with ice when winter replaced the warmer weather.

However, Beatrix was enchanted with the towering trees and evergreen peaks kissing the sky. The child’s unbridled joy and her wild imagination that came with it prompted Nesta to make a bold offer for one of the two remaining lots, fingers crossed she hadn’t been outbid.

That phone call would come any day now. She had put in an extra twenty grand above asking price to get an edge. She was praying it’d be worth it.

And it did. Eventually. But not before another that had caught her off guard.

She had been in her office, mulling away one application after another, and sorting out which ones were processed, and which ones were to be sent back with a rejection notice. As someone who was personally dealing with the struggles of obtaining a home, she felt sympathy for those who didn’t meet criteria yet and tempted to write a note to the ones who did that their battle didn’t come from getting a loan – but out bidding the ones with all cash offers. (And after that, dealing with contractors was a whole different nightmare, and never counting on the timeline to be true as quoted).

Hell, she worked hand-in-hand with the mortgage and loan departments, and she still hadn’t found a place to call home in four years since settling into Denver despite having the funds already.

She expected another bounty of internal calls, rarely ever dealing with clientele personally, and answered without checking the source until an unfamiliar voice called her by her first name.

“Nesta?”

No one addressed her informally. Never.

“This is she. Who do I have the pleasure talking to?” she inquired sternly, looking at the caller ID. It had a different area code than anything she’d seen. 702.. not 720. 702 was a completely different state. A quick google search confirmed it be the Las Vegas area code. Her brows knitted tighter.

“Hello. I’m glad I got through. My name is Rhysland Knight. I’m-”

“I know who you are,” she interrupted curtly, sitting stiff. The last terse phone call she had with Feyre’s ex had brought up the name with more vitriol for him than he did for Nesta. That’s all she needed to know about his character. “You’re Feyre’s husband.”

“I see. You know something about me, and I know next to nothing about you. I’m hoping to rectify that,” he replied. She narrowed her eyes, doubting it. Feyre had a terrible habit of oversharing, and God knows what vile things she said about her drunken sister that abandoned the family. “I’m afraid we didn’t have a chance to do so at the wedding.”

“How’d you get this number?” Nesta demanded.

“That was a tricky part. You left no way for us to get in touch. I was aware through acquaintances you worked for my father’s friend. Helion offered your card upon request, though he was a bit confused why I would inquire about a loan.” He had the audacity to chuckle. “I was a bit disappointed I couldn’t retrieve your personal number to connect sooner.”

He waited until Monday, not bothering to warn her with a voicemail.

“This line is for business only, and should only be accessible internally,” Nesta seethed. She pinched her nose and exhaled sharply. “Any personal conversations need to be done outside office hours.”

“I’d love to do if you’d give me a way to reach out alternatively,” he smugly replied.

“I didn’t offer,” she coldly responded.

“Why is that? Feyre and I would love to host you and your daughter. My son is very excited to have a cousin, as I bet that she is, too. Why not mend bridges and reconcile? There is so much to catch up on.”

“I have a fixed schedule, and so does my daughter. You also live in Las Vegas according to your area code, and I have neither the time nor the stomach to fly short notice to Nevada.” She returned with more bark.

“I am happy to report you won’t need to go through such trouble. As it may, I will be in your area this Thursday for business, and I have a suite at Four Seasons.” Of course, he would, Nesta thought with a scowl. She didn’t have anything half as nice to even step foot in the lobby. “Feyre will be joining and we’re going to make most of the next by taking in the sights. Perhaps, as a native, you could be so kind to show us around, and we’ll treat you to dinner.”

“That’s not my scene,” she accidentally thought aloud. “Look, Rhysland, I-”

“I insist.”

He was aggravating and she hated being interrupted. They were both wearing thin.

“Rhysland,” she hardened her voice. “There is a reason as to why I don’t care to be public, and for you to go to these lengths to track me down to my private extension is invasive and uncalled for. I’d rather be having this discussion with Feyre rather than a stranger. How about this? You give me her number and after work hours, I will try to call her tonight.”

He pondered for a moment.

“Okay. That is reasonable,” he replied gruffly. “She is eager to reconnect. While I’d like to think dinner would be better, I can understand how difficult it is to coordinate family with work, though seven years is a considerable amount of time-”

The judgement in his voice set her off.

“Have a good day, Mr. Knight!” she sneered before slamming the brick phone back onto the console. She realized she didn’t even get Feyre’s number – too irate to deal with Rhysland’s condescending attitude. “So glad no one was there to see that,” she grumbled to herself, soothing her temples.

The phone rang. She ignored it. And again. And again.

“Get the hint. Just leave a fucking voicemail,” she muttered, googling his name. If he can do it to her, she ought to have no problem returning the favor.

After four missed calls, she saw the notification she did in fact have a message. Nesta couldn’t help but roll her eyes, prepared for a migraine, as she proceeded to put it on speaker.

“Hi, this is Diedre Templeton from Steppes Realty Group calling for Nesta Archeron at the number you provided at the office. Please call me back at this line at your convenience regarding the two-acre lot off Three Peak Rd that we discussed prior. I will be available until four today. Thank you!”

She cursed and quickly redialed the extension, holding her breath. It connected after three tones.

“Diedre? Hi! This is Nesta Archeron. I’m sorry I missed your call earlier. I was out of the office for a moment. You left a message about the lot we toured three weeks ago. I put a cash offer in. Is there any new develops in that respect?” She crossed her fingers as her stomach churned.

If Nesta ever had an excuse to drink, tonight was the night. Instead, she presented pizza.

“What’s this for?” Emerie asked, digging into her favorite.

Nesta bit back her lip, jumping out of her skin with joy.

“I got the lot.” She spoke it so quietly, she doubted they heard her.

“What do you mean, Mommy?” her daughter momentarily forgot her place of pizza. Her bookbag was on the chair hanging by the straps. Nesta was late with dinner and Emerie had already began to help her with homework.

“No,” Emerie whispered, shocked. “Are you serious?” She rounded the corner to embrace Nesta. “Oh my God! You got the place! You’re really this! Holy shit! I’m so happy for you!”

“They approved the bid. It’s mine. The lot is mine! We have a place to build a house!” Nesta could almost cry, shaking happily. She could barely stand after the phone call, and she could barely keep on her feet even now. Nesta held onto Emerie for dear life, worried she’d collapse if she let go.

“Where?” Beatrix joined in the screaming, wedging herself between them.

Those big doe brown eyes were the reason Nesta got the ball rolling. This was for her more than anything else. A place she could call home and be raised in her own private paradise. A house of their own creation to fit their every need.

“Remember that mountain mommy visited?” Nesta scooped her up and began to spin around the humble kitchen.

“With the really long road and a lot of trees and the big drop you told me to be careful around?” Beatrix said with awe.

“That one! That’s where we’re going to build out house, baby!” she gleefully sang, smothering her with kisses. Bea giggled harmoniously. “We’re going to have our only little castle on the mountain!”

“We’re getting a house!?” Bea screamed in delight. Emerie popped open a bottle of red but did nothing to disrupt the ruckus.

“Yeah!” Nesta matched her, squeezing her tight as she was still in disbelief. She shook and cradled Bea joyously, and wrung Emerie into a one-armed hug.

All talk about her pestering brother-in-law was long forgotten as Nesta toasted her coke can with Emerie’s glass of red, and another half-full of chocolate milk.

Rather than spend Thursday night at a stuffy lounge in Four Seasons, Nesta and Beatrix drove up the mountain after picking her up from school. It was a forty-five-minute drive, but Nesta also knew construction would take a year at most, and seven months at least before they could move in. The lot was associated with a pre-approved development firm that had a handful of blueprint samples Nesta needed to sort through.

Bea would have to move school districts, but she’d make friends easily, Nesta consoled. She was still young, and this could very well be their forever home. Conifer may not have been as massive as Denver, but it had the peace and simplicity Nesta desired, and the element of privacy was very enticing.

“Can I draw, mommy?” Beatrix asked, reaching over the conference room table.

“Not on these, baby,” Nesta thwarted her from upsetting whatever architecture drew up the layouts. “How about we ask the secretary for printer paper? Maybe you can draw me something like this and give it to the guys to build,” she pointed to the front desk.

“Okay,” Bea said with disappointment. She liked to color in boxes and these prints had plenty of them. The child exited the double doors and into the lobby where Beatrix stood on her tippy toes and asked as politely as Nesta taught her for more paper. The front desk attendant complied.

“Hi, my apologies for keeping you waiting,” a male interrupted her focus. She turned around to see a stocky man exit from the opposite door. “Thank you for coming in today. Congratulations are in-”

He stopped in his step, blinking in mute as he took her in. His mouth parted and she felt his eyes glaze lower. She self-consciously checked her hair and tied her blazer closer together, though it probably did the opposite effect as she realized her breasts squeezed together.

“Uh, hi, yeah,” Nesta stuttered, feeling a bit awkward as he stared. “You must be Devlon. Diedre gave me your name. I’m Nesta, and that is my daughter, Beatrix, behind me.”

“Oh – uh – sorry,” he fumbled, dropping more paper atop the table, and extending his hand. “I’m actually Cassian. Devlon asked me to step in today on his behalf. That’s why I was delayed, just collecting last minute things… I don’t usually do meetings. I’m more of the… well, my forte isn’t in the office… and I’m terrible at this,” he dragged on, more nervous than she was. “Forget all of that. Please, let’s start that again. Hi, I’m Cassian Knight, and I will be building your house, as well as the rest of them on…. Three Peak Rd,” he said while reviewing the document. “Congratulations, again, by the way.” He held out his hand once more. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Archeron.”

“You as well, and it’s just Miss. I’m not married.” She corrected, taking a seat after a brief shake. He followed suit.

She didn’t miss how his eyes wavered to her daughter, and then back to her. She didn’t supply an answer because, frankly, she didn’t need to.

“I want it colorful,” Beatrix barged in. “Purple!”

“She wants a purple house,” Nesta repeated, smiling. “I thought you wanted it green,” she probed, pulling her onto her lap. “Did you change your mind, silly goose?”

“Well, if you want to look at paint samples, I can bring some more. I just have these here,” Cassian pushed forward a few. They weren’t colorful and Beatrix frowned. Greys, whites, and browns. Those would not do.

“No,” the girl declined matter of fact, scrutinizing the choices vividly.

“Okay, well, let’s start on the inside, and work our way out. That’s all cosmetic. How many rooms are we thinking?” Cassian played it professional and Nesta had to commend him for not tripping up.

“I want my bedroom pink,” Beatriz declared.

“Roslin!” Cassian motioned to the front desk. “Would you be kind enough to get the paint sample book, please? We have an expert who’d like a little more variety,” he winked to Bea. She was not phased.

‘Thank you,’ Nesta mouthed. Cassian smiled.

“Your mom and I will talk over the layout, and you can help me pick out the colors,” he turned to Bea. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Cassian. I’ll be at your disposal as I help make you dream hope. I’m excited! I heard you’re the creative genius behind all this.”

She shook his hand over the table.

“Leave the colors to me. You’re big. You can carry the heavy things.” Bea said.

“Bea,” Nesta admonished.

“Yes, ma’am. That’s what I do best,” Cassian chuckled. “To this young lady here,” Cassian motioned to Bea as Roslin carried a hefty book. “She’s going to help us with the design.”

“Thank you,” Bea chirped and all but fumbled as the book weighed heavier than she expected. Nesta helped balance it over the table. “Sorry!”

“All wood, see? Takes more than a book to make a mark,” Cassian assuaged, tapping the wood. “Look through that and let me know what’s best.”

Of course, she searched for the pinks and purples. Nesta honestly didn’t care what was the final coat choice. She would rather have a whimsical house that Bea adored, and paint over it when she changed her mind, than a boring cookie cutter box without a personality. The acres and privacy would allow their new home to be as wonky as a girl could imagine it.

“A master, your room, and maybe a guest room,” Nesta got a chance to engage. “We don’t need a lot of space,” Nesta replied, turning back to Cassian. His eyes were intently set on her. She felt mildly judged but she also understood he wasn’t in his element either. She’d forgive his manners. She had to budget for the fact she spent half her budget on securing the lot itself. Square footage had been a sacrifice. “Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and – no, shoot – I forgot about the office. Four bedrooms, I’m sorry to confuse you. Four would be great,” she amended, “but I can do with three if not.”

#nesta archeron #pro nesta #pro nesta archeron #single mother au #name tbd #Chloe and trixie are the perfect visuals #Cassian is love struck but she just thinks he's a creep when he's just socially awkward #rhys is just his normal pushy flashy self #and Beatrix is the color expert #THIS IS ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE AN IDEA #I ALREADY HAVE SO MANY PROJECTS

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