Infinite Cashback System

Chapter 368: 368 | No Wedding Ring (Do Not Engage)

Sofia hit her mother like a small golden cannonball, the Belle gown billowing behind her as she crossed the gap between Kumiko’s lap and the woman’s arms in approximately one point four seconds. The impact rocked the woman backward half a step, her Rapunzel backpack swinging wide on its strap, and she caught Sofia with the desperate grip of someone who had just spent the worst five minutes of her entire life imagining every terrible thing that could happen to a four-year-old alone in a crowd of sixty thousand strangers.

"Mama mama mama mama—"

Sofia buried her face in the woman’s neck and sobbed with the full-body commitment of a child who had been holding it together through Pocky and plush toys and now had permission to completely fall apart. Her small fingers dug into the woman’s collar hard enough to pull the fabric sideways, and her plastic tiara, the one Jordan had just straightened, popped off her head and clattered onto the concrete. The woman didn’t notice. She had both arms wrapped around Sofia’s body and her face pressed into Sofia’s curls, and she was shaking with the kind of silent, violent trembling that meant she was crying too but refusing to make noise because the child needed her to be the steady one.

"I’m here, baby. I’m here. Mama’s right here. I found you. You’re safe."

Jordan stood up from his crouch and stepped back to give them room. His knees popped twice in quick succession. Kumiko remained on the ground beside him, pink sundress pooled around her knees, sequined Minnie ears catching the late afternoon light. Her expression had gone soft and distant, the specific look she got when watching something that made her heart perform unauthorized gymnastics. Chloe had already lowered her phone. Her arms crossed, her weight shifted to one hip, and her face settled back into its default neutral observer setting.

The woman lifted her head from Sofia’s hair and looked up.

Jordan’s brain stopped processing information for approximately two full seconds.

She was tall. Five-eight, maybe five-nine. Long brown hair fell past her shoulders in thick, natural waves that looked like they’d been styled by wind and humidity rather than heat tools. Her face had the kind of bone structure that fashion magazines used to feature before everyone started looking the same: high cheekbones, full lips, a jawline that managed to be both soft and defined. Her eyes were dark brown, sharp, intelligent, and currently red-rimmed and wet from crying, which somehow made them more striking instead of less.

She wore a simple black V-neck t-shirt that fit her body in the way clothes fit people who exercised regularly and ate vegetables on purpose. The neckline revealed collarbones that caught shadow. Below the collarbones, the cotton pulled across a chest that Jordan acknowledged existed and then immediately stopped thinking about because there was a crying child present and Jordan McKnight had evolved past being a creep in public spaces.

The evolution was recent. It required active maintenance. But it was happening.

She wore well-fitted jeans and leather boots. A worn leather messenger bag hung from one shoulder beneath the Rapunzel backpack. No wedding ring on her left hand, Jordan noticed, and then he noticed himself noticing and mentally slapped himself across the face.

"Thank you," the woman said. Her voice came out wrecked and grateful and lower than Jordan had expected. A rich alto, the kind that vibrated in a register he unconsciously associated with jazz singers and women who had strong opinions about wine pairings. The kind of voice that made you lean in slightly when it spoke, even though you knew you probably shouldn’t. "Thank you so much. I turned around for maybe thirty seconds, just to check the wait time on the app, and when I looked up she was just—gone. She’s so fast. She does this thing where she sees something interesting and her entire body just commits to investigating it without consulting her brain first, and I—"

Sofia, who had been maintaining her koala grip on her mother’s torso, chose this moment to pull back and deliver her official statement on the matter.

"I saw a butterfly, Mama."

"A butterfly," the woman repeated, her tone suggesting she had received this exact justification before and found it insufficient then, too.

"It was BLUE."

"We are going to have a very serious conversation about blue butterflies and the importance of staying where Mama can actually see you."

"But it was really, really blue," Sofia insisted, her small face scrunched with the absolute conviction of a four-year-old who had witnessed something scientifically significant. "Like, the bluest blue."

The woman closed her eyes. She pressed her forehead against Sofia’s, breathing through her nose in the way people do when they’re trying very hard not to yell or cry or possibly both at the same time. The gesture held a specific gravity that suggested this exact exchange had occurred multiple times before, with varying wildlife substitutes swapped in for butterflies. Probably squirrels. Maybe ducks. Definitely something involving the color blue.

When she opened her eyes again, they tracked across the scene in front of her with the methodical efficiency of someone taking inventory. She looked at Kumiko first, registering the pink ribbons and the Pocky and the absolutely wrecked mascara. Then Chloe, composed and calm and holding Sofia’s Frozen backpack like it was evidence at a crime scene. Then her gaze traveled upward, finding Jordan standing behind them with his Mickey ears still on his head, his six-two frame probably blocking the California sun, and what he suspected was a deeply stupid expression on his face.

"I’m so sorry," the woman said, directing this at all three of them. "I’m usually better at this. She’s never gotten this far before—the crowds today are insane and I looked away for one second and—"

"It’s okay." Chloe’s voice cut clean through the woman’s spiral. "She was safe the whole time. We called Guest Relations and a Cast Member. She had Pocky and a new friend."

Kumiko held up her hand. "I’m the new friend. Hi. I’m Kumiko. She ate four Pocky sticks and they were all strawberry flavor because that’s the best flavor and I will not accept debate on this topic."

Sofia, still clinging to her mother like a very small, very determined barnacle, turned her tear-streaked face toward Kumiko and held up Detective Blueberry. "Can I keep him?"

Kumiko’s lower lip trembled in a way that meant Jordan had approximately three seconds before a secondary emotional event.

"He’s yours," Kumiko said. "His name is Detective Blueberry and he likes warm places and being held very tight, so you’re perfect for each other."

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