“Are you two together, then?” Dad finally breaks his silence right as I’m running out of things to look at in his cramped, messy office.
“Not right now. This isn’t the 1950s, so I’m not rushing to the altar. I just… I’m taking the time to get to know him before I make any judgments. It would mean the world to me if you’d do the same. Like it or not, you and Chase are the most important men in my life right now. And when this baby comes, I refuse to be the mediator between you. You’ll have to act like adults and figure it out.”
Hearing me say Chase is right there next to him on the list of important people in my life makes him wince like I stabbed him with a leather skiving knife.
“I can be civil. That’s all I can promise. I love you, Cassie, and I’m not disappointed in you—I could never be. Even if I don’t necessarily agree with your choice.” He picks up his reading glasses and turns to his payroll again. Sorting through a stack of timecards because he refuses to update to computerized bookkeeping. “I need to get this done before we open. Lock the front door behind you when you go.”
“Thank you, Dad. I love you.”
I walk out of the office awash with relief, despite not getting my dream outcome. Sharing my feelings, finally having him listen to me, and getting him to agree to be civil still feels like a win.
I wish I’d waited to talk to Dad because when I arrive back at home to fix my makeup for work, my heart sinks at the sight of a paper bag on my front step.
Chase was here. I’m positive it’s from him before even looking at the contents. There’s no note, but my favourite snacks and a Tupperware container with dinner in it is all the confirmation needed.
Cass:Thank you. You know you could’ve brought it inside so nobody would steal it.
Red:Didn’t feel right letting myself in.
Cass:Sorry I wasn’t home to talk to you
Red:I just don’t want you living off whatever random food you find at the gas station
Cass:I enjoy being a trash panda, fyi.
I drop the bag with a thunk on the coffee table and pace across the charcoal-grey shag rug. I could call him. Ask if he’s still in town and wants to talk before I go back to the bar, so we can talk about boundaries. Or about not having them anymore. Because I’m so fucking torn between what I know I should do and what I desperately want to do.
I pace the house. Stand in the half-decorated nursery. Brain awash with thoughts about this sweet baby girl. Little Spud. She can’t be the only reason Chase and I get together. My heart, and my vagina, and my brainallneed to be on board that this is more than two people trying to make the best of a strange situation.
All the more reason to keep your distance for a while longer.
A few more days to think, decide what I really want. Not be swayed by food or orgasms or whatever other sweet gestures he has up his sleeve. If I see him, smell him, or touch him, I’m a fucking goner. No shot of standing my ground when he’s staring me down with a look that reveals how well he can see right through me. Just like every day before my trip, I’ll say “fuck it” to any discussion about boundaries and say “fuck me” to him.
No talking. Not yet. Not until I can get my head on straight.
22
Red
31 weeks (baby is the size of a tub of movie theatre popcorn)
The phone rings, and my chest cracks at the sound. Sitting around the giant kitchen table in the big house is every single person who might call me. Except one. And she doesn’t call me just to chat anymore. Hard to believe two weeks ago I was practically living at her house, sleeping in her bed, guiding her through masturbation over the phone.
If she’s on the other end of the phone, it’s likely not a good thing.
“Hello?” I answer without even looking at the name, letting the back door slam shut behind me.
“Hi, Chasey.” The woman’s voice is instantly recognizable, despite how much time has passed.God,how long has it been? Five years, maybe?
Should’ve taken a half-second to check the call display first.
“Mom.” I try, and fail, to swallow the lump in my throat. My legs are wobbly. Too unsteady to be trusted to keep me upright, so I plunk my ass on the porch swing. “What do you need?”
“Sheesh, can’t your mother call to say she misses you?”
If we had a relationship, sure. As it stands? There’s no way that’s why she’s calling.
“Sure. What’s going on?”
