The recognition. The goddamned pictures I used to show her, thinking her seeing her mother’s face might comfort her. Back when I promised my daughter that her mother would be coming back. That everything would be all right. Knowing someday Janel would come to her senses and return.
When I’d remained devoted.
I’d prayed for it.
Begged for it.
Motherfucking loyalty.
“Is that’s my mommy?” She seemed confused by it, not exactly excited.
Wary.
That panic lit in an all-out frenzy.
“Yes, baby. Yes. I’m your mommy.”
Every muscle in my body seized, and I wanted to lash out. Shout at Janel. Tell her to go right back to hell where she’d come from.
I shifted so Frankie could only look at me, and I begged her with my eyes. “Daddy needs you to do me that favor, Sweet Pea.”
She nodded at me. Like she’d just caught on to my turmoil.
I squeezed her by the hips. “Need you to go into your room and shut your door. Don’t come out until I come get you, okay? Can you do that for me?”
She nodded with all that trust. “Course, I can.”
“Good girl,” I told her, hoping my words didn’t shake.
I didn’t rise until she turned the corner at the end of the hall, only pausing to peer back at us once, curiosity and a shot of fear in the wells of her brown eyes.
Like she could feel mine.
Years of suppressed, barely checked hate.
It was all there in the clench of my fists when I finally pushed to my feet. My teeth ground so hard I was sure they were grating to dust. And Janel? She just stood there with a pleading expression on her face. A face I’d once thought pretty.
Gorgeous even.
This woman, who I’d allowed to twist me up and tie me, left me hanging out to dry.
Tears sprang to her eyes and raced down her face. “She’s so big.” Her words hitched.
“It’s been three years. What did you think?” Mine were nothing but spite.
Her head shook, and she looked away, dropping her gaze. “I don’t know. It feels like it’s been forever and like it was only yesterday.”
A huff scraped my throat. “Yesterday? She was barely walking when you left. She starts school next year. You don’t get to come here and pretend like you didn’t miss anything when you missedeverything.”
My head shook. Harsh. A jolt to clear the chaos. The disorder that tumbled and shook.
I angled back on her, bitterness bleeding out. “What do you want?” This woman could come in and rip apart our unstable world.
Standing there, wearing all that bullshit innocence written in her features. Holding all the power in the palm of her seedy hand.
“You’re my husband.”
She might as well have punched me in the face. Kicked me in the gut. Her statement blew through me like a grenade. “Don’t fucking call me that.” It dropped out in a low, slow threat.
