I nod, wiping beneath my eye with the back of my hand. “I know.”
“Good,” she says, standing. “Now go to sleep. I’ll tell Patrick to keep the kids tonight.”
“You don’t have to,” I mutter.
“I do,” she replies firmly, already moving toward the door. “Now off to bed.”
I close my eyes for a second, listening to the front door slam shut.
Just a second.
Patrick
“Okay. Yes. Alright, Mother,” I say into the phone, pinching the bridge of my nose.
With the way she’s trying to convince me, you’d think Irefusedto keep the kids tonight, when all I asked was,Is Lore okay?
It’s not like her to do something like this. Not without a reason.
Not that I’m some expert on her anymore. It’s been a year since we separated, but some days it feels like it’s only been a week. Maybe because for the first six months, Iwasthe weekend dad. Not by choice, just by consequence. Consequence of drinking, of lying, of being every version of a man she shouldn’t have had to deal with.
I tried to stay sober. God knows I tried. But there was always a reason to drink, a bad case, losing a victim, Harvey whining over Lauren, missing my daughter’s birth. The list is endless.
It wasn’t until Lore threatened to take full custody and move out of Austin that I finally got my shit together.
I put her through hell. No wonder she wants a divorce.
I glance at Milo to make sure he’s still distracted; he’s got every pillow in the house piled into a “cave” then adjust Agnes on my knee. She’s drooling happily on my shirt.
I make another call.
“Blake, hey.”
My sponsor answers with a. “What’s up, man?”
“Look, I’m not gonna make the meeting tonight. My wife” I clear my throat. “My ex. She asked me to keep the kids an extra night.”
There’s a beat of silence, then he says, “Don’t take this the wrong way but… really?”
I roll my eyes. I haven’t lied to him once.
I pull the phone away and yell, “Hey Milo! You want PB&J for dinner?”
“Nooo!” he screeches. “That’s for school!”
“Okay, bud,” I call back.
I bring the phone to my ear again. “I can send you a picture of my daughter’s dirty diaper if you need proof.”
He bursts out laughing. “It’s fine. I believe you. But hey, come tomorrow, alright?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter before hanging up. I’d like to feel offended, but honestly? Yeah. I can’t.
I clap my hands together. “Okay, kid. What do you want for dinner?”
Milo pops his head out of his pillow cave. “Pizza!”
I rub my jaw. I think I’ve got some pizza bases in the freezer… chop some veggies… maybe some meat. I nod. “Alright. Pizza it is.”
