“She’s going to wait until the summer break starts, and then she’s taking him to London. She’s already found a good school out there, and I can visit him any time I want.”
I walk over to him and put my arms on his shoulders. “She can’t do that without your permission.”
“I’m not going to stop her,” he says.
“Why?”
“Just leave it, Harrison.”
“Fletcher. I can help you. You don’t have to lose George. You can prove that you’ve been caring for him solely for the past five years. You’ve built a support network, and George has his family and friends here. It’s not good for a child to be uprooted just like that. Can she even prove she can take care of him?”
Fletcher’s face goes red. “I told you to leave it. If we’re not going to fuck, then just go. I don’t need anyone to tell me how to run my life or look after my child.”
His words are like a sharp stab straight to the gut. I try not to take them personally because this isn’t about me. If I had a dollar for every parent who’s lashed out at me because they’re frustrated with the situation, I’d have a much bigger house.
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but I can help. This is what I do. If you don’t want to lose George, you don’t have to. Please let me help you, baby.”
He turns away from me, and his hands run through his hair, joining at the back of his neck.
He’s still bare-chested, with his jeans riding low on his waist. I want to offer him comfort, but there’s only so much I can do.
“I won’t fight Fran. She’s my oldest friend and the mother of my child.” He turns around, and his eyes are a dull shade of blue. “If you can’t accept that, then maybe you should leave.”
I sigh. “I just want to help, Fletcher.”
“I didn’t ask for your or anyone’s help.”
He looks away and goes toward the stairs. “You know the way out.”
I sit in my car for at least twenty minutes, hoping he’ll come back to me, but he doesn’t.
I drive home with a heavy heart, wondering how I managed to ruin everything.
Once again, I’ve driven someone away because I care about them too much.
23
FLETCHER
“George?”I call out.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, what?”
He comes out of his room, clearly inconvenienced by me calling him.
“Yes, Daddy?”
“Now that’s better. Have you fed Rosie?”
“No, can you feed her?” He runs off to his room.
“George, can you come down here, please?”
“Daaad, I’m playing.”
I take a deep, calming breath. “I’m not going to say it again, and you know what happens if I have to repeat myself.”
