I continued to my bedroom and locked the door behind me. Then I cursed under my breath because I did not mean that. I truly, sincerely had not meant to say that to Octavia. She was the best thing to have happened to me inyearsother than Aleesa, and she was just trying to help ...
“Fuck,” I cursed again, sitting on the edge of my bed.
Aleesa began to cry as she held on to me. “Daddy, I scared.”
“No, no, amor. I am so sorry,” I whispered. “Do not be scared. You are okay.”
Her bottom lip poked out as tears streamed down her cheeks. And when she closed her arms around my neck and held me even closer, I broke down in a sob. I buried my face in the small space between her head and shoulder, hugging her tighter.
If Rafael got custody of Aleesa, I was going to lose her.
The one person in my life that I loved unconditionally—that I would doanythingfor—I was going to lose. Was it not enough losing my wife? It was as if God was punishing me for something I had done. But I was a good person. No, I was not perfect, but I was a decent human with morals and heart.
I sobbed a little louder because this was not fair.
Life was never fucking fair with me.
Thirty-Three
Octavia
Once again, I was fucking crying.
I knew Javier didn’t mean what he said. He was angry, hurt, and shocked. We’re all responsible for our actions and the things we say, but he was blindsided and I don’t blame him for getting so upset, especially about one of the most important people to him.
But that didn’t make his words hurt any less.
I lay on the bed in the guesthouse, curled up, with a blanket covering me. I had my phone with me and saw there was a missed call from Davina. I told myself I’d call her later, when my mood lifted.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I inhaled deeply before exhaling. It was this exact exercise, learned in therapy, that I heavily relied on when things felt intense in my life.
After Luther, this exercise became necessary but wasn’t enough, so I returned to therapy.
All the yelling he did. The mean comments he made about my desires, like deriding how I wanted to get my degree in childhood development, or mocking my first gig as a nanny for a six-month-old. His attempts to startle me, just to get a rise out of me.
My therapist had told me I was smart for leaving him, but she had also told me in order to move past it, I had to take moments to breathe.Now I tried blocking the thoughts about Luther out, so I thought about Javier and Aleesa.
But the idea of them circled around to someone else.
My father. Aaron Klein. I hated that I had lost him so young.
Remembering my daddy brought forth a different kind of pain. I still remembered a lot about him, like the way he’d play hide-and-seek with me and Davina, even when he was tired after working long shifts. The way he praised every piece of artwork I brought home from school.
I remembered his hugs and forehead kisses.
He was the first man in my life that I could trust and feel safe with ... and then came Javier. Our weekend in New York proved that I could trust him a bit more and that I could be vulnerable with him. That was scary because I kept thinkingWhat if he drops the ball? What if he does something that turns me away or makes me nervous to be around him?
And then he went and said: “You are not her mother. You do not have the right.”
I knew I wasn’t Aleesa’s mom, and I’d never tried to be. It was never my intention to replace her mother, to discredit her, or anything.
What hurt was that Javier took his anger out onme. His words were like weapons that penetrated my heart. I wondered if that was how he felt. Like I was trying to replace Eloise?
A knock sounded on the door, and my breath hitched as I sat up. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand, waiting to see if the knock would happen again as my heart banged in my chest.
“Octavia,” a deep voice called.
I frowned.
