“Yes, like mealtimes, bath time, and sleep. The absolute minimum basics you need as a parent, and I fail every time. Every fucking time,” she says, waving her arms as she speaks. “I’m tempted to paint my face likeBraveheartbecause every day, attempting these things is a battle.”
“Why don’t we have a manual?” Cassie asks, bemused.
“Because not one thing works with every child on any given day.”
“While it all sounds difficult, the sleep deprivation would test me the most.”
“Girl, it tests all of us the most. The sex, the sleep, the sleeping with the kid that punches you in the face in their sleep, and the latest problem…” she opens her arms dramatically as if she is about to be introduced on stage, “… bed wetting.” She shakes her head. “With me in the bed with them.”
She runs the palms of her hands down her cheeks. “We had tests for everything, including a urinary infection, and it seems the five-year-old has anxiety. I mean, come on, what in the world does a five-year-old have to be anxious about?All meals are prepared and placed in front of him every. Single. Day. All clothes are washed and hung in his closet. He has a bed with clean linen and all the toys his heart desires in his room for him to be content. But Hudson, our neighbor’s child, is getting an iPhone at five years old, and we said a firm no to him. So now he has anxiety and is wetting the bed. What the fuck is wrong with the world?”
Cassie shrugs. “Not the world, Vi. First-world problems.”
“We’re raising an entitled generation.” Violet lets out a long, audible sigh, then downs her drink and holds up an empty glass. “But these are not tonight’s problems.”
“No. And we don’t want to go back to being hunters and gatherers,” Bella states.
“Tonight, we’re having fun because Lottie might be Down Under before we meet up again.”
As bad as the circumstances are for that to happen, I hope I am.
Because I don’t want to live on the opposite side of the world from him for a second longer.
41
CHARLOTTE
Two weeks later…
Closing down my computer,I finish up for the day. The numbness controls my body, and I’m forcing myself to be present in every meeting.
Knock. Knock.
Go away. Leave me to go home so I can wallow in self-pity.
“Come in.”
Franklin strolls into my office and shuts the door.
“Hey,” I offer without enthusiasm. “This is a surprise.”
Franklin pours himself a whiskey, then comes to sit on the other side of my desk. He crosses his right foot over his knee, revealing his black leather Gucci loafers. Every inch of him is clothed by famous designers. There is no mistaking his billions. While he may look relaxed, I know this conversation is going to hurt.
“Have you heard from BJ?”
“I have, but nothing you don’t already know,” he says gently. “Are you happy here?”
I frown at him. “Here in LA?”
He takes a sip of whiskey. “No. Here, governing the team.”
I sigh loudly. “I used to think it was everything I dreamed of, and every morning, I would wake up excited for the day. Now…” I shrug. “I drag myself here, but it’s the distraction I need.”
“Hear me out.”
I close my eyes for a second. “Have you all been scheming behind my back?”
Franklin gives me a heavy brow, bouncing his whiskey on his calf before taking another sip. “Byron is about to announce his retirement.”
