“Let me know when you ready to stop playing small,” Day whispered.
He left her in the bathroom and walked back toward the party. Stassi waited a few minutes longer because she didn’t want it to seem like they were coming from the same place. Day just felt like a boundary. He was like the hot stove that your mama told you not to touch. She had a feeling that she was getting closer and closer to the fire, but she would be damned if she let herself get burnt. Stassi was the type of girl to use the stove for cooking her meal and then turning the fire off. She controlled the heat in her kitchen. Day thought he was the chef, but he didn’t stand a chance.
“Fuck you mean you not bringing my son, Lo?” Demi barked as he stared out at the lake that his home sat on. The floating string lights that Charlie had decorated the pavilion with didn’t even match the opulent house, but it was the area that brought him the most comfort in the entire house. He had spent six figures on a celebrity interior designer, yet it was Charlie’s touch that made it feel like home. With her incense, her plants, and her pillows. It was the place she went every morning to “set her vibe.” Demi would watch Charlie drinking her tea or smoking weed from the upstairs window every morning. She would write in her journal and sing lyrics she would never perform in front of anyone because she was too afraid to share her songwriting talent with anyone else. She had no problem singing some pre-arranged song written by Day or other hotshot producers, but her own shit scared her. Her own words revealed her heart. He wouldn’t even let her know he was watching on those days.He rolled over every morning, reaching for her, and when he found her spot empty, he dragged himself to the window in their bedroom to watch her write and listen to her sing. They had fucked out here more times than he could count too. Now, here he was, arguing with his ex-wife in the same spot, tarnishing every memory they had made in this sacred space Charlie had curated.
“He doesn’t want to come. I’m not going to force him,” Lauren replied.
“He’s a kid. Kids don’t make the decisions. I told you I wanted him here,” he said. “Fuck I got to do? You cashing my checks just fine, but I can’t get time with my own seed? You know how this gon’ go, so stop playing with me.”
“Nothing’s moving unless I put my say-so on it, Demi,” Lauren answered. “My son don’t want to come to your new house with your new bitch.”
He was talking to the dial tone before he could even respond.
He leaned over the ledge, gripping his phone as he felt the tension build behind his stern brow. Lauren was pressing his buttons, and he knew she was doing it intentionally. Encouraging his son to stay away, hanging up in his face, it all bordered on disrespect and disruption, and Demi didn’t tolerate either very well. She wanted a reaction. She wanted him to bark on her. His aggression would signal that she still had sway over his emotions. Demi knew Lauren better than she knew herself. She was poking the bear, but Demi wouldn’t bite. He couldn’t because if he engaged too much, it would give Lauren false hope, and he just wanted to spare her at this point. Leaving a relationship he had been in for years had been hard enough. He wasn’t trying to cause more damage. So instead of pressing the issue, he let it slide. For now.
The sound of the sliding glass door straightened his spine.
“Everything okay?” Charlie asked.
Demi thought about telling her. He had thought about letting her know that his child’s mother had been playing games with his son, but he didn’t want to worry her. He didn’t want Charlie to feel like the reason for the turmoil in his life. He had the best intentions when he answered, “Yeah, everything’s smooth.”
“This doesn’t feel like our life,” Charlie whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m trying to impress girls I don’t even like in a home that I…”
“Don’t even like…” Demi said, finishing her sentence.
It was a sentence she had avoided saying for a year. She had tried to be appreciative. She had tried to make it her own.
“I like it. I love it, Demi, because you’re here; it’s just so much space,” she whispered. “I just have to get used to living like this, I guess. I’m trying. I promise.” She motioned toward the crowded festivities indie. “I’m really trying to fill her shoes, Demi. These people are used to your wife being at these parties. They’re her friends. They’re on her side. I feel like I don’t belong in this world, Demi.”
Demi heard the emotion in her voice. She was the biggest force in the room, but somehow these women made her feel small. His love. His life. His everything. She encompassed his reason for breathing, and somehow, she didn’t know it. He knew it came from his mistruths. The way he had mishandled her had led to a devaluation in her self-assurance. Charlie felt like an understudy who didn’t quite measure up to the original, and it was his fault. He felt her shivering as the snow fell around them.
“I’m sorry I didn’t wear the dress you liked,” she whispered.
“Fuck the dress. Fuck all this shit.”
He took her hand and led her back into the house.
“Clear this shit out,” he said calmly. “Everybody get out.”
Silverware clattered against Tiffany china as his guests looked up in surprise. Everything ceased. Conversation,laughter, eating… it all came to a standstill as they waited for an explanation. Demi didn’t provide one. He didn’t care what they assumed. He pulled Charlie from the room, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and tucking her safely into him, before relieving her of the duty of walking altogether. He scooped her into his arms.
“You’re going to spoil me,” she whispered.
“You ain’t lied to a nigga yet, Bird,” Demi said.
“They’re important to you, though,” she protested. “I didn’t think how complicated the idea of us would be for everyone else.”
“Stop,” Demi said. “Do it look like I give a fuck about anybody else?”
She shook her head.
“If it ain’t you or my son, I’m not concerned about a mu’fucka feelings.”
“And where is your son, Demi? He doesn’t even like me,” she said. “Maybe we need to just keep this engagement private and wait a while longer before we get married.”
She climbed out of his arms to walk away, but he caught her wrist and pulled her back.
“Keep it private?” He repeated while nodding, rubbing the lines of his goatee. “Whatever you want, Bird.” He walked out the room, shaking his head as resentment weighed him.
