I head for the front door as Fletcher’s voice stops me. “Hey, just breathe. Text me later to let me know that everything’s okay.”
“I will. Thanks again for last night.”
Laney wraps her arms around Fletcher’s waist as he kisses the top of her head. “Anytime.”
Without another word, I race down their driveway to my truck and hop inside, driving across town as fast as I can to get to my house. When I swing the front door open, I startle Elodie and Remy, making my daughter cry.
“Dear God, Henley. Where’s the fire?” Elodie’s hand is placed over the center of her chest, probably trying to calm her racing heart.
“Is she okay? Is Remy all right?”
“Her temp is still slightly above one hundred, but she’s doing okay.”
I head straight for my daughter, lifting her from the high chair, holding her head against my cheek. “I’m so sorry, little one. Daddyis sorry he wasn’t here.” Elodie walks around me, avoiding me gaze. “Elodie…”
“I take it you had a good night.” Irritation laces her words, but I don’t blame her.
“Actually, it was rather shitty, but I’m sorry for not texting you back.”
“It would have taken you two seconds, Henley.” Crossing her arms over her body, she arches a brow at me. “I was worried that something happened to you.”
“I had too much to drink…”
“Are you feeling like shit today?”
“You have no idea.”
She huffs out a laugh. “No, I do because I felt like shit all night wondering if you were going to come back.” Her admission catches me off guard. “I honestly wondered if you’d have come back at all if Remy hadn’t gotten sick.” She narrows her eyes at me. “She’s doing better now, but there are going to be other illnesses and incidents over the years, and she’s going to need a father who shows up.”
Those words slice right through my gut. Taking a step closer to me, she tilts her head before she continues. “She’s your kid, and she may be too young to remember how you’re acting right now, but I won’t forget it. I won’t forget how fast you ran out of the house last night, how quickly you needed to get away from your new responsibility, but it’s time to act like a father and stop avoiding that this is your life now.”
“I’m not avoiding it,” I counter, feeling myself grow more irritated by the second because even though Elodie has a lot of nerve saying those things to me, I know that she’s right.
“Really? Then why haven’t you decorated her room?”
Yeah, Henley. Why haven’t you?
Avoidingdiving into that bucket of worms, I turn the argument back on her. “Look, I’m not paying you for your opinions. I’m paying you to take care of my kid. That’s it.”
“Well, maybe I need a night off from this job then before the urge to quit becomes too much for me.” Twisting away from me, she heads down the hall to her room, making both nerves and fury swirl around in my chest.
I peer down at Remy to find her looking in the direction that Elodie just went. A few minutes later, she comes out of her room with a duffle bag full of stuff, her guitar case, and her purse slung over her shoulder.
“Where are you going?”
“Out. I need…” She doesn’t finish her thought, shaking her head and closing her eyes instead. When she pops them open, she stares directly at me and says, “I need a break.”
“When—when will you be back?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Elodie…” I reach out for her, but she avoids my touch.
“No, Henley.” When she peers up at me again, there are tears in her eyes. “You have no idea what was going through my mind last night. And until I can look at you without wanting to scream, I need some distance.”
That’s the last thing she says to me before leaving my house and driving away.
Great job, Henley. Looks like your communication skills are severely lacking, and if there’s any hope of fixing this, you’d better think of something fast.
