“Really, Jack?” she says. “You have to ask? You don’t remember what this afternoon was?”
I think a second, then tilt my head back as it hits me. “Shit, Junior’s game. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Why do I need to? Why is it up to me to make sure you show up for your son?”
“Because he’s in your custody this time of year! I don’t get them ’til summer. You know his—andyour—schedule better than anyone. Remember what happened last time I tried showing up unannounced?” I growl, immediately frustrated by her attitude. “I was trying to take him out for burgers and you had a fit it wasn’t part of the custody agreement.”
“I have a life, Jack. A whole lifewithoutyou. That might surprise you, but you can’t drop by whenever you want. You don’t get to take them when you want either. You know Jack’s season is going on. Why couldn’t you reach out to me to find out the time?”
I grit my teeth, biting back what I really want to say. I could do what I’ve done in the past and keep the argument going. Point out how she never answered the last time I’d asked and how she seems to relish these tit-for-tat games we play, where she finds a fault of mine, then needles away ’til we’re locked into an exchange like this.
But it would be a waste of time.
It wouldn’t accomplish anything. It’d only draw out my temper, make me angrier, make me raise my voice. I’m done being the bad guy…orgiving her the opportunity to make it seem like I am.
“Did he win?” I ask instead. “What was the final score?”
“They lost,” she says, folding her arms. “Jack is very upset. And you weren’t there.”
“Then why didn’t you bring him by? I could talk to him. Mick’s grilled some hamburgers and hotdogs?—”
“He won’t be eating anything from here,” she snaps. “You know I don’t want him in here. You know I don’t want him aroundthis.”
I breathe through the clench of my ribcage, trying my best to stay calm. “Then what do you want, Rach? Tell me how you want me to fix this, and I will. Am I allowed to take my own son out for some pizza?”
“No,” she answers. “It’s not part of the agreement, Jack. But we had agreed you’d attend his games!”
“Then I’ll be at the next one! I’ll get the schedule somewhere else since you won’t give it to me… and I’ll fucking make sure to be front row for all the rest. Happy, Rach?”
She shakes her head, rolling her eyes, muttering under her breath. “Jesus Christ, Jack… don’t sound too thrilled by the thought you’ll have toactuallyshow up for your son. I guess it really is a good thing I didn’t bring him in here. He’d have to listen to this.”
“I’m proud to attend his games. You know I am. But I’m not happy that things’ve got to be like this,” I say firmly, turning away from the window. I take a few steps toward her, tension clenching through me. It beats at the pulse point of my neck, my vein throbbing. “I’m not perfect, Rach. I’ve never said I was. But neither are you. You play a role in this too. All while acting like I’m some deadbeat dad.”
A flicker of guilt passes over her face, then she sighs. “Okay, how about this? You can come over tonight for dinner. Maybe you can bring some pizza and watch some movies. The kids would like that. It would probably cheer Jack up, and Tabby misses you.”
The frustration fades, the tension receding inside me. My expression lightens up, my head inclining in a nod. “I would like that too. I’ll be there.”
Rachel turns toward the door to go, then pauses slightly. “And Jack?”
My brows raise in answer, our gazes connecting again.
“Don’t mention the divorce.Don’tmention Fred.”
Almost two hours later, I approach the front door of where I once called home, carrying two large pizza boxes. I’ve got Junior’s favoriteandTabby’s. Pepperoni and extra, extra cheese on the first pizza. Veggie lovers on the second. I’ve brought a sixpack of root beer and picked up some cinnamon twists too. All things the kids love.
I draw in a deep breath in the second before I ring the doorbell. Once upon a time, I used to walk right in. I was a man coming home to his wife and kids and his domain.
Now it’s like some alternate universe as the doorbell trills throughout the house and I wait to be invited in.
It takes a second for me to pinpoint the sounds from inside, like Tabby’s excited squeal and the pounding of footsteps.
The door flies open the next second, and I find myself opposite my little girl.
Well… she’s not so little anymore. She’s growing by the day, now fifteen. But when I look at her, she’ll always be my little girl, no matter the age. Her whole face lights up as she sees me and then jumps and squeals, welcoming me inside.
“Daddy!”
As I step inside grinning, she throws her arms over my shoulders and almost knocks the pizza and soda from my hands.
