“Your parents?”
I laugh. “Why don’t you go back to your parents?”
“I can’t live with my parents, Skylar. I’m a thirty-five-year-old dad. Zoey needs consistency and familiarity right now, and this house is it. Her bedroom upstairs is it. Micha was going to sell me the house because he doesn’t need it or want something so big when he’s here a couple of months out of the year.”
I frown. Micha never offered to sell me the house. I would have bought it from him.
“I can’t live with my parents either,” I tell him flatly.
But I also don’t want to live with him. Zoey is cool, and I like her, but her father is a dick. A gorgeous dick but still a dick nonetheless. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s time I go out and find my own place and make it all mine and start living my best girl life.
“I need two months to find something else. It’s not up for negotiation. If you don’t like it, feel free to leave.”
I hop off the counter and head toward the family room to get my candy and shut off my movie. I’m going to shower and get the hell out of here for a while. Go clear my head and do some deep thinking.
I spin back around. “And Aston? Your daughter, I like. But not you. Stay the hell away from me. I only make mistakes once. Never twice.”
5
ASTON
The predawn air is heavy and frozen, my breath pluming out in thick white clouds of vapor. It has me shoving my hands deeper into my pockets and missing the warmth of LA. Nine years there have thinned my blood. But as I navigate the quiet streets, I can’t stop wondering if uprooting our lives was the right call after all.
Mom: Zoey wants to say good morning. Do you have a minute?
I smile, typing back quickly.
Me: Absolutely.
I check the time and see that I’ve got thirty minutes before I need to meet with my new boss. The thought of Zoey in her new bedroom, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes, makes my chest tighten. She’d been brave about the move. Braver than I was, but I caught her yesterday staring at a picture of her old preschool class with a trembling lower lip.
“It’s just us, Zo-Zo,” I told her, smoothing her blonde curlsaway from her forehead. “Team Hughes against the world, remember? Boston will be fun. An adventure. And we have Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Alden here.”
She’d nodded solemnly, her eyes looking far too wise for a five-year-old. I suppose that happens when you lose one parent at the age of four and a half years old. I tried to keep us in California, but it got to be too hard to do by myself, and Zoey deserves better than that. Better than all the bad memories that plagued us both.
I want her to have a family. I want her to have light. Not simply a dad who works too many hours and most days still feels like he’s learning how to be a dad.
My phone rings in my hand. “Morning, Zo.”
“Morning.” She yawns loudly.
“What are you doing up so early?”
“I wanted to see you before you left.”
Guilt slams me in the chest like a two-by-four. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t want to wake you that early. I’ll be home in time to take you to the preschool meet and greet later.”
“Okay.” A pause. “Do you think the other kids are nice?”
“I’m sure they are. You’ll make tons of friends.” I hope. I seriously fucking hope. “You’ll love it as much as you did your last one. Even more so when you start kindergarten this fall. It’ll be so much fun.”
“I guess. Is Skylar here?”
“I don’t know, sweetie. She could be working today too.”
“At your new hospital?”
“Yes.”
