Her teeth catch her lower lip, like she can’t quite let go of that lingering uncertainty. ‘Would you like me to take you to the Christmas market tomorrow evening? We could go on the Ferris wheel. Get some hot chocolate. You can tell me how your sleepover at Nanny’s went, okay?’
‘The Ferris wheel? Sarah Snowden went on it at the weekend, and she said it was awesome.’ Sarah Snowden is Phoebe’s new BFF. I’m just grateful it’s not Cecilia. The one whose mother, Majella, was so keen to organise a playdate. With Stanley on business, it was me she wanted to play with.
Phoebe’s doubt is replaced with a twinkle of excitement. ‘Can I get marshmallows on my hot chocolate?’
‘Extra triple marshmallows, sprinkles and cream.’ I put my hand out for a high five and she slaps it as hard as she can.
‘Ouch!’ I pretend to wince and shake my hand as if she hurt me. ‘My goodness, you’re getting so big and strong!’
Phoebe’s answering grin is one of triumph. ‘See you tomorrow, Daddy.’
‘Have a great day, honey.’ I watch from my car as she links arms with twin girls in her class, Isla and Eden. The three of them skip safely inside the old Victorian building. The principal, Ashley Kearney, raises her hand in a curt greeting from the yard and I pull out into a long line of Dublin traffic.
My phone rings through the hands-free. My mother. She can’t cancel on me tonight, of all nights, I need her to take Phoebe. My newfound obsession with Ava Jackson has only spiralled since she left my house two nights ago.
‘Hello?’
‘Cillian, how are you?’ My mum’s soft warm tone fills the car.
‘Good, thanks. I’ve just dropped Phoebe at school. Is everything okay?’
‘Everything’s fine …’ She drawls out the last word, leading me to believe everything isn't fine.
‘What is it, Mam?’ I don’t have time for small talk. I’m due in court in thirty minutes.
She clears her throat. ‘Teagan called by here yesterday for coffee.’
Ahh. Now we’re getting to the crux of it. ‘And?’
‘She said you’re seeing someone.’
I sigh. ‘Not that it’s any of her business.’Or yours.I manage to hold my tongue.
‘She’s devastated, Cillian. Really devastated. I’ve never seen her like this before.’
‘She wasn't nearly as devastated when she was shacked up with Marco from Marbella.’ I scoff.
‘I know I should mind my own business.’ She pauses, and we both know that she never minds her own business and isn't about to start now, ‘but I can’t help but wondering if you thought about what we spoke about the other night. If it’s not too late for you two to sort things out? For Phoebe’s sake.’
‘It’s for Phoebe’s sake that I won’t ever give Teagan another chance.’ That, and the fact I don’t love her. Or trust her. ‘It won’t be my heart she breaks when she leaves.’ Mine’s frozen colder and harder than a lump of ice.‘I know you believe in sticking together through thick and thin, but Teagan doesn’t, and neither do I. Even if I did take her back, she’d be gone again in a matter of months.’
It’s Mam’s turn to sigh. ‘Okay, son. I just want to make sure you’re doing the right thing.’ More like Teagan asked her to have a word with me when she called for coffee yesterday.
‘Trust me, Mam, I’m doing the right thing.’
She sighs.
‘Are you still okay to take Phoebe for the night?’
‘Absolutely. I’m looking forward to it. Your dad’s going to some golf thing so he’s away for the night. It’ll be great to have some company.’
A golf thing? If he’s heading away for the night, it’s probably with another woman. And my mother doesn’t even question him, as long as he takes his indiscretions out of town. Rage ripples through my gut. It’s not right.
‘Thanks, Mam. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ I disconnect the call before she can interrogate me about Ava, and before I can tell her for the hundredth time to kick my father out.
The day in court served to remind me why I don’t believe in happy ever afters. Today I represented a woman who is married to a famous soccer player. While she was in hospital recovering from life-threatening surgery, he was hosting orgies in their family home. He didn’t want to give her a penny, let alone one of the five properties he owns. It was a pleasure taking him to the cleaners.
I abandon the jeep outside The Shelbourne, not giving one iota that I’m singlehandedly holding up rush hour traffic in Dublin. I toss the keys to the porter and go in search of a shower and a neat whiskey.
