My black X5 BMW waits for me in the car park. That unique, luxurious new car scent saturates the air and seeps into my nostrils as I slide behind the leather steering wheel.
It takes forty minutes to get through the rush hour traffic to Sandymount. Finally, I reach the electric gates of the refurbished Victorian house we call home. Soft light glows from the upstairs corner windows. Phoebe isn't in bed yet. A warmth heats my chest and tingles through my torso.
The gates swing open, and the wheels crunch up the gravel driveway past the wrought iron lanterns lining the path to the teak front door. I park besides the metallic pot plants overflowing with this year’s dusty pink and white violas.
I bought this house the week after Teagan announced she was pregnant. In truth, it’s probably too big for just Phoebe and me, but I love the space, the seclusion, and the security of it. With a full-sized gym, an outdoor jacuzzi, and an acre of meticulously maintained lawns, it’s the only place I can take sanctuary in the city.
The front door swings open as I approach, but instead of Phoebe’s smiling toothy face grinning back at me, I’m greeted by Matilda, our amazing housekeeper/nanny. Matilda’s like a middle-aged Mary Poppins, and she’s the sole reason I feel comfortable leaving my daughter each day while I earn enough money to maintain this lavish lifestyle.
Tonight though, Matilda’s usual warm smile is replaced with a tight-lipped grimace. ‘She’s back.’
I don’t need to ask who.
It’s etched into every line creasing my housekeeper’s forehead.
Teagan.
For fuck’s sake.
It took weeks to settle Phoebe after the last time Teagan swanned in, then swiftly out again. Weeks of sobbing. Weeks of night terrors. Weeks of reassuring my baby girl that I’ll never walk out on her the way her mother does.
‘Where is she?’ My voice rumbles like thunder.
Matilda steps back as I bulldoze into the huge rectangular hallway, frantically searching for my daughter.
‘Teagan insisted on putting Phoebe to bed.’ Matilda nods to the wide centre staircase sweeping up to the second floor. ‘Reminded me in no uncertain terms that I’m “just” the housekeeper.’
I charge up the stairs, my blood boiling beneath my skin. ‘Phoebe?’ It takes every ounce of will power I possess to keep an even tone.
‘We’re in here.’ My ex-girlfriend’s excessively upbeat tone rings from Phoebe’s bedroom, like her presence here is the most natural occurrence in the world.
Adrenaline propels me through the doorway. Our daughter is nestled into her pink princess themed bed, complete with white twinkling fairy lights. Her blonde hair falls in soft curls across the pillow. Wide silver eyes, almost the exact same shade as my own spark with sheer undulated glee. ‘Mammy’s home!’ she announces, like it’s a good thing.
‘So I see.’ My gaze falls to Teagan who’s kneeling at the foot of the bed, wearing a ridiculously revealing black dress, clutching Phoebe’s tiny hand like a lifeline.
My ex is a beautiful woman. Stunning in fact. With long blonde hair and a figure to die for, I’m sure she’s the epitome of many male fantasies.
Just not mine.
She’s my worst nightmare. Or rather, the hurt that she causes our child every time she waltzes in and out of our lives again is.
‘I came home,’ Teagan whispers wistfully, the same way one might declare they’ve saved an orphan from a burning building, donated a million euros to Save The Children, or been awarded a badge of honour for carrying a bleeding comrade home from battle.
‘So I see.’ My leather loafers sink into the plush, pink carpet as I cross the room. Placing a tender kiss on Phoebe’s smooth, sallow cheek, I inhale the familiar scent of her bubble-gum scented shampoo into my lungs.
‘How’s my princess? Did you have a good day?’ I choose to ignore the living, breathing, albeit stunning, elephant in the room in favour of a little normality.
‘I’m great, Daddy. Matilda made cupcakes after school. And …’ Phoebe wets her lips and pauses for effect. At only six years old, she’s already harnessed her dramatic streak. ‘Teacher told me I’m going to play Mary in the nativity play next month.’
‘Wow. That’s amazing, honey!’ Teagan coos from behind me. ‘I can’t wait!’
I jerk my head to my delusional ex and fire her a warning glare. We both know that she’ll be long gone before it comes around. And the sooner the better because the longer she stays, the more hope Phoebe gets that this time it’ll be for good.
‘You’ll be the best Mary that there ever was, princess.’ My fingers brush across Phoebe’s cheek, smoothing back stray wisps of hair from her forehead. I tuck the duvet tight beneath the mattress. ‘Shall I read you a bedtime story?’
Phoebe sucks a low slow breath into the gap where she lost her two front teeth, glancing dubiously between Teagan and me. ‘Do you mind if Mammy does it tonight?’
My heart slices open for her. Not just because she’s desperate to get whatever limited time with her mother she can, but because the hint of regret welling in the whites of her eyes suggests she feels guilty for picking Teagan over me.
