“I’m the man. The husband is supposed to support the family. Not the other way around. I don’t need your money to pay for her. I just need to get to her,” he stood and started walking back to the road. He didn’t look back as I called after him.
“Where are you going?” I shouted. He raised his arm out and put his thumb out.
“I’ll hitch a ride until I get back. See you at home.”
I called after him, but he ignored me. Frustrated, I went back to the gas station and told the guys the situation. Dallas got on the phone right away and started arranging for a ride home and a towing service for the van. I figured we’d find Tate on the side of the road, pick him up when our ride got here, and head to the hospital. However, he was nowhere to be found.
While we rode back to L.A. I called all the hospitals in search of Cara Whitlock. I found her and directed the driver there. The rest of the ride was spent trying to decide what to do about Tate. He had lost his mind. Understandably, but still. Something needed to be fixed. I was expecting him to be at the hospital first, but I sat with Dallas and his parents for almost a full day before he stumbled in. He looked exhausted and lost, but he was here.
Cara had gotten a fever and just to be safe, Gabby wanted to bring her in to a doctor. Because she was so young and they couldn’t break the fever right away, she’d been transferred to the hospital, where they gave her fluids and by the time her father arrived, she was getting prepared for discharge.
When Tate settled his gaze on me, guilt washed over him. I shook my head. I don’t know what had come over him, but it was stopping now. His anger and frustration had made the situation worse than it actually was. Because of how tired both him and I were, we asked her grandparents to take her to their home. We’d get a ride to our apartment, sleep some, then come for her. The ride home was awkward, but I decided then that I was not going to let him demand things be a certain way when I was just as much a parent as he was to Cara. We stepped out of the car and I turned to him, asserting myself.
“She’s my daughter too, and we’re getting a nanny. End of discussion.”
