Page 40 of Tailored for You

My heart was trying to break out of my chest.

If I could just⁠—

A loud ring made me jump. My feet slipped as I landed, and I reached for the first thing I could grab—Enzo’s shirt—trying to steady myself.

Enzo wrapped an arm around my waist, bringing us closer together than we were before.

Out of breath, heart racing, I closed my eyes. Why was I so easily surprised? Was there never a time I could keep my cool?

No. I had zero chill.

“Are you going to answer that?” Enzo asked. He hadn’t let me go.

It took me a moment to understand what the noise was. My phone was ringing in my back pocket. I hadn’t recognized it because it had been on vibrate since 2009.

Enzo let me go, stepping away. I checked the caller ID.

Charles.

Frustrated with Charles’ timing, I answered.

“What?” My tone was angrier than I intended. I should’ve let it go to voicemail like I typically did, but I acted on impulse.

Enzo pushed into my space, hovering, intense. It was like whiplash, how fast he went from the laughing man to the one I was used to being around. I took a step back. Enzo cocked his head, put a hand in his pocket, looking deceptively relaxed, but I noticed the tension in his shoulders. The way his body coiled, ready to react.

I turned my back, needing to focus on dealing with Charles and this mistake of a phone call, without being distracted.

“Don’t what me. Where are you? It’s my weekend,” Charles barked at me. Usually, I kept my cool. Emotion was ammunition.

Enzo could hear Charles yelling through the phone. I glanced over my shoulder, and he was barely a foot away. Having Enzo witness this much of my life with Charles was both exposing and embarrassing.

Charles was throwing a temper tantrum, and Enzo had a front-row seat to the shitshow.

“It’s Sunday night, Charles. The weekend is over,” I stated. “And your weekend was last weekend. You have first, third, and fifth weekends.” We’d had the same schedule since Harper was a month old, yet he never remembered. He hardly exercised his visitation, so it wasn’t a surprise he couldn’t keep track of his days.

“You already came by on Wednesday without warning, and I let you take Harper for the day. That was enough accommodation for this week, Charles.” I stared at the water through the windows. It was always about what was best for Charles, never a thought about Harper, and I wasn’t going to stand for it.

“I get her when I want. And where are you? Why is there a new lock on your door?” Charles was snarling. “Where did you take my kid? You have to tell me when you take her anywhere.”

That was true.

“First, you don’t get her whenever you remember she exists. That’s not how custody works. The building was broken into, and my apartment wasn’t secure anymore,” I said. It wasn’t a lie, but it omitted some key factors that he didn’t need to know about. “We’re staying with a friend until the landlord says we can come back.”

“Where are you?” he demanded.

“I’m still in the city,” I said. “However, you don’t need my exact address. Harper will be at school tomorrow. If you want to see her and ensure she’s okay, you can do it there.”

“You’re required to tell me!” he yelled, and I had to take the phone away from my ear.

“I’m not.” I had memorized our custody agreement backward and forward. Minnie paid for an amazing lawyer who wrote every line and considered every contingency, including situations like this. “If you need a reminder, call your lawyer and have him read it to you.”

With that, I hung up. I needed to call a lawyer because that was the game Charles liked to play. It was a game of chicken with him. He’d call and text a hundred more times. When I didn’t answer, he’d pivot to getting his lawyers involved to manipulate and pressure me.

My phone rang again. I answered. I never learned. Maybe I could solve this issue without having to deal with the emotional backlash that was typical of Charles and his antics when he didn’t get his way.

Tapping the screen without looking, I started, “Look⁠—”

“Hi, sweetheart.” My mom’s cheery voice rang through.