by Amy Daws
Freya, Sophia, and I are busy making dinner when my doorbell buzzes. With excited eyes, Sophia dashes for the door, and I call after her, “Check the camera before you open it!”
I wipe my hands off and head over to see who it is when I hear Sophia exclaim, “It’s Daddy!”
She opens the door and wraps her arms around his hips in a tight hug. It’s been over two weeks since he has seen her, so it’s no surprise that she’s having this level of reaction.
Callum’s smile seems stiff as he pats Sophia’s head awkwardly. “Hello, Sophia.”
“Did you come to have dinner with us?” she asks brightly. “Did you come to see Rexy? Mum says we have to keep him in the yard when it’s nice out. Come out back, I’ll show you!”
She grabs Callum’s hand and tries to pull him into the foyer.
“Not right away, Sophia. I need to talk to your mum first.” He looks up at me and smiles awkwardly. “Do you have a minute?”
Suddenly, Freya appears in the foyer with us and tuts, “Sophia! I think you and I should take Rex for a walk. Show him around the neighbourhood. What do you say?”
“Yes!” Sophia exclaims, but then her face falls. “Daddy, will you still be here when I get back? Can you stay for dinner?”
Callum looks over at me and plasters on a smile. “I’d love to if it’s okay with your mum.”
Sophia turns wide, pleading eyes to me. “Mummy Gumdrops, pleeease, can Daddy stay for dinner? Please, please, please!”
Anxiety bubbles in my chest because I know Gareth will be coming over soon, but I don’t know how I can possibly say no to her. Fighting back my eye roll, I nod and reply, “Sure.”
She squeals with delight, then grabs Freya’s hand, yanking her down the hall and out to the backyard to get Rex.
I cut Callum a look. “That was awkward.”
“What?” he retorts, straightening his tie.
“You shouldn’t have said yes for dinner. This is my time with her.”
“Come now, Sloan. We’re a family. We should be able to have a meal with each other.”
I take a deep breath before replying, “Well, you should be able to stick to our custody agreement and show up for her on the weekends you’re allotted. You’re really disappointing her every other weekend, Cal.”
“That’s why I’m here to talk. Can we sit?” he asks, gesturing to the living room.
I roll my eyes and stomp over to the sofa, nerves erupting in my veins over what Callum could want now. I sit down and, instead of Cal taking the open chair across from me, he takes a seat right next to me. Far too close for comfort.
“Callum, if you’re going to try to ask me for more time with Sophia, you should know that I’m prepared to fight.”
Callum’s eyes narrow as he smooths his blonde coiffed hair back. “I’m not here to fight with you, Sloan. I’m here to tell you I want our family back.”
My face contorts into what I can only imagine a Picasso painting would look like. Callum could have told me he is a flying purple cow, and I would have believed that more than I believe this. “You have to be joking,” I reply with a laugh. “You’re engaged to Callie.”
“Not anymore,” he replies and scoots in closer to take my hand in his. “I broke it off with her after the funeral. The minute I saw you and that footballer together, I knew I made a horrible mistake.”
“Callum,” I reply, staring down at his hand wrapped around mine like some sort of evil serpent. “You don’t even love me.”
“Of course I do, Sloan. You’re the mother of my child,” he states flippantly like what I said is ludicrous. “I made some mistakes, but I want to be a part of yours and Sophia’s lives again.”
“But you’ve cancelled on Sophia two times in a row now. How is that wanting to be a part of her life?”
“I was trying to get my own life together first!” he retorts, his blue eyes fixed on mine. “But I’m different now. If we get back together, you’ll see that.”
I grit my teeth and stare back at him, willing myself to stay calm. “It’s really coincidental that you’re saying all of this after our meeting with the lawyer yesterday. What did your letter from Margaret say exactly?”
His face deepens to a crimson colour and he replies, “I was planning to talk to you after the meeting, but you left too quickly.”
“Because you were going on and on about the fact that I wasn’t a Coleridge!” I exclaim, pulling my hand out of his and sliding away from him.
“That’s what I want to change,” he replies, shifting closer to me again. “We can be a proper family again. Get remarried. You can take my name, and we’ll all be Coleridges together. I’ll be better this time around, Sloan. A proper father, the way you’ve always wanted me to be. I know how hard it was for you to grow up without a father, and I don’t want that life for Sophia.”
His words pierce through a dark part of my heart that I keep locked away. “Neither do I.”
“See? Then we’re on the same page. And it will be like old times but better.” He reaches out and cups my cheek, the touch foreign and surprising. “You’ll still be in complete control of Sophia. I won’t stand in your way of that.”
I jerk out of his touch, so he drapes his arm on the back of the sofa behind me.
“This is ridiculous, Callum. You don’t know me at all. You never have.”
“I know it kills you to not have access to Sophia every single day. If we’re together again, that all goes away. No more custody agreement. No more part-time motherhood.” Callum leans in, an urgency and hopefulness in his eyes I’ve never seen before. “Don’t you want that, Sloan? Don’t you want to wake up with Sophia under your roof every day?”
“Of course I do,” I reply, my throat closing up over how much I hate this. How much I hate that he still gets to be a part of her life.
“Let me give that to you, darling.”
Callum suddenly leans in to kiss me, but I yank back and shake my head in shock.
“What the fucking hell is going on here?” Gareth’s deep voice growls. My eyes swerve over to see him standing in the foyer, the door wide open behind him.
Callum is still holding my face, our bodies still touching. Everything about this looks so much worse than it really is. And Gareth is one hundred percent pissed. Like a giant, angry bear ready to attack. He drops his training bag down on the floor and his hands tighten into fists at his sides.
“Gareth, nothing is going on! Callum is crazy.” I push back away from him and stand, smoothing my dress down and feeling horrible for how bad it must have looked.
Gareth moves his harsh eyes from Cal to me, and I crumple when I see a flicker of hurt on his face. “You certainly weren’t arguing with what he had to say.”
“I was just about to!” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest for some pathetic form of protection.
Gareth’s stare is unrelenting on me as his jaw muscle ticks angrily beneath the skin. “So you’re saying none of what he said is true for you?”
My mouth opens, but no words come out. Everything’s locked inside of me in some strange, confused place that I can’t fully access.
He nods knowingly. “This actually makes perfect sense, Sloan.”
“How?” I exclaim, my voice tight inside my throat.
“Well, you don’t need me anymore,” he replies flippantly. “You made that perfectly clear yesterday. And if Callum is offering to be a father to Sophia again, then that solves all of your problems. I know how much it kills you when he doesn’t show up for her. Getting back together with him means you can protect her.”
“Are you crazy?” I shriek, striding around the sofa to stand in front of Gareth. He’s tall and looming down over me. A scary mask on his face that I haven’t seen before.
“How could you think so little of me?” I retort, my eyes stinging from the way he’s looking at me.
“I don’t think little of you,” he replies through clenched teeth and takes a step closer to me. “I think
everything of you. And I know you, Sloan. You will put Sophia first always, and I can’t stop you from doing that.”
“Sloan, just tell him to leave,” Callum interjects, moving over to us and trying to grab my arm. “We were in the middle of something.”
“Callum, you go!” I exclaim, turning on my heel and walking straight at him, forcing him backwards toward the wall. “There is nothing here for you. I’m with Gareth, and I want you to leave.”
Callum laughs a haughty, bark of a laugh and narrows his eyes at Gareth. “Before you kick me out, perhaps you should ask your footballer why his lawyer is sniffing around our personal affairs.”
My brow furrows. I look over at Gareth to see that his hard mask has slipped, revealing guilt. “What?” I manage to croak out.
Callum sneers and adds, “Harry Morrison called me today to tell me that a lawyer from London named Santino inquired about the paperwork you signed yesterday. Said he is the Harris family lawyer and he wants to make sure everything is above board.”
“Is that true, Gareth?” I ask, my chest aching from betrayal.
“I was going to tell you,” Gareth retorts, moving in closer to me.
I back up. “Tell me that you went behind my back and hired a lawyer to look into my personal business? We already talked about it. I told you I am fine on my own.”
“I was trying to do what’s best for you,” he argues, staring at me with pleading eyes.
Callum chuckles softly from beside us. “See, Sloan? You don’t need a man like him. He’ll just end up controlling you your whole life. Mentally break you down. He’ll probably do the same to Sophia.”
Gareth slides harsh eyes to Callum. “Don’t talk about my relationship with Sophia.”
Cal barks out a laugh and adjusts his cufflinks. “Well, hopefully you’re not as overbearing as your father. I heard he’s such a monster, your mother killed herself to get away from him.”
Gareth lunges at Callum, grabbing him by the lapel and slamming him up against the wall. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”
Callum looks over at me with wide eyes. “You see what this man is like! He’s out of control. He better not touch my daughter like this, or so help me God…”
“Shut the fuck up!” Gareth roars, his face centimetres from Callum’s. “You are a spineless, worthless, desperate pig of a man. You don’t even deserve to be called a man. A man is there for his family, his wife, his daughter. A man shows up when he’s supposed to, not just when he needs money! You don’t even love Sophia, you fucking bastard.”
Suddenly, there’s a high-pitched whimper behind me. I turn around and my stomach drops when I see Sophia standing in the open doorway with Rex on a leash. Her wide, teary eyes are on Gareth and Callum. Her chin wobbling, her hands shaking.
She looks over at me, and I drop down on my knees in front of her. “Sophia,” I cry, reaching to pull her into my arms.
She pulls away and stares up at Gareth, who quickly releases Callum and lowers himself to one knee beside me. “Sophia, I didn’t mean—”
“You’re a liar, Gareth!” she cries, her words piercing through the the room like shattered glass. She drops Rex’s leash and lunges at Gareth, swinging her tiny fists back and landing them on his chest. “You’re not grown-up! You’re a liar!”
He turns his face to the side, his eyes wrecked with pain and anguish as he croaks out, “I’m so sorry, Little Minnow.”
I reach out to stop her from hitting him, but she yanks her hands away from me and takes off up the stairs with Rex following on her heels, dragging his leash behind him. My eyes connect with Gareth’s as we both drag huge breaths into our lungs.
Freya then appears in the doorway, out of breath as she states, “Blimey, Sophia and Rex are too fast for me. We should think about getting an elliptical trainer, Sloan. Or a treadmill. Something! That sewing machine pedal is doing nothing for the circumference of my arse.” Her voice stops as she looks around the room and sees us all standing here, frozen in horror. “What have I missed?”
Gareth shakes his head and stands up slowly, grabbing his bag up off the floor. “I don’t belong here.”
He moves to walk out the door but pauses when I call out, “Gareth.”
He shakes his head again, refusing to look back at me. “I don’t belong here.”
With that, he walks out of my house and out of my life.
SUNDAY NIGHT DINNER. IT’S SUPPOSED to be the one day a week that brings the Harris family together. The one place that brings us joy and helps us remember why we love being Harrises.
Tonight, it’s hell on earth for me.
I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, surrounded by everyone. Dad’s holding Rocky. Vi, Hayden, Camden, Indie, Tanner, Belle. Booker and Poppy each with a newborn in their arms. All of them press in around me so close, I can barely breathe.
I tried to stay silent when I first arrived. I wasn’t going to tell them about Sloan’s inheritance, the fight with Callum, the heartbroken look on Sophia’s face, or the unanswered text message I sent to Sloan telling her I am sorry. I tried so bloody hard to keep it all in, keep it safe, keep it silent, keep it protected.
Then they did the Harris Shakedown on me. They got it all out. Every last miserable detail. Now, here I sit, on trial as the lot of them try to figure out my life for me.
“Gareth, tell me exactly what Sophia heard you say again,” Vi states, leaning across the kitchen sink and propping her head in her hands.
I groan and cover my face with my hands. “She heard me say that her father doesn’t love her.”
“Which is bloody true!” Tanner retorts from the far end of the counter as he stuffs a chocolate into his mouth.
“It might be true, but it’s not something a seven-year-old should ever hear no matter how vile the father is,” Vi corrects, looking at me with so much sympathy, I want to vomit.
“I didn’t mean to say it. I didn’t mean to put my hands on him. I just lost it.” I bow my head and slice my hands through my hair.
“You were being territorial and protective,” Tanner states firmly.
“He was being a Harris,” Camden adds.
“It’s just like when you went mental on my ex-boyfriend a few years ago,” Vi adds another iron in the fire. “You have a temper, Gareth, and you need to get control of it if you’re going to be a dad.”
“I’m not going to be a dad!” I exclaim, my head pounding inside my skull. “I don’t deserve to be a dad,” I mumble, shaking my head and seeing the horrified pain in Sophia’s eyes all over again.
That look, that expression, that hurt. I put it there. My actions. It was like I was staring in the mirror of my eight-year-old self after one of my father’s fits.
I’m a fucking monster.
“Gareth doesn’t have a temper nine times out of ten, though!” Booker argues, his voice rising defensively as he bounces his baby in his arms. “It only comes out when necessary, and that Callum bloke was going after Sloan. He had it coming. The arsehole deserved a lot worse. Gareth shouldn’t have to apologise for that.”
Booker stares back at me with so much blind devotion, it shocks me. This youngest brother of mine is usually soft-spoken and mild-tempered. But he’s unapologetic in his statement right now, and I don’t feel worthy. Sloan and Sophia aren’t my family, and there’s nothing I can do to change that now.
Dad remains silent in the background, listening and taking everything in while the rest of our family begin concocting a trip to Manchester for an in-person Harris Shakedown on Sloan and Sophia. It’s a bloody mess. The entire conversation is swirling into madness that I can’t stand to sit and listen to anymore.
I mumble something about needing to go to the loo and manage to slip off my stool and out of the kitchen. My body enters into some strange form of autopilot as I bypass the loo and head for the stairs.
I slowly climb each step as my mind drifts off into the past. I pause on the second level and look down the hallw
ay. All four of our childhood rooms positioned two on each side. I can still see Poppy sneaking into Booker’s room like she did so often when they were little and thought no one was looking. I can see Tanner and Camden sneaking girls up the stairs. I can see Vi’s makeup spread out all over the counter and her screaming at us to stay out of her stuff.
So much of my life has been spent watching over my siblings. Kids who weren’t mine. But something about Sophia felt different. She was mine. She felt like mine the second I met her on the pitch at the Kid Kickers camp.
I turn the corner and climb up to the third level of the house. I pause outside the loft bedroom door that we rarely ever went into after Mum died.
I turn the knob that probably hasn’t been touched in years and push the door open to reveal the room of haunted memories. The room is completely empty. No bed, no dresser. No photos on the walls. Just light wood flooring, three big windows, and loads of things I’d rather forget. I step inside and instantly recall Mum’s bed. Big brass frame, white sheets. An IV cart positioned next to the wall and an oxygen tank nearby. Mum always wore white, silky nightgowns that were so soft, I can still remember the feeling of them. I open the door to the wardrobe where they used to hang. It’s empty. Dad burned most of her clothes in the fireplace downstairs shortly after she died. I recall Vi crying because she wanted a jumper of Mum’s and he refused.
I couldn’t believe how awful of a person he was to not give his only daughter an article of clothing from her only mother.
I hated him so much.
Now, I understand who that man was so many years ago.
He was heartbroken. He was heartbroken because the woman he loved died.
She fucking died.
The past few days, I have felt like my life is over and no one even died. Sloan is fine. Healthy and fine. Rich, and thriving, and independent. She has a daughter who loves her. Money to make all their dreams come true. She’s alive.