by Kristi Rose
Don’t panic, it reads.
“That’s a good one. It’s a keeper. Post it someplace where you can see it often.”
“Like you do?”
I nod. “Gets me through some bloody awful days. Got me these shoes, too,” I say and stretch out my leg to show her my ankle boots.
“I don’t have a mom and my Mimi’s gone again,” she says from seemingly nowhere. I fall back onto my bum and let it hang between us, giving her words the proper weight they deserve. A declaration like that does not require an immediate response. “Well, we have something in common then. I bet you would never guess I didn’t have a dad.”
“But I met your dad. At the restaurant.”
The ground is cool and a wee bit damp but I pay it no never mind. I want Cordie to know that what she has to say is the most important words heard today. “Yes, you did. But that’s not my biological dad. My biological dad left when I was eight. Mum met and married the dad I have now when I was ten. He’s been my dad since then.”
“What happened to your other dad? “
“He moved on and had a different life.” I shrug and look right at her so she can see I’m not upset by that fact.
“Did you ever want to find him?” She starts swinging, a little bit at a time, kicking off with the tips of her toes.
“Sure. When I was sixteen I became fairly obsessed with the idea of finding him and I did.”
She catches herself, balancing her swing on the tips of her toes. “You did?”
I nod. “I’ve never told anyone this. Not Pippa. Not my Mum. You’re the first.”
“Why not?” She’s watching me closely.
“I thought it would upset Mum mostly. When I found him he was living about a hundred kilometers from us, just over an hour away. He was married with a family.” I leave out specifics.
Her eyes widen as she lets her toe grip on the earth go and swings forward. “He has kids?” She doesn’t look at me.
“Yes, two girls.”
“Did that make you mad?”
I watch her face, her emotions so easily seen as she bites her lip and narrows her brow.
“At first I was very angry. I came home and acted quite the terror actually. Mum tried to talk to me but I wouldn’t have it. Later that night Dad came to my room and asked if I wanted to talk. I said some awful things to him, Cordie. Just awful.” I put my hands to my face, hiding my embarrassment. “I told him he wasn’t my father so why should I talk to him. You know what he said?”
She shakes her head.
“He told me that the day my biological dad left Mum and I was his luckiest day ever. You want to know why?”
She’s stopped swinging and is staring at me open mouthed. “Why?”
“Because the day he met Mum he was given the gift of me too. He’s the only dad I’ve known and the only dad I would ever have.”
“But I don’t have a second mom.”
“You might one day, and what woman wouldn’t love having you? When they get you, they will be getting an amazing gift, a blessing. You’re a smart, funny, fashion-forward girl,” I say and wink. “Anyone should be so lucky. Like Jill. I bet she adores you.”
See Jayne be a wanker for probing a poor distraught child.
“She’s okay, I suppose.” She toes the dirt. “She cooks better than Pippa; she’s a chef. That’s cool.”
“Indeed it is. You know how important good food is. Lest I remind you of nutritional yeast and black bean brownies.” I put on a brave face.
Cordie laughs. “Don’t tell but I kinda liked those brownies.”
I gasp and quickly place a hand over my heart. “I’ll pretend I never heard it. Besides, who would I tell that would believe such a thing?”
And speaking of food, Cordie’s stomach gives a low rumble. I raise a brow in question.
“I may not be a chef or, well, even a decent cook, but I can ring up a mean order of Thai, Chinese, or pizza. What do you say?”
“Pizza please.” She kicks off the ground, lifting her swing into the air.
“Right, I’ll call your dad first and then we’ll get the pizza.” I pull my phone from my pocket. The sitter is still sitting away and has yet to check on Cordie. I call Stacy but it goes straight to voice mail so I click on the message icon. I smile at Cordie.
Call me. It’s about Cordie and this bloody shite of a sitter you’ve hired.
In seconds my phone rings.
“Stacy.” It comes out hard, bitter.
“Is Cordie okay?” He sounds as if he’s trying not to panic and keep his voice low at the same time.
“She’s fine, but your sitter has pocketed the pizza money and took Cordie to the park where she spent the last twenty minutes on her phone completely ignoring her.”
“I’m coming home right now,” he says.
I turn to Cordie and give her a smile; the sitter has yet to disconnect her call but is standing closer to us.
“Don’t come home. Let me take Cordie. You should stay and enjoy your date.” It pains me to say it. Deep guttural pain, and I hope it causes him indigestion at the very least.
The pause is long. Through the phone, I can hear the murmur of other diners in the background. Though I can’t see him, my mind’s eye knows he’s struggling to find the words and I can see his mouth working with nothing coming out.
“Ah, Jayne about—”
“Stacy, I’m going to pay your sitter. Then I’m going to take your daughter to my house and we’re going to eat cupcakes whilst we wait for pizza to be delivered. Enjoy your night and pick her up at my place when it’s over.” If he was my friend, one that I wanted to find endless happiness, I would offer to keep Cordie so he can stay out for the night. I have no intention to offer that to him.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“I’ll see you when your date’s over.” I disconnect the call and walk over to Cordie.
“How much did your dad leave for the pizza?” I whisper.
“Thirty dollars.”
“What time did she come over?”
“About five. Am I coming with you?” She stands and starts to follow me as I walk toward the sitter.
“Yes, love. You are most definitely coming with me.” I march over to the sitter, who has the audacity to still be on the phone. I swipe it from her hand.
“When you are being paid to care for someone else, whether it be a child, a dog, or someone else’s elderly granny, your job is to pay attention to that charge.” I don’t bother waiting for a response; instead I disconnect her call then swipe through her contacts list until I find the word Mom. “You drive here?” I ask her.
“Yes, ma’am.” She’s gone pale but I don’t feel sorry for her. Not in the least bit. I’m about to make her a more aware teen.
“You live at home with your—”
“Mom and Dad. Listen, I was only—”
I press the call button and put her phone to my ear. When a woman, this teen’s mother, answers, I tell her the story. She thanks me and after I disconnect, I give the teen her phone back. “Your mother wants you to come straight home.”
The girl retrieves her handbag from Stacy’s and is pulling out of the car park before we’ve made it to my front door.
“You’re badass,” Cordie says.
“Thanks, but I’m not sure if you should be using that word.” I call my local pizzeria, where I place my standard order for a mushroom and pea pizza for me and cheese for Cordie.
Chapter 32
We’ve eaten an obscene amount, including two cupcakes and more fortune cookies. And there is no plan to cease anytime soon.
Mine reads: You have many talents left to explore.
Cordie’s: You will find a thing. It may be important.
“That’s a stupid one,” she says.
“I agree. Open another.” We’re lying on opposite ends of my couch watching some show about a high school spy. “I’m not sure I like t
his show. It sets unrealistic standards for girls. Not everyone can be a spy, good student, master in black belt, wear cute clothes, and have great hair like that,” I say.
“It’s fiction.” She rolls her eyes. “My teacher says with fiction you suspend your reality.”
Like I had with Stacy, pretending this moment might not happen.
There’s an ache in my chest so painful I consider seeing Dad’s cardiologist. But I know this is not from any medical condition. Unless one counts stupidity. Isn’t this what I was trying to avoid all along? This pain makes even my bones hurt. I suppose the one silver lining is that we didn’t take it further.
Just thinking about coming out to our friends, letting them see us together, only to have him go on a date with this Jill is what I focus on. It fuels my anger and tamps back the weak and weepy Jayne.
“Does that gifted program not teach you important things like history and social studies? Seems like you’ve learned to be a smart arse.”
She laughs and sticks her hand in the fortune cookie box but a quick, loud rapping on my front door has us both sitting up, Cordie clutching the box to her chest. “That scared me.”
I give the obligatory glance through the peephole but I already know who it is. I swing open the door to Stacy and my heart weeps. Yet, my brain tells me to kick him in the shin. How dare he go on a date? Also, for the love of the Queen, in an outfit that I picked out for him. It’s a double betrayal.
“Enjoy your date?” I ask, not allowing him passage.
“I was in Orlando when you called. I left as soon as we hung up.”
“Mm. And where did you pick up that nightmare of a sitter? Off the road? At a store? Did you even know her?” For more proof that he is not welcome, I extend my arm across the doorway and block the gap.
“Online.” He ducks his head briefly.
“On-bloody-line you say? All these people you know and no one can watch Cordie? I don’t recall you asking me. Instead you go online.” Ha, do the math on that one, genius.
He presses his lips together before saying, “And how would that have gone over, Jayne? Me asking you to watch my daughter while I meet up with an old friend?”
He’s got me there. “We’ll never know, will we? Because not only did you not ask but you didn’t have the balls to tell me you were going on a date.”
In one swift motion he pulls me out the door, says, “We’ll be out here, Cords,” and closes the door behind me. “First, I was not on a date. I was seeing an old friend—”
“Yes, Jill of the let’s-get-married group of old friends you keep.” I cross my arms over my chest and notice a pizza sauce stain over my right boob.
“Yes, Jill. I don’t know what you think you know or what Cordie told you but it wasn’t a date. She happens to be in Orlando—”
“And you happen to be out with her.”
“It’s not like you and I have gone on a date. We just meet up for sex and occasional takeout.” He crosses his arms over his chest and I try desperately not to stare at the bulging biceps. Even angry he makes me hot.
“In what world does a man not like those arrangements? I thought I was giving you every man’s dream.”
“In this world, mine.” He circles with one hand the space around us. “I was hoping you’d see that we were pretty good together and—miraculously—Cordie wasn’t suffering for it. But you’re so stubborn and shortsighted you can’t see what’s in front of you.” He turns away, his arms going from his chest to his hips.
I look at this moment with two opportunities before me. I could confess that I fantasize about ending my days with him. That I find comfort in his arms; in a bottle of wine, takeaway, and occasionally an entire giant-size Toblerone. In that order. And when I picture myself there with him, I also picture Cordie.
Or I could preserve what’s left of my wounded heart. This will take time to get over but it won’t destroy me. I’ll still be able to function and breathe.
I envision what both those lives might look like.
Fear wins every time. There’s no chance in hell I’m going to give more than I have.
“So this date was to prove something to me?” I force my fear to convert to anger.
“I don’t get why you’re so mad.”
Because it’s a way to disguise my heartbreak, you dolt. Only I don’t say anything. I cross my arms and wait him out.
“Jill came to town for an interview. She called and asked if we could meet and—”
“Off you went. In such a hurry you look online for a sitter. Not your finest moment.” I like to make my wounds deep. It’s petty, I know. I hate myself for it, but it’s what needs to happen between us to make this a clean break.
“In my defense, it’s a vetted and well-established childcare site. These people come with references.”
I scratch my nose. “And they pocket your pizza money and ignore your child. What were you thinking? It’s not like you.”
He tucks his hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t. Jill suggested it.”
“Oh, she sounds lovely.” This time my anger isn’t forced.
“It’s not my finest moment. But jeez, Jayne. I don’t know if I’m coming or going anymore. With you I’m walking a thin line. I can’t push you too far, too fast, or you’ll run off like that weird cat you feed.” For the first time he looks me in the eyes and I look away.
Did he just call me weird? This night just keeps getting better.
“Jill and I broke up because I caught her sleeping with her sous chef.”
I gasp.
“So when she called and asked to meet, I decided I wanted to put some things away permanently. It’s not the cheating that really pissed me off, it was how easily she walked away from Cordie.”
A high-end SUV pulls into the car park closer to Stacy’s house.
“Shit,” he mumbles and shifts on his feet. “I didn’t ask her to follow me. I thought she was staying behind.”
A petite woman gets out. She’s Pippa’s size. Precisely. Height and build. I could break her over my knee she’s that tiny.
And she’s perfect. She’s wearing a high-end brand I use as a go-to for several of my clients because of how well made it is. She has long, dark hair that curls and bounces with perfection.
“Jill? I assume.”
The chestnut beauty spots Stacy and gives a hesitant wave.
He moves to my front door. “It comes down to this. I want to be with you. I want to see where it goes. You don’t want that. You want a quick fix. Something that doesn’t require a lot of energy. But I like energy, Jayne. I like putting work into something and seeing how great it turns out. Funny, you being a business owner and all, I thought you might like the same thing. I was wrong about a lot of things.” He pushes open my door and tells his daughter to head home. She comes out carrying my box of fortune cookies.
“Can I keep these, Jayne?” She looks at me hopefully.
“I don’t see why not. Save some for tomorrow though.” I fight back the rising panic, the knowing that everything has suddenly changed. The tight grip of grief wraps around my throat, making any further words impossible.
Cordie stops midstride and reverses her steps. “Yay, there’s Jill. Can’t I stay the night with Jayne?”
“She’s not staying.” He pushes her forward.
She clutches the box to her chest. “I’m not sharing any of my fortunes.”
“Night, Jayne. Thanks for keeping Cordie.” He steps past me but stops and turns half way. “It was good while it lasted. Thanks.”
If love rewards the brave, what does it do to the cowards?
Chapter 33
When one is about to actualize their dream, one should be crying tears of joy. Not sadness. Yet I can’t stem the flow and I’ve overstayed my welcome at this bank’s ladies loo. The same woman has come in twice under the ruse of refreshing her makeup and asked me both times if I am okay.
Sure. I’m fabu
lous. Isn’t that obvious? Can’t she tell by my tears? Thankfully, I wear mascara that flakes off in giant tarry black blobs; at least I have that going for me. No raccoon eyes for this savvy fashionista.
I pull in a heavy shaky breath and try to let it out smoothly.
I got this. Right? I do.
I’m about to sign the docs to take on a partner and with the same pen, in a moment later, sign the docs to buy the busted pipe building. The fast turnaround inspector I hired supplied a report that was encouraging with a reconstruction estimate slightly over what I had hoped. But in less than one hour I can have exactly what I’ve been working toward these last eight years. Well, almost exactly. I never imagined a partner. I never imagined it would be a project as large as this at a time when being away from home may not be the wisest of decisions.
“Jayne?” Davis raps on the door. He pushes it so a slender crack is present. “Are you okay?”
I stare at my owl-eyed expression. “I am. Just nervous.”
“We need to wrap this up. The loan manager has an appointment following ours.”
“Right. Give me three,” I say and push the length of my index fingers against the underbelly of my eyes. Moisture gathers and spills over.
“Sod it.” I pull more than a handful of tissues from the dispenser. So what if I cry my way through this experience? I won’t be seeing this loan officer again. If I don’t pull it together then they’ll invite me to leave and both opportunities will be lost.
I fling the door open and startle when I see Davis leaning against the wall.
“Let’s do this,” I say and nod toward the main lobby where my dreams await.
“Are you sure?” he says.
I nod, dab at my eyes then indicate for him to lead the way. Once we’re back up front I take a seat facing the loan officer. Davis’s investor has already been in to do her share of the paperwork; I just need to sign my life away.