“Well.” Priya stands. “I’m satisfied you understand what happened here today. Haven’s a very lucky girl. The outcome could have been much worse.” She stuffs her papers into her bag and then hesitates. “I wish you both a lot of luck sorting out your sister, Mr. Burgess. Seems like you’ve turned your life around.”
His grin is grave and bashful, as though her compliment means something. “Thank you, Priya. It’s been a pleasure talking to someone who understands the struggles and the path to wellness.”
Yeah, ’cause it’s such a pleasure to be on the cusp of being called a bad parent. Probably better he did most of the talking in the last half hour. I may have gotten surly.
When she swishes out the door, Wyatt embraces me, and my cheek rests on his chest. “Let’s go see Haven.”
“Thank you.” I stare up at him.
“Christ, Ellie. You don’t have to thank me. I’m the reason we’re here.”
“You’re not. I understand why you think that, but you’re not. We have to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. To any of the kids.”
He steps away from me and thrusts his hands in his pockets. The gum rattles around. He’s focused on something over my head, not meeting my eyes. “Are you sure about me, about us? I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve changed your mind.”
“Wyatt, I’m pregnant with your baby.” Although he doesn’t say it, our past hangs in the air between us. Being pregnant didn’t stop me the last time.
“No. I want to be with you. I want us to be a family.” Tears pool, blurring my vision. He tugs me to him again. “But I need us all to be safe.”
“Tell me what you want me to do, Ellie, and I’ll do it.”
And so I do.
Chapter Forty-Three
Wyatt
Present Day
The crew brought us a round table and put it in Ellie’s trailer. It’s a tight squeeze. Ellie or her manager should have insisted on a bigger trailer in her contract. God knows they would have given it.
The table set-up won’t satisfy Camila. Cramped. Too tight. When the arrangement spells conflict, conflict comes. Wouldn’t matter how spacious we made Ellie’s trailer. Conflict is coming.
My focus strays to the spot where Haven’s tiny body lay, half dead. Over and over, the scene flashes in my memory. Facing Anna in here isn’t going to be fun, but being here is a good reminder of what’s at stake.
No kids are allowed in Ellie’s trailer because the powdered fentanyl Anna’s been peddling could be anywhere. Camila had a cleaning crew scrub everything from top to bottom while we were at the hospital, but I’m not taking any chances.
The asshole in me wants to finish this conversation quickly. I’ll say whatever the hell I want to say—no more holding back. Her addiction almost killed my daughter. But the brother in me worries this might be the last conversation I have with my sister. Anna came out of the womb a fiery, directionless mess. Even still, I love her. We’ve had each other’s backs, one way or another, for a long time now.
I text Camila to say that everything is set, and then I take a seat at the back of the round table. From here, I can see the door, but when Camila and Anna get here, it’ll make storming out in a rage impossible. That may be for the best, depending on what Anna says. Seeing this conversation through is the only way I get the future I want, and the one Jamal deserves.
Camila knocks and then enters without waiting for a reply. Anna follows. They take off their winter gear before joining me at the table. My hands are clasped in front of me. They’re at war over whether to strangle Anna or hug her.
My sister quakes as though she can’t control her own body, and she pulls the sleeves of her shirt over her fingertips. Perched on a chair, she’s ready to dart away at any moment.
“I’m so sorry,” Anna whispers. “Can I—I want to talk to Ellie too. I need to tell her how sorry I am.”
With my jaw clenched, I stare at my clasped hands. A “sorry” isn’t going to cut it this time. There aren’t enough words in the world to balance out what happened to Haven.
“Wyatt, do you need a minute?” Camila asks.
“I’m not playing around anymore, Anna.” With a last squeeze of my hands, I release them.
“Never thought you were playing before.” She sneaks a sideways glance at me.
“Really?” My anger is barely in check. “Come on. For three years now, we’ve been doing this dance. You screw up, and I clean up the mess.”
“I don’t do it on purpose,” Anna says.
I bob my head in agreement. Spoken like an addict. The language is one I understand. “I think part of you didn’t believe you needed to get clean once you came to live with me. I got clean enough for the both of us.”
Anna breaks our eye contact and tugs on the sleeves of her shirt again.
“Anna,” Camila prompts.
“Jamal was safe with you.”
“Was he safe with you?”
“What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you I’m a shitty mom? Is that what you want to hear?”
Ah, there it is. That’s the Anna I’ve been expecting. Her words are blistering with fire.
“Anna,” Camila says again.
“What? He can speak to me however he wants, but I can’t say anything back?”
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s exactly what’s happening today. I’m not pussyfooting around you anymore. You—your addiction, your irresponsibility—almost got my daughter killed.”
“I didn’t mean for Haven to get hurt. It was an accident.”
“It’s always an accident with you, isn’t it? You’re never to blame for anything.”
“Wyatt,” Camila breathes out my name in a rush.
This conversation could so easily spiral out of control. Other times we’ve talked, I avoided anything confrontational. Pissing Anna off wasn’t worth the consequences. I wanted Anna to stay. Jamal needed to live with me, and I couldn’t take over full-time custody. He needed a mother, even if she wasn’t a good one. The situation and my life are different now with Ellie, Haven, and the baby. For the first time, I can offer him the stability Anna can’t.
“Look.” Camila holds up her hands. “You both need to calm down. Wyatt, you mentioned you had a plan.”
“I do,” I say.
“A plan,” Anna scoffs. “As if I don’t understand what that is. You can’t have him. I’ll fight to the death for Jamal. To my death.”
“At this point, I have to do what’s right for my family and what’s right for Jamal. I’m going to make you an offer. If you ask me, it’s pretty fucking generous considering what happened. You can thank Ellie for it later. It’s more than I would have offered without her input.”
Camila places her hand on mine. She takes one of Anna’s too, stilling her jiggling motion.
“Anna,” Camila says. “Are you ready to listen?”
Anna glares at her and then turns her stare on me. “You can’t have him. I don’t care what you offer me.”
A humorless chuckle escapes me. “It’ll be the difference between staying in his life and not being there at all. It should be an easy choice.”
She tries to pull her hand out from Camila’s grasp but can’t manage it without throwing a fit. Pursing her lips, she rolls her eyes.
“Go ahead, Wyatt,” Camila says.
“Ellie and I are taking Jamal to Bermuda with us when filming is over.”
Anna opens her mouth to protest, but Camila shoots her a look. “Listen to him,” she says.
“Ellie would like you to come too. We think it would be good for you to get away from the negative influences you’ve had in LA. We’ll get you a house or apartment within walking distance of us.”
“You want me to go to the island?” Anna’s eyes narrow.
“That’s what I said.”
“I’ll live there with Jamal?”
“That’s not quite what I said.” I hold up a han
d. “Jamal will live with us. You’ll be able to visit him whenever you want, as long as you’re clean and sober. No drugs in our house, ever. The kids are not able to visit you at your house, ever. Ellie’s mother is starting a new treatment center. You’ll go there until you’re dried out. Clean and sober. You’ll go there every time you relapse—without question or complaint.”
“Treatment plans don’t work.” Anna shakes her head.
“They don’t when you keep giving up, that’s true.” I shrug. “I’m proof they can work.”
“That was with Camila, though—”
“And clearly her methods haven’t been successful for you. So what worked for me isn’t going to work for you. Instead of ignoring the problem, we’ll have to try something else.” I take a deep breath. “I’m not giving up on you, Anna.” Taking her hand from Camila’s, I clasp both of Anna’s hands in mine. “I’m not giving up on you.” The brother in me is straining at the seams to save her.
“I don’t think I’m worth saving,” she whispers. “You’re wasting your time. Everyone would be better off.” There are tears in her eyes.
“Never.” Standing up, I yank her into a hug, and I squeeze her tight. “Never. I’m never giving up on you. We’re not better off without you. Jamal should know you, the real you.” My voice is gruff when I say, “I love you, Anna. You’re my sister. But I’m not propping you up anymore. I’m going to push you to get better. You’re gonna hate me sometimes. We’ll probably say terrible things to each other because I’m not backing off this time. Jamal deserves to have you, the best you, in his life, however long that takes.”
“I don’t want to lose my son.” Anna sobs into my chest. “I can’t lose him.”
“You don’t have to. We’re not taking him. We’ll look after him, give him stability, love him. When you’re ready, when you’re healthy, and you’re good for him, he can come home to you.”
She sobs into my chest, and I hold her tight. My heart aches. Three years ago, when she turned up with Jamal on my doorstep with Tanvi, I wasn’t any better than her. We were lucky Jamal never bothered with our drugs. It helped that by the time he was walking, I decided one of us had to be clean and sober. Anna couldn’t hold it together, so I had to.
“I’m not sure I can do this.” Her words are garbled.
“One day at a time,” I murmur into her hair. “We’re all just going to take it one day at a time.”
“I think this is a good direction, Anna.” Over my sister’s head, Camila winks at me. “It’s a fresh start in a new place.”
Anna sniffs and wipes her nose with the heel of her hand as she steps back from me. I pass her the tissue box off the table.
“Ellie hates me,” Anna says. “I know she does.”
Ellie doesn’t like Anna when she’s been using, but I don’t think Ellie has ever met sober Anna. “When you let the person I know you can be shine through, she’ll love you too. I know she will.”
“Why would Ellie agree to this? You’d have done anything to keep her and to keep your family.”
I sink back into my chair, and Anna does the same. “She loves me, Anna, and I love you,” I say in a rusty voice. Saying those words out loud to someone else is cathartic somehow, like they’re finally true. “She understands what it’s like to be a mom, to love a child. She doesn’t want to take that from you.”
“I’m not a good mom.” Her voice catches, and another sob threatens to escape. “But I do love him. I really do.”
“I know you do. I never doubted that.” I touch her shoulder.
Doubt isn’t the right word for how I’ve felt watching her let Jamal down over and over. I wanted her love to be greater than her cravings, but she could never seem to get there.
“You’re going with Camila to LA to pack up. Camila will escort you to Bermuda, where Evelyn, Ellie’s mother, will be waiting. Together, you’ll go to the treatment center, and you’ll check yourself in. Once the movie finishes filming, we’ll head back and have a place waiting for you to move into once you’re released. Ellie and I are taking some time off work. We’re sticking close to home. Help you. Get Jamal settled.” A small smile escapes me. “Have the baby.”
“You’re happy.” She scans my face and twists the tissue in her hand.
“I had a lot of regrets for a lot of years.” I lean back in my chair, calm washing over me. “Never thought I’d get here—with Ellie, with kids, with everything somehow falling into place. So yeah, I’m going to soak in my stroke of luck. I’m going to let myself be happy. ’Cause not every day is going to be great. But right now, in this moment, I can’t imagine wanting anything more than what I’ve got.”
“I hope I can get better, see this through, stop feeling like I’m chasing happiness.” Anna’s voice is quiet, and she stares at the tissue she’s holding.
Without an ounce of hesitation, I loop my arm around her shoulders. “We’ll do everything we can to get you there. I promise,” I whisper.
Epilogue
Ellie
Two years later
I click the trigger on the lighter again and try to keep the flame going long enough to light the candles on the cake. Haven and Jamal helped me bake and decorate it while the baby napped. A surprise for Wyatt, but we didn’t quite get the mess cleaned up before he got home from his volunteer shift at the rehab clinic.
Finally, the last candle is lit, and I pick up the cake to carry it into the dining room. When I come through the door, Haven starts up the “Happy Birthday” song with Anna, Jamal, my parents, and Nikki. Wyatt’s broad grin matches that of our baby, Cooper Isaac, who is perched in the high chair beside him.
My heart overflows. Cooper’s little voice carries a tune just as well as his father’s. We sing a lot in this house, and Cooper knows “Happy Birthday” by heart. We’ve gotten so lucky to create this life together.
Placing the cake in front of Wyatt, I lean over and whisper, “Happy birthday.” I press a kiss to his temple, and he tugs me into his lap, one arm wrapped around me as he blows out the candles.
Anna gazes at her son with adoration. She’s been clean for the last five months, and it’s the longest stretch we’ve had. I’m happy to admit Wyatt was right. Sober, clean Anna is a delight, much like her brother. There’s still fire in her, but she knows when to use it. The last five months have helped strengthen her relationship with Jamal too.
“This looks professional.” Wyatt nods at Jamal and Haven. “I’m impressed.”
“I know you could do better, Dad. Don’t patronize us,” Haven says. The joys of a twelve-year-old. There is no end.
“Just because I could do better doesn’t mean yours isn’t good,” Wyatt says.
“Okay, then.” I clap my hands and scramble out of his lap. “White or chocolate? We got fancy, and there are two cake flavors under there. Though I’m not sure which end is which, so that’ll be an adventure.”
My parents laugh, and Nikki shakes her head. While I’m getting plates and cutlery from the kitchen, Wyatt wanders in. His arms circle around my waist, and he draws me against him in a tight embrace. I’ll never complain about the expanse of his solid chest behind me. We’ve become a real team in a way we couldn’t be before. I don’t have to look after him—we take care of each other.
“Thank you,” he murmurs across the top of my head.
I stop what I’m doing and lean into him. There is so much joy in me, I could run a marathon or dance a jig in the middle of town. Not every day is this great, but the ones that are make all the hard days worth the turmoil we went through.
Turning in his arms, I tilt my head upward and our lips meet. He lifts me onto the counter in a fluid motion, as though I weigh nothing. A move familiar to us both from other moments, once we’re sure the kids are sleeping.
“Wyatt,” I say against his lips. “Anyone could walk in.”
“Let them. I’m enjoying my present.” He threads his hands through my hair and kisses me
again. “I missed you today.”
“You see me every day.” I give him another peck.
“Soon I won’t.” He reaches around me to gather the plates from the cupboard.
In ten days, I’m leaving for my first movie shoot since Cooper was born. Wyatt’s not sure when he wants to go back to work. Not until a script moves him enough that he needs to do it more than he needs to be with us, at least. I miss working, so the first half-decent script I read when I was ready got the green light from me.
“You’ll be okay with the kids by yourself?” We’ve had this discussion many times.
“How hard can it be?” Wyatt winks.
“I guess we’ll see.” I laugh.
“It might mean I have to come visit you a lot.” He helps me off the counter.
“Not going to complain about that.” I count the silverware and get a good knife to cut the cake. “But Tanvi’s coming to help you for, what, six weeks?”
“Yeah.” He squeezes my waist. “She can’t be away from her grandbabies for too long. You know what she’s like.”
Warmth spreads across my chest at the memory of introducing her to Haven. And when she found out we blessed Cooper with Isaac for his middle name, she bawled.
“So . . .” Wyatt taps his fingers on the counter. “Did you actually bake the cake?”
I give him a gentle shove and shoot him a glare of pretend annoyance. “It came from a mix in a box. How badly could we have screwed up?”
“Grin and bear it.” A playful smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Got it.”
Setting down the cutlery, I wrap my arms around Wyatt’s neck. “Wanna know what the secret ingredient is?” I purr into his ear.
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