by Cathryn Fox
“Daddy?”
Oh, boy. Cassie’s using her serious voice which means this conversation is about to take a turn. “What is it?” I ask as I soak the wash cloth and take it to her face.
“How come Rachel can’t be my mommy?”
How was that for a loaded question.
“You have a mommy,” I say, but deep down, I want the same thing my daughter wants. I just hope after I tell Rachel how I feel, she’ll want it all too.
“But I don’t know my mommy. Grandma said she was coming back, but she didn’t. Does mommy not like us, Daddy?”
“Mommy just had some things she needed to do.”
“Gina has a mommy and daddy.”
“I know she does.”
“I want that, Daddy. I want a Mommy and a Daddy.”
“I know you do, Cassie.” I grab one of her water rubber duckies and toss it in, then I make an engine sound as I race it through the bubbles. Cassie laughs.
“That’s not what a ducky sounds like,” she explains, her mood changing.
“Why don’t you show me then.”
She takes the duck and as she quacks, the front door bell rings. I check my watch. Who the hell could that be?
“I’ll get it,” Rachel calls out.
I crane my neck to hear who is at the door. While I’m curious, I’m not about to leave Cassie in the tub my herself. I hear muffled voices, then Rachel’s footsteps in the hall. Her eyes are wide, her skin pale when she enters the room.
I stand, my pulse jumping. “What’s going on?” She points toward the front door, her gaze hesitant as she looks from me to Cassie back to me. “Rachel?”
“You…ah…you have company.”
She doesn’t need to say more for me to know who’s at my door. I wipe my hand on the towel. “Would you mind getting Cassie out of the tub for me and take her to her room, please?”
“Okay.”
As Rachel tends to Cassie, I take a deep, fueling breath and step into the hall. I take in the slim figure at my doorway, long blond hair that is now cut short, and features that have hardened over time.
“Sarah,” I say as I close the distance. I look into her eyes, check her pupils.
“Hey Jay,” she whispers quietly, seductively, going from one foot to the other as she looks past my shoulders, but no fucking way am I letting her near Cassie until I get some answers. “You look good.”
I take in her sunken cheek bones, the way she’s nervously licking her lips. “Have you been by to see your parents?”
“Not yet.” She shuffles some more. “Can we talk?”
“I think that’s a good idea, but it will have to wait until I get Cassie to bed.”
Long lashes blink slowly over blue eyes. “Can I see her?”
“No,” I say flatly, as anger wells up inside me. My first priority is keeping Cassie safe and well-adjusted. If she thinks I’m just going to spring her one my little girl, she’s got another thing coming.
“I guess I screwed everything up,” she says and gives a nervous laugh as she finger-combs her hair. That’s when I notice the rings on her fingers.
I’m about to ask why the fuck she still has her wedding rings on, when Cassie calls out to me. “I’ll be right there, kiddo,” I say, and wave my hand for Sarah to take a seat in the living room. “I’ll put Cassie to sleep, then we’ll talk.”
She nods and gingerly lowers herself onto the sofa. As she takes in the room, Cassie’s toys on the floor, I hurry to my daughter, a million questions banging around my brain. Rachel has Cassie all tucked in, a book in her hand. She stands when I enter, her hands a bit shaky as she crosses her arm.
“Hey,” she says. “I should go.”
I grip my hair and tug. I don’t want her to go. We need to talk, but I also have to talk to Sarah. We have a lifetime of things to figure out.
She makes a move to go around me and I touch her arm to stop her. “I didn’t know she was going to show up, Rachel.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry about this.” She sniffs and averts my gaze. “Let me get things straightened out here, then I’ll call you, okay? We need to talk.”
“Okay,” she says, and turns to Cassie. “Bye, Cassie,” she says and disappears out the door.
Bye, Cassie.
Jesus fucking Christ, why would she say it like that—like she’s leaving here—us—for good.
17
Rachel
Numb.
That’s the only word I can use to describe what I’m feeling as I rush down the hall and out of Jaxon’s house, once and for all. In my haste, I fail to grab the mittens they made me, but maybe it’s better that I leave them behind. Wearing them would be a constant reminder of what I can’t have.
I try to sort things through, my thoughts still forming within the scrambling haze. One thing is for certain, I believe Jaxon had no idea his ‘wife’ was going to show up. There was a genuine honesty in his eyes, those concerned worry lines running long and deep, mirrored truth. But after I saw the wedding rings, my insecurities, threads from the past, cast doubts. Those rings threatened me, displaced me, told me Sarah was home to get her life and family back, and I would never have the chance to be in any of Cassie’s classroom pictures.
From the heated look in Sarah’s eyes, it was clear she was looking for a debate, one that said she belonged and I didn’t. Her expression held a challenge. Battle lines were being drawn in the sand. Instead of giving her what she wanted, I hid in the bathroom with Cassie while Jaxon and his wife faced off.
Tears fall and I fight the weight on my shoulders as I hike my backpack up and let myself into my sorority house—my real world. The girls call out to me from the kitchen, but I ignore them as I rush through the house. With dejection punching me in the chest, I’m in no state of mind to deal with their questions. I need to get to my room, get myself together. My eyes blur with tears as I take the stairs two at a time.
Jaxon is still married.
Fresh grief rides through my veins, flooding my body with turbulence and my legs threaten to give out. My damn heart pounds against my ribcage as I fish my bedroom key from my bag, but when I see a box sitting outside my door, I go still. Sylvie comes up the stairs, her footsteps slow and steady, and I wipe my face with the back of my hand. I don’t want her to see me crying. I don’t want to answer questions, or admit that I’d been a fool. Jaxon and I had been playing house. Nothing else.
“Hey Rachel, you okay?”
I unlock my door, and pick up the box. Trying my best to act casual, and pretend that my heart hasn’t been shred to pieces—with a cheese grader. “How long has this been here?”
“A week I think.”
I keep my back to Sylvie and check the big box for a return address. “Who is it from?”
“I don’t know. Some old dude dressed in a suit delivered it here.”
What the hell? “It didn’t come from a courier?”
“No, he was driving a Buick or something. Why, what’s is it?”
“Did he say who this was from?”
“Didn’t ask.” I turn to her, and she takes a step toward me. “Jesus, Rachel, what’s going on? Are you okay, you look like you’ve been crying?”
“I’m fine,” I lie and hurry inside my room, shutting the door tightly behind me.
I drop the box on my bed and go to my window. I look across to Jaxon’s house but his bedroom is dark. Sarah’s car is still sitting in the driveway.
Jaxon is still married.
Nausea wells up inside me to think all this time Jaxon has been married. But I should have known, right? He said she took off without looking back. How could I ever have thought they’d gotten a divorce? God, I am so much like those women my father used to whore around with. Cassie is going to hate me as much as I hated them.
I swallow, my throat so tight, it’s almost impossible to breathe.
An anxious ball lodges in my gut as another thought hits. Is this what Jaxon wanted to talk to me about? That once Sarah retu
rned home, they’d be getting back together—because they were still married? He kept talking about timing. He might not have known she’d show up at his door, but did he know she was home, and that they would be getting the tree tomorrow? Was that why he wanted to celebrate my birthday early? So I could be gone before Sarah moved back in, and they could go tree hunting as a family. A real one. Not the one I was pretending was mine.
He was never yours.
As anxiety threatens to overwhelm me, I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. That’s when my thoughts take a resounding halt, and slowly begins to back up, change paths—a train reversing the engine with a screech roar and hopping on to another rail.
As I consider everything we’ve been through, from our first meeting to the knitting, baking my favorite cookies, making my favorite meal, my convictions waver. I think back to the man Jaxon is. A great father, lover, friend. A man with more integrity in his pinky than my father…my ex.
Jaxon is a good man.
As I reflect on that, I glance around the room, my eyes refocusing, losing the blurry haze. Up until tonight, things had been so good between us. Has it really changed, or is it just past experiences coloring my view? My heart leaps, and tendrils of hope seep through my veins, pushing back all negative thoughts, refusing to let me think the worst of him.
The truth is, would a man pining for his ‘wife’, a man I’m in love with, touch me with such tender care, drive me to school every day to ensure I’m warm and safe? His actions speak volumes of his character—show the real man behind the tough exterior. I think about that for a fleeting second, which stretches, expands, fills my thoughts with positive things, like how he took me to meet his friends. Would he do that if this was sex only, if he weren’t falling for me the same way I was falling for him?
My heart beats harder, racing into my throat. Maybe tonight’s talk wasn’t about letting me down easily, and more about celebrating my birthday early, and opening up about how we felt, so we could all go pick out a tree as a family. A rush of optimism slams through me.
I think back to what he once said about Sarah. She has a way of saying things to get what she wants. Was that why she flashed her ring? She came back home after she found out about me, which makes me think of that old saying: She might not want him, but she doesn’t want anyone else to have him. Was this the case with her? She had no worries about Jaxon until her friend said he was with me. I take a long time to mull that over and while it’s so easy to let past mistakes influence me, doubt leaves my brain. A new kind of anxiety takes hold, one that is yelling at me to go back over there and stand united with the man I love. I need to let him know I’m with him for the good times and the bad.
My phone pings and my heart soars when I see a text from the man occupying my thoughts.
Rach, I’m sorry.
Wait, what? He’s sorry? What is he sorry for? Even after my epiphany, old worries creep back in.
I didn’t know she was back, or that she’d show up here out of the blue.
I relax, all the love I feel for the hot daddy next door flooding me.
I know.
Why did you leave?
I want to go over there more than anything, I really do. But I’m an adult, confident in my feelings for the man next door, and confident in his for me, so I text back. To give you two time to talk.
Yeah, I guess we need to.
Is she still there?
In the bathroom. We have a lot to talk about.
I understand.
You and I do, too. Come home after Sarah leaves, okay. I don’t care what time it is. I’ll be waiting up for you. I need to see you, Rach.
My heat swells. Sara’s not staying and he needs to see me.
I type in I love you, take a deep breath, then delete it. I don’t want the first time he hears that from me to be through text. I change the text to, Okay.
I read his text again and then close my eyes, pressing my phone to my chest as if it will bring Jaxon closer to me. Warmth seeps through me and pushes the chill of anxiety away. I open my eyes again and see the box on my bed. I had totally forgotten about it in my angst over Sara.
I toss my phone onto my nightstand and tear into the box. But as soon as I see the contents, I know Jaxon will never, ever in this lifetime, hear those three little words, I love you, from me.
18
Jaxon
Jaxon
“Hey Cassie, why don’t you open that one there,” I say and point to the big box under the Christmas tree. It’s taking everything inside me to keep a smile on my face, and make sure my daughter has the perfect Christmas morning.
“What is it, Daddy?” she asks her face beaming, but underneath our smiles we’re both hurting. After Rachel left us seventeen days ago, went back to her place, we never set eyes on her again. I thought she was going to come over after Sarah and I had a talk, but when I texted her and didn’t get an answer, I checked the driveway to find her car gone. I went over, and asked her roommates where she’d gone, only to be told she’d received a big package and then upped and left.
Who was the package from and where the fuck did she go?
Did she think Sarah and I were getting back together? I’d gotten the sense that she knew different, which has left me wracking my brain to figure this shit out.
You weren’t enough for her, Jaxon.
Fuck man, could that have been it? Could she have cut out of here because she was done with us and didn’t know how to tell us. I’m driving myself crazy trying to figure this out, and why the hell isn’t she answering any of my texts?
“Daddy, it’s a dolly,” Cassie says and I blink to get myself back in the present. But my daughter is a smart one. She sets the doll down, comes over to me and puts her hands on my cheek. “Daddy, do you miss Rachel?”
How the hell do I answer that?
I swallow, wanting to lie for her sake, but I swore I’d always to be honest with my child—with everyone. “Yeah, kiddo, I do.”
“I do too.” Her hands fall from my face. “When is she coming back?”
“I’m not sure.”
She looks down, so goddamn sad, my already broken heart cracks a little more. I never thought Rachel would up and leave like Sarah did. I’m angry about that, angry that she would hurt Cassie. Hurt me.
“I’m glad she’s not my mommy,” she says and it takes everything in me not to fucking sob.
“Hey why don’t you see what’s in that package. It’s a special one from me.”
As I distract Cassie, a knock comes on my door and my heart leaps with hope. “You open that and I’ll be right back.” I push off the couch I hurry to the door, but when I open it, it’s Judy and Karl on my stoop. I catch the worried look on their faces and exhale a sharps breath.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Have you seen Sarah?” Judy asks, and toys with the pearls around her neck—a nervous tick. “Is she here?”
“No,” I say. After that first night, I refused to let Sarah back in my home until she could prove she was clean and sober for the next few months. I had to make sure she was on the straight and narrow before I let her see Cassie. She had to prove herself to us.
“She left last night, said she was coming here,” Karl informs me.
I shake my head. Here we fucking go again. “She’s not here.”
“Who is Cassie talking to?” Judy asks. What, does she think I’m fucking lying to her?
“It’s a new interactive game I got her for Christmas.”
Judy makes a face, like she’d just sucked on something sour. “Oh, I thought it was that girl.”
I crack my neck, bite back a sharp response. “That girl, as in Rachel?”
“Yes.”
“We haven’t seen her since Sarah’s been back,” I say
“It’s for the best.” Judy leans in and almost hisses, “She’s trouble, Jaxon.”
Her insulting works get my back up. On the defense, I ask. “What make you say that?”
I don’t miss the nervous glance Judy casts Karl’s way, or the way Karl is tugging on his collar like his shirt just shrank two sizes.
What the fuck have they done?
“What?” I ask through clenched teeth, my fingers clenching and unclenching at my side.
“Well, Karl took it upon himself to check into her background. You never can be too sure about anyone these days.”
Motherfucker.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to keep my shit together. “What did you do?”
“Karl hired a private detective. He’s been following Rachel, and dug up information on her. He even paid a visit to her old boyfriend in New York. The man was charged with assault, you know. Not the kind of people we want in Cassie’s life, Jaxon.”
For one brief second I’m frozen with shock, my words lodged into my throat. Cassie’s voice in the background pulls me back. “Oh, my fuck, no. You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t,” I say my voice rising, bordering on panic.
“This ex said he’d been trying to find Rachel. To return her belongings,” Karl explain, oblivious to what he’s done, the danger he put Rachel in.
I grip the doorframe as rage prowls through me. “Tell me your detective wasn’t stupid enough to give an address.”
“No, no of course not,” Judy says waving a dismissive hand. “He said he’d deliver them to her himself.”
Fear trickles down my spine. “What did he deliver?”
“I don’t know. A box of something I guess.”
The box.
Jesus, fuck.
An all-consuming need to bolt from my house and find Rachel pulls at me. I try to calm myself. I can’t think clearly when I’m upset. “When did this happen?”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters, okay,” I practically shout.
“He went to New York before Sarah came home. Why are you so upset? None of this matters now.”
Panic curls through my blood. “Oh, it matters.”
“Sarah is home and Cassie has her rightful mother back.”
