That was sad consolation for having completely fucked up his life, but Mark went through the motions of ending the call before he called his uncle next.
“Mark! Not on duty today?” His uncle’s phone was crackly, like he was outside somewhere, probably playing golf as was his habit.
“I’m off,” Mark said curtly. “What the heck are you doing intervening in the guardianship case?”
“Now, Mark, let’s take a rational view. There is a lot of money at stake here. Our family’s money. And chances are the court will appoint you as guardian, but we can’t take any chances. That’s all. I’m just offering to step in if the court feels that your work schedule or whatnot is adverse to your case. Have you considered early retirement like I suggested in an email a few weeks back?”
“Not even for a second. I love my job. And I didn’t know I had a case until forty minutes ago. Isaiah is pissed, as he should be. This complicates—”
“Now, son, take a breath. I know Tom Yates suggested your current living arrangement. But that was before he had all the facts. I’ve had a full investigation done on James.”
“You did what?”
“Had my investigator look into him. We can’t be too safe with the kids. And it’s unsavory stuff. He’s gay, as I suspected, and promiscuous. Different man every weekend. Can’t keep a job. Dropped out of his degree program. Finances are dwindling. Of course he wants his hands on this money. But we can’t let that happen.”
“Isaiah’s not...unsavory. He’s a great guy.” But even as he said it, all Mark’s old fears about Isaiah came storming back. He had been really into the party scene before. And while Mark wouldn’t say promiscuous in the same disgusted tone as his uncle, it was true that prior to this, Isaiah had made no secret of getting around. Maybe Mark really couldn’t be everything he needed or wanted. Maybe a relationship between them was doomed...but he also couldn’t let his uncle talk badly about him either. “He’s starting a landscaping business. That’s why his finances are...in flux.”
“Yard work?” His uncle said with the tone of a guy who had never once pulled a weed. “All the more reason to do this, secure the children’s future. We can’t have someone like that managing the children’s money.”
“He’s incredible with the kids. You should see—”
“I have strong feelings about...people like him being around children.” His uncle made a scoffing noise. “It’s not right.”
Mark rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe there were still people out there who believed such nonsense. “You’re wrong—”
“And you always were more liberal, like your mother. If you want him around them, supervised preferably, then that’s up to you once you have custody. Let him visit or even help you with childcare if you don’t think it’s a gamble—”
“The kids love him. It’s not a gamble. He’s been the only thing holding everything together here—”
“A good nanny could do the same.” Mark could practically hear his uncle shaking his head. “You’ll manage just fine. And I told you, the baby could go—”
“No.” Mark seriously couldn’t imagine his life without Liam in it, without getting to carry him around and make silly faces for and rock to sleep. “I’m keeping this family together.”
“Fine, fine. But so am I,” his uncle said, tone ominous. “Your great-grandfather did not make his fortune for some interloper to walk away with a big chunk. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a tee time about to start.”
“Fine.” Mark hung up and tossed his phone to the passenger seat. Fuck. Things were a mess. And now he had to go talk with Isaiah, who was probably murderous by this point. He pulled out of the school parking lot, heading home with his adrenaline pounding, just like it did before a mission. Sure enough when he got to the house, Isaiah had Liam in his car seat and a diaper bag by the patio door. Liam was snoozing. Man, Mark envied him his nap. He wouldn’t mind zoning out of this confrontation himself.
“Took you long enough,” Isaiah said by way of greeting. He was in the kitchen, doing something in the fridge. He’d changed into the same dress pants and shirt he’d worn to the initial lawyer’s meeting.
“And I told you not to leave. Said I’d be back.” Mark paced in front of the island. “I had to call my lawyer. And my uncle.”
“Funny. I’m on my way to my lawyer to talk about you. And your uncle.” Isaiah shut the fridge but didn’t even glance Mark’s way.
“This doesn’t have to change anything.” Mark wished Isaiah would at least look at him.
“How do you figure that? You want to take the kids from me! How does that not change everything?”
“No, it’s not like that at all. See I was doing it for us. For you. After what happened at the hospital, I wanted to make sure that no one could ever question our right to the kids again. I figured if the court gave me custody, either financial or physical or both, I could at least make sure that you’d always have access to the kids, always have a place in their lives, make sure that no one could take that away.”
“Because you figured my case was doomed.” Isaiah shook his head, shoulders slumping. “You didn’t want me named guardian. Figured you couldn’t trust me, but sure you’d dole out visitation—”
“It wouldn’t have to be like that. The lawyer said we could even keep cohabitating if we want, you doing everything you’ve been doing—”
“Cohabitating.” Isaiah made the word sound far uglier than either the lawyer or his uncle had. “Is that what we’ve been doing? Really?”
“Well, no, but we don’t have to tell the court about that.” What they did in private was their own business, the way Mark figured it. And if his uncle was going to get up a head of steam about Isaiah, it was probably better that he stay quiet longer about their personal relationship. “But we could live together. In the best interests of the kids—”
“Oh, sure, for the kids.” Isaiah made a frustrated gesture. “Not about what’s best for me. Or you for that matter.”
“I figured you’d want to be around the kids, in whatever capacity—”
“Can you listen to yourself? Just listen. You. Didn’t. Want. It. To. Be. Me.” He put emphasis on each word, finally staring at Mark, death rays for eyes. “You thought I was too young. Too untrustworthy. Too flighty. And apparently nothing in the last weeks changed that for you? Nothing made you believe in me or my case? You were just pretending, biding your time?”
“Everything changed. I don’t see you like that. Not now.” Mark couldn’t tell if the words were even reaching Isaiah’s ears. “I don’t. But I couldn’t be sure the court would see it your way. I had to protect—”
“You had to protect me?” Isaiah’s eyes went wide.
“Yes.” Now they were getting somewhere. “Exactly. I wanted to protect you so no one could keep you from the kids—”
“Did it ever occur to you, even for say, a millisecond, that I might not need or want your protection? That I’m an adult? Your equal? I’m not a fourth kid, Mark.”
“I know that—”
“No, I don’t think you do. And you don’t get to pull this protector crap with me. You don’t get to lie and keep secrets and interfere with my freaking future just because you’ve decided what’s best. Without consulting me. I demand—deserve—a hell of a lot more respect than that.”
“I do respect you. I was just trying to do the right thing—”
“Well, congrats, you failed miserably on both counts.” Isaiah strode away from Mark, over to the patio doors. “And now, I get to try to fix your mess. I hope to God my lawyer has better answers for me than you. Because you know what? If you really trust me, respect me, value me, you’ll drop this, have your lawyer withdraw—”
“I can’t do that.” Mark followed him, desperate to make him understand. If it was just him, he would do whatever Isaiah wanted, but Isaiah was wr
ong on one thing—it was Mark’s job to protect Isaiah. And that included from Mark’s family. His uncle’s harsh words still rang his ears. “My uncle—”
“Save it.” Isaiah scooped up the diaper bag and baby car seat.
“Can’t we talk this out?” The situation had rapidly spiraled out of control, a mission gone completely FUBAR. And now he was left jogging after Isaiah.
“No.” Isaiah stopped at his car, turned back toward Mark. “I’m going to meet with my lawyer. That’s all the talk I want today.”
“Are you...are you coming back?” Mark could barely force the words out. He wanted to pull Isaiah to him, never let him go.
Isaiah made a frustrated noise. “Later. Because you have duty tomorrow. All this week. And no nanny. Because you do have me. I just wish you’d seen that. You need me. So, yeah, I’ll be here. With the kids. For the kids. I’m not some drama prince, gonna rip them from their home just because I am pissed as all get out at you. So I’m here until I can make a good, safe plan for them. The kind the court is gonna want to see. Because I am winning my case.”
Mark hated every word of Isaiah’s speech. Because it was true. He had no backup plan for the kids if Isaiah bailed. He had to be at the base tomorrow. He did need Isaiah. The kids needed Isaiah. And what was so awful about trying to protect that? He couldn’t risk his uncle destroying everything Isaiah brought to their lives.
Chapter Twenty
Isaiah’s lawyer was a pleasant woman in her forties who was active in the San Diego LGBTQ community and represented many same-sex couples for adoptions and the like. She’d cleared her schedule for the emergency meeting with him and was doing her best to talk him off the ledge.
“The fact that you’re out isn’t going to tank your case with the court. But the finances and living arrangement remain problematic.” She sighed, drumming her magenta nails against the conference table. It was a cheery office, lots of bright prints on the office for Liam to look at from his perch on Isaiah’s lap, but Isaiah couldn’t help the feeling of dread descending over him.
“So you’re saying I need a place for us prior to the court investigator meeting.”
“Ideally, yes. Can you get on that, update me later in the week what your status is? And in the meantime, let’s work on getting you a stack of references—that’ll help too. Get the relatives on your side of the family to write in support of you. But friends and past employers could count too. Anything that shows your maturity, stability, and suitability.”
I’m not sure I have maturity and stability. But he was determined to try, so he just nodded. “What about Cal’s will? Shouldn’t that count?”
“The court will look at it, of course. But the fact that his wife had a different one will also be in play here. Ultimately, it’s going to come down to what the court believes is in the best interests of the kids. And I’m going to argue passionately that that’s you, but you’ve got to be prepared for the fact that they’ll probably refer this to mediation, try to come up with a compromise. Do you think Chief Whitley will be amenable to that?”
Who the fuck knows?
“I’m not sure I’m interested in compromise.” Not after that morning at least. The last thing he wanted to do was give Mark any ground.
“And I’m not sure we’re going to have a choice,” she said, gentle but firm. “Prepare yourself for that, okay?”
That was the last thing Isaiah wanted to do. And preparation was not his strong suit, which was part of what had landed him here. It had been too easy to just put off making plans, living in the moment with Mark and the kids, delaying all the hard choices and uncomfortable realities. As usual. His dad was right. He sucked at adulthood.
But he paid the lawyer by the hour for legal advice, not to be his therapist, so he saved her all his angst and just nodded again, let her give him a list of action items for the week, things she thought would help the case. Then he had to hurry to make it to the school for pickup. He’d texted Mark that he’d do it, half expecting Mark to put up a protest, but all he’d gotten was an “okay” in response. And honestly, that hurt more than he’d thought—part of him wanted Mark to beg him to come back, keep up his pleas that they talk. But maybe Mark was just as done as he was.
Maybe it had all been an act on Mark’s part, biding his time until he could win custody, until he wouldn’t need Isaiah anymore.
And on that pleasant thought, he switched gears to focus on the girls. He didn’t want to go back to the house. Not yet. Not till he had a better plan. Not till he’d cooled down some. He was still too mad, and the kids didn’t need to witness him lighting into Mark again. They’d had enough upheaval in their lives. Instead, he took them out for lunch, a rare fast food treat, then took a page from Aunt Cecily’s book and drove for nap time.
And man, the car was quiet once they all drifted off. He missed Mark, missed the drives they’d taken together, missed his conversation and even his commentary on Isaiah’s choice of music.
You’re not getting Mark. Not ever again. And he doesn’t want you anyway. Yesterday—had it really just been yesterday—had proven that. Mark wasn’t going to come out, in any sense of the word, wasn’t going to want a public relationship with him. And even if he did, he clearly didn’t view Isaiah as a functional adult, didn’t trust him. Thought he needed protecting. Fuck that noise.
Isaiah drove up the coast, heading to his happy place, but purposefully not going to the same beach he’d been to with Mark the day of the funeral. He needed to move on from sentimentality, quit wallowing in his grief and his feels about Mark and move on to what needed to be done. To that end, he parked at a favorite overlook, let the kids keep snoozing, and made difficult phone call after difficult phone call. The one to Dylan netted him a dinner invite though, as his friend seemed to sense that he was in need of more than simply a letter of recommendation.
“Come by around six thirty. I get off here at six, then you can help me cook, and we’ll talk.”
“Okay.” Putting off going home to Mark seemed like an excellent idea, and knowing he had dinner with Dylan looming helped him to make more calls. Then when the kids woke up, they played on the sand.
“I wish Uncle Mark was here,” Daphne said.
Me too. Isaiah’s heart pinched.
“He couldn’t make it,” Isaiah said instead. “But he loves you bunches.” Of that he had little doubt. Mark did love the kids. They just disagreed on what was in their best interests, but Mark’s heart wasn’t in question, just his misguided mission where he thought he had to protect everyone and everything. Stupid stubborn SEAL.
After a long playtime on the beach, he headed to Dylan’s house, home of another stubborn SEAL, one who thankfully was working late. Isaiah didn’t really want to think of how many of their mutual acquaintances would pick Mark over him. Maybe they have a point, the doubt crows pecking at his brain suggested.
Isaiah kindly suggested that the doubt crows go fuck themselves. He parked at Dylan’s, unloaded the kids, who were still wound up, even after all the exercise on the sand.
“You sure you want the circus?” he said to Dylan when he came to the door.
“Absolutely. We had sixty kids at the after-school program today. Another three at home is nothing.” Dylan led the way into the house. “And you’re in luck. Apollo did a huge pan of stuffed shells the other day, so you don’t have to suffer my cooking. I’ve got them in the oven heating up, and you can help me do a salad while we wait.”
“You’re becoming even bossier than that husband of yours,” Isaiah groused.
“Yup.” Dylan gave an unapologetic grin before calling up the stairs, “Girls, our guests are here!”
Isaiah got the girls playing with Dylan and Apollo’s twins and put Liam up in the backpack so he could help with the cooking.
“So tell me why you think the court is going to side with Mark?” Dylan asked as he
chopped a cucumber.
“Well other than the fact that he’s older and a decorated SEAL, it really comes down to money. He’s got gobs of it, and I’ve got a struggling new business. I think I’m going to have to take my dad’s advice. Get a desk job.”
“You’d be miserable.”
“No sh—crap. But I may not have much choice. Time to be an adult.”
“Dude. You are an adult. I’ve seen you change so much the last year. You really found yourself when you discovered landscaping.”
“Yeah. But maybe it doesn’t matter—”
“Of course it matters.” Dylan finished the cucumber, tossed it in the bowl that already had lettuce and cherry tomatoes in it. He came around the island to grab a notebook from a stack of papers and binders by the phone on the counter. “We’re going to make a plan.”
“I suck at plans. But I’ve got to get over that.” Isaiah took over setting the table while Dylan started to write.
“What’s the number one thing stopping you from telling the court that your new company is your job?”
“I’ve only had two paying customers,” Isaiah admitted. “Not exactly inspiring. I need more customers. If I could fill my calendar, that might help.”
“Exactly. So what we do is make a list of everyone we know. Hit them up—”
“I hate asking for help. I don’t want to beg our friends for jobs.”
“Time to get over that,” Dylan said cheerfully. “And we’re not asking them for jobs. You’re going to ask them to share leads. Share you on social media. Put up some cheap yard signs for you. What you need is word-of-mouth. And for that, yeah, you are going to have to swallow your pride and ask for help. But it’ll be worth it.”
“I wish I believed you. Finding a job would be the safer bet—”
“Since when did you play it safe?” Dylan shook his head. “Dig deep, Isaiah. What do you really want?”
Mark. I want Mark. But he couldn’t say that aloud. “I’m not sure.”
Squared Away Page 19
