Aside from no sex, everything else was the same. Tessa was wonderful with Maisie. She had her exploring and learning, all the while thinking she was playing and having fun. We weren’t having sex, but we spent a lot of time chatting, and I found her support invaluable. I realized I didn’t regret this marriage, because I needed Tessa by my side to deal with all the crazy emotions I was feeling. She also had the ability to keep my baser, meaner, impulses regarding Veronica in check.
When mediation was scheduled, it was agreed that it would just be me and Veronica, and not our spouses. It was determined that since Veronica and I had been able to work out custody and visitation before, it would be best if it was just the two of us. But the amicable divorced-couple ship had sailed the day Veronica sued for sole custody. And while I liked how Tessa could keep me in check, I was glad she wouldn’t be there, because I didn’t want to curb my base instincts.
“You know I could ruin your reputation,” she said as negotiations fell apart. Neither of us was willing to give in. Had she come to me and asked for more time, I might have allowed it. But now, I wasn’t even willing to consider joint custody, and I definitely wasn’t going to accept anything that didn’t have Maisie living with me full time.
“Oh?” I quirked a brow, wondering how she could possibly think that.
“People know and like me. When they learn you’re keeping my child from me, they’ll vilify you. People will stop going to your gyms. Media will have you as a bad guy here and abroad.”
I felt certain that if she was going to do that, she’d have done it already. But she hadn’t, and I knew why. “Will you preface this gossip story with how you walked out on Maisie when she was two? How you have seen her only a handful of times in those years?”
The tension in Veronica’s face was so tight, it was a wonder it didn’t crack.
I leaned forward. “You want to fight dirty? I’ll give you dirty. I’ll start with how you missed Maisie’s birthday. Something tells me that will tarnish your image. You have much more to lose than I do where reputations are concerned. There’s nothing uglier than a woman who abandons her child.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” the mediator said. I was sure it was clear to her as it was to me that this wasn’t going to work.
“You’re a bastard, Dylan,” Veronica spat.
“You’re the one that said you wanted to take this to the media. Of course, you probably didn’t consider that Maisie would see and hear all of it. That you’d hurt her by attacking me.”
Veronica leaned forward and pointed her finger. “You were ready to attack me too.”
“What I said was the truth. The truth Maisie knows, because she’s lived it. She knows you haven’t visited. That you missed her birthday.”
In the end, it was clear we’d be back in court. Now more than ever, I didn’t want Maisie going to Veronica’s. While Maisie hadn’t said anything to indicate Veronica was trying to poison her against me, the issue was escalating, and I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t. I also wasn’t sure she wouldn’t try to abscond with Maisie.
But my lawyer said to continue visits as usual so as not to look like an asshole. I was beginning to miss my inner asshole.
I suppose it was Leo’s connections that had our next court date set fairly quickly after our failed mediation. It was clear that the intention for this appearance was that Veronica wanted more visitation. Because we were back to showing off stable two-parent families, Leo was with Veronica and Tessa was with me.
“Has Mr. Hyatt denied any visits?” the judge asked Veronica’s attorney.
“No, your honor, but she’d like something more official. As you know, custody cases can get contentious, and she doesn’t want to lose visits.”
“My client has never denied or threatened to deny visits,” my lawyer said. That wasn’t true. I just hadn’t threatened Veronica with denying visits.
“I don’t see any reason why Mrs. Baskin shouldn’t have established visitation.”
Fuck.
“She’d like to take Maisie for longer than weekends. It’s summer, and she’d like to have Maisie for a month,” her lawyer said.
“No,” I said under my breath.
“Maisie has never been away from her father for more than three days,” my lawyer said, putting his hand on my arm to quiet me. “Perhaps we can start with a week.”
“Mrs. Baskin is Maisie’s mother—” the other lawyer started.
“This isn’t about Mrs. Baskin or Mr. Hyatt,” my lawyer interjected. “It’s about Maisie. She’s a five-year-old girl who has only lived with her father. Give her time to adjust.”
I liked the little swipe by saying Maisie only knew me, but I didn’t like giving in to longer visits.
“I agree,” the judge said. “Mrs. Baskin will have a week-long visit, and if that goes well, we’ll look at extending it.” Then she looked at her docket for setting the next hearing. Why was this taking so fucking long?
On the way home, I seethed to Tessa. “Why does Veronica get a second chance? Why doesn’t anyone give a shit that I was the one who stuck around while Veronica selfishly flitted around the world?”
“I know it seems unfair—”
“It is unfair. Fuck.” I hit the steering wheel.
Tessa was quiet. I looked at her and could tell she was having a thought I wouldn’t like.
“What?”
She shrugged. “Nothing.”
“No. I want to know. Do you think I’m being an asshole?”
“No. I just think …” She didn’t finish.
“Think what?” I prodded.
She sighed. “Your lawyer said it. This is about Maisie and what’s best for her.”
I did a double take. “You think Veronica is best?”
“No! God, no. What I think, though, is that Maisie knows Veronica is her mother. She loves her. It could be a benefit to Maisie to spend more time with her and get to know her.”
Rage roared up inside me. So much so that at first, it just boiled up, building in my chest until finally, it let loose. “This is none of your fucking business, Tessa.”
“It’s partly my business, because we’re married and I’m trying to help—”
“What we have is an arrangement. I’m paying for you to help me keep Maisie, not to be a part of decision making for her.”
Tessa jerked back like I’d slapped her. I knew I should feel bad about it, but I didn’t. She was supposed to be on my side, dammit.
She turned her head to look out the window.
Good. She got the memo. Maisie was my kid.
If I’d thought things were a little distant before, I could feel a definite cold shoulder after that. But I couldn’t worry about it. Nothing, not even the wife I wished I could keep, would get in the way of my fighting for Maisie.
19
Tessa
He was right. I was a tool to help in his custody case. I had no rights where Maisie was concerned. But that didn’t stop the pain I felt at his outburst. The pain was followed by the usual feelings of stupidity. No matter how often I reminded myself that our marriage was fake, I kept forgetting. Everything else seemed real, even though he didn’t touch me anymore. We interacted as a family, and for me, my feelings for him and Maisie were real.
But I couldn’t let my wish for something more get in the way of the goal, which was to make sure he kept custody of Maisie. So as much as he hurt me, as much as I wanted to be angry at him, I had to push that all aside the following week when a court appointed worker showed up to interview us.
The woman was only a few years older than me. She looked kind and competent, not like the social workers depicted on TV who were always cold toward and suspicious toward the people they had to talk to.
“Along with meeting with you and observing you with Maisie, I’ll be talking to others in your lives, such as Maisie’s teacher, doctors, childcare—”
“Tessa is Maisie’s childcare,” Dylan said.
While I didn’t think
he meant it to be hurtful, it was. It felt like I was relegated to babysitter again.
“So, you’re a full-time at home parent?”
I nodded.
“You and Mr. Hyatt haven’t been married very long. In fact, it looks like you married after you were served papers about the custody.” She didn’t say it, but her tone indicated she found that suspicious.
“Tessa and I were dating a year and were engaged when Veronica showed up again.”
I hoped the woman didn’t ask my roommates or parents about that. No one could verify our story because of course, it wasn’t true.
“And you were the babysitter before that?”
“I met Dylan when I moved in next door,” I started.
“I was immediately smitten,” he said taking my hand. If only that were true.
“As it turned out, I worked at Maisie’s school too, so it all happened together … my being her sitter and Dylan’s girlfriend.” The lie sat at the pit of my stomach making me nauseous. In fact, this whole situation over the last couple of weeks made me sick. I loved him and Maisie, and I wanted to help them, but the stress of the situation and the tension growing between me and Dylan was difficult to manage. Because I had to portray a loving marriage, I had to keep all those emotions inside, and clearly, they were starting to impact my physical health.
“So, will you be working again?”
“No.”
Dylan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “Tessa is planning—”
“I’m going to stay home.”
“Maisie will be in what grade …?” the woman looked at her paper.
“First grade,” I said.
“You could work.”
“I like making a home. I know it’s very unmodern for a woman today, but for now, I enjoy it.”
She turned to Dylan. “I see you can afford to live on one income. In fact, you live quite modestly considering your income.”
I understood how important it was for child welfare to investigate families to make sure they had the means and emotional stability to care for a child, but it felt invasive. Did they look into my financial records too?
“I don’t need much. Maisie. Tessa. A roof. That’s it,” Dylan said, and that I did believe. Well the Maisie and roof part anyway.
“Were you raised in a traditional family?” she asked us.
“I was. My parents live in Brooklyn,” I said.
“What brought you here?”
“I came here for college and stayed,” I said. I smiled at Dylan, hoping I looked like a woman in love. “I fell for my neighbor.”
Dylan brought my hand to his lips. It was so strange how the gesture both made me happy and so sad at the same time. It wasn’t real, I had to remind myself.
“What about you, Mr. Hyatt?”
“I was raised by a single mom, mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“She remarried a few times, but none stuck.” I heard the edge of tension in his voice, but he worked to maintain a smile.
“It sounds like it wasn’t as steady as what you’re providing Maisie,” she said, apparently hearing his tone as well.
“No. It was difficult, to be honest, which is why I’ve worked so hard to provide Maisie with a stable home.”
I wished I could know what happened to him as a kid, but now wasn’t the time to ask.
“Single fatherhood isn’t as unusual now as it used to be, but I need to ask how it was you got custody the first time.”
“Veronica wanted out. I stayed.”
The social worker studied him as if she were waiting for him to elaborate. “She wanted a divorce but didn’t take Maisie?”
“Veronica and I married young. I think we were caught up in the idea of a fairy tale. The reality, at least for her, was very different. I was happy to live in a small town, run my business, and raise my child. Veronica wanted more. So, she left to get it.”
“And you were okay with that?”
He shrugged. “By the time it happened, I could see it coming. She was unhappy. Life here with me was boring, at least that’s what she said.”
“And what about Maisie?”
He took a minute and I had to admire his restraint in choosing his words carefully. “Maisie didn’t fit into Veronica’s plans at the time. She had a dream to pursue.”
“So, you were left to care for Maisie alone.”
He scowled. “It wasn’t like that. I’d have fought her then if she tried to take Maisie. I love my life. I love being Maisie’s father. I’d choose it over anything and anyone. So no, I wasn’t left with her. I didn’t get her by default.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest that. I can see you take fatherhood very seriously.”
The social worker spoke to us a little longer and then asked to see Maisie, who’d gone next door to play beauty shop with Corrine and Allison. Maisie was her usual friendly, curious self with the social worker. She presented as a well-adjusted, happy child, which had to bode well for Dylan. I didn’t want her to be unhappy with Veronica, but I did hope that Maisie’s level of ease and comfort with Dylan was more obvious than with her.
Later, when Maisie was in bed, Dylan went to his home office. I’d have liked to discuss the day with him, but since he didn’t seem to want to talk, I read a little bit and then went to bed.
When he came to bed, he rolled to his side and set his hand on my hip. “Tessa?”
“Hmm?” I turned my head back to look at him.
“Are you not planning to go to school in the fall?”
I shook my head. “I think until this is resolved, I should stay home. It will give you bonus points, especially if Veronica plans to work some.” I didn’t know if that was true. I wasn’t sure if judges held work against mothers these days.
He watched me for a moment. “I hate for you to lose time.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind.” The truth was, I couldn’t imagine getting my brain to work academically with all this going on. When I agreed to help, I figured things would go along as usual, and for the most part they had. I watched Maisie while Dylan worked, and hung out with them after dinner. But the custody battle had a level of tension hanging over the house that was starting to tire me out, mentally and physically.
“Well, I’ve just hired a private investigator and maybe he’ll find something that will resolve this sooner rather than later.”
“Investigator?” I rolled over to look at him. “For what?”
“I want dirt on Veronica.”
That didn’t sound like the Dylan I knew. “That seems a little underhanded.”
His eyes turned fierce. “I’ve never hid the fact that I’d do anything to keep Maisie. Besides, there’s something about this that doesn’t feel right. Why go for sole custody after being gone for years? Why not ask for joint?”
He was right about that, but still. “What if he finds something?”
“Then I’ll use it.”
“What if Veronica and Leo hire someone to check on you?”
“Let ‘em. I have nothing to hide,” he said with confidence. I wondered if that was true. Not that I thought Dylan had a skeleton in his closet, but it was amazingly easy to take some seemingly benign thing and turn it into something malignant. Or maybe they’d figure out our marriage was fake.
“How about, you married your babysitter to get custody?”
He shrugged. “We’ve explained that.”
I was sure that if anyone dug deep enough, they’d find holes in our story. Like how no one in our lives knew we were dating or how neither of us announced our engagement when it was supposed to have happened.
“What about Maisie?” I asked.
He let out an annoyed sigh. “What about her?”
“Do you want to risk her hearing about dirt on her mother? Whether you like it or not, Veronica is Maisie’s mother. Maisie could be hurt—”
“If Maisie is hurt, it’s on Veronica.”
I could see there was no talking to him.
There was no reason to try. He’d been clear about my role. About my place. I turned to go to sleep.
“Tessa.” He scooted closer, spooning me. Instinct had me settling against him even as my brain told me to keep my distance.
“Hmm?” I stayed where I was.
“This is me.”
That was a weird statement. I turned my head back. “What do you mean?”
“Deep down, I’m a scrapper. I was raised in a chaotic, sometimes violent home. I survived by fighting. Not necessarily with my fists, although I’d be lying if I said I never used them.”
I turned toward him again as a wave of compassion flowed through me. I wanted to hold the abused boy inside the man next to me.
“I don’t plan to use my fists now, but I’ll fight however I have to. That’s who I am.”
I pressed my hand to his cheek. “I can see that, but you’re also a loving father. You’re a generous caring man. Don’t lose him.”
He stared at me for a long time. “You see that?”
“I do.”
“Maisie has definitely helped me smooth out the rough edges, but—”
“You’ve always been a good person, Dylan. Maisie might have helped you discover him, but he was always there.”
“You’re amazing, do you know that?” His gaze drifted over my face until finally returning to my eyes. “I don’t deserve you—”
I groaned. “Stop. I’m tired of hearing that.”
He smiled. “Sorry. It’s true. I say it mostly when I have powerful feelings of wanting you.”
“What?”
“I want you. When I feel that, I remind myself that I don’t deserve you. I hurt you, and before this is done, I feel like I’ll hurt you more. And yet, I can’t stop wanting you. I can keep myself from touching you, but if you said it was okay, I’d touch you in a minute even though I know I don’t deserve it.”
So Wrong (Heart 0f Hope Book 3) Page 13
