Chapter 6 The Best Day
THE BEST DAY
Most adventurous thing you’ve ever done?
Cole: Ice climbing in Hyalite Canyon.
Bridget: Does shopping on Black Friday count? It was pretty cutthroat…
COLE
“Good day?” I asked, glancing into the rearview mirror at my daughter in the back seat. Zara always gave my Porsche the stink eye, but an eight-year-old fit perfectly into the compact back seat, especially since she’d grown tall enough to ditch the bulky booster seat.
“The best!” Caitlyn replied. She had a smudge of chocolate under her lower lip. I didn’t suggest she wipe it off. Zara would see that I’d capped off “the best” day with ice cream.
“What was your favorite part?”
“The tornado room.”
“Fantastic. You’ll remember that at school, right, when you’re studying earth science? It’s easier to understand the concepts when you’ve seen them in action. What are you studying now, anyway?”
“The life cycle of plants. Friday, our teacher gave us all beans, and we put them in a baggie with a wet paper towel to see if they’d grow roots. I got a black bean, but that was boring, so I traded. Now it’s a pinto.”
“Excellent negotiation skills, sweetheart. So you’re learning about photosynthesis?”
“What’s that?”
“Hmm.” I explained the concept, which we’d definitely learned by third grade at St. Marcellin.
Caitlyn’s school in Walnut Creek was good for average kids, but my daughter needed more to achieve the way I had.
I was all too aware of corporate America’s challenges for women, especially those with some melanin in their skin.
“How would you like—” No, I shouldn’t get her hopes up about switching schools.
A long battle with Zara lay ahead, most likely involving another trip to court.
So I pivoted to the other, easier idea. “How would you like to take a trip?”
“With you?” Her eyes widened, and she showed her gap-toothed smile. For a moment, she looked at me like Zara used to. Before her love fizzled out.
“Yes. To Costa Rica.”
“Where’s that?”
“What the hell are they teaching you in school?”
“Swear jar.”
We were at a stoplight, so I pulled out my wallet and tossed her a dollar. “Do you know where Central America is?”
She scrunched up her nose. “It’s that skinny part that connects North and South America?”
“That’s right. Costa Rica is in the skinny part. It’s got volcanoes and mountains and rainforests. It has a coast on the Pacific Ocean and one on the Caribbean Sea, and it’s about the size of West Virginia.”
“West Virginia?” She squinted one eye. “What’s that?”
“What the fuck? They should’ve taught you the states by third grade.” She extended her palm, and I grunted as the light turned green. “I’ll owe you for that one.”
“I have a friend who moved here from Guatemala. Is that close?”
“Sort of. It’s beautiful. I was in Costa Rica once, years ago. We went rafting on the Pacuare River and hiking through the Talamanca mountains, then we went to the beach.”
“Pacific or Caribbean?”
“Pacific, a beach called Playa Manuel Antonio. It had white sand and clear, turquoise water.” Though at twenty, I’d mostly remembered it for the tropical drinks and gorgeous girls in bikinis.
“Hmm,” my daughter said. “I think I’d like the Caribbean side. I see the Pacific all the time.”
“I’ll see what I can do to check the Caribbean off your world travel list. Now, tell me what you’re learning in math.”
When we got to Zara and Eli’s, Zara was on the front porch swing of their ranch house, bundled in a coat, her black curls sticking out from under a beanie.
I opened the back door, and Caitlyn jumped out. After she grabbed her bag, she stopped to hug me. Her skinny arms didn’t quite meet behind my back. “Thanks, Daddy. I had fun.”
I bent and embraced her. “I had fun too.”
She pulled away and opened one of the side compartments of her bag.
“Here.” She pulled out a beaded bracelet.
Some of the plastic beads were dark brown like her hair and others were light brown like her skin, but interspersed among the shades of brown were beads in rainbow colors. She held it out to me on her palm.
“That’s, um, pretty,” I said. “Did one of your friends make it?”
“I made it for you. See?” She rotated three white beads in the center. They had letters stamped on them. “D-A-D.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I tugged the tight band onto my wrist and ignored the plastic digging into my skin.
Maybe Mason was right, and the parenting thing wasn’t as hard as I’d thought.
If I packed the weekend with frenetic activity, there was no time for Caitlyn to be bored or whiny.
She was already so much easier at eight than she’d been at four, when her mother and I split.
It would only get better as she grew into real personhood.
Zara stood when we approached the house.
She was even more beautiful than when we’d gotten together in college.
She’d gained a sexy maturity and confidence that she’d lacked when we were together.
Maybe she was a late bloomer, or maybe Eli’s less forceful personality gave her space to grow.
He was a lucky man to have her. To have them both.
Caitlyn released my hand and ran to her mother. Zara hugged her tight, then said, “Go inside and wash up, then help Eli put dinner on the table. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Bye, Daddy,” Caitlyn said. “See you in two weeks.”
“You bet.” I winked at her.
Zara waited until Caitlyn had disappeared into the house. “You’re late.”
I slipped off the too-tight bracelet and dropped it into my pocket. I planted my feet on the bottom step of her porch and looked her in the eye. “I know, but we were at the Exploratorium, and Caitlyn wanted to do the fog bridge a second time.”
She frowned. “Just because Caitlyn wants to do something doesn’t mean you should do it. You’re the adult.”
I straightened my shoulders. “I am an adult. And I can decide to let my daughter spend extra time to learn something, especially when she’s not getting it at school.”
She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been through this over and over. Her school is perfectly fine. She’s got friends there, good kids.”
“But what’s the acceptance rate at Ivy League schools?”
“Who the hell cares? She’s eight.”
“I fucking care. It’s never too early to think about her future. If she lived with me, she could go to St. Marcellin Academy.”
“Not this again. Cole, she doesn’t live with you. She lives with Eli and me, and she’s perfectly happy here and at the neighborhood school.”
“Happy doesn’t get you into the Ivies or Stanford, and it certainly doesn’t get you to the executive suite. Mason’s kids are learning algebra and cello. They’re going to space camp. They play lacrosse. I got my first job through a guy I played squash with.”
“Remember, you agreed to our custody arrangement. That means I raise her as I see fit.”
I leaned forward. “What if I want to change it?”
“Cole.” She breathed in sharply through her nose, then let it out.
“You wouldn’t know the first thing about taking care of Caitlyn on a daily basis.
Two weekends a month where you rush from museum to park to restaurant is nothing like the daily grind of school and after-school activities and homework. ”
“I did it for four years when we were together.” I’d picked Caitlyn up from daycare a few times when Zara was sick, and my daughter’s smile when she’d seen me was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
She barked out a bitter laugh. “You did nothing when we were together. Nothing but work, that is.”
“Nothing?” Heat prickled up my neck. “I was providing for you both.”
“Who’s going to take care of her while you’re working? You’ve never been a nine-to-five guy.”
“I’ll hire a nanny. Mason has an au pair who’s teaching the kids German.”
“She doesn’t need a nanny! She needs a parent.”
“I had a nanny.”
Her lips twisted. “And look how well you turned out.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I knew exactly what it meant.
She closed her eyes as she did the breathing exercise. “I don’t want to argue. I’ll see you in two weeks.”
“About that. I’ll need Caitlyn’s passport when you drop her off.”
She blinked her eyes wide. “You…what?”
“I’m going to Costa Rica for a work thing, and I’m taking her. We’ll leave Wednesday the 18th and come back the following Wednesday. She’ll be back by Thanksgiving. While we’re gone, you guys can have some couple time.” Win-win.
“The hell you are. She has school.”
I snorted. “Like they’re going to do anything of value the week of a holiday.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter, does it?” Her brown eyes were no longer soft like Caitlyn’s. Now they glittered hard like gems. “That’s my court-designated week. Besides, Caitlyn doesn’t have a passport. She’s never been out of the country.”
“No passport?” I blinked.
“No passport.” Her jaw was rigid.
We’d never get one in time. Fuck. Another time I’d disappointed my daughter. “Then I can’t keep her that weekend since I have to go on this work retreat. Can we switch weekends?”
“Goddammit, Cole. You’re always fucking with the schedule.”
“I’m sorry. Again. I can’t help it. It’s mandatory.
” Fucking Bridget. Admittedly, she didn’t know about my custody arrangement.
Being a divorced dad wasn’t unusual in my line of work, but it wasn’t a badge of honor either, so I kept quiet about it.
But she hadn’t asked before she’d scheduled the retreat for my weekend with my daughter.
“Look, I’ll take her for Thanksgiving. We’ll spend it with my family.
You can have her for Christmas this year. ”
“You’re sure?” She fisted her hands on her hips. “You want her four days in a row?”
“I wanted her for an entire week,” I reminded her.
“Okay. Eli and I have been wanting to get away. We could go to Napa. Not far. Just in case.”
“It won’t be a problem. You’ll see.” Four days with my daughter would be exhausting, but I’d use it to prove I was trustworthy enough to keep her during the school year.
And with the advantages I could give her, including private school, she’d have the educational experience she needed to succeed as a Campion.
Though I was still pissed that Bridget had fucked up my custody plan.
I could fuck with her too. Assuming I even needed to. This retreat had disaster stamped across the top. If I let her plan it all and lead it, when it inevitably went to shit, Bridget would be the one everyone blamed.
And I’d be the one left looking like a hero.