Chapter 13 Grady
grady
. . .
“Charlie, baby, it’s time to eat!” I called, then put my phone away and set our dinners down on the table.
I’d spent most of the afternoon staring at the one-sided text thread under Cleo’s name, wondering if I should stop being a chicken shit and text her.
Even though I hadn’t checked to see if I was unblocked, I knew Cleo had done it anyway.
My calling her out like that yesterday was a dick move, but it was effective. There was no way she would’ve risked missing an important message for Charlie’s sake. She cared too much about those around her. It was something I admired.
“Is it cheesy mac, daddy?” Charlie asked.
She flew into the kitchen like a bat out of hell, nearly knocking the chair over as she jumped into the seat.
There was still dirt on her face from camp.
She’d been too busy yapping about what happened today to clean up for dinner like I’d asked, but I couldn’t be too mad. Not when she was this happy.
I ruffled her hair as I walked by. “Yeah, but you gotta eat your veggies, too. Thems the rules. You know that.”
I wasn’t the best cook, but I had a few tried-and-true staples up my sleeve. Thankfully, they were all things my daughter would eat without much fuss, so I didn’t have to worry about messing up anything new.
Charlie’s bottom lip stuck out in the cutest pout.
That was one of the hardest parts about being a dad, especially when she learned from an early age how to play me like a goddamn fiddle.
“Fine,” she huffed, stabbing at the roasted broccoli like it offended her.
“If I finish, can I have more cheesy mac?”
“What’d broccoli do to you?” I asked, unable to stop myself from laughing as she stuffed it into her mouth. There was no way she’d still want seconds after finishing her plate—if she finished it at all. Her eyes were usually ten times bigger than her stomach.
“Keep me from more cheese,” she said with a mouth now stuffed full of chicken.
Guess I couldn’t argue with that logic. “Alright, fine. But let’s see how you feel first. You may be too full.”
She furiously shook her head. “No, Daddy. I’m so hungry. I’ll have room.”
The two of us sat in silence for a moment as we tucked into our meals. To Charlie’s credit, she did seem like she was starving. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her devour food so quickly. “They’re feeding you at camp, right?” I asked, raising a brow.
I didn’t mean that literally, of course, but Charlie’s appetite had increased significantly since Monday. Maybe I should pack some extra snacks or something. Was that allowed?
Barbeque sauce and cheese joined the smeared dirt on her cheeks. “Oh yeah. They give us the best sandwiches ever! And Miss Cleo always has cookies for us.” She slumped back in her chair with a dramatic sigh. “I’d do anything for one of them right now.”
Even though I knew it wasn’t just for Charlie’s benefit, somehow the knowledge of Cleo baking cookies for the kids every day made my chest hurt. When that woman put her mind to something, she really gave her all.
“You’d rather have a cookie than my cheesy mac?” I asked, quirking a brow.
I could see the gears turning in my daughter’s mind as she thought about it. “Yeah, I think so.”
My hand landed over my heart. “Ouch. Way to hurt your old man’s feelings.”
Charlie just shrugged. “If you’d had one of these cookies, you’d get it, Daddy. They’re the best in the whole world.”
“But you haven’t tasted every cookie out there,” I countered.
“Don’t have to. I just know,” she said, stuffing her mouth full of the last bit of broccoli. She looked down at her cleared plate. “I think I’m full now. Can I video mommy?”
“Sure, baby.” I fished my phone out of my pocket and held it out for her. The moment I remembered her sticky fingers, though, I held back. “How about you go wash up first? She might not recognize you with all that stuff on your face.”
Charlie blew out a breath. “Fineee,” she said, trudging out of the kitchen to the hallway bathroom.
“I’ll be in there in a minute to help! Pick out your jammies while you’re waiting,” I called, picking up our plates and taking them to the sink. Cleaning up was easy since it was just Charlie and me.
When I’d sent my dad out on that trip, I thought it was for the best. It gave me a reason to give to Cleo when she inevitably asked why I was in town, but there were moments I regretted it.
I hadn’t been home since Mom’s funeral. That last visit, the weight of the loss we all experienced, was so much heavier sitting here in this tiny house.
Even after all these years, the silence in these halls was suffocating now that Mom’s lively presence wasn’t here to fill it.
She’d been the reason these four walls had felt like a home.
The reason there were always fresh flowers on the countertops and laughter echoing off the worn hard wood floors.
Music filled the space, whether from the radio or the old upright piano that had once stood in the living room. Everything felt brighter. Better.
Now, it was cold and gray. Gloomy. No more flowers or sunshine or music.
When Dad had tried to sell the piano, I’d nearly lost it on him.
He was so determined to keep the place as a shrine to their life together, and yet it felt like he was doing it a disservice.
Eventually, he relented and moved the instrument into my old bedroom so it was out of sight, out of mind.
One less reminder she was gone.
Looking back now, I understood why he’d ever considered it.
Dad loved listening to Mom play. He’d sit beside her and belt the lyrics of whatever song she was playing.
It was horrible in the best way. The man couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, but each song ended in a fit of giggles, so I guessed he was doing something right.
Sometimes, he’d watch from his recliner as she taught me a new song, occasionally chiming in with some notes of his own, like he had any business critiquing an instrument he couldn’t play.
My phone vibrated on the counter, and I looked down, heart sinking when I realized it was just an email. What did I expect? For Cleo to sense I was in my feelings about my mom and just text me out of the blue? No, that’d be stupid. I could dream, though, and I did so often.
In those dreams, she reached out because she missed me like I missed her. She reached out because talking to me was better than silence, no matter how much it hurt us to be apart. After all, who could understand her heartbreak better than I could?
That could be the key. That may be what I needed to make her understand. Even if she didn’t realize it, her pain, my pain, it didn’t matter. It was one and the same.
Before I could overthink what I was about to do, my fingers flew across the screen.
Grady
Did you fix your phone?
Minutes ticked by as I meticulously dried each dish before putting it away.
I didn’t remember the last time I’d been this nervous to send a fucking text before.
Honestly, it was probably back when Cleo and I had first started dating.
I was so careful about everything I said, desperate to make a good impression.
I was about to give up when I saw bubbles appear at the bottom of the screen.
Cleo
I’d never been so goddamn happy to see an emoji in my life.
Grady
Oh, good. I was worried it was a permanent issue, seeing as I’ve been trying to contact you for months.
More bubbles, more waiting. Charlie impatiently called out for me while I stared at my screen like it held the answer to all my prayers.
Cleo
We didn’t have anything to talk about then. Outside of Charlie, we have nothing to talk about now.
Grady
Is it still considered talking about Charlie if I tell you she prefers your cookies to my mac-and-cheese? What’re you teaching her at that camp? How to wound my pride?
“Daddy, are you coming?” I turned to see Charlie hovering in the doorway. She held her pajamas close to her chest as her foot tapped against the floor.
I put my phone down on the table. “Yeah, sunshine. I’m coming.”
Olivia had a late-night event and couldn’t talk as much as she and Charlie wanted.
She’d propped the phone up on the dresser as she got ready, listening keenly as our daughter crammed as much information as she could into a fifteen-minute call.
They’d both been gutted when Liv’s assistant interrupted, letting her know the car was waiting outside.
Even though she tried to hide it, I saw tears glinting in her eyes as she said goodbye and blew our daughter a kiss.
It hadn’t taken Charlie long to fall asleep. She’d been exhausted the past two days after camp, but I’d lain in bed holding her a little longer and tighter than usual. No matter how excited she was to be here, I knew it was hard for her to be away from her mom for so long.
Over the past year, the number of business trips Liv had to take skyrocketed.
She was now entirely in charge of her family’s record label.
Every meeting required her input, and every decision needed her signature.
While the Hartstrings’ headquarters was based in Nashville, most of the other executives and board members lived on the West Coast, which meant she had to go to them.
That was why I had to go back last year.
Liv had barely gained control of the company at the time, and neither of us knew what our new normal would look like.
I’d planned to stay in Ashwood longer than I did.
I wanted to explain everything to Cleo so she understood how I felt, how I’d always felt, but everything changed when Doug collapsed.
Sifting through our past was the last thing she needed, and so I’d left without warning, without question.