Chapter 13
Blind Spot
Gavin
The school auditorium smelled like floor wax and nervous parents. Rows of metal folding chairs faced a small stage with curtains that had seen better days. Recitals always had this specific energy—kids in stiff clothes, parents with cameras ready, teachers looking like they needed a drink.
I should've been focused on Charisse. This was her thing. Her moment.
Instead, all I could think about was Andi.
Since our argument at the coffee shop, the silence between us had been loud—heavy with everything I hadn’t said and all the ways I’d been an asshole.
I’d typed and deleted a dozen messages, but none of them could say what I needed to say because I still didn’t know what that was.
Prove it, she'd said.
I had no idea how.
"Dad?" Charisse tugged my sleeve. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"The thing where you're here but not here." She looked up at me with those eyes that were too observant for a ten-year-old. "You okay?"
"Yeah, bug. I'm good. Just thinking."
"About Andi?"
My stomach dropped. "What?"
"You've been weird since Thursday. And you keep checking your phone like you're waiting for someone to text." She shrugged. "Harper said her Aunt Bridget told her mom that you messed up with your girlfriend."
Of course, Harper knew. Which meant Bridget knew everything. Which meant—wait, did Charisse just say "girlfriend?"
"Mr. Byrne?" One of the piano teachers appeared, clipboard in hand. "Charisse needs to go backstage with the other students."
"Right. Yeah." I looked down at my daughter. "You ready?"
She rolled her eyes. "I've been ready. You're the one being weird."
She disappeared backstage, leaving me standing there in the middle of the auditorium like an idiot.
I found a seat toward the middle. Not too close, not too far.
The auditorium was filling up—parents, grandparents, siblings forced to attend.
Scanning the rows, I nodded at the familiar faces—parents whose names I half-remembered from years of awkward conversations.
The rest were strangers, all of us united in our uncomfortable folding chairs, waiting for our kids to either shine or stumble.
"Gavin."
I looked up. Rebecca stood in the aisle, looking polished as always. Designer blouse, perfect hair, that smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Rebecca. Hey."
"Is this seat taken?" She gestured to the empty chair beside me.
"No. Go ahead."
She sat, crossing her legs, setting her expensive purse on the floor. I noticed she kept glancing towards the entrance.
"David's not coming?" I asked.
Her smile tightened. "Mmm. No. Not tonight."
"Ah."
We sat in awkward silence. This was always the worst part—the forced civility, the pretending we hadn't completely destroyed each other all those years ago.
"She's been practicing," Rebecca said. "More than usual."
"I know. I can hear it when she's at my place."
"Good. Last time was..." she trailed off, checking her watch and looking antsy.
"Yeah."
More silence. I checked my phone. Nothing from Andi. Obviously.
The lights dimmed. A woman in a cardigan stepped onto the stage, welcomed everyone, and explained the program. I tried to focus. Tried to be present.
But all I could think about was Thursday. The look on Andi's face when she said I don't know if you can fix this.
The recital started. Kids filed on and off stage, playing pieces with varying degrees of success. Some were good. Some were painful. Parents clapped enthusiastically, regardless.
Charisse was in the second half. I watched the first half in a fog, clapping when everyone else clapped, barely registering what was happening.
Intermission came. The lights came up. People stood, stretched, and headed for the lobby.
"I need some air," Rebecca said, standing. "Come with me?"
I should've said no. Should've stayed in my seat, waited for the second half.
But I followed her into the hallway, grateful for the movement, the distraction from my own thoughts.
The hallway was crowded. Rebecca found a quieter corner near the exit. Leaning against the wall, looking more tired than I'd seen her in a while.
"You okay?" I asked.
She laughed, but it came out bitter. "David and I are splitting up."
I blinked. "What?"
"We're done. Over. He..." She stopped, looking away. "It doesn't matter. Point is, I'm going to be on my own again. Charisse is going to be upset."
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?" She looked at me. "You never liked him."
"Yeah, well, you did leave me for him, so… there’s that."
"I know. I’m sorry for that. More than you could ever know." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I just thought... I don't know what I thought."
I didn't know what to say. We'd been divorced for eight years. Her relationships weren't my business. But Charisse would be affected, so I guess they were, in a way.
"When are you telling her?" I asked.
"Soon. I don't know. I need to figure things out first." She looked at me. "It's been nice, you know. These last few months. Co-parenting. Working together. Being... civil."
"Um. Sure." I had no idea what the hell she was talking about.
"Maybe we could have lunch sometime. Talk about Charisse. About schedules. With David gone, things are going to change. Might be nice to spend some time together."
My phone buzzed. I pulled it out automatically. Not Andi. Just an email from work.
"Gavin?"
"Sorry. What?"
"Lunch. To talk about Charisse's schedule. Would that work?"
I was still staring at my phone. Still thinking about Andi. About how I'd fucked everything up. I opened my messages again, just to see if maybe I’d missed something.
"Gavin? We should grab…"
Nothing. Still nothing from her. Of course. Why would there be? I was the one who needed to act. I needed to prove it. Rebecca’s voice came back had become background noise. Tuning back in, I caught the final part of her question.
"…for Charisse. Sound good?"
"Yeah. That’s probably a good idea." With summer coming, Charisse would normally be with Rebecca. I think she said something about that maybe changing.
"Really?" Rebecca's face brightened. "That would be great. Maybe next week?"
"Sure—wait. What?"
"Gavin."
I looked up. Bridget stood a couple of feet away, arms crossed, looking at me with utter disappointment.
"Bridget. Hey."
She didn't respond. Just stared. The temperature in the hallway dropped about twenty degrees.
Rebecca straightened, sensing the tension. "Hi. I don't think we've met. I'm Rebecca. Charisse’s mom."
Bridget's lips stretched into something approximating a smile. "Right—we've met. I'm Bridget." She turned to me, her eyes narrowing just enough that only I would notice the shift from polite to glacial. "Andi's best friend."
Rebecca's eyebrows went up slightly at the name. "Andi?"
"Yeah. Andi." Bridget took a step closer to me, hiking her thumb toward Rebecca. "Didn’t tell her either, huh?"
My stomach dropped. "Bridget—"
She looked at me. Pity in her eyes. "She deserves better than you."
"I know."
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you have no idea what you lost." Her gaze flickered back to Rebecca before swinging back to me to say, "I guess you really weren’t ready if going backward looked better to you than moving forward with Andi.
" At that, her eyes bounced between me and Rebecca, communicating something I wasn’t sure I understood.
The lights flickered. Five-minute warning.
Bridget gave me one last disappointed look, then walked away.
I stood there, frozen.
Rebecca touched my arm. "So. Saturday work?"
I wasn't listening. I was watching Bridget disappear into the auditorium. Thinking about Andi. About how I'd screwed up. About how I had no idea how to fix any of this.
"Gavin?"
"Huh?"
"Lunch. You just agreed. Next weekend."
I had? I didn't even remember.
"Oh. Right. Yeah. Sure."
Rebecca's smile widened. Real this time. "Great. I'll text you."
She walked back into the auditorium, leaving me standing there in the empty hallway.
What the fuck just happened?
I pulled out my phone. Stared at Andi's name in my contacts. Started typing.
Gavin: I'm sorry.
Gavin: Can we talk?
The three dots danced on the screen.
Andi: Maybe. Not today, though.
Gavin: Okay. I’ll take any day you’re willing to give me.
My heart skipped. She hadn't shut the door completely. Not today left room for tomorrow, or the day after that. A sliver of possibility I could wedge myself into.
Prove it. This gave me some time to do just that. To figure out what it would look like to show Andi that she was my one.
The thought hit me like a freight train. She wasn't just someone I was dating. She was—
The lights flickered again. I headed back to my seat, with my head reeling and Bridget's words echoing in my head.
You have no idea what you lost. I could only hope and pray that it wasn’t true. That I hadn’t lost her.
The second half passed in a blur. Charisse performed. She was good. Better than good. She didn't make any mistakes, didn't freeze up like last time.
I clapped. Smiled. Took pictures and videos.
I was here for her. And while Andi was on my mind, I think I learned for the first time that both of them could occupy my mind and heart, and it was okay. That’s what real life was. Being present for more than one moment. More than one person. More than one heart.
After the recital, parents flooded the stage area to collect their kids. I found Charisse surrounded by other girls, all talking over each other about their performances.
"Dad! Did you see?"
"You were amazing, bug."
She beamed. "I didn't mess up! Not even once!"
"I'm so proud of you."
Rebecca appeared, pulling Charisse into an awkward and almost unfamiliar hug that seemed more for show than genuine affection.
"You were wonderful, sweetie." Her voice was bright and performative.
She held Charisse just long enough for her to smile at some of the other parents around us, then released her.
That was so fucking weird. "Why don't you go say goodbye to Halley while I talk to your father? "
"Harper, Mom. Her name is Harper."
Rebecca’s smile slipped a bit before recovering. "Right. Sorry. That’s what I meant. Go say goodbye to Harper."
Charisse ran off, and Rebecca's smile stayed perfectly in place, but her eyes changed as she turned to me. There was something else there, but I couldn’t name it.
"Shall we?" she gestured toward the exit.
I followed her out to the parking lot, Charisse running ahead with Harper and some of the other girls.
Rebecca walked close—closer than necessary—as we crossed the lot. When we reached her car, she turned and said, loud enough that several nearby parents could hear, "So I'll text you about our lunch next weekend. We have so much to catch up on."
A few heads turned. I saw one mom nudge another.
Charisse jogged back over, slightly out of breath. "Lunch?"
"Just boring grown-up stuff," Rebecca said, her hand resting briefly on my arm.
"Schedule things. Planning for our family summer together.
" She said it like it was nothing, but the way she was looking at me—satisfied, almost predatory—made something twist in my gut.
It was just a planning lunch, given all the changes that were happening. Not a big deal. Right?
"Oh. Okay." Charisse hugged me. "Bye, Dad!"
"Bye, bug. Love you."
"Love you too!"
Rebecca opened the car door for Charisse, then turned back to me. Her voice dropped, just between us now. "I'll text you tomorrow. We should talk about a lot of things. Now that David's out of the picture."
The way she said it—intimate, knowing—made my stomach drop.
What?
She got in the car, gave me a little wave through the window, and drove off.
I stood there, watching her taillights disappear.
My phone buzzed.
Brianna: You're unbelievable. Andi breaks up with you on Thursday, and by Saturday you're already making plans with your ex? Stay away from her.
I stared at the message.
I glanced up to find Bridget leaning against a sedan, her sister Brianna at her side.
As our eyes met, she passed Brianna's phone back to her with a deliberate slowness that told me everything I needed to know about who had just sent that text.
They both got in the car and drove away before I could respond.
I stood there in the empty parking lot, my phone in my hand, finally understanding what just happened.
Rebecca had insinuated that we were getting back together.
Bridget thought I was moving on.
I got in my car and sat there, gripping the steering wheel.
I'd spent six months keeping Andi separate. Keeping her in a box. Keeping her convenient.
And in less than a week, I'd lost Andi and accidentally given my ex the impression we might have a future.
Prove it, Andi had said.
I'd just proven the exact opposite.