Chapter 24
First Real Crack
Andi
Gavin and I had slowly become fixtures in each other's daily routines. Sitting at Gavin's kitchen table, I was watching Charisse work through her math homework. Outside, the late September afternoon sun slanted through the windows, turning everything golden and warm.
"So if x equals twelve," Charisse muttered, erasing for the third time, "then that means..."
"You're overthinking it," I said gently. "What's twelve times three?"
"Thirty-six."
"And what did you write here?"
She looked at her paper. "Oh. I put thirty-two. That's dumb."
"Not dumb. Just a small mistake. Fix it and move on to the next one."
She erased again, tongue poking out in concentration.
I watched her work, feeling that strange settling sensation I'd been getting more and more lately.
It struck me how normal this felt—sitting here, helping with math homework, being part of their routine.
Not something I'd planned, but somehow I'd slipped into this role without even noticing when it happened.
The thought arrived the way it always did when things felt this good — quiet, uninvited, already halfway through the door. Don't get used to it. I recognized the voice. Old habit. I let it pass.
Basketball camp started the following week, and Charisse would be there during the weekdays. No more splitting time between houses. No more packing bags on Friday afternoons.
Rebecca had cancelled last weekend—again. Called Friday morning with some excuse about things she needed to do, her voice tight and clipped. Gavin had just nodded when he told me, unsurprised. She'd been doing it more and more lately.
Rebecca had pushed to modify the summer custody arrangement, then promptly stopped showing up in person. She kept up with phone calls, but that was it. Charisse noticed the absence, of course. As I understood it, Rebecca had a habit of drifting in and out when it suited her.
Gavin's lawyer was drafting something official now, putting it in writing. Making it legal instead of just practical. On the surface, it looked like Rebecca being reasonable. Putting Charisse first. But I've been learning that nothing with Rebecca was ever that simple.
"Done!" Charisse pushed her worksheet toward me. "Can you check it?"
I scanned the problems. "Looks good. Nice work."
"I'm kinda hungry. Can I grab a snack?"
"Of course, go ahead."
She jumped up and went into the kitchen, returning with an apple and a cheese stick. I noticed how she picked something healthy instead of the cookies and milk I would've grabbed at her age. Instead of going to her room or turning on the TV, she sat back down at the table across from me.
"Andi?"
"Yeah?"
She looked up from her snack. "Are you and my dad going to break up someday?"
The question hit like cold water.
I looked at her carefully. She was picking at the wrapper on her cheese stick, not quite meeting my eyes.
"What makes you ask that?" I kept my voice gentle. Curious, not confrontational.
She shrugged. "Just wondering."
"That's a pretty specific thing to wonder about."
Another shrug. Then, quietly: "I was talking to Mom yesterday, and she said sometimes people date but don't stay because they need to break up."
There it was.
I took a breath, choosing my words carefully. "Your mom's right that sometimes relationships don't work out. That's true for grown-ups." I waited until she looked at me. "But your dad and I care about each other a lot. We're not going anywhere."
"But you don't live here."
"No, I don't. I have my own apartment. But that doesn't mean I'm not committed to your dad."
"What's committed mean?"
"It means I'm not just hanging out with your dad for fun or because I'm bored. I'm with him because I care about him and want to keep being with him. And that includes spending time with you too, because you're important to him, which means you're important to me."
Charisse nodded slowly, seeming to process this. "Emma's dad has a girlfriend who stayed over a lot and then just stopped coming. Emma said her dad was really sad."
"That must have been hard for Emma."
"Yeah." She peeled back more of the cheese wrapper. "I don't want Dad to be sad like that."
My chest tightened. "Charisse, look at me for a second."
She did.
I reached toward her and gently touched her wrist. "I'm not going to vanish on you, Charisse.
" I waited until her eyes met mine again.
"Look, I care about your dad a lot, and I don't see that changing.
" I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, choosing my next words carefully.
"But even if something did happen between us—and I'm not saying it will—I promise we'd talk to you about it first. I wouldn't just stop showing up one day.
" I leaned forward, my voice soft but firm.
"That's not how adults should handle things. Okay?"
She gave a small nod, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Okay."
"And your dad? He's one of the strongest people I know. You don't have to worry about taking care of him. That's not your job."
She seemed to relax a little at that. "Mom asks about you sometimes."
"Yeah?"
"Like how much time you spend here. And if you stay over." She said it so matter-of-factly, like she was reporting the weather.
I kept my face neutral even as my stomach dropped. "What do you tell her?"
"I don't know. That you're here sometimes? And that you and Dad watch movies and stuff." She finally pulled the cheese stick free and took a bite. "Is that okay?"
"Of course it's okay. You can always be honest with your mom about what happens when you're here."
"She seems worried that you're here a lot."
"Well, your mom wants to make sure you're okay. That's normal." Even as I said it, I knew it was more complicated than that. Worry for Charisse wasn’t her motivation.
Charisse finished snacking, then asked if she could go play in her room. I told her yes, and she left with her backpack, leaving me alone at the kitchen table with the weight of what had just happened.
I pulled out my phone and texted Gavin.
Andi: What time will you be home?
Gavin: About an hour. Everything okay?
Andi: Yeah. Just need to talk to you about something.
Gavin: ???
Andi: Nothing urgent. Just when you get home.
I cleaned up the kitchen while I waited, straightening things up, and wiping down the counters. Trying not to spiral as I replayed my conversation with Charisse.
Rebecca was manipulating the situation. She was setting up Charisse to expect me to leave, eventually. She wanted to make sure Charisse saw me as just another temporary person in their lives.
The lock turned and Gavin came through the door, tie loosened, jacket over his arm.
"Hey," he said, setting his bag down. His eyes immediately found mine, searching. "What's wrong?"
"Charisse asked me an interesting question during homework."
He went still. "What kind of question?"
"She wanted to know if we were planning to break up."
He looked at me curiously. "That’s weird, but not all that crazy a question for a kid."
"Yeah, I would have thought so too." I leaned against the counter. "But then she said her mom told her that sometimes people date but don't stay."
Gavin set his jacket down carefully, like he were trying to control his movements. "Well, shit, what else did she say?"
"That Rebecca asks her questions. About me. About us. How much time I spend here. If I stay over."
"Son of a bitch."
"Gavin—"
"I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry. I should have seen this coming."
"Don't apologize. Just tell me—do you know if Rebecca has been doing this for a while?"
He shook his head slowly. "Not that I'm aware of. Not like that. I think she’s asked about us, but I haven't heard the specifics you heard tonight."
"This feels like she's using Charisse."
"Yeah. It does." His voice was rough. "It really fucking does."
I took a breath, trying to stay calm. "So, what do you want to do?"
"Let me talk to the lawyer. We should document everything, like the questions Charisse asks that she says are from her mom, and any comments too." He stepped closer. "I'm not letting her manipulate Charisse into being afraid of losing you."
"I told Charisse I'm not going anywhere."
"Good. Because you're not." He pulled me into his arms. "I won't let Rebecca poison this."
I rested my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "We need to be transparent with each other. If she asks Charisse something, we need to know. If there's contact, we document it."
"Agreed."
"And we stay united. No matter what she tries."
"Always."
We stood there in his kitchen, holding each other while the evening light faded outside. Charisse's laughter drifted from her room—she was on a video call with Sammy, completely oblivious to the adult tension swirling around her. I loved that they had started building a relationship.
"Did something else happen?" Gavin asked quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"You seem... I don't know. More rattled than I'd expect."
I hesitated, then: "So, I couldn’t say for sure, but I could swear I saw Rebecca. At The Grind this morning."
He pulled back to look at me. "You think?"
"Like I said, I'm not totally sure. I just caught a glimpse of someone heading out the door. Dark hair, about her height. Wearing sunglasses." I shrugged. "Could have been anyone. But something about the way she moved..."
"Did she say anything?"
"No. Like I said, I'm not even sure it was her. I'd been in the back room and was coming out when I saw her. She was already leaving."
Gavin's expression darkened. "I don't like this."
"Neither do I. But we can't prove anything from a maybe sighting."
"Still. If she's showing up at your business—"
"We don't know that she is. And even if she did, she's allowed to get coffee." I squeezed his hand. "Let's not borrow trouble. We focus on what we know: she's asking Charisse questions, and we should document that. Let's talk to your lawyer. We just need to stay ahead of it."
He nodded, but I could see the worry in his eyes. The fear that Rebecca was building to something.
"Hey," I said, pulling his attention back to me. "We're okay. You, me, and Charisse—we're okay."
"Are we?"
"Yeah. Because we're not keeping secrets. We're not playing games. We're just... here. We're here together, and we're handling it."
He kissed my forehead. "I love you."
"I love you too."
Later, after Charisse went to bed, we sat on his couch with our laptops. Gavin had started to document things, writing everything down so we could get a running list of anything and everything, including dates.
As I watched him, the unease that had been sitting in my chest since Charisse's question settled deeper. It wasn't panic or fear. It was more like a slow, certain knowledge that this wasn't over.
Rebecca was planning. I felt it in my bones, but I just couldn’t understand what her endgame was, or why.
I'd figure it out soon enough, though.