Chapter 4 #2
Since that night, I’ve lived every day half-expecting her to come back and take him away. Not that he’s mine to claim, but God, it feels like he is. At the end of this month, I’ll have cared for him longer than she ever did.
I’ve been there for all his milestones: his first words, the first time he crawled, the moment he first pushed himself up to stand. And when he grinned at me with those first tiny teeth, it was the kind of joy I’ll never forget. These are the memories I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.
And I’m praying I get to keep creating memories with him.
That’s why I’ve already filed the adoption papers, something I couldn’t legally do during the first six months.
But now that we’ve passed that point, and my sister has left Alfie in my care without offering support or declaring her intention to come back for him, it’s clear she intended to abandon him.
That gives me a strong case. A very strong one.
More than anything, I want Alfie to be safe, and I know I can give him the life my sister never could.
My sister, Marin, hides her chaos behind a polished exterior.
By night, she works as a dancer in a strip club in Las Vegas, something I only found out about a month ago when she told me in a text message.
By day, she’s locked in a battle with addiction and instability.
From the outside and to everyone around her, she probably looks healthy, composed, maybe even thriving.
But it’s all smoke and mirrors. I know my sister well.
She’s a master of manipulation and a high-functioning addict who hides behind a veil of lies.
That’s why my mom and dad disowned her years ago.
The never-ending stream of excuses became too much for them, along with stealing their prescriptions and lying about her expenses.
If they had kept track of how many times she said “It wasn’t me” and “You’re overreacting” out of her gaslighting mouth, they’d probably be millionaires, I’m sure of it.
Since she left Alfie with me, she’s been like a ghost, only showing up in the occasional text, just enough to remind me of the wreckage she left behind.
She won’t be winning Mother of the Year, or Sister of the Year, for that matter. And while I may never forgive her for what she did, I’ve made peace with one thing: I’m stepping in to set things right.
Alfie will never want for anything. He’ll be loved and have stability. I’ll make sure of that.
Eventually, everyone will know about Alfie, especially when the adoption is finalized, but for now, I’m enjoying having him all to myself.
My phone chirps, and I jump, my instinct coiled and ready to strike. I feel it, a readiness thrumming just beneath my skin, following my irritating exchange with Max Hart. Add to that the prospect of dealing with my sister via text, who doesn’t care what time of day it is, and I’m battle-ready.
Reluctantly, I pick up my phone and immediately relax, the tension leaving my body in droves when I realize it’s not my sister messaging me, but my friend Catalina, or Cat as she prefers to be called.
Her text has me shaking my head with a no before I’ve even hit reply.
Cat
Are you free tomorrow night?
Me
No.
Cat
Sorry, I’ll rephrase that. I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow night. Be ready. Dress up or down, whatever you’re comfortable in. We’re going speed dating!
Me
Absolutely not.
Cat
It wasn’t a question.
Me
I won’t find a babysitter this late. And my nanny needs forty-eight hours’ notice for evenings.
Cat
I have that covered. I booked SanFran Sitters to take care of Alfie.
They are the absolute best. Paisley will arrive at your place tomorrow night at six to give Alfie time to get used to her.
She’ll also do bath and bedtime to give you time to get ready before I pick you up.
She’s CPR-certified, specializes in early childhood education, and is lovely. I interviewed her myself.
I stare at my phone, too shocked to reply.
Cat knows me better than anyone I know and has been my friend since my sophomore year at college.
She knows I haven’t had a night out, not even a simple dinner with friends, since Alfie arrived.
My evenings used to be spent dining at fancy restaurants, but now they involve my silk work blouses being splattered with mushy food by a very fussy eater named Alfie.
Not that I would change anything; he’s my world now.
Cat fully understands how special Alfie is to me. I don’t trust him with anyone else, and that’s why she hired the best sitter service in the city. Arranging a sitter for me forces me to be brave, and she knows I wouldn’t book one on my own.
Trusting someone other than myself or Emma, the nanny, with Alfie has my palms breaking out in a sweat, but it’s something I should have done a while ago.
This is a big step.
Huge. The first of many more to come.
Cat
You’re welcome.
Me
I hate you right now.
Meddling minx.
Cat
You’ll love me when you find out what we’re doing.
Me
I hate dating.
That’s why I don’t do it, and it’s not just because Alfie is in the picture now—it’s because I gave up looking for Mr. Right after the worst date I ever had.
Being two hours late to pick me up, taking me to a dive bar, and then waiting outside my house afterward, just in case I changed my mind about sleeping with him, put me off dating for good.
Cat
It’ll be fun. It’s just one night. Let’s get you back in the dating game.
That makes me feel sick to my stomach. Dating is not something I’m good at. Give me a courtroom any day; it’s where I thrive. But when it comes to small talk with someone I have zero chemistry with, I’m out the door with my sneakers on, running for the hills.
Me
It’s a work night.
Cat
I’ll have you home before midnight. I promise.
Me
Okay.
Cat
Yes! See you tomorrow. And bring ID. Oh, and your results of having a clean bill of health. *wink emoji* From the one you did last month to renew your health insurance.
Me
What? Are you referring to my sexual health certificate? If so, why do I need to bring that?
Cat
That’s the one and it’s just a formality.
Me
Are you sure?
Cat
Yes. Chill!
That included everything, even my sexual health results. I’m clean. I didn’t need an examination to tell me that. I’m practically a born-again virgin at this point.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
I have no intention of hooking up with anyone.
Drumming my fingertips against the wooden tabletop, I consider all the excuses I can think of to prevent myself from going when another text arrives.
Cat
And don’t even think about cancelling on me. You’re coming.
Oh, screw it. “You’re going, Paige.” I smile to myself and for the first time in months, I feel butterflies dancing in my stomach.
I’m excited.
But speed dating.
What happens at a speed dating event?
I google it to find out and my palms immediately feel clammy as I read the words on my phone screen: conversation, timer, scorecards.
Oh God, what the hell has Cat signed me up for?
And why do I need my sexual health certificate?
She’s up to something.