Chapter 35 Freddie
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Freddie
Fucking hell, this is not what I need first thing in the morning.
Trina: Can we talk, just us?
I stare at the screen like it might morph into something else if I glare hard enough. It doesn’t.
Part of me wants to ignore it, block the number, and pretend I never saw it. But the rest, the part that’s been knotted up with fear since I saw her at the con, knows better.
She’s not going away.
And as much as I hate the thought of sitting across from her again, I owe it to Penny to hear her out. If there’s even a chance this becomes a custody issue, I need to know what I’m up against.
So I reply.
Freddie: Where?
Thank God Timothy is on his way to take care of Penny. There’s no way I’d bring her along to this.
Trina: Our spot.
I cringe.
I moved to this town for her, and yes, we did have good times. But she left. We don’t have a spot anymore.
But is there any point in arguing…?
Trina is already there when I walk in to the cafe, dressed as if she’s been plucked out of a lifestyle influencer’s Pinterest board, soft waves, creamy sweater, lips a little too pink.
She looks like someone who wants to be taken seriously.
She looks like someone who practiced in the mirror.
“Freddie,” she says with a smile that makes my stomach churn. “Thanks for coming.”
I don’t sit right away. I just stand there for a second, scanning her face. I used to know every curve of it, every trick it could pull. Now it just feels… unfamiliar. Cold beneath the polish.
I take the seat across from her, folding my arms over my chest.
“This about Penny?” I ask. No point playing games.
Trina sips her drink. Some kind of herbal tea. “Of course,” she says lightly. “What else would it be about?”
I don’t answer. I just wait.
“I’ve been in therapy,” she starts, eyes locking onto mine, hoping to impress me. “Doing a lot of work. And I realized… I made a lot of mistakes. I wasn’t ready to be a mom before. I was selfish. I let fear run the show.”
I blink. She’s not wrong.
“But I’ve changed,” she says quickly. “I’ve got a new job. And I’ve been looking at a new place nearby. It’ll be stable. Clean. There will be space for Penny. I think… I’d like to be in her life again.”
There it is.
The part where the hammer drops.
“‘Be in her life again’ meaning what, exactly?” I ask. My voice stays even, but barely.
Her smile falters just slightly. “I’d like custody.”
My hands curl into fists under the table. I fight to keep my expression still, unreadable. “You want to go to court?”
“I don’t want to. But if I have to, I will.” She sets her cup down. “I have a right to be part of my daughter’s life.”
My laugh is sharp and bitter. “You had that right. And you walked out. You didn’t just leave me, Trina, you left her. She cried for you for weeks.”
“I told you why I left,” she says, suddenly softer. “I had to sort myself out.”
“I know you disappeared. I know you haven’t called, written, asked about her once in years. Now suddenly you’re back and ready to play house?”
“I’ve changed.”
That again.
“Okay,” I say. “What’s Penny’s favorite color?”
She blinks.
“What song does she ask for every night before bed?” I press on. “What’s the name of the stuffed rabbit she takes everywhere? When was the last time she had an allergic reaction?”
Her silence is deafening.
She tries to recover, but it’s too late. I see it now, see her. All smoke and mirrors. A performance wrapped in motherhood branding.
“You don’t want Penny,” I say, standing up. “You want control. You want to win. But you’re not getting her, Trina. Not now. Not ever.”
Her expression twists, something mean and real breaking through the gloss. “You think the court’s going to side with a tattooed single dad and his parade of nannies and flings?”
I lean down, calm and low. “You don’t know my life. You sure as hell don’t know me anymore.”
Then her tone shifts.
She tilts her head, leans forward. Her voice drops low, syrupy sweet and sharp as glass.
“But maybe we don’t have to make this ugly,” she says. “You’ve got your setup. Your shop. Your little nanny.” She smirks slightly. “It’s a cute life. Stable, even. I can see why you wouldn’t want to mess that up.”
My jaw tightens, but I don’t speak.
I can see the real her snaking out like venom.
She watches me, then taps a manicured nail on her mug. “I’ve got debts,” she says simply. “And I need a fresh start. Something clean. Easy.”
I narrow my eyes, not liking where this is going.
“So here’s the thing,” she declares. “You pay me off, I walk away. I won’t file for custody. I won’t come back. You’ll never hear from me again.”
For a second, I think I misheard her. I just sit there, blinking, trying to make sense of what she’s saying.
“You’re joking,” I finally manage.
She shrugs, almost cheerfully. “Not really. I figure we both get what we want. You keep your daughter. I get a chance to, you know, rebuild. On my terms.”
She’s here for money. For leverage. For me to buy her absence, like Penny’s some card she pulled out of a deck when she needed a damn payday.
And just as I’m about to lose it, about to tell her exactly what kind of heartless, selfish piece of…
Bark
Clatter.
Screech.
A woman gasps.
Pickle.
He bursts through the café door, muddy and panting, leash dragging behind him, a tail of chaos. He skids across the tile, paws scrambling for traction, nails clicking loud as drum beats. He crashes into a chair leg, rebounds, then barrels straight for me.
“What the…”
I shoot up just in time to catch him before he launches himself onto my lap.
“Pickle!” I groan, grabbing his harness. “What the hell are you…”
And then the door swings open again.
Ivy.
She’s breathless, cheeks flushed, eyes scanning the café, and when she finds me, they stop cold.
Because she doesn’t see Trina offering me a bribe. Doesn’t hear the venom she just spit.
She sees Trina leaning in, smiling sweet, her fingers brushing my hand acting as if we’re sharing some private joke. And worse…
Trina, always the performer, chooses that moment to kiss my cheek.
Just a brush of her lips, sealing some kind of deal.
I flinch and pull back instinctively, but it’s too late.
Ivy’s already frozen in the doorway, holding Pickle’s leash in her hand so tight her knuckles have turned white.
“Ivy…” I take a step forward, hand up, but the look on her face guts me. Not anger. Not hurt.
Betrayal.
She lightly tugs the leash, and Pickle, confused, tongue lolling, bounces to her side.
“Ivy, wait. That’s not…” I stand quickly, jostling the table and spilling my coffee, but I don’t even register the hot liquid running down my pants.
She’s already turning.
Already walking away.
“Ivy!” I call again, louder, taking a step toward her.
But she’s fast. She’s furious. And Pickle, despite his usual chaos, somehow keeps up, his tail low now. He knows something’s wrong.
She’s gone.
And I can’t even chase after her. Note until I settle this issue with Trina. Not until I make sure Penny is safe.
I shove my hands through my hair, pulling at the strands as Trina leans back in her seat, her smug look the icing on top of my pain.
And then the panic hits.
She didn’t let me explain.
She thinks I let Trina kiss me.
She thinks… she thinks the worst.
How the hell am I going to fix this?