Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE NEXT DAY
“Breakfast is ready,” I call down the hallway as I set a plate of pancakes down in the center of the dining room table.
Winston barks at my ankles, and I instantly bend to scratch his fluffy, soft head.
He is now up to my knees and is acting like a rebellious teenager.
His energy has been nonstop lately, the broken glasses he has knocked off the coffee table evidence of that, and he’s been chewing everything in his path.
But I still don’t regret getting him for Claire.
Just as I’m pulling out a chair to sit down, I hear Claire come tearing down the hallway.
She slides into the kitchen on her sock covered feet and immediately falls to her knees before Winston.
After getting attacked with kisses, she finally climbs into her chair with Winston sitting directly beside her, his head in her lap.
“Thanks, mom,” she says as she spears a pancake with her fork and puts it on her plate. “When is Heather coming over?”
“She’s not today, baby,” I reply as I slide the bottle of syrup over to her. “I told Kirstin I was taking the day off to be with my little girl.”
Claire looks at me with wide eyes, the syrup bottle forgotten. “Really?”
The way she says it makes my heart clench. Have I really been that absent or spent that little time with her lately? “Really really.”
“Can we go to the park?” She asks, practically jumping in her seat. “Oh, and the bookstore?”
“You just want to look at Legos, don’t you?” I tease before cutting off a small piece of pancake to dip in the syrup I poured into a tiny bowl.
Claire shrugs as she takes a too big bite and mumbles, “Yeah, but you can look at some books.”
I laugh and shake my head at her, and before I know it, we are falling into a comfortable silence as we both eat our breakfast. Once I’m done, I slip out of my chair and head over to the coffee pot, pouring myself another mug full as I prepare mentally for the conversation I’m about to have with her.
She was asleep by the time I got to Heather’s last night, so I had picked her up and carried her out to the car and then carried her into the apartment when we got home.
And since she wanted to pretend she was sleeping, I didn’t have the heart to wake her to hear what had happened at the sleepover to make her want to leave—or why she called the nanny instead of me.
“Is that a yes to the bookstore?” Claire asks once I’m seated back at the table.
I chuckle softly as I tuck one leg under the other and prop my foot up on the edge of the chair so my knee is against my chest. “Sure, baby. We can do that before your softball game tonight, okay?”
Claire just beams before cleaning off her plate. As she slides off her chair, she grabs my plate from in front of me and carries both into the kitchen and puts them in the sink. To my surprise, instead of trying to head back to her room, she rejoins me at the table.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she tells me, catching me off guard. My eyebrows shoot up as I stare at her, but she just keeps her eyes on the placemat. “I know I should’ve called you.”
I set my mug down and reach a hand towards her, resting it on her forearm. “It’s okay, baby. But why didn’t you?”
“Well, some moms were talking,” Claire says, and I instantly feel my spine go rigid. “And then some kids were being mean, and I overheard Auntie Blue talking about going out with you, and I didn’t want to take you away from that.”
“Oh, baby,” I whisper as I give her forearm a gentle squeeze so she’ll look at me. “You always, always come first. I don’t care what I’m doing or where I am. I will drop everything to come and get you, even if it’s for something so small you think it’s crazy. You come first, Claire. Always.”
She nods softly and then looks away again, so I ask, “What did you overhear from the moms at the sleepover?” But Claire shakes her head and wraps her arms tightly around herself. I reach forward and run a hand down her hair. “Baby, you can tell me.”
“They—” she swallows audibly before continuing. “They said that they couldn’t believe how someone like you could end up with someone like him. And then they said that you were a fool to let daddy go.”
This was the last thing I thought she was going to say and instantly I’m seeing red. It’s one thing to say things of that nature to your friends, but saying that type of thing with kids around, let alone the kid whose parent you’re talking about?
I bite the inside of my cheeks to maintain my temper, not wanting Claire to see just how infuriated I am. But if she weren’t sitting in front of me right now and I didn’t need to do some damage control? I’d already be in my car driving over there to give that mom a piece of my mind.
“Is daddy not coming back?”
Closing my eyes briefly, I take a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth before I look back at my daughter. “I’m sorry that we haven’t talked about this sooner. I was trying to work out some things before talking to you, but maybe I should’ve done so a lot earlier than now.”
Claire just stares at me, so I reach forward and grab both her hands between mine. “I’m not exactly sure what is happening with your father right now, baby. What I can tell you is that he loves you, and I know he will be back for you when he gets some things figured out.”
“Are you guys not going to be together anymore?” She asks, but there’s no sadness lacing her voice, only genuine curiosity. And honestly? The anger and relief swarming within me is almost too much to bear.
“No, baby,” I whisper, pulling one hand away to cup her cheek before running it through her hair. “We aren’t going to be together anymore.”
She nods, no tears or signs of distress anywhere to be found. Claire squeezes the hand that I have over the top of hers, and she gives me a small smile. “It’s okay, mom.”
“How does that make you feel?” I risk asking, wanting to understand what’s going through her head.
“I don’t know,” she replies with a shrug, eyes not leaving mine. “I mean, he’s always gone. Will things be any different?”
Those words, hearing my almost eight-year-old little girl saying that her father and I not being together anymore won’t change a single thing for her because she’s so clearly noted his absences, causes something in me to crack. But I try my best to keep my composure.
“Probably not, baby,” I murmur, unable to keep the sadness from lacing my voice. “But you will always have me.”
Claire leaps out of her chair and throws her arms around me, giving me a hug that I so desperately need.
I wrap my arms around her tiny waist, holding her to me as she nuzzles into the crook of my neck.
Even though I am beyond angry at the moms at her sleepover and Travis for putting us in this position, I cannot shake the immense relief I feel finally saying this to Claire—even though half of it isn’t how I wanted to say things.
“Who were they talking about?” Claire suddenly asks as she pulls away, but she plants herself in my lap.
“Who was who talking about?” I ask, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear.
She looks up at me expectantly. “The moms. They said someone like him. Who is he?”
I freeze with my hand on her shoulder, staring down at her for a moment. Is now really the time to tell her I was seeing someone? Was the news of her father too much for her to handle in one sitting? Or do I tell her now, knowing that people around her are talking about it?
“Well,” I slowly tell her, going back to playing with her hair as I opt for honesty. “I ended up meeting someone through work and we’ve just been getting to know one another.”
I mean, how much can a kid her age really understand, anyway?
“Can I meet him?”
“Oh,” I stumble, shaking my head. “Well, I don’t know, baby. I think it’d be smart to wait a little while.”
Claire’s brows furrow. “Why?”
I look away from her for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. I’m realizing I came into this conversation completely unprepared when I thought I was more than ready to go. But to say this took a turn I wasn’t expecting is an understatement.
“It’s complicated, baby,” I tell her. “You are so smart for your age, but there are certain things that are going to be difficult for you to fully understand until you get a little older.” She looks down but nods all the same. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” she replies instantly, her eyes shooting back up at mine.
I cup her cheeks between my hands. “Then know that when the time is right, I’ll let you meet him, okay?”
“Okay, mom.” I press a kiss to her forehead before she slides off my lap and runs off down the hallway towards her room with Winston hot on her heels, as if this conversation never even happened.
I chuckle to myself as I push away from the table, heading into the kitchen to rinse out my mug.
Once the dishes from breakfast find their way into the dishwasher, I begin to make my way to my bedroom but stop as I pass Neve’s old room.
I’ve kept the door closed since that day, only venturing into her room once in the last two months.
I fight back the wave of tears that threaten to make an appearance before I square my shoulders and reach for the handle.
Slipping silently into her room, I close the door behind me with a gentle click and rest my back against it.
Her bed is still made, her robe draped over the chair she has resting in the corner.
The wardrobe is still cracked open, and I see some of her favorite sweaters hanging in color order.
Finally taking a deep breath, her familiar scent of strawberry and vanilla hit my nose, and suddenly there’s no stopping the tears from cascading down my cheeks.