Chapter 22 #2
Elodie wouldn’t be calling me yet anyway. She’s probably just landed in L.A. The record label was sending her a driver to pick her up at the airport, and I’m sure she has a hotel to check into before attending meetings on top of meetings.
She’s a celebrity now, and I’m just the single dad she worked for on her road to fame.
When I answer the call, I prop the phone up on the table using the bottle of ketchup behind it so both Elliot and I can see our friend on the screen, and straighten my flannel that bunched up around my shoulders. “Hey, Fletch.”
His face instantly grows confused. “What the hell is wrong with you? You look like your dog just died.”
“We’re day drinking,” Elliot says, casting his gaze to me. “Elodie left for Los Angeles this morning.”
“Fuck, then that explains the text she sent Laney.” He reaches up and scratches the side of his head. “That’s part of the reason why I was calling. Laney wanted to know what happened. Elodie made it sound like she was leaving for good.”
“A record label wants her, man. Her performance at the winery is all over the internet and they wanted her out in L.A. as soon as possible,” I grate out before lifting my glass to my lips again, finally starting to feel the effects of the alcohol after four beers.
“Shit.” Fletcher lets out a heavy breath. “Well, now what?”
I glare at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, how is this going to work with you two?”
“It’s not. She’s gone. We’re done.”
Fletcher closes his eyes, clenches his jaw, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ, Henley. Please don’t tell me you just let her go?”
“What was I supposed to do, Fletcher? I’m not going to be the reason she doesn’t achieve her dreams.”
He smacks the table in front of him. “You’re a goddamn idiot. You love her! I saw your face when it fucking hit you the other night.”
“Looks like it doesn’t matter,” I fire back as my voice rises, drawing the attention of people around us.
Elliot scours the room then taps the table in front of me, gathering my attention. “Hey, keep it down, all right?”
“He started it,” I quip, pointing to the phone.
“And you ended it by not fighting for her,” Fletcher fires back.
“I’m not going to compete with her music, Fletch. Don’t you get it? That would be like Laney asking you to give up football.”
Fletcher shakes his head. “See? That’s where your lack of emotional intelligence is screwing you over.”
Elliot rolls his eyes. “Dr. Fletcher Adams, the therapist, has now entered the chat.”
“Fuck you, Elliot.” Fletcher flips us off through the screen. “But you know I’m right. Laney would never ask me to give up football because she knows what it means to me, but that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t if it came down to the choice between the game and her.”
My eyes snap back to him. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, man. We’ve both made sacrifices over the past few months so that we can both keep doing what we love but also love each other.
” He leans closer to the screen. “Because that’s what you do when you love somebody, Henley.
You compromise and sacrifice and do everything possible to keep them in your life. ”
My jaw is so tight right now that I think I might crack a fucking tooth. “And what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if she doesn’t want both?”
“Did you ask her that?”
“No.”
“Then you’re fucking assuming, and you know what happens when you assume, right?”
“You make an ass out of you and me,” Elliot answers for him, shaking his head. “I had a law professor that said that all the fucking time.” He spells the word out phonetically. “Ass-u-me.”
I flash him my best deadpan stare. “Thank you for that enlightening explanation.”
“Well, it’s the fucking truth,” Fletcher adds. “You know, there’s something my therapist said to me that completely changed how I look at love now.”
“Okay…”
“He said we don’t fall in love with the other person as much as we fall in love with who that person allows us to be.” Fuck. “So let me ask you this: Did Elodie allow you to be a version of yourself that you liked, Henley?”
I don’t even have to think about my answer. “Yes.”
The woman opened up my eyes to so much that I can’t even form my thoughts into words.
I know, shocking.
“Then that sounds like a person you should try to hold onto, no matter what obstacles stand in your way.”
***
“You nervous?” Elliot straightens the papers in front of him, sitting on my right at the conference table in his family’s law office.
“No.”
“Then stop shaking the table.”
“I’m not.”
He reaches down and pushes my leg into the ground, forcing my knee to stop bouncing up and down. “Yes, you are.”
A knock at the door interrupts my next reply, and Meghan walks in, looking freshly tanned and smiling from ear to ear. “Ms. Cooke is here,” Wendy, the front receptionist announces after Meghan walks past her.
“Thanks, Wendy.”
“Of course. Let me know if you need anything.” Wendy leaves just as Meghan takes a seat across from me.
“Hi, Henley,” she says, far too cheerily for my liking given the nature of this meeting.
“Um, hello.” Confusion swirls through my head as I take in the woman sitting across from me, wondering what the hell I ever saw in her that made me pursue her that night.
I can see the features in her face that our daughter inherited—her nose, her lips, and the shape of her eyes, but that’s it. There’s no warmth radiating from her, no empathy in her voice, and she certainly doesn’t seem conflicted about handing over her parental rights to her child.
Elliot clears his throat. “Good morning, Ms. Cooke.”
“Please just call me Meghan.”
Elliot nods. “Meghan. As my paralegal, Fiona, explained on the phone, we wanted to meet with you today for you to sign over all legal rights to your daughter, Remington Jane Clark.”
“Yup.”
That’s it. One word. No hesitation.
“Okay then.” Elliot slides the papers across the table to her.
“There are tabs on the lines where I need you to sign.” Meghan picks up the pen sitting on her right and scribbles her name quickly, not even bothering to read what she’s signing.
“Please keep in mind that there is a clause in this contract that you cannot reach out to the child in question before she turns eighteen if you change your mind at any point.”
Meghan just shrugs. “Fine by me.” She flips to the second and third pages, and once complete, slides them back over to Elliot. “Anything else?”
“That’s it?” I bark out. “You seriously aren’t even going to bat an eyelash about giving up all rights to your daughter?”
She scoffs. “I told you when I dropped her off with you, Henley, that I didn’t want to be a mom.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she continues. “I’m living my best life. I just got back from a week in Aruba with my new boyfriend, and we’re going to Paris next week.”
I lean back in my chair. “Holy shit. You don’t care at all, do you?”
“She has you now. She won’t miss me in her life if she can’t remember me, and besides, children just drag you down.” She stands from her chair and slings her purse back over her shoulder. “Are we good then?”
Elliot taps the table in front of him as he checks her signatures. “Yup. All good.”
“Great. Good luck!” I stare at her back until she opens the door and disappears down the hallway she walked through to get here.
“Wow,” Elliot says, tapping the stack of papers back into line. “That was way easier than I expected, but it’s probably a good thing.”
The only thing I can do right now is blink as I process what just happened.
She didn’t even hesitate, didn’t even ask me to reconsider.
She just left our daughter without a second thought—just like my parents did to me and Dilynne.
I exhale as the realization hits me. “Fuck.”
“You okay?”
I bury my head in my hands as a montage of my childhood slams into me, and then Carol and Nick pop up—the two people who took us in, cared for us like their own, and loved us when they never had to.
I’m such a fucking idiot.
Launching up from my chair, I straighten my jacket. “Do you need anything else from me?”
“No, but where’s the fire?” His head swivels on his neck.
My throat grows tight. “I just—I need to go.”
“Okay, do what you need to do. I’ll make sure I get you a copy of the papers as soon as possible.”
Racing out of the office, I manage to catch Meghan just as she’s getting in her car. “Meghan!”
“Henley? Did I forget to sign a page, or…”
“Thank you,” I blurt out, partly out of breath.
“For?”
“For giving me my daughter, for changing how I view the world, and for helping me see that the best thing you’ve done for our daughter is leave her life for good.”
She actually seems taken aback by those last few words, but it’s the truth. My daughter will never know the pain of being left behind—because I’ll love her so fiercely there won’t be room for doubt.
Just like Nick and Carol did for me and my sister.
She clears her throat. “Is that it?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Have a nice life.”
Rolling her eyes, she slides into her BMW and peels out of the parking lot, and I watch her leave. But I don’t feel even an ounce of remorse, or sadness—not like I did when I watched Elodie drive out of my life yesterday.
Before I can dwell on that though any further, I hop in my truck and cross town to my next stop, ready to take care of something that’s been a long time coming.