Chapter 27
Now?
The single-word text reply from Zoe made Dan close his eyes. He did not want to have this conversation. There had been a lot of conversations today that he hadn’t wanted to have, starting with seeing Lindsay and Sophie at breakfast.
Lindsay had texted him to meet them in the dining room of the Litchfield Inn at nine o’clock; it had felt like a summons rather than an invitation, which had put Dan in a resentful mood before the day had even started.
When he’d arrived, he’d seen Lindsay and Sophie laughing together, over a table set with crystal and silver—fresh-squeezed orange juice, Belgian waffles with fresh fruit and Chantilly cream for Sophie, an egg-white omelet and black coffee for Lindsay. Inwardly he’d sighed.
“Dan, so glad you could join us,” Lindsay had said, like he was a distant relative instead of Sophie’s dad. “Would you like something to eat? Order whatever you want.” The implication being that the sky was the limit because she was paying for it.
Dan had lived with a decade of these petty, pseudo-pleasant jibes.
He’d always told himself he understood why Lindsay did it, because her confidence had been so knocked by her dad’s abandonment, because she needed to always feel like she was in control.
He’d told himself he could rise above it all, be the better person, even though he had abandonment issues too, and it didn’t make him act like a jerk.
He’d told himself all that, many times, but right then it had seriously grated.
“I’ll just have coffee,” he’d said as he’d pulled out the chair next to Sophie’s, while Lindsay had beckoned imperiously to a waiter. He’d smiled at his daughter, but she’d barely looked at him.
“How’s your waffle, Soph?”
“Great,” she’d enthused, a touch of defiance to her tone.
“This place is amazing.” Again with the tone, the implication that in comparison their house was a dump, although maybe he was being too sensitive.
He’d known he tended to be, when it came to this particular power dynamic between the three of them.
He’d turned back to Lindsay as a waiter filled his coffee cup. “So, I guess this trip was a spur-of-the-moment thing?”
“Something like that,” Lindsay had replied, her expression turning mischievous over the rim of her porcelain cup. She’d given their daughter a laughing look. “Sophie and I cooked it up together a few days ago.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dan had taken a sip of coffee, needing to steel himself. “So, how long are you staying?” he’d asked, and Lindsay had let out a rich-throated laugh that was tinged with malice.
“What, you want to get rid of me?” she’d asked, her elegant eyebrows arched, her mouth curved in a smile that felt like a smirk.
“I just want to know,” Dan had replied levelly. And yes, he wanted to get rid of her, in a manner of speaking. At least, he wanted to know when he could.
“Don’t worry,” Lindsay had told him, her voice edged with the same spiky malice. “I’m flying back on the eighth.”
So, three days. Okay, he could handle three days. “So, you and Sophie are going to spend some time together?” he had surmised, glancing between the two of them. He hadn’t missed the secretive look they exchanged, and it had made the back of his neck prickle.
“We certainly are,” Lindsay had replied, and then reached over and squeezed Sophie’s hand. He’d watched his daughter’s eyes light up and felt his stomach sink. What did Lindsay have planned?
“Is there a subtext here?” he’d asked, trying for a light tone and not managing one. “I feel like there’s something you’re not saying.”
“Mom wants me to move to Dubai with her,” Sophie had blurted. Her face had been flushed, her eyes shining. “She wants me to come back with her on the eighth.”
Slowly Dan had lowered his coffee cup as he’d stared at his ex-wife. Lindsay had met his gaze with guilty defiance before looking away.
“Sophie…” For a second Dan hadn’t been able to speak. Move to Dubai… in three days? Was Lindsay actually serious? He’d turned to his daughter. “Honey, can you please give us a moment?” he’d asked.
Sophie’s eyes had sparked angrily. “Don’t ruin this,” she cried. “I get to decide my own life, Dad.” She’d glared at him. “I get to decide who I want to live with.”
He’d done his best not to show how much that barb hurt him.
He’d been the one to stay at home when Sophie was small.
He’d gotten up with her in the night, made her bottles, sat with her in the shower when she’d had croup, twice.
Lindsay had done stuff too, of course; she’d made homemade baby food, had planned elaborate birthday parties, taken her to Little Einstein classes.
But when it came to the drudgery and the grind, well, that had pretty much been him.
Too bad it was the sparkly stuff that counted more with a kid.
“Sophie, why don’t you go up to our room?” Lindsay had suggested. “We’re going to Sculpturedale,” she’d told Dan. “Have you been there? A sculpture garden near Kent.”
“No, I haven’t,” Dan had answered. Sophie had stood up, stomping away from the table before disappearing upstairs.
Dan had drawn a deep breath, let it out slowly. He was not, he’d told himself, going to lose his temper. He really wasn’t. “So, Dubai,” he’d said quietly. He rested one hand flat on the table. “You didn’t think to run that by me before selling it to Sophie?”
Lindsay’s eyes had flashed. “Like she said, she’s the one who gets to choose.”
“She’s fourteen, Lindsay,” Dan had retorted. “She doesn’t know what’s best for her.”
“Oh, so being with her mother isn’t?” Lindsay had cried, her voice high and thin. “You always acted like you were the better parent.”
“What?” That was a new accusation, to add to the many others—he didn’t appreciate how hard she worked, he didn’t understand what it was like to have ambition, he wasn’t sympathetic…
“Lindsay, this isn’t about who the better parent is,” he’d said.
“We both have our strengths as well as our weaknesses. What we need to focus on is what’s best for Sophie. ”
“And Dubai is a great environment,” Lindsay had replied swiftly. “Safe, clean, with a great international school. I’ve already inquired, and there’s a place in ninth grade. It’s British, lots of international students. She’d have an incredible experience, amazing opportunities.”
“Why didn’t you suggest this when you first went out?” Dan had asked quietly.
“Because I didn’t know what it would be like, and I knew the first few months would be really intense,” Lindsay had replied, like she’d told him this before, and bringing Sophie eventually had always been the plan, when Dan had known it absolutely had not been.
She’d leaned forward. “Don’t deprive Sophie just because you don’t like the sound of it. ”
Anger had sparked inside him, and he’d forced himself to tamp it down. “And what about depriving her of her father?” he’d asked quietly. “Did you consider that? If Sophie moves to Dubai, when do I get to see her?”
The questions had seemed to reverberate through the empty air. Lindsay had reached for her coffee cup and taken a sip, and the silence had stretched on.
“You can always visit,” she’d said eventually.
“A thirteen-hour flight that costs thousands of dollars?” Dan had asked incredulously. “I could maybe do that two, three times a year. Is that what you want my relationship to our daughter to be?”
“Your relationship to our daughter is not my responsibility,” Lindsay had snapped.
Dan had dropped his head into his hands, feeling furious but also near tears. He’d drawn a ragged breath and then looked up. “Why are you doing this, Lindsay?” he’d asked quietly. “Do you really want to sabotage my relationship with—”
“This is not about your relationship with Sophie, Dan,” Lindsay had interjected querulously. “It’s about mine. Why should I have to be so far away from her?”
“You’re the one who chose to move to Dubai,” Dan had pointed out in what he’d hoped was a reasonable tone.
“Because it was a good opportunity! Something you’ve never even tried for,” she’d added with a sneer. “I mean, what on earth were you thinking, moving to that Podunk town? She’s a New Yorker, Dan. A city girl. She needs far more opportunity and interest. Culture—”
Since when had Sophie been interested in culture, that was, besides watching YouTuber reels on her phone? “Starr’s Fall has been good for her,” he’d said.
“Not the way she tells it,” Lindsay had retorted. “It’s been boring and small. She’s not happy here. She told me herself.”
Dan had flinched, he hadn’t been able to help it.
Sophie had seemed happy, but what did he know?
Right then, he’d felt like he hadn’t known anything.
He’d taken another deep breath, tried to rally.
He’d been here before, back when Lindsay had asked Sophie to live with her, but this was so much bigger. So much worse. Dubai…
He might as well not have a daughter. Not be a father.
“How long are you planning to live in Dubai?” he’d asked. If it was only an ex-pat stint of two or three years…
“My contract is for five years,” Lindsay replied blithely. “But I’ll probably renew it.” Dan had gritted his teeth, willed himself not to rise to her bait. “Of course,” she’d said after a moment, “you could always move to Dubai, too.”
Dan had goggled. Surely, surely Lindsay wasn’t suggesting they get back together?
She wasn’t.
“I mean, real estate’s not cheap,” she had allowed, “but you could get a studio for about twelve hundred a month. It would be small—maybe three hundred square feet.”
For a few seconds, all Dan could do was stare at her. Move to Dubai? Seriously? “Lindsay…”
“You can do your business from anywhere, can’t you?” Lindsay had pressed. “So that’s not really an issue. And if you were willing to move here…” She shrugged. “Trust me, Dubai is much nicer.”
“So move to Dubai so I can see my daughter every other weekend, the way I did in New York?” Dan had surmised heavily.
Lindsay had shrugged. “It’s better than two or three times a year.”
For a second, staring at his ex-wife’s beautiful face, her eyes like ice chips, Dan had almost hated her.
She wasn’t doing this, he’d thought, because she wanted Sophie in Dubai.
At least, that wasn’t all of it. She wanted to punish him.
Push him too, into doing or saying something that she could point to, and cry was unreasonable, even cruel.
This dynamic had been going on way too long, and it wasn’t good for either of them.
“Lindsay, I don’t want to move to Dubai,” he’d said, but his tone had been defeated. He’d felt like he’d run out of road; Lindsay had always held all of the cards, because she got Sophie on her side. How could he fight that?
“Then it seems you’ve made your choice,” she’d replied, rising from the table.
“Now, Sophie and I are going to Sculpturedale.” He clearly had not been invited.
“I told her only to pack a suitcase of essentials for when we go back,” she’d added as she’d turned from the table. “I can buy her everything new there.”
Dan had watched his ex-wife walk out of the dining room, and he’d felt like she was taking all his hope and happiness with her. Sophie, in Dubai. He’d basically already said goodbye to her, Dan had realized, since she’d be spending the next three days with Lindsay.
He’d gotten back in his car, intending to drive back to Starr’s Fall, but instead he’d just cruised down empty roads, his mind a complete and painful blank.
He hadn’t been able to bear to think about anything—Sophie as a baby, with plump cheeks and rosebud lips; her first word had been “Dada,” which had filled him with pride.
He’d never told Lindsay. Sophie, as a toddler, with hair like blonde cotton candy and a gap-toothed grin.
As an eight-year-old, wet from the ocean, curled up in a beach towel in his lap.
Daddy, you have the best lap. Promise me you’ll always let me sit in it.
At some point, Dan had pulled the car over on the side and simply howled—with grief, with rage, with disappointment, with fear. He’d felt like Sophie had died… either that, or he had. If he did Lindsay’s bidding—again—and moved to Dubai, he’d lose Zoe and the life he was building here.
What kind of choice was that?
Eventually, he’d wiped his face, pulled back onto the road, and driven home. And then had realized he hadn’t spoken to Zoe all day. Hadn’t even texted her, and she had to be wondering. Worrying.
His heart heavy, he’d typed out the text, and Zoe had replied.
Now?
Biting his lip, his heart still like a stone inside him, he’d typed the one-word response.
Please.