29. Happiness is overrated
CHAPTER 29
Happiness is overrated
“Your father is an arsehole,” I tell Mace. He giggles. “No, don’t laugh, Macey. Let’s hate him together.”
Someone clears their throat. I jump and hide Mace from their view. Dad. Walking around Mace’s crib, I try to smile at Dad. He leans on the door, watching me like I watch Mace.
“I didn’t mean that,” I state to diffuse the tension. “Well, maybe. Only a little bit.”
“Are you okay?” he asks. We are in the guest room of his Yorkrinth’s apartment. It’s scarcely decorated since he barely has guests over. He might not have understood why I asked us to leave Wells Spring, but he drove us back to his house. I suspect Calum will check mine soon.
Pushing myself to the mattress, I ask, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Cathie.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper. I just buried my best friend, and my baby’s daddy walked back into my life. Of course I’m okay. I’m cool. I’m perfect. “I’m fine, but I need to be alone for a bit.”
Dad spreads his arms open in a hug. “Come here.” I fly into his arms, almost taking us to the rug. Dad steadies us and squeezes me tight. “It’s okay. It will be fine.”
It won’t. Everyone is a liar. It’s not okay.
Walking back to the bed, we sit side by side as my phone rings. I don’t have to check to know it’s Mr Dissick. Now he wants to talk to us. I’m done. Mace and I were fine without him, and we will be better when he leaves. He has his grandpa. The most important man in our lives.
“Why did we have to leave so fast?” he asks.
My gaze drops to my hands tangled in my white dress. Cold air rushes in through the window, and I tug Mace’s blanket to his chin. It’s dark outside.
“Calum,” I confess. I bite the inside of my lip and allow myself to take in much-needed air. Dad’s hand drops to mine. He pushes two of his fingers into my fist. I try to smile, but the only action I can manage is a shrug. “Calum showed up at the house to pay his condolences.”
The full force of his gaze hits me when I lift my head. “Did you two get a chance to talk?”
“ And I let him know he isn’t wanted. I don’t want to see him.” Dad’s silence pries my broken heart open. He squeezes my hand. “Say something,” I whisper. “Did I do the right thing?”
“Do you think you did the right thing?”
“Yes,” I answer a bit too fast.
I don’t want a man who only shows up when there’s a tragedy. I want a man who shows up, day in and day out. On the good, bad, and ugly days. Calum has proven what kind of man he is. It took Amelia dying for me to see it. He’s not worth any of my tears.
“What if I said it wasn’t the right thing?” Dad asks. “You know it’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault,” I snap. He needs to stop saying that.
“It is. Mine and Dani’s.”
Jerking out of his grip, I shoot to my feet. “It’s not your fault, Dad.”
“You’re not the girl I used to know, Cathie.”
“People change, Dad. Especially when they have had a kid. They change.” I look at my son in his homemade crib. Dad made it from scratch. He’s the kind of man I need in my life. Not a Calum Dissick. Jason is so much better than him. Dad’s eyes water, and he grabs his knees. I drop to mine, placing my hands over his as I murmur, “You’ve also changed, Dad.”
“Yeah,” he replies, nodding. I hug him. Happiness is overrated. It’s unattainable. I have Dad. I have Mace. I have my best friends. They are alive. That’s enough. Dad pulls me up so I can sit on his lap. His fingers run through my short hair. “Was he the one calling on our way back here?”
My ringtone cuts him off. That man is hell-bent on frustrating me. He called on our way back here. He can’t take a hint. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to talk to him. I stomp to my purse on the table. As expected, Calum is calling. I didn’t save his number, but I memorised it after hearing his voice the first time I mistakenly picked up. I end the call, and it rings less than two seconds later. Bubbling with anger, hate, and many more dark emotions, I type in four words. He has done enough damage.
Me: Fuck off Calum Dissick.
“You should pick up,” Dad says.
What if he sees Mace and decides to take him? He is rich and popular. The media loves him.
“Not interested,” I murmur. I fold my arms on my chest, no interest in the vibrating phone on the table. Dad’s fingers sink into the edge of the bed, and the corners of his lips pull tight. He’s conflicted. “You too, Dad. You’re not allowed to talk to him. He is not welcome here.”
“Catherine.”
“I just lost my best friend, Dad,” I say. My hip digs into the table I lean on for support. Fresh tears rush to my eyes. I close them, and the tears roll down my cheeks. If he cared, he would have shown up earlier. I’ve moved on. “I don’t want to talk about Calum.”
“Okay.” I think we are done talking about it, but he whispers, “I’ll never truly be happy knowing what I did. I may have ruined your chance at happiness, Catherine. I should have given him a chance to talk. Both of you. I need to make it right.”
The rest of his words fly over my head. My mind zeroes in on— ruin , echoing it so much I fear I will explode. The only person who ruined anything was Mr Dissick. He ruined my life with his empty promises.
“You ruined nothing. You took me to the hospital, not him,” I remind him. “You’ve been here for me every step of the way, not him. You didn’t ruin anything. And that’s that, Dad.”
“Just talk to him. Even if it’s only once.”
For Amelia, I was willing to talk to him, but she’s dead. For Dad, I’m not willing to make that sacrifice. I’ve spent too much time trying to make other people happy. “Sorry, Dad.”
Seated on the bed, Dad sighs. He looks defeated and tired. “What about Mace?”
“When the time is right, I’ll tell him.”
“When will the time be right?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
One step at a time. First, I will stop sulking. I’ll stop hiding. I’ll go out there and meet new, better people. I haven’t talked to a man who isn’t Dad, a staff, or Jason in eighteen months.
It’s time to change that. The vibration from the table ends our conversation. My mind is made up as I pick up the phone to block him. Dad stops behind me. His eyes linger on the phone, and questions swim in his blues, but he doesn’t voice any of them. He will get over it, eventually.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Cathie.”
No, I don’t. But I’ll be fine.
“Goodnight, Dad.”
We hug, and he leaves the room. As soon as the door shuts, I check on Mace, then jump into bed without removing my clothes. My head digs into a pillow. Just a nap and I’ll be better.
Mace’s cry wakes me up. I stare at the ceiling for a second, trying to piece everything. I’m at Dad’s house. We came yesterday. I rush to my son. His cries increase, and I take him out of his crib, rocking him while I try to figure out what the problem is. I lower him to the bed to check his diapers. He needs a change. A bath would be nice. I also need one after yesterday.
A familiar ache takes over my chest as everything creeps back in. I head to the window and pull the curtains open like the dawn of a new day will melt the sad reality.
Amelia is dead. She’s really gone.
Unshed tears prick the back of my eyes. I return to Mace, carrying him with utmost care. We head to the bathroom for a bath. After cleaning up, I breastfeed him. He sucks like the happy child he is, and my hand reaches down to pat his curls. Why does he have to look so much like his father?
My stomach rumbles. I didn’t eat all day yesterday. It felt wrong. I wait for Mace to finish up before I grab my phone and head to the living room. Dad is already up. I peek at the time.
8:51 am.
“Good morning, Dad,” I call out.
The kitchen door is open so I can see him. He walks over to me with a spatula and kisses my forehead. Mace blinks up at him. “Good morning, Macey.” He pokes Mace’s cheek with a coo, and my son snickers. “Slept well?” he asks me. I think I nod. “I’m making breakfast.”
“Thanks.”
While he cooks, I set up the table with everything we will need. Mace is fully asleep by the time I finish. I drag his rocking chair beside one of the dining seats and place him inside it.
His snores permeate the air. “I love you,” I whisper to him.
My phone buzzes in the pocket of my shorts, and I sink into a dining chair. It can’t be Calum. I blocked him. There are missed calls and texts from Rose and Taylor. My heart races as I call Rose. The call connects. It’s an audio call, but she requests to switch to video. Her face shows up, and I wave. I didn’t inform them before leaving. Everything happened in a rush.
“Hey,” I greet.
“Hey. Hold on one sec. I’m calling Taylor.”
In seconds, Taylor joins in. A pang of sadness creeps in. There should be four of us on this call. They must have been thinking the same thing because an unusual awkwardness sets in. I smile and clear my throat to rid some of the tension. Amelia wouldn’t have wanted this for us.
“Sooo,” I start. “I missed your calls.”
“Yeah,” Rose replies. Her playful side is gone, replaced by a strict, less-laughing lady. I don’t know if it’s because of Amelia’s death or if her university is kicking her arse. “You left early.”
“We stopped to check in last night, but Jason told us you were gone,” Taylor adds.
“Something came up. I had to leave,” I reply, propping my phone against the flower vase.
Two pairs of brown eyes focus on me, and I force a smile to my lips. Rose breaks the ice first by asking, “Did you leave because of him? Jason told us, Cathie. He was at the house.”
“And Ashley confirmed it,” Taylor murmurs.
There’s no point lying. “Yep.”
“Did you speak to him?” Taylor asks. I roll my eyes. I don’t want to talk about him. “We have respected your decision about not meddling. But he has been trying to reach you.”
“How do you know…” I trail off as it hits me. Rose doesn’t meet my gaze, but Taylor does. I hate that she’s blonde now. This is why they called. They did something. “What did you do?”
“We were trying to reach you,” Rose offers. I knock the vase down by accident, and my phone drops to the table. “He couldn’t get to you, Cathie. No one knew where you were.”
“You could have called my dad.”
“He wasn’t picking up,” Taylor replies, a bit exasperated.
How dare she sound annoyed? I’m the one who should be pissed?
I tilt the phone back up and frown. “Fine. What did you two do?”
“We gave him your address,” Rose says.
“And your dad’s,” Taylor adds.
Anger slithers into my veins. “I hate you two,” I spit out.
Their faces pale. Rose blinks back tears. “I can’t do this. Amelia is better at this.” She sniffs and adds, “Amelia was better at drawing the line between pampering and scolding you. I’m not. So, don’t make this hard on us. When he shows up, you will bloody well talk to him.”
A scoff escapes me. Taylor whispers, “Amelia told us to help as much as we could.”
“Amelia is dead,” I scream.
How dare they? I end the call and slap my phone down on the table. Who does Rose think she is? I’ll do nothing. My fingers tangle in my hair. Footfalls approach me, but I don’t look up.
“Is everything okay?” Dad asks.
The doorbell rings. My gaze darts between the door and Mace. I stand. What if it’s Mr Dissick? I can’t let him get to Mace.