Chapter 23
Solo stared at her dad’s rudimentary plans for the tiny house spread across the dining room table, but the numbers and measurements kept blurring together.
She’d been looking at the same page for ten minutes, unable to focus on square footage or electrical requirements because her mind kept circling back to yesterday’s phone call with David.
Janie’s mother wasn’t waiting for the scheduled court date three weeks away; she’d filed an emergency hearing and was pushing for temporary custody immediately, claiming “new evidence of parental neglect.”
What new evidence? The ER incident, probably. David had been maddeningly vague, saying only that he’d know more after reviewing the filing in detail and that they shouldn’t panic. But how were they supposed to not panic when “temporary custody” meant Janie’s mother could have the girls within days?
“You’re going to burn a hole in that paper if you keep staring at it like that,” her dad said from the doorway, two mugs of coffee in his hands.
Solo looked up. “Sorry. I can’t concentrate. I keep thinking about—”
“The court thing. I know.” He set the coffee down in front of her. “Is Janie still at work?”
“Yeah. She had depositions all afternoon.” Solo rubbed her eyes. “She’ll be home around seven.”
The word “home” had an almost miraculous taste on her tongue, even after Janie had stayed over this whole week instead of alternating with nights at her apartment.
They fell asleep together and woke up together and navigated the ongoing chaos of triplet parenthood together.
It’d been all but perfect, with a few moments of friction, and times when Janie’s depression tried to derail them, but they were working through it.
Or they had been, until Janie’s mother threw another grenade into their lives.
“You know,” her dad said, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from her, “I’ve been thinking about the timeline for the tiny house.”
She pushed away the papers and grabbed her coffee. “I’m not sure I want to talk about this right now. I have other things pressing for my attention.”
“Actually, I think the distraction might do you good.” He drew the plans closer to him. “I was thinking we could break ground when the weather starts to warm up in March. We’d get the foundation poured and the framing up before it gets too hot. I reckon we could be move-in ready by June.”
“That fast?”
“Tiny houses are quick to build,” he said.
“That’s part of the appeal. And I’ve got a buddy from the hardware store who’s a retired contractor.
He’s bored out of his mind and looking for a project.
” Her dad smiled. “But in the meantime, I think you and Janie need your space back, so I’m going to look for a short-term rental.
Me making myself tactfully scarce isn’t going to work for the next six months. ”
“You’re not in the way—”
“Hannah,” he said, “I love being here. I love seeing you and my granddaughters every day. But you two are rebuilding your marriage, and that’s hard to do with your old man underfoot.
Six months is nothing in the scheme of things.
And when we build the tiny house, I get to stay close, but you get your privacy. Win-win.”
Solo’s throat tightened. This hadn’t been the plan, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to lose an integral part of her new support system just yet. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“You would’ve figured it out. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You always have been. But I’m glad I could help. And I’m proud of you for turning to me and not alcohol.”
Solo pulled her hand away, unable to meet his gaze.
He’d rescued her too many times from that rathole when she was younger.
“Woody and RB appreciated it too,” she said, recalling the day she took a crate of liquor to their place after Janie had just left.
“I had to be strong for the girls. I couldn’t lose myself in a bottle like I have before. ”
He nodded. “Still. That takes guts, slugger, and I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she said quietly.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m not going anywhere. By June, I’ll be fifty feet away in a much cooler living situation, and I won’t have to face the shame of telling my new buddies that I’m living in my daughter’s fancy house.”
Solo grinned. “When you put it like that.” Her phone buzzed with a text from Shay: Game night tonight. Our place. 7pm. Bring snacks. You in? Right. She hadn’t seen the gang outside of work since volleyball night, and they’d want to be updated on how things were going with Janie.
Can’t. Janie’s coming home around 6 and we need to talk about the court stuff.
Bring Janie. You both need this. Plus we need to talk strategy. Everyone’s going to be there. Partners too. No bugging out or you have to tell Gabe when you get to work.
Solo hesitated, then paraphrased the texts for her dad. “What do you think?”
“I think you should go. I’ll handle things here. You and Janie could use some time with your people.”
She swiveled her phone around and around on the table. She wanted a taste of normality, but everything was so far from normal right now. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Carmen left that pasta bake in the fridge, so I’ll heat it up for the girls. We’ll do bathtime and stories, and everyone will be asleep by eight. It’s Friday night: you should go. Blow off some steam and get your heads right for whatever’s coming.”
Solo nodded. “Okay, we will.” She texted Shay to say they’d be there and then Janie to see if she wanted to come.
It would be the first group thing Janie had done since the Brewster auction, and Solo hoped she’d say yes.
She didn’t wait for a response, knowing Janie would already be busy with work, and headed out to the garage after kissing the triplets goodbye.
Work gave her some respite from the scenarios racing around her head, and at lunch, Gabe and Shay made her promise she’d be there later.
She managed to get away around five after finishing a custom job earlier than expected.
Solo opened the front door, anticipating a full front assault from the girls, but the place was eerily quiet.
The thought that this could be her new status quo if Janie’s mother won custody slammed into her chest like an engine block, and she had to grasp the stair rail for support.
The opening lines of “Let It Go” floated into her consciousness, and the reason for the unusual silence became apparent.
Solo walked to the living room and stood, unnoticed in the doorway, watching the girls draped all over her dad and Carmen.
She raised her eyebrow when she saw Carmen’s arm over the back of the sofa, her fingers tenderly stroking her dad’s neck.
Did this complicate things or make them better?
She sighed loudly, not wanting to deal with that particular question right now.
The triplets screamed, leapt off the sofa, and launched themselves at Solo’s legs, and all was right in the world again.
She threw her dad a questioning look, and he shrugged, clearly not aware she’d seen the affectionate display.
She tumbled to the floor with the girls, deciding to tackle that later. Much later.
When Janie got home just after seven, her hair was escaping from its bun, her makeup was slightly smudged, and her shoulders were tight with tension. Solo met her at the door and pulled her into a hug before she could even set down her bag.
“Rough day?” Solo murmured into Janie’s hair, hoping she hadn’t changed her mind about going out.
“The depositions ran long. And I kept checking my phone every five minutes to see if David had called with more information about my mother’s motion.” Janie pulled back to look at Solo’s face. “Did you hear anything?”
“Nothing yet. He said he’d call tomorrow after he reviews everything in detail.”
Janie’s face fell, and Solo hated her hopeless expression. “Hey,” she said, cupping Janie’s cheeks. “We’re going to get through this. Whatever she’s claiming, we’ll fight it.”
“But what if—”
“No what ifs. Not tonight.” Solo kissed her softly. “Tonight, we’re going to Gabe’s for game night. Dad’s handling bedtime. We’re going to spend a few hours with people who love us.”
Janie looked like she might argue, but then she sagged against Solo. “Okay, yeah. That actually sounds good.”
“Go say hi to the girls then change into something comfortable.”
Thirty minutes later, they were in Janie’s car heading to the gang’s apartment in South Wabash, with an assortment of beer, wine, and snacks in the back seat. Janie hadn’t spoken since they’d stopped at the store, and now she was just staring out the window.
Solo reached over to take her hand. “You okay?”
“Just tired.” Janie blew out a long breath. “I haven’t seen the gang properly for weeks. What if they hate me? I feel like I’m going to be terrible company.”
Solo ran her fingers over Janie’s palm. “You don’t have to be on for them. They’re our people. They’ve seen us at our worst.”
“Have they though?” Janie whispered. “They’ve seen you struggling. But me? I just...disappeared. I left you alone with three babies while I hid in a depressing apartment feeling sorry for myself.”
Solo pulled into a parking spot near Gabe’s building and turned to face Janie properly.
“First of all, you weren’t feeling sorry for yourself: you were drowning in postpartum depression.
Second, they don’t judge you. Rosie’s been in your corner from the beginning.
She understands mental health struggles better than anyone.
RB will probably make some inappropriate joke to break the tension, Woody will be quietly supportive, Shay will probably mother-hen you, and Gabe will go into military strategist mode about the court case. ”
Janie gave her a small, tight smile. “You’re probably right.”