Chapter 36
Dax
Libby isn’t answering her phone.
I’ve been texting and calling non-stop to let her know I got hung up.
Jenna has been trying to get a hold of me.
The audacity of that is just mind blowing.
I mean the woman is trying to sue me for custody of MY children, for fuck’s sake.
Obviously, I don’t answer. I have no intention of speaking to her again until I have a lawyer to do the talking for me.
I’ve already left a message with Kaylon, the lawyer I’ve used in other lawsuits.
Now I am just waiting to see what my options are and my chances.
After dealing with all that, I had to run by the house to pick up Poppy’s stuffed purple hippo, Dennis, because apparently Isaac doesn’t like sleep overs because he likes to be in his own bed, and she wants Dennis instead because he’s more of an extrovert than Isaac.
Listen to me. I’m stuck in traffic and talking about stuffed animals’ sleeping preferences.
Still, I feel bad for being almost an hour late, though I can’t say I haven’t tried to get ahold of her. The fact that Libby hasn’t answered any of my texts is a little concerning.
When I finally get to Mulligans, I park around the corner in the garage just to save time. Then I jog inside. The place is absolutely slammed and trying to find Libby is like looking for Nemo in an aquarium.
“Do you have a reservation?" the girl at the host stand asks.
“No, I’m meeting someone. I think she is already here,” I tell her, looking around the crowd of people swarmed around the bar.
“There’s a family waiting for the husband to arrive in the back booth. But no one else I can think of,” she says.
“No single women?” I ask. “Dark hair, very pretty, probably ordered a gin and tonic.”
“No,” she shakes her head. Then it’s like a lightbulb turns on in her head. “Actually, I think she was here. She waited a while and then left.”
“She left,” I parrot.
“Yes. She left.” The girl who is all of eighteen years old is getting impatient with me and I don’t really blame her.
But after the day I’ve had, I don’t really care if she’s annoyed.
Her biggest problem in life is not having enough allowance, so she has to get an evening job at a pub talking to grumpy people like me.
“Thanks,” I nod to her. Of course she left. I’m over an hour late at this point. As I turn to leave, another girl walks up to the host stand, a waitress from the looks of it.
“Who’s he looking for?” she asks.
“The brunette at your table.”
“The one that was talking to that hottie at the end of the bar?”
I stop, turning around. “Who?”
Both girls are just smiling. “A guy that comes here a lot. He was at the bar earlier. He looks kind of like you actually,” the waitress says.
“Yeah. Just less…” the hostess waves a hand over me. “Businessy.”
Less businessy. Awesome. I don’t have time for this.
Libby is gone and I can’t get ahold of her, which tells me one of two things– either she’s pissed because I am late (which doesn’t really make sense because I tried getting ahold of her with no success before I was even late) or something is wrong.
I get in my car and try calling again. It rings and rings before it goes to voicemail. So, I try again. Same thing.
Shit.
I call the bookshop and Summer answers.
“Hey Summer, it’s Dax. Is Libby there by chance?”
“No…she’s supposed to be with you,” she answers while still chatting with the person she is ringing up at the counter.
“Yeah. But she’s not. Let me know if you hear from her please?”
“Of course. Is something wrong?”
“I hope not,” I say before hanging up. Then I drop Kai a text. It’s a Hail Mary since the two of them would rather get a tooth pulled without Novocain than talk to each other.
Daxton- Hey. Have you seen or talked to Libby by chance?
Kai- On purpose? I make a physical effort on a daily basis of avoiding that LOL. Why do you ask?
Daxton- No reason.
I leave it at that. It’s probably odd enough to him that I am looking for her outside of business hours and I’m not about to go into that. I rake my hands through my hair, holding them on my head for a moment before I get one more idea.
The phone rings three times and I am about to just hang up when she answers.
“Hello?” Joni’s voice is edged with suspicion when she answers. I have her number because she used to be Delilah’s teacher, around the time Tess died. She helped me through a lot with the girls’ grief and wanted to be available if we ever needed her. Unfortunately, right now, I kind of need her.
“Hey. Sorry to bother you. The girls are fine I was just wondering…have you talked to Libby recently? I was supposed to meet her at the Irish pub, and I was late, and I can’t get ahold of her and–”
“She’s with me,” Joni cuts me off.
A wave of relief crashes over me.
“Thank God. Is she okay?”
“I wouldn’t say that…” she says, and the relief sucks back into the ocean of worry again.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“You could say that.”
That’s when I catch the tone. Something is up.
“Can I talk to her? Please?” I do my best not to sound annoyed but honestly, after running around like a headless chicken for the last two hours, I am a bit annoyed.
There’s a pause, some muffled talking, and then–
“She doesn’t really feel like talking right now.”
“Listen, I know I was late, but I tried to get ahold of her. If she checked her phone at all, she’d see that. I’ve had a day from hell. First the lawsuit, which I’m sure she told you about, then taking Dennis to Poppy so she could sleep. Then traffic and–”
“It’s not about Dennis. Or you being late, Dax,” Joni says, her tone patronizingly mellow.
“Then what is it? What could have possibly pissed her off enough that she ran to you and won’t speak to me?”
More muffled debate. Like she’s holding the phone at arm’s length while they not so quietly mouth the conversation to each other. I wipe my hand down my face, doing my best to be patient.
“Libby ran into someone at the pub. While she was waiting for you.”
“Okay? Someone she knows?”
“Someone she thought she knew.”
“Damnit, Joni, I’m worried about her and you’re giving me nothing here. Just tell me what the hell is going on, please!”
Another beat of silence and I swear to God if they start whispering again, I’m going to hang up.
“It was Jax,” Joni says.
“Who’s Jax?” I ask, my blood still about ten degrees hotter than it should be from all the up and down.
“From the dating app,” she says.
And it hits me. It hits me like a fucking freight train.
“What’s he saying?” Libby’s voice, clearly distressed, comes through the phone, soft and worried.
A single word involuntarily escapes my lips, more air than voice. “Fuck…”