Chapter 42
Dax
It feels odd being at Tony’s Cantina on a random day. But I didn’t know where else to go.
There are bar seats open, plenty of them, but the last time I sat there, I got myself in a lot of trouble.
So, after a hard moment, I ask for a table.
The table. I order an Old Fashioned from a bartender I don’t know, which is a relief to be perfectly honest. And then I sit.
I sit staring at the glass as I nurse it.
I stare at the glass hearts hanging above me.
The ferns and the art and all the things Tess used to point out.
“This is so fancy,” she had said. But then again, she said it about everything.
Nine-dollar wine was fancy. Hot chocolate at the Christmas parade that was overpriced and nothing special was fancy.
A charm bracelet she bought from a local vendor at the fall festival was fancy. Everything, fancy or not, was fancy.
I sip my drink a little faster, swallowing hard and my eyes land on the empty chair in front of me.
“Oh Tessa Girl,” I whisper. “Where did you go?” I let the question hang in the air, thankful that the place is not busy. It’s 11am and they just opened. I have three hours before the court hearing, and I feel utterly defeated. “They need you,” I say. “I need you.”
I don’t know if I expect the chair to answer. Obviously, it doesn’t. And while sometimes, I can hear Tess’s response to things, recycled words of hers I’m sure, this is not one of those times. Right now, the world is quiet. Other than cantina music of course.
On cue, because the universe seems to hate me right now, my phone rings. It’s Jenna.
“What the hell?” I mutter. I let it ring and it stops. And then she calls again. This time, I answer, mostly because I’m annoyed.
“Aren’t we not allowed to talk before the hearing?” I snap. I don’t usually snap at Tess’s sister. Half the time, I am walking on glass, so she’ll believe I have my shit together. But right now, I have nothing to lose.
“Hello Daxton. I called to let you know there is no hearing.”
“What?” I bark out. “Jesus Christ, don’t tell me it got rescheduled. I want to get this over with Jenna. If you’re going to ruin my life, do it now.”
“They aren’t rescheduling it,” she says. When I don’t respond–because again, what the hell?-- she goes on. “I dropped the case, Dax.”
At first the words don’t register. “You…what?”
“I’m not taking the girls from you.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask because what else is there to ask. This woman lit my world on fire and now, all of a sudden, she is standing there with a fire extinguisher?
“I was wrong, Dax. Taking the girls from you would only make things harder. I just worry,”
“I know you do. But you don’t need to. I love them and I provide for them, and I am doing my best.”
“I know. And I see that now. I think we just need to communicate better.”
“Whatever it takes,” I tell her, meaning it.
“I think it would benefit them more if we got along better and worked together.”
“I agree. A hundred percent,” I tell her. Relief is slowly flooding back into me. “Jenna…why the change of heart?” I dare to ask.
She sighs, a sigh I know well. Tess used to sigh the same way before admitting something she didn’t want to admit. “Because I can see how much the girls care about Libby. Miss Libby, I should say.”
“They do,” I say through a tight throat.
“I also talked to Libby.”
“You…when?” I stutter.
“We went to the shop, and we had a talk.”
“Jesus…” I let out. They’ve joined forces. I am outnumbered. I am…toast. I stand up, feeling the need to pace. The bartender and the couple at the booth in the corner must think I’m nuts, but I don’t really care.
“You know how much I loved my sister,” she says.
“I know. And you know how much I loved my wife. I still love her.”
“And you know that no one could ever replace her.”
“I know.”
“And you should also know that anyone who comes into your life and reminds you what it feels like to be happy, and makes the girls happy, and cares about all of you like you belong to her…is someone you shouldn’t let walk away.”
And I sit back down. Hard.
“She cares about you, Dax.”
“She hates me.”
“I don’t know what happened between you, but I can guarantee she doesn’t hate you.
She might be a little pissed off but she doesn’t hate you.
And whatever is going on, you need to fix it.
The girls are staying with you so you can put your energy into that.
And I promise I won’t hold it over your head if you need me to keep them for the night. ”
“Thank you, Jenna,” I say, throwing a twenty on the table and rushing out the door.
She’s right. This is my second chance. My life doesn’t have a lot of second chances, so I’d be stupid not to take it. I head straight to the shop and a second wave of relief floods me when I see her car there.
I yank the door open, bells clanging, people staring.
I swear Summer’s mouth hits the floor. Tom’s eyebrows tick in a momentary arch, which for him is the equivalent of doing a cartwheel.
And Libby is standing at the register, smiling at a customer who is buying two bags worth of hardcover best sellers.
The woman makes her way out and I hold the door open for her, then I look back at Libby who hasn’t noticed me.
“And who says we won’t stay in business?
” she asks Summer. “That was three hundred dollars’ worth of books.
All that come in a discounted paperback, mind you.
Hemingway can stick it where the sun don’t–” Libby stops when Summer non-casually juts her head in my direction and clears her voice. Libby’s eyes meet mine. “...shine.”
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” she says back.
“Awe, it’s going so well!” Summer squeals under her breath. Meanwhile, Tom yanks her to the back of the store.
“Can we talk?” I ask. “Please.”
“Sure,” Libby hugs herself and I don’t like it. I don’t want her to feel like she has to protect herself from me. Then, she perks up anxiously. “Wasn’t the court case today?”
“It was,” I say, slowly walking in her direction.
“How did it go?”
“It didn’t happen.”
“What do you mean?”
I stop, tucking my hands in my pockets. “Jenna dropped the case.”
“Oh, my God. Did she say why?” she asks. I want to hug her for still caring. For putting this before her feelings which I know are still hurt. Hell, I want to kiss her. But obviously, I don’t do any of that.
“I guess someone talked her out of her. Someone got through to her about not just my side, but also…yours.”
“I see,” Libby says, sitting down in one of the chairs. “So, you get to keep the girls?”
I nod, choking up. “I get to keep the girls.”
“Good,” she says, the same strangle in her voice. “That’s where they belong.”
“Yeah,” I answer. And then, “Where do you belong?”
Her attention snaps up to me. “What do you mean?”
I take a chance and approach her, stopping right in front of her and crouching down.
“Libby…I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am. For everything. But most of all that I lied. I was at the Cantina because that’s what I do every year on the anniversary of Tess’s death.
I go to her favorite restaurant, and I have a drink or two.
Maybe three on a bad year. This was a bad year.
And I try to remember the good things. But it’s hard, you know?
Because the girls can’t remember and what they do remember is slowly fading.
And I saw you and you were beautiful in every way.
I heard you nervously talking to the bartender and then…
I saw him. And when he left, I just…I couldn’t leave you sitting there. ”
“Okay, so, why didn’t you just tell me that? Why did you pretend to be him?”
“Because that would still mean you got stood up. And it would have ruined your night.” Libby’s mouth pops open ready to say the obvious, but I keep going.
“I know it was stupid. And it was dishonest, and it was wrong. But I promise you…it had nothing to do with my girls or Jenna or anything else. And everything I said about not trying to get laid was true too. I just…I was alone. And you were alone. And neither of us had to be.”
Libby bites her lip, thinking about that. Tears swell in her eyes, and I want more than anything to wipe them away. To pull her in my arms and never let go. But I can’t. I have to let her come to me.
I give a minute, or two, or five. It’s hard to tell when someone is holding your heart in their hands how much time is going by. Finally, her eyes, her emerald, green eyes that look like sea glass right now from all the tears, meet mine.
“Thank you,” she says. “For telling me that. For…a lot of things really. But–”
And there it is. It’s been a long time, but I know a breakup when I hear it. And that but is the catalyst of a classic break up.
“You lied. And you had no intention of ever telling me. And I’ve been lied to a lot in my life, Dax. You know my dad lied about being sick?”
“Fuck,”
“He didn’t want us to worry. And because of that, I never knew to cherish the memories that would become my last with him. And my husband lied too. He lied about loving me. About wanting me. About forever.”
“I’m not him,” I step in.
“No. But you still lied. And I just…I need time to decide how I feel about that. Because as much as I care about you and the girls, I don’t know if I want to go further with someone who started out relationship…with a lie.”
I nod. Because I get it. I hate it, but I get it. I shove myself up from the chair and swallow hard. “So…this is it?”
Libby sighs. “I’m not saying never, Dax. I’m not even saying no. I just…need time.”
I nod again, taking the hint this time. “Alright. Well…thank you. Because of you, my girls are still mine. For that, I’ll owe you forever.”
With that, I walk out. Because I can’t do this anymore. I am going to break, and I don’t want her to see it. I don’t want her to think I am manipulating her. So, I leave. But I don’t go home. Instead, I go to Jenna’s house. The girls run out when they see my car, excited until they see my face.
“Where’s Libby?” Delilah asks.
“She was supposed to be with you,” Poppy adds, looking in the windows. Jenna gives me an apologetic look and it’s obvious she told them Libby, and I were together.
“She’s at work. But I’d like if you two came home with me. I miss you.”
“That’s fine,” Jenna agrees. “Girls, why don’t you grab your things?”
Poppy scampers off but Delilah stares up at me. “You were supposed to talk to her.”
“We did talk, honey,” I say, fighting the lump in my throat.
“You were supposed to tell her sorry.”
I look at Jenna who covers her mouth, looking down.
“Grown up fights aren’t always that simple, honey,” I tell her.
“Yes they are! All fights are the same and none of them matter if you love someone!”
I open my mouth to say something, though I don’t know what. She’s nine and she’s leveling me. Luckily, Poppy comes out, and the conversation is over.
We drive home mostly in silence, and I keep checking on her in my rear view. She’s not happy. Her little lip, a mini version of her mother’s is stuck in a pout. But not a sad one. An angry one. Another thing Tess used to do. My heart cracks a little more.