Chapter 27
A Moment to Breathe
Gavin
Andi arrived at six-thirty with takeout from the pub down the street that made Charisse's favorite burgers. She'd changed from her work clothes into jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. When I opened the door, her eyes searched my face immediately.
"Hey," she said, her voice careful.
"Hey." I grabbed the bag from her hand and put it on the side table so I could pull her inside.
My hand found the soft fabric at her waist, and I quickly kissed her—just a brush of lips, really—but then pulled her fully into my embrace, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo as my arms tightened around her shoulders. "Thanks for coming."
"I wouldn't be anywhere else." I felt her arms tighten around me. "You doing okay?"
"Andi!" Charisse came running from her room, launching herself at Andi in a hug. "You're staying for dinner?"
"I am. Hope that's okay."
"It's great! Can we watch a movie after?"
I caught Andi's eye over Charisse's head. "We'll see, bug. You have camp tomorrow, remember? Early morning."
Dinner was surprisingly normal. Charisse chattered about her day—something about a Celtics player dropping in to scrimmage with them. Andi asked questions, laughed at the right moments, and helped Charisse with the copious napkins she went through, given how much ketchup she'd bathed her burger in.
I couldn't focus on anything but the knowledge that Rebecca's petition waited in my bag, ticking away like a timer.
When Charisse begged for "just one episode" of her show after dinner, I gave in.
Now she was nestled between us on the couch, her small head resting against Andi's shoulder, oblivious to the storm brewing just beyond this moment of peace.
I looked at them together—Charisse relaxed and happy, Andi's eyes drifting closed as her head started to loll off to the side, settling on top of Charisse's—and I felt rage burn through my chest. This was what Rebecca wanted to destroy. This peace. This family we were building.
At eight-thirty, I sent Charisse to get ready for bed. She hugged a groggy Andi goodnight, then me, and headed to her room without the usual protests about bedtime.
"I'll be in to say goodnight in a few minutes," I called after her.
Once her door closed, Andi turned to me.
Her eyes were soft with fatigue, the corners pinched.
She pushed herself up from the couch with a small grunt, stretching her arms overhead until something in her back popped.
"Okay. I'll make some coffee while you get her settled.
" She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand.
"I think I need a little kick in the ass here.
I'm exhausted." She squeezed my shoulder as she moved past.
"Sounds good." I reached up and lightly touched her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against my fingertips.
She squeezed back before moving toward the kitchen, the floorboards creaking under her steps, while I headed down the hallway to Charisse's room, where a thin line of yellow light spilled from beneath the door.
Charisse was already in bed when I knocked and pushed the door open. She'd changed into her favorite pajamas. They had a mix of unicorns and butterflies on them.
"Reading or stalling?" I asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.
"Little of both." She grinned up at me. "Is Andi staying over?"
"Probably not tonight, bug. She's got to open the shop early tomorrow."
"Oh." Charisse's face fell slightly. "She's been staying over more though, right? Like a lot more."
I studied my daughter's face, looking for any sign of discomfort or confusion. All I saw was curiosity. Hope, even. "Yeah, she has. Is that okay with you?"
Charisse's eyes lit up. "Yeah! I like when she's here.
" She set her book down with a thump. "It's like—you know—more of a family thing?
" Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her blanket.
"Not that we're not family already! You and me, I mean.
That's totally not what I meant. I super love just us.
It's the best." She scrunched up her nose.
"But it's also really cool when Andi stays over and stuff. Like, extra cool."
My chest tightened, but I couldn't help but smile at my little girl. No matter how big she got, she'd always be my baby. "Yeah, bug, I know what you mean."
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"Is something wrong? You seem sad tonight."
I should have known she'd pick up on it. Charisse had always been perceptive, reading moods and tensions the way some kids read books. "Just some grown-up stuff I'm working through. Nothing for you to worry about."
"Is it about Mom?"
The question caught me off guard. "What makes you say that?"
Charisse shrugged, picking at her blanket. "She's been weird lately. Like, she doesn't text back much. And when she does, it's not a lot. 'OK' or 'Fine' and stuff."
"I know, bug. I've noticed that too."
"Did you guys get into a fight or something?"
"Not exactly. Sometimes adults just have disagreements about how to handle things." I smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "But whatever's going on between me and your mom, it's not your job to fix it or worry about it. Your job is to be a kid. Go to camp. Hang out with friends. Be happy."
"But what if—"
"No what-ifs tonight." I leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Get some sleep. I love you."
"Love you too, Dad."
I turned off her light and closed the door behind me, standing in the hallway for a moment.
My hand lingered on the doorknob as I exhaled slowly.
The muscles in my jaw ached from clenching my teeth.
I hated that my daughter was caught in this weird place and what the next steps with Rebecca could do to her.
In the kitchen, Andi poured two cups of coffee and was leaning against the counter, her phone in her hand. She looked up when I walked in and immediately set the phone down.
"She okay?"
I nodded, running a hand through my hair. "She's picking up on Rebecca's radio silence." The coffee scorched my tongue, but I barely registered it. "Kids have those emotional antennas, you know? She can tell something's not right."
Andi nodded. "Kids have radar for that stuff." She moved from the counter and slipped her arms around my waist as I set my mug down. "So, what's going on? Your text had me worried all day."
I kissed her forehead and let my head drop to her shoulder, drawing her closer.
"Yeah," I whispered, the word barely making it past the tightness in my throat.
I pulled back, crossed to where I'd left my bag, and returned with the thick envelope.
When I handed her the custody petition, my fingers trembled slightly against the paper.
Andi took the papers and started reading. I watched her face as she worked through the pages—watched the color drain from her cheeks, watched her jaw tighten, watched her eyes narrow with each paragraph.
"This is bullshit," she said finally, her voice low and dangerous. "Complete bullshit."
"I know."
"'Failure to properly vet Ms. Doyle before introduction to the minor child'?" She looked up at me, incredulous. "I met Charisse before we even started dating. And we were together six months before she met me as your girlfriend!"
"Rebecca introduced Charisse to David after six weeks."
"Of course she did." Andi kept reading, her knuckles going white around the pages.
"'Exposing the minor child to Ms. Doyle's large extended family without adequate transition or maternal input.
' Gavin, Charisse practically begs to go to Sunday dinners!
She already calls my parents Nonna and Poppy, for crying out loud. "
"I know."
Andi's finger traced a line on the page, her shoulders rising with each breath.
"And this—" Her voice rose slightly before she caught herself and lowered it again.
She pressed her lips together, exhaled through her nose.
"'Allowing Ms. Doyle to provide childcare despite limited relationship with the minor child.
' What the hell does that even mean?" She looked up at me, her eyebrows drawn together.
"Like I'm babysitting while you're off doing other things? I don't even get this one."
I reached over and gently took the petition from her hands. "Stop reading it. You're just going to make yourself angry."
"Too late." She stood up and paced to the window, her arms crossed tight over her chest. "She's misstating things, Gavin. About everything. About you, about me, about what's best for Charisse."
"I know."
She spun around. "So, what do we do?"
"Victor says we keep documenting everything. Show that I'm the stable parent. Show that you're a positive influence in Charisse's life, not a negative one." I set the petition on the coffee table. "We tell the truth and hope the judge sees through her."
Andi came back to the couch and sat down beside me, but she didn't lean in. She sat forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped together. "How can I help? I'm here with you. You need me to be part of this? I'm here. Whatever you need."
"Yeah?"
"Without a doubt. I’m here. I’m with you. This affects me too." She turned to look at me. "Us too."
"It does. And Rebecca's going to try to make you the villain. The home-wrecker who stole me away and convinced me to neglect my daughter."
"Let her try," Andi's voice was steel.
I squeezed her hand. "This could get ugly."
"I know."
"Rebecca's going to say terrible things about you. About us."
"I know."
"And I couldn’t even begin to guess how long this could take."
"Gavin." Andi turned to face me fully, her hand coming up to cup my cheek. "I know. And I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, remember?"
I pulled her close, burying my face in the curve of her neck. She smelled like coffee and the faint vanilla of her shampoo, and beneath that, just Andi. Familiar. Safe.
"I love you," I said against her skin.
"I love you too." Her arms tightened around me. "And we're going to get through this."
I kissed her then—not desperate, but certain. Grounding myself in this moment, in her, in us.
"Stay tonight," I said.
Her eyes lingered on mine, searching, before she gave a slight nod. "I'll stay. Just need to message Marcus about covering the morning shift in case I don't make it in on time."
While she pulled out her phone, I grabbed the documents from the coffee table and put it back in my briefcase. Out of sight. I would meet with Victor tomorrow to talk through next steps, but tonight I just wanted to hold Andi and pretend the world outside didn't exist.
She finished her text and came back to me, sliding her arms around my waist. "You okay?"
"No. But I will be." I pressed my forehead against hers. "Especially with you here."
"Good answer." She kissed me softly.
I was exhausted. Bone-deep tired in a way that had nothing to do with lack of sleep and everything to do with the weight I'd been carrying since that process server had handed me the envelope.
But as I looked at this woman who I almost lost, what hit me wasn't Rebecca or the filing or any of it.
It was Charisse. My daughter, who had no idea any of this was happening, asleep down the hall with her piano books stacked by her door.
She deserved better than a mother who used her as a pawn.
She deserved exactly what she had—this. All of it. I was going to make sure she kept it.