Chapter 31
Underneath It
Andi
The car ride back to my place was too quiet.
I stared out the passenger window, watching Southie roll by in the dark.
Behind us, Charisse was recapping the backyard game in full detail—teams and hiding spots and how Sammy was absolutely terrible at staying quiet because she'd giggled through the entire thing.
Then the friendship bracelets she and Sammy made with their new kit.
Normal Sunday stuff. Except my fingers were pressed flat against my thighs, willing them to stop trembling.
I know Mom doesn't think you'd be a good mom.
On a loop. Over and over. Charisse's gap-toothed grin, her arms thrown wide, her complete certainty that she was saying something kind before she darted back out to the yard.
She had been saying something kind. That was the part I couldn't get past.
The kitchen had gone silent the second the back door swung shut behind her. I'd felt every set of eyes without looking up—Mom, Rachel, the quiet weight of all of it pressing in. Then Mom's hand had covered mine on the counter. Warm. Steady.
"Andrea," was all she'd said.
Just my name. The way she said it nearly finished me.
Rachel had leaned in close. "Don't let that b-i-t-c-h get in your head. You're wonderful with Charisse. Anyone with eyes can see it."
I'd nodded. I managed to keep moving, working on clearing dishes, wiping down the counter, and getting through the motions while pretending the floor wasn't slightly uneven beneath me. Then Gavin's arms had come around me from behind. No announcement. Just there.
"You're amazing," he'd said quietly. "She sees it. I see it. Whatever Rebecca says is because she knows it too."
I'd held onto that. I knew it to be true, and I knew I shouldn't let it get to me. But there's knowing something in your head and feeling it in your gut, and right now my gut was winning the argument.
On the way out, Mom had pulled me aside at the door while everyone else drifted onto the porch.
"That little girl sees you." Her voice had that low, fierce quality that meant she was not playing.
"Really sees you. Rebecca can poison the well all she wants, but Charisse knows what's real.
You heard her—she thinks you're awesome.
The rest is just her mother's garbage coming out sideways.
" She'd squeezed my hands. "Don't let her make you doubt yourself. That's exactly what she wants."
"I know," I'd said. I said it, but I wasn't sure I believed it.
Now I sat in the passenger seat while Charisse recounted every detail of Sammy's hilarious hiding strategy, and I watched the streetlights slide past and tried to remember what it felt like before Rebecca had taken up permanent residence in the back of my head.
Gavin pulled up outside my building. Charisse was mid-sentence when he cut the engine.
"Hey bug, give us a sec?"
"Okay!" She pulled a book from her bag and turned on the overhead light without missing a beat. This kid could adapt to anything.
Gavin turned to me. His jaw was still tight, his eyes dark in a way that had nothing to do with the night outside.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Nothing to be sorry for. It's not your fault."
"It's Rebecca's. And I'm going to handle it." Low and controlled—the voice that meant he was furious and keeping it on a very short leash. "I promise you."
I shook my head. "It doesn’t matter. Let’s stay the course and just see it for what it was and who Rebecca is."
He reached across and took my hand. "You going to be okay?"
"Yeah. I will." I squeezed his fingers. "I just need a minute to sit with it."
"Call me before you go to sleep. Or before, if you need me. Anytime."
"I know."
He leaned in, his hand curving around the back of my neck, and kissed me. Not a quick goodbye peck—the real kind. The kind that didn't need words.
When I pulled back, something had settled. It wasn’t fixed or healed. It was just quieter. Like the worst of the storm had blown through, and I was still on my feet.
"Love you," I said.
"Love you too."
I let myself into my building and made it exactly two flights before I sat down on the stairs and let out a long, shaky breath into the dark.
The hurt was still there. I wasn't going to pretend it wasn't.
But underneath it, something was holding—something Rebecca hadn't gotten to yet, no matter how many times she'd tried.
I made it upstairs, changed out of my Sunday clothes, and pulled out my phone.
Andi: You around tomorrow? Need wine and a venting session.
Bridget came back in under a minute.
Bridget: Always. What happened?
Andi: Charisse accidentally dropped some Rebecca poison at Sunday dinner. I'm fine. Mostly. Just need to talk it out.
Bridget: Say no more. My place. 7pm. I'll get the good wine.
I set the phone down. Rebecca could throw everything she had. I was still here.
Gavin
The drive home was quiet in a completely different way. Charisse had gone still somewhere around the third block. I could feel it without looking. There was a particular stillness she got when she was working something over. She'd always been that way.
Smart kid. Too smart sometimes.
"Dad?" Careful. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, bug. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then why are you mad?"
"I'm not mad at you."
A few more blocks passed. Then, small and worried, "Is Andi mad at me?"
That one landed differently.
"No." I heard the edge in my own voice and pulled it back. "Andi's not mad at you. But I need to ask you something."
"Okay."
"What you said in the kitchen—about Mom not thinking Andi would be a good mom. Where did that come from?"
"Mom just said it." That careful tone again. It was the one she used when she was worried about getting someone in trouble. "She was asking me about Andi and I told her how nice she is, how she helps me with stuff. And Mom said..."
"Said what?"
"I don't remember exactly." Her tone told me all I needed to know. She remembered.
I eased my grip on the steering wheel and kept my voice gentle. "Hey, you can tell me anything, bug. No one's in trouble here. What did Mom actually say?"
A pause. Then, quietly: "Mom said Andi's nice.
But that some people are good at being nice without actually wanting to be a mom.
And that Andi probably doesn't really want kids, because if she did, she'd already have them.
" Her voice dropped. "I thought I was being nice.
I was trying to tell Andi that Mom was wrong. "
My vision went red at the edges.
Rebecca had planted that line deliberately.
Casual enough to sound like a throwaway observation.
But it was targeted enough to follow Charisse straight into that kitchen and come out of her mouth at exactly the right moment.
She'd known what she was doing. She'd known exactly what Charisse would do with it, because Charisse always tried to make people feel good.
She'd weaponized our daughter's kindness.
I kept my voice even. "You were trying to be nice. I know that. But sometimes grown-ups say things about other grown-ups that aren't fair or true. What Mom said about Andi wasn't either of those things. And it wasn't her place."
"Why would she say it if it wasn't true?"
God, ten-year-olds. "Sometimes when people are hurting, they try to make someone else look smaller. It doesn't make it right."
Charisse went quiet for another stretch. "Back when she was talking to me, Mom would ask about Andi a lot. Like, what we do together. If she's at your house. If she acts like she's trying to be my mom."
"What would you tell her?"
"That Andi's cool." A beat. "That she doesn't act like she's trying to be anything. She just...is." Simple. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Is that why Mom stopped coming around as much and doesn't call anymore? Did I say the wrong thing?"
"No, sweetheart. You telling the truth is not wrong."
More silence. Then, "Did I hurt Andi's feelings?"
The question sat in the car like a stone.
"Maybe a little, Bug. But not on purpose. You didn't know."
"Can I call her? To say sorry?"
"Tomorrow. Let her have tonight, okay? I'll talk to her first."
"Okay." Then, quieter, "I really do think she'd be a good mom."
I didn't have my voice for a second. "Me too, sweetheart. Me too."
After Charisse was tucked in, I sat on the edge of my bed in the dark for a while. Then I called Victor.
"It's late," he answered. "This better be good."
"It is." I walked him through everything. Rebecca showing up and throwing her fit. Then I shared what happened with Charisse in the kitchen and what she told me on the way back. Victor stayed quiet while I talked. Stayed quiet a beat after I finished.
"Well," he said finally. "Write it all down and send it over to me. Can you get statements from Andi's mother, and sister-in-law? If they're willing."
"They will be."
"Good. Parental manipulation is exactly the kind of thing judges respond to. This isn't just one incident; it's a pattern. So, we'll tell the story around it all and help the judge to see her behavior for what it is—self-serving."
After we hung up, I pulled up my texts with Andi.
Gavin: I'm so sorry. For all of it. Can I come by tomorrow morning? Before work.
The dots appeared. Stopped. Started again.
Andi: Yeah. Come by early. Coffee's on me.
Gavin: I love you. And for the record? You'd be an amazing mom.
The dots held this time.
Andi: I love you too. See you tomorrow.
I set the phone on the nightstand and lay there in the dark.
Down the hall, Charisse was asleep, no idea what her comment had cost Andi tonight.
No idea what Rebecca had planted in her head or why.
She was just a kid who loved her mother and loved Andi and had no business being caught between them.
That was the part that sat heaviest. Not the hearing.
Not the filing. Not any of it. Just that ten-year-old in there, caught in the middle of something she never asked for.