CHAPTER 33 Penny Calloway
What Does He Want
I’m tossing and turning like I have every goddamn night since Liam and I broke up.
It could be the fact that I’ve been sleeping on my mother’s couch, which is actually a loveseat that’s shorter than I am. Or it could be the fact that my chest aches and my stomach is in knots, and this hurts far, far worse than finding out Brent was cheating on me.
I fell out of love with Brent a long time ago. I remember a conversation with Everleigh where I mentioned the D word long before he ever cheated on me.
I just want the D to be final so I can move on with my life to the other kind of D that I could use right about now.
Here in Chicago, fine. Maybe the suburbs. But I can’t stay here much longer with my mom. It’s too tight, and I need sleep.
I thought about getting a hotel for myself when the boys went to Brent’s house, but I slept in the guest room bed instead. It was better than the couch, but I still didn’t sleep…which led to my presumption that it’s not actually the couch but more to do with Liam.
Or maybe it was because I was worried about the boys all weekend and who Brent would force them with. Turns out it was Heather again.
And now it’s Wednesday night, and the boys are back here with my mom and me, and I’m balled up on the couch with a thin blanket over me pretending like everything’s fine when it just isn’t.
I glance at the clock. It’s just after midnight. It’s a new day. Another day closer to the divorce trial.
Another day closer to Brent getting what he wants and me…not getting what I want.
What do I want, anyway?
I want my kids with me full time. I want to not worry about them when they’re at Brent’s because I don’t want them to go to Brent’s at all. Ever. I want freedom from him. I want Liam.
I want to do whatever the hell I want to do without having to answer to him or having to have it approved by the courts.
But what does he want? Why is he making all of this so goddamn hard on me?
That thought is exactly when it hits me.
I bolt upright on the couch, straining my neck and twisting my back in the process.
Holy shit.
Despite the pain in my neck, I have clarity. Finally.
I know what he wants.
I offered him the wrong goddamn thing before.
It wasn’t more time or modified time with the kids.
It’s no time with the kids. He doesn’t even see them when they’re there. He pawns them off on Heather.
Why didn’t I see this before?
Wouldn’t his life be so much easier if he didn’t have to worry about them at all?
When we first got married, I was the one who wanted a family.
I was the one who first brought up kids, and now that I think about it, I think maybe he only did it to appease me. He thought he was being a good husband. He loves the boys, surely. But it’s obvious to me now that he’s always prioritized his ambition over his family.
Case in point—cheating on me. Hiring a nanny.
Hell, he probably has no clue what to do with them when he doesn’t have someone else there.
I try to think of a time when it was just him alone with the boys for longer than the span of a movie, and I’m drawing a blank.
There’s always someone else there. It was me for the longest time.
My mom, if I couldn’t be. A babysitter or a friend or a neighbor.
Heather. Maybe the woman he was kissing at the basketball game.
And it all makes sense now.
I think about texting Alexander, but it’s just after midnight. I’ll text him in the morning.
But I’m too keyed up to sleep. And you know what?
I realize this is a conversation I want to have with Brent without lawyers present.
Because maybe that’s part of it for him, too. Image means a lot to him, and if his image is taking a beating because he doesn’t look like a good dad, then he’ll fight harder to try to appear so from the outside even if he’s never with his kids behind closed doors.
I think about how to word this. I think about the best way to handle it.
I open my phone and navigate toward my text thread with Brent.
He silences notifications when he’s sleeping. They’re not silenced now.
Me: Are you awake?
Brent: Yes. Why?
I realize he might think something’s wrong. It’s not. For the first time in a long time, things are starting to feel like they could actually be right.
Me: Everything’s okay. I just need to talk to you. Can I come by?
Brent: I have meetings all day tomorrow.
Me: I meant now.
I watch the bubbles appear and disappear. Is he typing and deleting his messages? Not sure what to say? Not sure how to let me down?
Brent: Fine. Come on by.
I leap off the couch and run to my mom’s bedroom. I gently shake her awake.
“Huh? Wha—?”
“Mom!”
“Penny?”
“I need to run out for a few minutes. Are you okay with the boys?”
“Yes, of course. What’s wrong? Is it the boys?”
I giggle at her total lack of awareness. “No, the boys are okay. I just…I need to go take care of something.”
“Are you okay?” she asks, rubbing her eyes.
“Better than I’ve been in a while. Go back to sleep.”
She’s snoring by the time I walk out of the room.
The boys will be okay. I’ll be right back for them, and then maybe, if everything goes my way, I won’t have to worry about this part of their lives ever again.
I’m a mom. I’ll worry about all the other stuff.
But at least this is one area I might be able to control.
I drive over to the house I shared with Brent for so long, and less than ten minutes later thanks to the mercifully light traffic at this late hour, I pull into the driveway and stare at the house for a few beats.
It’s a gorgeous house. Too big for a family of four, but Brent insisted.
He thought it was perfect, and it was a nice place to raise the boys together.
Do I love staying with my mother? No. But is it working okay for now while I figure out our next move? Absolutely, and it even comes with a built-in babysitter.
I finally get out of the car, and he opens the door before I ring the bell as if he was waiting and watching for me.
His brows dip together as he takes in my disheveled appearance. “I take it this isn’t a booty call?”
I roll my eyes and fight with myself over making some snide remark. “No.” I mentally pat myself on the back for being so cordial.
This man destroyed our lives. He doesn’t deserve my censored snide remarks. But I’m here to make an offer, and I refuse to start off on the wrong foot. I’ll take the hit to my pride in order to protect my children.
“I want this to be over,” I say softly.
“So do I.” He’s lying. I know him well enough to know that.
He likes dragging it out, and taking it to court would mean he’ll get media attention, and in his line of work, any press is good press.
He thinks he’ll come out on top, and his lawyers are smarmy enough that he likely would.
He’ll attract all the asshole rich men who are just like him.
I won’t let him win. I won’t let him have that.
But I have to make him think he’s winning.
“What will it take?” I ask.
He shrugs.
“I have an offer.”
He raises a brow. “Oh?”
“You give me sole legal and physical custody of the boys with a relocation clause that I can go anywhere I want, and I won’t pursue financial claims or any child support moving forward.”
He tilts his head thoughtfully. “What’s going on with you and the Bradley boy?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“A source tells me that you two are done. Is that true?”
“Again, Brent, that’s not why I’m here.” Though I’d love to know who his source is.
“Well, I figured since you’re staying with your mother that something had to have happened. What was it?”
I close my eyes. I inhale deeply through my nose and exhale through my mouth.
I square my shoulders and open my eyes. “I’m not planning to relocate to San Diego if that’s what you’re asking, but if I have full legal custody and zero financial support from you, I’m likely not staying in the city.
If I give you this, I want to ensure you have no hold over my future decisions. ”
“When would I see the boys?”
“They’d be with me full time. They deserve consistency, and this would just make it official.”
Honestly, is he even a part of their lives now?
It doesn’t seem like it, and I wore my rose-colored glasses of pretending I had the perfect life with the perfect husband when none of it was true.
Hindsight has given me a clear picture of the truth.
I held up my end of the deal when it came to parenting, and I also held up his end while he disappointed them time and again.
Will it be hard for them not to see their dad?
Yes. Of course it will. They love him despite his faults.
But when I see their little faces light up when I come pick them up, or when I see how much they whine when it’s time to go to Daddy’s house, or when I hear another story about how he was gone all weekend when they were there…
I know I’m doing the right thing here. I know I’m trying to protect them from further disappointment and more damage to their sweet little souls.
I’m not perfect, but history has proven that I’m likely better than the alternative.
Will it be hard for me to support my two boys financially without Brent?
Absolutely. Especially two active boys who want to play every sport and join every activity.
But I have options. I have a job offer from Everleigh. I’ve worked hard at Langford, and I could move up there if a position opens. It will mean more hours and a lot of sacrifice, but I’m willing to do it in the best interest of my babies.
He opens his mouth to say something, and I interrupt him.
“Ball’s in your court, Calloway. I have plenty of proof that you’ve been out of town when they’ve been here. If you want to fight me in court, fine. Alexander Voss will get me what I want, and you know that’s true.”
“So you don’t want any money at all?” he presses.
“I just want my boys, and I just want this done.”
“I really didn’t consider this as an option, Pen.” He sounds…vulnerable. Almost. For the first time ever, probably. It’s a glimpse of the man I married, the man who had ambition but hadn’t yet decided that he was going to love work and money more than his wife and kids.
I think he likes the idea of the wife, the kids, and the white picket fence more than the reality. And you know what? That’s okay. I like the reality more. I love being a mom. It’s the most important job in the world to me, and I will figure out some way to make it all work.
This life isn’t cut out for everyone, and I’m just trying to get to the root of where he stands so I can get this whole mess over with.
So I can really and truly move on with my life.
“Let me think it over,” he says.
I nod, and I turn to leave. I’ve just crossed the threshold when I hear his voice, and this time, there’s no mistaking the vulnerability even in the hushed tone.
“If I agree to this, does it make me a terrible person?” he asks.
I turn around and face him. I shake my head. “No. It makes you someone who’s doing right by his kids because he knows his own limitations and shortcomings. And there’s no greater gift you could give them.”