Chapter 31
Spencer
Stace is tapping away on her laptop, the hiss of the barista machine punctuating the aromatic air.
Silverware clatters and chatter fills the gaps.
I sip my coffee in the small, quaint café she picked.
Far enough away from any place our parents would frequent.
Close enough we didn’t have to drive too far to meet.
Outside, the leaves are amber. The cool air whips down the street, and the sidewalk is littered with folks bundled up. Thanksgiving is not too far away.
It’s been almost three months since we ran into Emma at the event, and her silence is starting to make me wonder if it’s the calm before the storm.
Not that she ever made contact before, but if there’s even a chance that she’ll make a move to take Ives . . .
“So, if she gave up her child and had no contact with you, chances are she is in no position to take Ivy back. But . . .”
My sister’s blue eyes meet mine.
“Spencer, a trial of this sort, let alone the proceedings before it, would be expensive. And you—”
“I’ll find a way, Stace.”
She leans back in the metal café chair and sighs. “You sure you want to fight to keep her? I mean, if it comes to that?”
“How is that a question?” My tone is harsh, but it’s like my sister is on another planet. I should give her a break, I suppose, things have changed, and she wasn’t there for it. Not with me, anyhow. I know her and Riles catch up.
Just not me and her.
“As for your other case. If enough staff members from Silver Elite will testify and provide evidence of sexual harassment, especially involving minors, this case could be something worth pursuing. However, Dad will most likely never speak to you again.”
“Already there, so that makes no difference to me.”
Her face saddens.
“Mom misses you, you know.”
“So much that she hasn’t called or even sent a single text.”
“Don’t make her choose, Spence.”
I stand, draining my coffee, and toss money onto the table. “She already did.”
I turn and make my way from the coffee shop. My phone buzzes once I make it to the sidewalk. I swipe it open to see a text from Stace.
Not everything is as straightforward as it seems. Sometimes, people do things for reasons that don’t make sense to us. But to them, it’s the best option they have at the time.
Okay . . . What’s with the cryptic? Are we even talking about Mom and Dad any more?
Riley is sitting for an exam, and Ives is with Mrs. Henderson. I have another hour before I pick up Riles and then rescue our elderly former neighbor from her voluntary babysitting. I know she loves it. I also know it wears her out. A lot.
Ives is never in one place. Standing up on every damn thing she can find. And I swear the other day I heard her say dada.
They grow up so fast.
Or maybe it was wishful thinking. But there’s another word I wish she’d say . . .
Might have to give her a little help along.
A hopeful smile tugs at the corner of my mouth . . . Evil plan hatched.
I flip my collar up against the wind and make my way to my truck. I’m half a block away when I spot Priscilla Princeton stalking down the sidewalk toward me.
Apparently, this far out was not far enough.
She jerks her chin up, eyes homed in on me.
I move to the side of the pavement to put space between us. The only good interaction with Priscilla is a non-existent one.
She changes trajectory and grabs my arm the second she is close enough. Her gnarled fingers curl around my bicep, nails digging into my coat. “Have you any idea what kind of embarrassment you have caused me, boy?”
I look down at her, slowly.
“Take your hand off me, Priscilla. Now,” I growl.
Her face twists as she loosens her grip before patting my sleeve. As if that will appease the loathing she elicits.
“You could have simply complied. Not made an enormous sordid deal out of this,” she hisses.
“And you could not be a predator. I guess we all have our limitations. Have the day you deserve.”
I step around her and make a beeline across the road to where my truck is parked. Oh yeah, she is going down. Her and her filthy rich pack of vultures that force young people into doing whatever the hell they want them to.
But to do that, I’m going to have to speak to the one person I didn’t want to ever ask a favor from again.
My mother.
Riles is swaying at the kitchen counter. Her headphones are blaring something so loud I’m sure she has no idea how loud her singing is, but I’ll enjoy the moment while I still have it. She leaves in three weeks. Twenty-one days of the three of us, until it’s just me and Ives.
My gut roils with the thought.
I have been pushing back any thoughts of that nature for the last few weeks.
I’m afraid if I let them in, I’ll cease to function as a human being.
As a father. Ivy, currently furniture surfing her way along any upright surface she can find, deserves me to be both.
She reaches from the sofa to the coffee table, not letting go until she has a firm grip on the table.
It seems like she’s so close to walking . . . She’s incredible.
So, it doesn’t matter if my heart is breaking apart in real time. I have Ives to think about.
It’s only now that I realize how different my life is to twelve months ago.
How different my outlook is. I’m a far cry from the free, fun-loving player who had a different woman in the back of my truck at every event.
The man who patched over his lack of loving relationships with one-night stands and instant gratification.
I think it was a self-defense mechanism. One I let down, and now in twenty-one days, havoc will wreak over this damaged heart of mine. In the form of the best thing that ever happened to me walking away.
And so she should.
She has a life. A good one, that she worked so damn hard for. I want her to have everything she wants. I won’t be responsible for taking that away from Riles. I hang my head, letting it fall into my hands as I sink onto the sofa.
Riley’s singing changes to something more upbeat, and I force myself from the melancholy mood that threatens to drag me down.
I refuse to waste the last three weeks of our time together feeling sorry for myself. Ivy and I are going to make the next few weeks amazing for Riles.
Right.
I stand and freeze.
Ivy looks up at me, babbling as her grip on the coffee table slips away.
“Riles!” I stage-whisper.
There is no way she’s going to hear me over that racket in her ears.
“Wait, baby. Wait for Riles, okay?” I hold a hand up and dash for the kitchen. I scoop Riley up into my arms.
She squeals, arms flailing as her dark eyes widen and snap to mine.
She’s grappling with the headphones, shoving them from her head and around her neck as I say, “Ivy . . . look.”
We’re closing in on Ivy as I lower Riley to her feet.
I get the utter privilege of watching the woman I love light up like fucking Christmas when she realizes what our baby girl is about to do.
“Oh, Ives,” Riles says softly, dropping to her knees and holding out her hands. “You can do it, clever girl. Come on.”
I stand behind, bending down to plant a kiss in her hair and beam at my baby about to take her first steps. If I could turn time to stone and preserve one moment, it would be this one.
Plus maybe that night in the motel eight weeks ago, when—
Ivy lifts her foot, stepping out.
She wobbles . . .
And lands the step.
“Yeah, baby! Go Ives,” I whoop.
She lifts her focus and sways but steadies herself before taking four more steps, right into Riley’s arms. Riley’s messy bun, strangled by her navy velvet scrunchie, bobs as she folds herself around Ivy, a string of breathy praises tumbling through her lips.
I drop to my knees and wrap myself around them both.
Riles is shaking as she hauls in a sharp sniff.
Ivy is squirming. Her blonde hair is a mess as she drops to all fours and crawls back to the coffee table. Pulling herself up, she wanders along it, reaching for Mr. Fluffy before babbling away.
I’m about to scoop Riles up and huddle on the sofa when Ives holds out her bunny and says, “Dada.”
Now, my jaw feathers.
“Yeah, baby,” I rasp.
She steps over to me, handing me Mr. Fluffy. “Dad, dad, dad, dada.”
Little hands grip my shirt as she sways on her feet, big blue eyes looking up at me. My eyes. My baby girl.
Riles watches through a stream of tears, and I swallow past the stone in my throat.
Fuck.
I haul Ives into my chest and hug her tight. Dropping my lips by her ear, I whisper, “Mama, baby. We got to work on Mama.”
Mr. Fluffy is shoved into my face, and I chuckle.
“We love Mr. Fluffy, too.”
“Dad, dad, dad.” She’s wriggling off my lap a beat later and making a beeline for her toys.
When I have a lap full, some walked over, some crawled over, Riles rises and dots a kiss to my cheek before padding down the hallway without a word.
My heart squeezes.
This moment must be so bittersweet for her.
She’s more than invested in Ivy’s progress. I know she loves her as much as I do.
Hell is walking away from the people you love. I understand that now. I may have never had to live through it, but the depth of this is not lost on me.
I spend another twenty minutes playing with Ives before setting her up with more toys, a snack, and her water sippy cup. Moments later, I find Riles in our room, packing.
What the hell?
“Riles, talk to me.” I cross the room and sit on the bed by her open suitcase.
She swipes the tears from her face, but she’s shaking her head.
“Come on. This is me, we’re in this together. Look what we achieved; she’s walking and talking.”
Her face hardens, her hands hanging by her side as she whispers, “We’re not in this together, Spence. I can’t stay.”
“Riles, you have another three weeks. One more paper due. You’re so close to graduating. You can’t throw it all away now.”
“I’ll ask to submit the last paper remotely. Extenuating circumstances or something.”
“No. Riley, what’s this about? What extenuating circumstances? Is everything okay at home?”
Her brow snaps to a frown.
“This, Spencer! It’s too much. I can’t do this any more. I can’t pretend like this is real and we’ll live happily ever after. My family needs me—”
A sob steals whatever was going to come next.
I hook my arm around her waist and tug her into my space. My head meets her belly as she huffs through a handful of strained breaths.
I take in a long, wobbly inhale and stand.
Cradling her head into my chest, I hold her while she cries. Screams. Thunders her fists into my body.
Heat prickles behind my eyes as she lets it out. Like I’m always telling her to. This is my little fiery woman processing. My jaw feathers as the first tear slides down my cheek.
This is breaking both our hearts, and I have no idea how to make any of this work out where we both get what we need. My income is here. I have loose ends to iron out, to sort out mine and Ivy’s life. Riley’s family is in Northern Ireland. Neither of us can survive without either.
I would never ask her to go without her family.
Mine may be slightly shady, but hers is her whole life.