Chapter 7
Mom takes Charlee and me out for dinner to celebrate after I tell her the news. I figure it is best to accept the position until I find something a bit closer. I
can’t rely on my mom to care for Charlee full-time; daycare in New York is expensive. So, first, I need an income.
We walk into Gino’s, an old Italian diner that’s been in the area for decades. I used to come here with my mom and Greg for dinner when I was in high
school, so there are a lot of memories in this place. We sat at a booth, and the server kindly brought Charlee a box of crayons and a little coloring book.
“I just can’t believe he hired me after the coffee incident,” I say to my mom after telling her every detail of the morning’s activities as she requested.
“But he seemed nice about it?” she asks me.
I shrug my shoulders and nod. He was genuinely nice. He joked about the whole thing.
Our food arrives, and I take the coloring book away from Charlee so she can eat. She throws a small fit, but I promise she can have it back when she
finishes her plate, and she quickly starts biting into her ravioli.
I sigh, watching her. Since coming here, she’s been extra defiant with me. I’ve had trouble getting her to go to sleep, bathe, and change clothes. You name
it. When we were in LA, she was fine. I can’t help but wonder if it’s because her dad isn’t here. I still haven’t told her why we had to leave. I just can’t figure out how to.
“She’ll be fine,” my mom quietly says to me over the table. It’s like she can sense what is happening around me, my nerves, and my frustration with everything that happened with Reece.
I shake my head before wiping some marinara sauce off Charlee’s face when she’s finished eating. She’s happy to have her coloring book back, and she
shows both of us some of the aquatic animals inside it. She has always been fascinated with the ocean. Her little blue octopus is to thank for that.
After I finish eating, I look through my phone to see if I’ve gotten the email from Mr. Kapino yet. I know he was joking about the dry-cleaning thing, but I still
don’t know when I’m supposed to start. I search through the dozens of spam emails I have and find his.
“Here it is. I start tomorrow,” I say to my mom while reading through the email. The bottom of the email mentions the benefits package and compensation. I
have to do a double-take when I read through it. The job is salaried and pays a good twenty thousand more than I thought it would.
I show it to Mom. “That can’t be right,” I say.
“If it were me, I’d keep my mouth shut and take the extra cash, but knowing you, you’ll negotiate for a lower salary,” she replies, and I roll my eyes.
If it is a typo, I need to check in with Mr. Kapino. It’s not like I couldn’t use the extra money. College is expensive, and Charlee’s an intelligent kid and I don’t
have a penny saved for her tuition. But I don’t want to take advantage of my boss like that.
We get home, and I help Charlee get ready for bed. Thankfully, my mom must have worn her out playing while I was gone because she was eager to go to
sleep. So I sit on the edge of her bed, tucking her in after reading her and Nellie a story, and she looks up at me for a moment.
“When is Daddy coming?” she asks me softly, tiredly.
I smile at her and hold my hand to her face, brushing some of her hair behind her ear.
“Daddy isn’t going to come for a while,” I whisper to her. “But you have me and grandma for now.”
“I want to see Daddy,” she replies.
“I know you do. How about we call him tomorrow so you can see him on the phone?” I offer her. She nods, and I kiss her forehead before leaving the room.
I go to my room, fall backward onto the bed, and hug a pillow while I loudly groan. Reece is the last person I want to see right now, but I won’t keep
Charlee from talking to her father. Our custody arrangement has me with full custody year-round, but it was agreed he could visit on holidays and her birthday.
He’s still listed as an emergency contact for her, too, so he can stay up-to-date on her life. I just worry he’ll say something to turn her against me.
“Well, I could see you more if your mother let me,” I could practically hear him saying to her.
I pull my phone out, search for his name in my contacts, and open our last text messages. I’ve muted notifications for him so I wouldn’t be bothered by his
countless calls and texts. Instead, there are dozens of messages from him begging me to come back, calling me names, apologizing, asking to see Charlee, and
telling me how much I hurt him.
Before I spend too long reading them all, I quickly ask him if he can video chat with Charlee tomorrow night and close the screen.