Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Forest
“I never said that,” I tell the group, most of whom are openly gaping while Shayla is downright glaring as if seconds away from throttling me. What had Autumn told her in the closet to make her give me that look? “Just that I wasn’t sure.”
“That’s the problem,” Shayla says, crossing her arms.
I don’t get the chance to explain myself further—like the fact that I’m devastated Autumn got her period—when a nurse threads between us to check Sherman’s vitals, and we’re shooed out of the room so Sherman can rest.
Nor do I get the chance when Bailey blocks the door to the ladies’ restroom down the hall, and won’t let me pass to speak to Autumn.
She’s less hostile than Shayla, her voice gentler when she tells me, “You’re not going to get anywhere with Autumn by barging in if she needs space. We’ll take her and Brady home.”
Having known Autumn her whole life, I trust Bailey’s judgment. “Can Josephine at least go in and say goodbye?” I motion to my little girl, leaning against the opposite wall, her head ducked to hide her tears.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now,” Bailey says quietly.
The door opens behind her, and Autumn says, “It’s okay.” She must have been listening from the other side.
Bailey steps away so Autumn can squeeze by. She doesn’t look at me as she passes. Kneeling before Josephine, Autumn tells her, “I’m sorry I scared you by raising my voice.”
Josephine nods, but doesn’t speak.
Autumn’s voice cracks when she asks, “Can I give you a hug?”
Josephine’s lips wobble when the two girls who mean the most to me in this world embrace, though Josephine quickly steps back and heads down the hall toward the rest of the family, then takes off with a run.
Sebastian tugs his hand from mine when Autumn approaches. “Tum Tum okay?” he asks, lifting his arms.
Autumn hiccups and presses her lips together before she hefts him up and lies when she says, “Yeah, Sebby, I’m okay.
” He reaches for her again when she sets him down after kissing his temple.
Curling her hand around Benjamin’s head, with me holding him in my arms, she kisses him next.
“Love you, Benny,” she whispers, perhaps unintentionally, because she flicks her blood-shot, wide-eyed gaze to me before quickly darting back into the restroom.
It gives me a little hope I’ll be able to fix what I’ve broken with her.
My boys are too young to sense anything is off after that exchange, but Josephine is glum on the ride home, to put it mildly.
Wishing to take her mind off of Autumn for a little while, instead of taking the exit off the highway toward home, I go straight, taking the next one.
Since it’s Sunday, the mall’s parking lot isn’t as packed as it usually is, and we have no trouble finding a parking spot close to the entrance.
Putting the gear in neutral and turning the vehicle off, I look back at Josephine and ask, “How about we get started early on our Christmas shopping?”
Josephine shrugs, fidgeting with the hem of her dress.
“Maybe get some new art supplies?”
She’s a little more interested now.
“There’s a movie theater here. We can rewatch the movie we saw in Georgia. And we can get some ice cream afterward,” I say to seal the deal.
“Okay,” she whispers with a slow-growing grin.
“Ice cream!” Sebastian yells from his car seat. Benjamin kicks his feet.
The kids run me ragged after all our shopping, hopped up on sugar.
In the darkened theater, trying to stay awake is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.
Once home, my arms are weak and shaky from carrying Benjamin and the diaper bag in one arm, and the heavy shopping bags in the other, as we trudge from the driveway into our house five hours later, with the sun setting on the horizon.
I should have known I couldn’t keep Josephine distracted for long. During dinner, which we grabbed to-go from Texas Roadhouse, Josephine pokes at her mashed potatoes and says, “You fucked up.”
I choke on my dinner roll slathered with cinnamon butter. Reaching for my soda, I take a healthy swallow before telling her, “Language, Josephine.” I’ve never heard my girl speak like this, and I’m sure I have Autumn to thank for that.
She scowls and sits back, crossing her arms. “But you did. You fucked up, and now she doesn’t want us anymore.”
I shake my head, though she’s not wrong on one account.
I did fuck up one of the best things to happen to us, intentionally or not.
“No, honey, that’s not it. Autumn still cares about you three.
She always will,” I say, giving each of my three kids a weak smile.
“It’s me she doesn’t want to be with.” Which I knew from the very beginning, but stupidly thought that if I pressured her enough and never gave her space when she tried multiple times to end things with me, then she would eventually come around.
“So tell her you’re sorry so she’ll love you again!” Josephine yells, bright splotches spreading across her cheeks.
Again? “I don’t think she ever got that far,” I tell her, my heart sinking, though I’d certainly fallen for her.
“Yes, she did!”
Though I don’t know how much I can trust a ten-year-old about such matters, I ask her, “You really think so?”
“Oh my god!” Josephine shoves up from the bench and storms off, shouting, “Boys are so stupid!”
And the thing is, I can’t even argue with her. Instead of “barging into” Josephine’s room so we can immediately settle matters, I give her time to cool down, as the boys and I finish dinner. After giving them their baths, I finally let myself into Josephine’s room and sit on the edge of her bed.
At her desk, working on a new painting, she pauses mid-stroke of her brush when I say, “I’m going to win her back.”
“How?” Josephine asks.
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out.”
“Good.” She returns to her painting while Sebastian zooms around her room. None of them are getting to sleep anytime soon.
I give Josephine a few more minutes, then stand and gently tug on a strand of her hair. “How ‘bout I make some popcorn and we find something to watch on TV?”
Though Josephine still hardly looks at me, she puts away her paints and carefully cleans her brushes. The kids and I settle on the couch to watch one of the cartoon series we started, but it’s not long until I finally lose the battle with my exhaustion. A human body can only take so much.
I suck back a shout when the front door clicks shut, the house much too quiet, the cushions beside me empty. “Sebastian? Sebastian!” I race out the front door, terrified I’m going to find Sebastian in the street, only to see Autumn and Brady spinning around, dressed in their pajamas.
“I tucked the kids into bed,” Autumn says, walking backward.
I fold over with a hand braced on my knee, the other resting over my pounding heart with relief. If I get one more surprise, I’ll end up in a bed beside Sherman. By the time I get my bearings, Autumn and Brady are already two houses down on their side of the street.
“Wait, Autumn!”
She pretends she doesn’t hear me.
Though I cross the lawn to the curb, I can’t leave the kids by themselves to chase after her.
My first opportunity to get Autumn alone, and I’ve already squandered it by falling asleep.
Another fuck up. Cursing to myself, I step back inside, poke my head into the kids’ bedrooms to check on them, then close myself in my room so I can crash in bed.
Pulling out my phone and tapping on Autumn’s contact, which I’ve yet again renamed, I send her a text:
Please come back. We need to talk
I’m surprised when she texts me back.
ImYourAngel
We had a deal. I got my period. We’re over.
No, we’re not, angel
I’m no one’s angel
Yes, you are. You’re my angel
Wrong. We have no future in which we both get what we want. Let it go
No. Please come back so we can talk in person. I don’t want to do this over the phone
Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I have to stay here with Brady
Bring him with you. He can sleep on the couch
My parents wouldn’t like that…
Then come over for breakfast. Please
I fall asleep waiting for a reply that never comes.
Saturday night, after Autumn failed to show up for breakfast, I forcibly stop myself from pacing the living room when darkness falls, trying, for the kids’ sake, to pretend everything is okay.
I’m doing a terrible job of it. Josephine hasn’t brought Autumn up again, but she’s restless, shooting me little looks that I can decipher well enough: I’m still fucking up.
Even Sebastian keeps going to the living room window, grabbing the windowsill to pull himself up higher to peek over it.
I rub the heels of my palms into my eyes, then roughly shove my fingers through my hair when we’re minutes away from bedtime, and there’s been no sign of Autumn.
But then Sebastian shouts, “Tum Tum!” and bangs on the window to get her attention.
Instead of being greeted by the beeps of my electric keypad and Autumn waltzing right in, she knocks.
With sinking dread, I open the door, slightly ashamed of myself for being disappointed that she’s brought Brady with her. “You don’t have to knock,” I tell her, backing up to allow the pair inside. “You know the code.”
Autumn shrugs, never lifting her eyes higher than my chest. She doesn’t say one word to me as we get the kids tucked into bed. With Brady hanging out on the couch, playing with a handheld gaming device, I corner Autumn in the dark hallway, trying to back her up into my room.
“Please, angel. This isn’t over,” I tell her.
She darts around me. “Doesn’t matter how many times you say it, it won’t make it true.”
“I said I wasn’t sure if I wanted more kids,” I say to her back, desperate for her to talk to me. “But I changed my mind.”
She slows to a stop at the mouth of the hallway. “When?” she finally asks without turning around.
Approaching her slowly, I tell her, “When you got your period. I was devastated.”