7. June
JUNE
Ican’t sleep that night. I keep picturing big men in all black breaking down my door and taking away my girl. I end up bringing her into my bed and finally pass out with the heat of her against my chest.
The morning brings breakfast. Routine. Preschool.
Work with Beth. We meet at a gorgeous venue, an old Gilded Age mansion townhouse near Rittenhouse.
It’s a massive building filled with warm tones, gold trim, and real wood.
The fireplaces are large enough for two people to stand side by side.
We’ve used it a few times in the past but it’s one of the higher-end locations in the city.
But apparently now money isn’t a problem.
“How’d you get this last minute?” I whisper to Beth as we’re walking through the space. It’s set up for another event later in the evening but the owners let us take a quick glance around to start prepping.
“How do you think?” She rubs her fingers together and waggles her eyebrows.
I laugh, picturing Beth as a fiendish villain with endless pockets. “What’s the budget at now?”
“Well, since the timeline moved up?—“
“It did what?! What’s our deadline?!”
“Two weeks,” she admits sheepishly.
“Beth!”
“I know, I know. I only found out this morning. The lawyer sent an email, but also made it clear that money is no object?—“
“We can’t plan a Rotesbury wedding in two weeks. There’s no way we’ll get vendors.”
“Patrice can do the flowers, I already talked to her, and Larry’s catering isn’t busy?—“
“Larry’s catering is shit, that’s why.”
“They’re not that bad.”
I groan and lean against an ornate bannister. “I’ll make some calls. This is crazy, Beth. How are we going to pull this off?”
“Grit, hard work, and determination.” She hugs me tightly. “Imagine the check at the end. During the next two weeks?—“
“As I barely see my daughter,” I mutter irritably.
“—picture her in brand new shoes.”
“You’re a monster.”
“I most certainly am not.”
She’s right. Beth’s lovely. She’s only doing what she thinks is best for our business, and I can’t even come up with a good reason why we shouldn’t take this, so long as the client understands we’re doing the best we possibly can on an insane timeline.
Besides, I’ve met monsters.
I had one in my kitchen the night before.
Rafe keeps fluttering into my mind as we get to work.
I try not to think about him, but he appears whenever he likes: when I’m picking Hattie up from school, when I’m cooking dinner, when I’m alone in the living room scrolling on my phone.
I’ve done my best to push him from my thoughts over the years.
But now he’s back and I don’t understand why.
At least it seems like the men are gone. I don’t notice any strangers pacing me on the sidewalk or any odd cars parked near my house.
Marnie steps up. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
She straight up moves in, dumping her bags in my third bedroom, and declares it hers for the next two weeks.
“At least until you’re rich as hell,” she says, cracking open a bottle of wine on a Tuesday evening. “Then you’re paying my nannying rates.”
“Which are?”
“Exorbitant. Just ask Dennis’s lawyers.”
I survive. That’s about all I can do. Catering is a pain but I call in some favors, pay double rates, and lock down staff and food. I even get a live band, which demands way more money than they’re worth, but it’s easy to spend on someone else’s account.
Each night I read and sing to Hattie. It’s a week after Marnie moved in when my little girl hugs me before going to sleep and peers at me with those disconcerting gray eyes. “Mommy, do you know where Daddy is?”
I go cold all over. “What do you mean, baby? I told you, your dad doesn’t live with us.”
“I know, but… at school, the teachers were asking… other kids have dads and I wanted one too.”
“Sweetie.” I sit on the bed, doing my best not to shake. “Your dad isn’t in our life. That’s normal. He’s somewhere else, far away.”
“Can you tell me where? So I can tell my teachers?”
“Honey—“
“Please, Mommy? Please?”
“I really don’t know, baby. You can tell them about me?—“
“But we’re talking about dads! It’s not fair!”
“Hattie.” I stare in surprise, tears welling, lump in my throat. This is the first time she’s ever gotten upset about not having a father in her life. “Honey, you know it’s only me and you?—“
“But everyone else has a Dad and I don’t!”
It takes a few minutes to calm her down. She’s normally so collected, but I eventually figure out that they’re doing a lesson on families and she felt left out when they were talking about Dads.
“Fuck men,” Marnie says later when we’re sitting out back together. “For real. Hat’s better off.”
“I don’t know. She was pretty upset.”
“You told me once that her dad isn’t a good guy and you don’t want him around, right? Did that change?”
I picture Rafe sitting in my kitchen looking like a god straight from hell. “No, it didn’t.”
“She’ll get over it. She’s just a little kid.”
I shrink in my seat, pulling my knees to my chest. “I talked to him last week.”
Marnie’s tooth clinks on her glass. She curses and squints at me. “Seriously?”
“For the first time in six years.”
“How? I mean, why? I thought?—“
“He reached out.” I decide not to give her specifics. About the way he appeared in my kitchen. That bizarre conversation we had. It feels like a dream now. “I’m afraid he wants to be in Hattie’s life.”
“Fuck that.” Marnie slams her glass down on the table. Wine spills over the brim as she gestures at me. “That fucker got you pregnant and bailed. He doesn’t get to show up years later after Hat’s finally potty trained and civilized?—“
“I wouldn’t say civilized,” I mutter, thinking about the way she peed in the shower yesterday.
“You know what I’m saying. He’s not shit and he can fuck himself.”
“I agree. But I mean…” I can’t bring myself to look at her. “I never told him. About Hattie. Back when it happened.”
She sits back, arms crossed. “Doesn’t matter.”
“I mean, doesn’t it? He probably didn’t even know she existed. I looked into him?—“
“You don’t owe him anything, June.”
“I know, I know, but I’m just saying. I couldn’t find anything about him back then, like he was a ghost. But that penthouse… I mean, the watch…”
“He’s probably some scammer scumbag. Maybe a crypto bro or whatever. Don’t waste time on him, June. He ghosted. He’s dead to you.”
“But wouldn’t it be good for Hattie to have him in her life?”
Marnie puts a hand on my knee. “Not even a little.”
I squirm, not sure I agree, but unable to push. Marnie’s not in a good place right now. The divorce has her deep in a men are scum phase and I doubt anything I say can help.
But seeing Rafe… hearing Hattie… it has me thinking.
Why can’t he be in her life?
Even only sometimes? Just so she knows it was my choice to raise her on my own.
For years, I’ve told her that her father lives somewhere far away and that he’s not in our family. She’s been too young to really understand, but that’s changing.
He was here. He clearly knows she exists now…
God, this is so confusing.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say at last, taking a long drink to calm my nerves. “It’s better this way. Hattie will be fine.”
“Damn right. I’ll love that little beast more than any asshole man ever could. And if her dad tries to get anywhere near her—“ Marnie mimes scissors with her fingers. “I’ll cut his tiny dick right off.”
I smile to myself. If she only knew. “Thanks, Marn. That actually makes me feel better.”
“Damn right it does. Now, how about you tell me more about this wedding you’re planning and let’s not think about men for a while?”
“Sounds good to me.”