10. Skye
— ? —
Skye
The new terms just arrived in writing, and they definitely aren’t from my lawyers because I can’t afford them at all, considering a basic consultation would completely wipe out my emergency fund, which is literally just three hundred dollars and a prayer right now.
So I type the terms on my laptop at two in the morning while Josh sleeps, print them at the library for fifteen cents a page, and hand-deliver them to Jaime’s office like I’m serving court documents.
Jaime can see Josh on weekends. Daytime visits only. No overnights. No unsupervised outings until I say otherwise. No introducing him as “Daddy” until further notice. All schedule changes must be approved forty-eight hours in advance. Any violation results in immediate termination of visitation.
Jaime signs everything without negotiating. Again.
I don’t know what to do with a man who keeps agreeing to my terms. The Jaime I knew would have pushed back. Would have reminded me, gently but firmly, that he has rights too.
This Jaime just signs.
It’s unsettling.
Saturday morning arrives faster than I’m ready for. I’ve been dreading it all week, lying awake at night imagining everything that could go wrong. Josh getting hurt. Josh getting scared. Josh calling him Daddy by accident and opening a door I’m not ready to walk through.
Josh asking questions I don’t know how to answer.
The knock comes at exactly ten o’clock. Exactly ten, like he’s been standing outside counting down the seconds.
I open the door.
Jaime stands on my welcome mat, dressed down in jeans and a sweater. His hair is slightly disheveled. His hands are shoved in his pockets. He looks nervous.
I have never seen him nervous before. He was not nervous during four years of dating or on our wedding day. He was not nervous when he dropped to his knees on the sidewalk and begged me to listen. This behavior is entirely new.
“He’s excited about the zoo,” I say, not inviting him inside. The threshold feels important. A boundary I’m not ready to dissolve. “He’s been talking about the giraffes all the time. That’s all he wants to see. Giraffes.”
“Giraffes. Got it.” He peers past me, searching for a glimpse of Josh. “Should I... do I just... how do we...”
“Josh! Your visitor is here!”
The pounding of small feet. Josh barrels down the hallway and skids to a stop when he sees Jaime, his dinosaur shirt already stained with breakfast and his shoes on the wrong feet because he insisted on doing it himself.
He’s warmed up over the past two weeks. The hospital stay broke something open between them. All those hours in the waiting room, all those follow-up visits, all those careful introductions where I hovered nearby ready to intervene.
But there’s still shyness there, uncertainty. Josh studies Jaime with those serious dark eyes, trying to figure out where this stranger fits into his world.
“Hi,” Josh says.
“Hi, buddy.” Jaime crouches to his level, and something in my chest clenches at how natural it looks. “Ready to see some giraffes?”
Josh nods solemnly. “Mama says they have long necks because they had to reach tall trees to eat.”
“Your mama’s pretty smart.”
“I know. She knows everything.”
I almost smile.
I hand Jaime the backpack I spent an hour packing.
Snacks, water, a change of clothes in case of accidents, his favorite stuffed dinosaur in case of meltdowns, children’s Tylenol in case of fevers.
A laminated card with my phone number, Shelby’s phone number, his pediatrician’s number, and the address of the nearest hospital.
“Have him home by three thirty,” I say. “Not three thirty-five. Three thirty.”
“Understood.”
“There’s a spare key in the lockbox by the door. I’ll text you the code. For emergencies only. Bathroom runs, scraped knees, sudden thunderstorms. Not for letting yourself in whenever you feel like it.”
“Understood.”
“If he says he wants to come home early, you bring him home early. No negotiations. No bribes. No ‘just five more minutes.’”
“Understood.”
“And if anything happens to him, anything at all, I will end you.”
He doesn’t flinch. “Understood.”
Four years of hiding, and I just handed the man a key to my apartment. I hate how easy it was. I hate how much I want to trust him.
“Where will you be?” he asks. “In case I need to reach you.”
I hesitate. Him asking wasn’t part of my plan.
A long-time suitor asked to take me out for a lunch date again and I was planning on texting him sorry, can’t make it today for the third time. But he’s watching me with those eyes as a reckless impulse crawls up my throat, a feeling that is petty, small, and absolutely desperate to see him react.
“I have a date,” I announce. “His name is Aidan. He’s a paralegal. We met at the laundromat.”
The change in Jaime’s face is almost imperceptible. A tightening around his jaw. A muscle twitching in his cheek. His hands, still in his pockets, curling into fists.
“A date.”
“Problem?”
“No.” The word sounds like it’s being dragged over broken glass. Slow and painful and leaving damage behind. “Have fun.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
We stare at each other for seconds too long as a sudden spark passes between us, an electric current that feels dangerously close to jealousy on his end and satisfaction on mine.
Then Josh tugs on Jaime’s hand. “Can we go now? The giraffes are waiting.”
“Yeah, buddy.” Jaime’s voice is rough. He clears his throat. “Let’s go see those giraffes.”
I kiss Josh goodbye. Press my lips to his forehead and breathe him in. Whisper “I love you” against his hair and make him promise to be good.
Then I watch them walk to Jaime’s car. Josh chatters the entire way, pointing at clouds, asking questions about everything he sees. Jaime listens to every word. Nods seriously at observations about birds and squirrels and the neighbor’s cat.
He helps Josh into the car seat I insisted he buy. Checks the straps twice. Adjusts the mirror so he can see Josh’s face while he drives.
A knot twists in my chest, and I slam the door before I can name the emotion.
***
The date is a disaster.
Aidan is already seated when I arrive, which would be fine except he’s also already ordered. For both of us.
“I got you the salmon,” he says when I sit down. “Women love salmon. It’s light.”
“I’m allergic to salmon.”
His face falls. “Oh. Well, we can send it back.”
We send it back and I order a burger. He watches me eat it with barely concealed horror.
“You know, I checked your socials to know more about you,” he says, leaning forward, “and you actually look like your photos. Most women don’t. It’s basically catfishing when they show up looking different than their pictures.”
“Thanks?”
“No, I mean it. That’s rare.”
I take a large bite of my burger and don’t respond.
By the time the check comes, I’ve learned that Aidan thinks women who don’t wear makeup are “letting themselves go,” that his ex was “crazy” but “at least she was hot,” and that he’s cool with me having a kid “as long as he’s not around too much.”
“Kids are great,” he assures me. “From a distance. You know?”
I ask for the check.
“Already?” He looks wounded. “I thought we were having a good time.”
“I have to pick up my son.”
“Right, right. The kid.” He signals for the waiter. “So, dinner tomorrow? Same place?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t think we’re compatible.”
His smile flickers. “Compatible. What, you need a checklist?”
“I need someone who asks what I want to eat before ordering for me.”
“I was being chivalrous. We can’t waste time waiting for you then waiting for food to arrive.”
“You were being presumptuous.”
The check arrives. He stares at it and stares at me. Makes no move to reach for his wallet.
“I’ll pay for it if you agree to another date,” he says looking at me like it’s the best deal I’ve been offered.
I put down my card instead.
In the parking lot, he follows me to my car. His footsteps are too close. His shadow falls over mine.
“Come on.” His voice has an edge now. “One more chance. Dinner tomorrow.”
“No, thank you.”
“You’re really going to blow me off over a salmon?”
“I’m really going to say no because I want to say no.”
“That’s cold.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Most women would be grateful for a second chance.”
“I’m not most women.”
He steps dangerously close.
“You’re not that pretty anyway,” he says. “Just so you know. I was doing you a favor.”
I get in my car and lock the doors. Drive away with my hands shaking on the wheel. In the rearview mirror, I watch him standing in the parking lot, watching me go.
***
I pull into my apartment complex.
Jaime’s car is already there.
They’re early. My heart rate spikes as I walk toward the door, already imagining disasters. Josh got hurt. Josh got sick. Something went wrong and Jaime brought him back and now I have to deal with whatever fresh hell is waiting on the other side of that door.
I unlock it and step inside.
And freeze.
Jaime is on the floor, his legs crossed. Making train sounds while Josh rams two locomotives together, giggling so hard he can barely breathe. A trail of animal crackers leads from the couch to the TV. The stuffed dinosaur is wearing a dish towel cape. Every pillow from the couch is on the floor.
The apartment is a disaster. Josh spots me first and his whole face lights up.
“Mama! Daddy...” He stops. Corrects himself. “The man said giraffes have blue tongues! Is that true?”
My eyes snap to Jaime over Josh’s head. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.” Jaime raises both hands, still sitting on the floor, surrounded by trains and crackers and chaos. “I swear. He came up with it on his own. The daddy thing. I didn’t say anything.”
“Mika has a daddy,” Josh announces, ramming his trains together again. “He’s very big like the man. So I call him daddy.”
My chest folds in on itself.
“It is true,” I say instead, setting down my purse. Buying time. “The blue tongues. They’re actually more purple. Did you have fun?”
“The best fun.” Josh abandons his trains and launches himself at my legs. “We saw giraffes and elephants and a lion that was sleeping and the man bought me ice cream but only one scoop.”
I look at Jaime. He looks back, his expression carefully blank.
“Can he come back tomorrow?” Josh asks. “Please? I want to show him Chompy’s house.”
“We’ll see.”
“That means no.”
“That means we’ll see.”
Josh sighs dramatically and returns to his trains. Jaime unfolds himself from the floor, brushing cracker crumbs off his probably-expensive jeans. He looks happy. Exhausted, overwhelmed and covered in zoo dirt, but happy.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For bringing him back early.”
“He was getting tired. I didn’t want to push it. Sorry, I broke your house rules immediately. Have to let ourselves in because we’re too early.”
“It’s okay. That was... actually thoughtful.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
***
After Josh is in bed for an afternoon nap and Jaime is gathering his things to leave, a car pulls into the lot and parks. The engine cuts off.
Aidan gets out. He walks toward my door, carrying flowers. His jaw is set with determination.
“What the hell?” I mutter. “I never gave him my address.”
Jaime goes very still beside me. “Is that your date?”
“He followed me home. From the restaurant. Bought flowers and came back.”
Aidan knocks. I open the door a crack, keeping the chain on. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought about what you said.” He holds out the flowers. Grocery store roses, already wilting. “You’re right. I should have asked what you wanted. So let me make it up to you. Dinner tomorrow. Your pick.”
“I said no. Please leave.”
“Come on.” His smile hardens. “One more chance. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I don’t want to give you one more chance. I want you to leave.”
“Don’t be a bitch about it.”
Jaime moves so fast I don’t see it happen.
He’s outside suddenly, shoving past me, his fist connecting with Aidan’s jaw with a sound like a baseball bat hitting a watermelon. Aidan goes down hard, flowers scattering across the concrete.
“Jaime!” I grab his arm before he can swing again. “Stop!”
“Mama?”
I spin around. Josh stands in the hallway, eyes wide, clutching his dinosaur.
“Why did the man hit that other man?”
Aidan scrambles backward, blood on his lip, terror in his eyes. “What the fuck? I’ll sue you! I’ll have you arrested! I’ll-”
“Leave.” Jaime’s voice is absolutely lethal. “Now. Before I do something we both regret. Best you could do is cry to your mommy about it. If you try to sue, it’s over for you.”
Aidan leaves. Runs, actually. Trips over his own feet getting to his car and peels out of the parking lot so fast his tires squeal.
I stare at Jaime, heart pounding, unsure whether to scream at him or thank him.
“Mama?” Josh’s voice is small. “What happened?”
I kneel down, opening my arms. Josh runs into them, burying his face against my neck.
“It’s okay, baby. Everything’s okay.”
“Why did he hit him?”
I look up at Jaime. He’s staring at his hand, at the blood on his knuckles, at the evidence of what he just did.
“Because,” I say slowly, “sometimes grown-ups make bad choices. Even when they’re trying to help.”
Jaime flinches.
“Will the man come back?”
“No, baby. He won’t come back.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”