Chapter 9
Everly
After three episodes of Peppa Pig, two games of Snakes and Ladders, one dance party and way too much popcorn, I’m sitting on the couch with my feet up on the coffee table. Franny sits beside me, equally exhausted.
“Should I pour us a glass of wine? I think we earned it,” Franny says, tossing a popcorn kernel in her mouth. “That girl has more energy than a Border Collie on a Saturday morning.”
“You’re telling me. How am I ever going to get her to sleep tonight?” I stand up with a sigh and retrieve the open bottle of red from the counter while Franny puts the pieces of the board game back in the box.
“Mommy, it’s Daddy on the phone,” Birdie says, trotting towards me with my iPhone in her hand. “I’m gonna answer it.”
“Birdie—” I watch her tiny finger swipe the screen before I have a chance to take the device from her. Franny watches the scene unfold with a pained look on her face.
“Hi, Daddy.” Birdie stands next to me in the kitchen, a look of concentration on her face.
I can hear Grant’s voice on the other end of the call, and instantly the hairs on my arms stand on end. I don’t need to see my ex’s face to be physically affected by him. The sound of his voice is enough to send my anxiety through the roof.
I flash back to other phone calls between Grant and Birdie, when he would tell her that he’d been busy at work and then promise to make it up to her, to take her somewhere special. But then he wouldn’t show. And I would have to watch her little bottom lip quiver, the tears falling one by one down her cheeks. No matter how many times he left her waiting, it never got easier. For either of us.
Was he always like that, from the start? Or did I ignore a bunch of red flags? He was confident and popular; I knew there were tons of girls who wanted a chance with him. I got stars in my eyes and imagined he was the man I wanted him to be. Looking back, I should have seen the warning signs. There were enough of them.
“I miss you too, Daddy.”
“Yes, I want to see you.”
“When?”
“Okay, here’s Mommy.”
Birdie extends her arm to me, my phone in her hands. I take the device from her and lower myself to sit on a kitchen chair. I hear Franny asking Birdie to show her something in her bedroom as she quietly leads her down the hall, leaving me alone with the devil.
The phone call lasts less than 5 minutes, neither one of us wanting to make small talk, and by the time I’ve hung up, we’ve gotten nowhere. Besides the fact that I want to choke him out. He wants to see Birdie tomorrow. Tomorrow. You’ve got to be kidding me. This is typical Grant, expecting me to drop everything to work around his schedule. He thinks the world revolves around him and his needs. Would it kill him to give me some notice? But what choice did I have? I know Birdie would like to see him. I reluctantly agreed to a visit when he told me he wouldn’t be far from Reed Point, and he’d come to us. I told him we’d meet him at The Dockside, a lunch spot in town. There’s no way I was going to invite him to the apartment—he would lose his mind, and the last thing I need is Grant judging me.
“You okay?” Franny asks quietly, walking back into the kitchen. “Birdie is in the tub.”
“I’m fine. He’s just infuriating,” I say, pouring myself a glass of wine. I pour a glass for Franny too, then slide it across the table to her.
I feel safe to speak candidly with Franny. She’s a good listener and she’s never judgemental. “He wants to see her.”
“When was the last time?”
“He saw his daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Over four months ago,” I mutter.
Franny sits up straighter in her chair. “Geez, that’s a long time.”
“He doesn’t care.”
“Maybe he was waiting for you to invite him to your new place?” Franny suggests.
I shake my head. “Grant Billings does not need an invitation to see his daughter. That man wouldn’t let anything stop him from getting what he wants. Trust me… if he wanted to see Birdie, he could have driven the two hours.”
“Has Birdie asked about him much?” Franny asks.
“Not as much as you would expect.” I shrug. “I think she’s distracted. When we’re at my parents, she’s excited to see them or when we go to the beach, she’s happy to be there. She’s busy. It helps.”
“Or when she’s running into Jake.” Franny eyes me over the rim of her wine glass.
I feel my cheeks heat. “How do you know about Jake?”
“Birdie told me.”
“Of course she did,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not what you think. We’re not dating.”
“I didn’t ask you if you were,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “But if you wanted to, it would be okay. Not all men are like Grant.”
Maybe she’s right. But haven’t I proven that I have terrible taste in men? I obviously am a horrible judge of character; after all, I didn’t see the warning signs with Grant. What if I make the same mistake twice? I can’t do that to Birdie. One day she will realize the kind of man her father is—never making her a priority, forgetting her birthday, putting everyone else before his wife and child—and it scares the life out of me to think that she might ever believe she isn’t worthy of love.
“I’m scared to take that chance.”
“You’ll never know unless you do. And what a shame it would be to miss out on love. You have your best years ahead of you, Everly. You don’t want to live them alone.”
My mind wanders to Jake, as it often does these days. Jake, who has been patient, kind, and a perfect gentleman.
Zero red flags there.
I’m about to tell Franny that living alone beats having my heart — and Birdie’s—crushed, but then Birdie walks into the kitchen with a giant towel wrapped around her little body. So even though the conversation is far from over, it’s over for now.
I have the sweetest little 7-year-old to get ready for bed.
“When can we see Jake again?”Birdie asks as we’re getting our shoes on.
“I’m not sure, baby,” I say, tugging the laces on her runner. “He’s probably busy with work.”
“Mommy?”
“Yes, baby?”
Her eyebrows pull together. “Is Jake your boyfriend? I think I’d like it if he was.”
It has been a while since Birdie has asked about Jake, and I wondered if she had forgotten about him. But of course, Birdie remembers everything and everyone. She never forgets a thing. One day that fact will bite Grant in the ass, but that will be his problem and not mine.
But today Grant Billings is my problem.
I told Birdie there was a chance we’d meet her dad for lunch today over breakfast and her smile lit up her entire sweet face. Meanwhile, my heart lurched thinking about Birdie waiting patiently for her dad to show up only to be disappointed when he doesn’t.
As I sat and worried about every way today could go wrong and how I would handle it if that happened, Birdie ran to her room to make a card for her dad. And now it’s time to go see Grant. If he shows up. So, I’m surprised that Birdie is suddenly asking me about Jake.
“Jake’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend.”
“Why doesn’t he visit us if he’s your friend?”
“Would you like it if he came over to hang out with us?”
She nods her head. “I would really like that.”
I smile at her big, generous heart. I try to picture Jake here in our tiny apartment, playing Candyland and being introduced to Birdie’s extensive collection of Barbies. The image sets off butterflies in my stomach. But there isn’t time to think about that now. Being late would aggravate Grant and that’s the last thing I need.
So, I grab my keys and my purse, take Birdie by the hand and head outside to my car.
Ten minutes later, we’re seated at a table by the window at The Dockside. The weather is cooler today, so instead of the air conditioning blasting through the vents, the restaurant has its glass doors open to a patio, which has a few picnic tables, a patch of turf and a small jungle gym for kids to play on. It’s one of the reasons I like it here; I can enjoy my lunch while Birdie plays. I’m surprised when Birdie doesn’t immediately ask if she can go outside.
The waitress is filling our water glasses when I see my ex-husband walk through the doors of The Dockside and spot our table. Birdie is sitting across from me with the card she made grasped tightly in her hand when she notices her dad.
“Daddy!” Birdie jumps up from her seat.
“No running through the restaurant,” I remind her, moving her water glass into the center of the table before she knocks it over.
When Grant is a few feet away from our table, Birdie can’t wait any longer—she pushes her chair back and runs straight into Grant’s arms.
“Fuck my life,” I grumble to myself, pasting a smile on my face for Birdie’s sake. I stay seated as I watch Birdie with her arms wrapped around Grant’s neck as he kisses the top of her head.
He looks to me and his grin fades to a passive-aggressive smirk. “Hi, Evy.”
My stomach turns at the old nickname. I liked it once upon a time. Now, it’s like nails on a chalkboard. “Hi.”
He’s wearing a perfectly pressed golf shirt and khaki shorts with a tan Gucci belt. His blond hair is styled in place with his signature side part, his skin bronzed from the tanning bed he has in his basement. He’s wearing Italian leather loafers that I’m positive cost more than my rent. He looks the same. And so much like Birdie.
“How’s my Jay-bird?” he asks our daughter, taking the seat across from her.
“I’m good, Daddy.” She sits down and I help her push in her chair. “Here… I made you a card.”
She hands him the brightly colored card she spent all morning making, and he glances at it and then sets it aside. “That’s nice, Birdie,” he says dully. I want to punch him in the throat. He waves a waitress over so he can order a drink, the card already forgotten.
I will never understand him.
“What’s my girl been up to?” he asks Birdie once the waitress disappears.
“Well… I’ve made two new friends at school. One’s a boy and the other is a girl. She’s my best friend because she likes cats like me.”
He straightens the silverware on the table in front of him. “You wouldn’t like cats if you had one. They pee in a box, Birdie. They also shed and scratch the furniture.”
Birdie’s eyes drop briefly, but then she looks up again with a smile for her dad. I hate him. He’s such an asshole. Just for that, I want to take her to the SPCA after this stupid lunch and let her choose five strays to bring home. Dick.
“But they can jump up to six times their length,” she says, quoting Jake. I try to hide my smile. Birdie’s eyes are wide, hopeful, as if she’s hoping to convince her dad to love her favorite animal as much as she does.
“They also smell,” he huffs. “How’s school? I bet you miss Brentwood Academy.”
I want to stab him in the eye with my fork, but for Birdie’s sake I restrain myself. Grant paid twenty thousand dollars a year for his five-year-old to attend kindergarten with kids who had the same pedigree. I remember wanting to vomit when he said that to me. I argued that Birdie could get a good education in the public school system, which made him laugh. My kid is not going to a public school, was his response. And that was that. There were arguments I just knew I would never win and that was one of them.
“Grant, we should order. Birdie is hungry,” I tell him. My patience is already waning, so I try to move things along.
“Fine,” he says, picking up his menu.
We place our orders, and then Birdie is out of her seat and in Grant’s lap. She probably knows it will be months before she sees him again so she’s soaking him in. I can’t blame her.
“Mommy is a waitress now too,” Birdie says, watching a waitress carry an armful of plates to the table next to us. “She works at a fancy restaurant.”
Grant’s eyebrows shoot up. This is going to go over well. Luckily, I could care less what he thinks.
“She is, is she?” he gives me a mocking look, then shakes his head at me like I’m a piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe. I knew that was coming. It’s a look I’ve seen plenty of times before.
I’m not having this conversation with him because I know exactly how it’s going to go, so I change the subject, telling him instead about Birdie’s teacher and all the great things she has to say about our daughter while we wait for our drinks.
“So where are you living?” Grant asks, cutting off my weak attempts at small talk.
“I found us an apartment here in town,” I say. “Birdie likes it. We have a great neighbor, and there’s a park nearby.”
“So, you left the estate, where you and Birdie had everything you could ever possibly want or need, so that you could live in some shitty apartment in this shitty town? I don’t get it.”
I shake my head but try to maintain my composure. The guy is seriously clueless. If he thinks I would ever live under the same roof as him again, he’s out of his mind.
I think to the night I finally decided to divorce him. I was at home in the kitchen making myself tea before bed when I got a call from a friend of mine who saw Grant walking into a hotel. He was with two women who I later found out he picked up at a bar. The three of them went upstairs to a room. It wasn’t the first time he had cheated on me, but it was the first time someone other than me had caught him. I was humiliated. That was the final straw.
“Here y’all go. I hope you’re hungry.” Our server returns with our food, sliding the plates in front of us. I slice Birdie’s hamburger in two and the three of us eat in near silence, the only conversation coming from Birdie, who talks a mile a minute about school and dance and her new friends. Grant listens to her but seems more occupied with his phone, which he keeps checking every 10 seconds.
“Can I have dessert?” Birdie asks once we’ve finished our meals.
“I need to talk to your mom for a second,” Grant says. “Why don’t you check out the swing set and you can have dessert after.”
Birdie looks to me for approval. “It’s fine if you’d like to go play,” I tell her, ruffling her blonde curls, and then she’s off through the open doors to the patio.
I can already tell this conversation is not going to go well. As soon as Birdie is outside, Grant’s eyes narrow on mine and I notice the vein in his neck that looks like it’s ready to explode.
“A waitress? Really, Evy? What do you know about waiting tables? You haven’t cleaned a table in your life. I paid someone to do that for you, or have you forgotten?”
He is such an ass. I cooked dinner for him almost every night of the week and cleaned up afterwards. He just never bothered to notice. And the someone he’s referring to is Ida, Birdie’s nanny, and the family’s housekeeper. I don’t think I’ve heard him call her by her name.
“I’m not arguing with you over this, Grant. My job is really none of your business.”
“We need to talk.”
“Now? You haven’t seen your daughter in over four months, wouldn’t you rather spend this time with her?” I ask, annoyance seeping through my voice.
“I want my daughter back in Brookmont. I want to see my kid.”
“I’ve never stopped you.”
He huffs out a breath. “You live two hours away.”
“And what was your excuse for never seeing her when you lived in the same house as her?” I deadpan.
“Everly,” he bites back. “I’m not asking you. I am telling you.”
“Grant, allow me to remind you… you agreed to this. Would you like to tell me why you’re not in North Carolina?”
“Don’t push me, Evy.”
I sigh. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Grant. You have no power over me anymore.”
He narrows his eyes at me. I’ve clearly struck a nerve. Grant is used to getting what he wants, but this time I’m fighting back.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” he snaps, jabbing his index finger into the table. “I will call my lawyer the second I walk out of here.”
“Don’t threaten me, Grant.” I sit up straighter in my chair. I refuse to be intimidated by him. I doubt that he actually cares about seeing Birdie more often. Grant just likes to win. And right now, he feels like he’s losing. I doubt a judge would side with Grant. But the Billings have money, so the possibility of them fighting me in court isn’t out of the question. My stomach turns at the thought.
“Then move back home and stop your childish behaviour.”
“No.”
“Do you hear yourself?” He glares at me. “You sound like a brat.”
I couldn’t care less what I sound like. I’m not moving back there. I knew having a conversation with him was going to be pointless. “You’re an ass, Grant. I signed a lease. Birdie is settled into her new school, she’s happy. We can figure out the two-hour drive very easily if you’d like weekly visits.”
He rolls his eyes at me. I look past him, trying to stay calm, and my breath catches in my throat when I see a familiar face in the restaurant foyer. I’d recognize that man anywhere, even if his eyes weren’t narrowed on me.
Jake.
A hostess grabs a couple of menus and signals for Jake to follow her. He makes his way through the busy restaurant, his eyes on me the entire time. I know that Reed Point is a small town, but I can’t believe Jake chose to come to this restaurant today of all days. I am sure he has all kinds of thoughts running through his head, and I want to go to him, to explain why I’m here, tell him about Grant before he gets the wrong idea. But I can’t. Grant is looking for whatever ammunition he can find, and if he thinks he can use Jake against me, he will. I just want to get through this lunch without Grant flying off the handle.
“Who is he?” Grant sneers. My gaze snaps back to my ex-husband. He doesn’t have the patience to wait for me to respond. “Are you fucking him, Evy?”
“He’s a friend.”
His eyes narrow. “Are you fucking your friend then?”
I clench my jaw so tight that my molars grind together. “That is none of your business.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jake sit down a couple of tables over, close enough that I’m sure he can hear this interrogation. I’m mortified. I sit uncomfortably across from Grant, who looks like he’s ready to flip the table, praying he’ll keep his voice down. He stares at me for a long moment, nostrils flared like he’s ready for a fight. I can already tell my prayer is not going to be answered.
“So did you move here for him?”
“Lower your voice, Grant. The entire restaurant can hear you,” I whisper through clenched teeth. “And I told you it’s none of your business.”
“It is my business when you take my daughter and move her two hours away. And now I find out there’s some frat boy I’ve never met hanging around. Who is he, Everly? Or maybe I should go ask him.”
Grant couldn’t care less that he’s in a room full of people. “I told you that he is a friend. That’s it. Now drop it.”
“You can’t do this forever.”
“Do what forever?” I ask, my eyes darting to where Birdie is still playing on the patio.
“Live here,” he says with disdain in his voice. “Work a shitty waitressing job. It’s an embarrassment. You’re a Billings, for fuck’s sake. Act like one.”
I hear the legs of Jake’s chair screech across the floor, and three seconds later, he’s standing at our table, hands clenched into fists. “Everly, can we talk?”
Grant throws a wad of cash on the table then gets up. “Talk to your boyfriend, Everly. I’m going to say goodbye to Birdie. But we’re not finished with this.”
I can’t stand him.
No, that’s not strong enough.
I hate him.
It’s hard to believe that there was ever a time I loved this man. I thought the world of him. How did he turn out to be so terrible?
Grant storms outside towards the patio where Birdie is playing. My stomach in knots, I watch him bend down to Birdie’s level with his hands on her tiny shoulders. He says something to our daughter that causes her smile to fade. Then he kisses the tip of her nose. I watch them through the glass like I’m watching a movie.
“Sorry. Can you give me a minute?” I ask Jake, trying to stay as calm as possible.
“I’ll be right here.” Jake nods with a serious expression on his face. Very serious. Very intense. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I reach the patio in time to hear Grant tell Birdie that he’ll see her for her birthday. She’s clearly upset that he’s leaving so soon, but he promises her he’ll make it up to her with a very big birthday present. She smiles, but I can see how disappointed she is. My heart shatters like it always does when she’s hurting.
Grant pulls Birdie into a hug and then stands, taking a step towards me. He’s so close to me now that I can smell his expensive cologne. “I want her in Brookmont. It’s non-negotiable. I’ll be in touch.”
Grant turns, and I can see the muscle in his jaw tick when his gaze lands on Jake, who is now standing at the edge of the patio. I scoop Birdie into my arms and hold her close to my chest. She’s on the verge of tears. I run my hand over her curls, kissing the top of her head as Grant storms through the restaurant doors.