Chapter 45
Spencer
A s soon as I wake up, I check my phone. Nothing.
Nathan didn’t come home last night. He warned me he’d have to cross state lines. I’m worried for him. I’m worried for his dad. And Ruby.
I pity her, truly. Only a mother’s love could be blinding enough to see Peter for what he could be, instead of what he is. I hope I’m never in that position with Charlie, but if it were to come to that, how would I behave? Would I continue to protect her to everybody else’s detriment?
Nathan’s bed is far too big for one person. It’s uncomfortable lying here alone. Or maybe that’s the worry. I forgot that love has an ugly partner—fear. Once you have something you care about, you realize what it would mean for someone to take it away.
There’s a soft knock at the door. Probably the girls politely requesting I get the hell up and start on breakfast. Claire and Charlie eat nonstop.
After pizza last night came popcorn. Then strawberries and pretzels with chocolate dip.
Then dry cereal as a late-night snack. They’re so teensy, I don’t know where the hell they’re putting it.
“Come in.”
Sitting up, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. I stretch my arms overhead and take in a deep breath to fill my lungs.
“Spence?” Charlie asks from the door. She’s still in her pink-and-teal llama pajama set. They’re so cute, if they were remotely close to my size, I’d steal them.
“Good morning. Are you guys up?”
“I am. Claire’s still sleeping.”
I pat the bed, inviting my sister in. She scuttles in with quick feet, then leaps freely onto the mattress, landing next to me with her arms spread out. It doesn’t jostle me. Nathan’s bed is that special kind of memory foam that absorbs movement. “Someone’s in a good mood,” I say.
“I can’t believe I get to have three sleepover nights with my best friend. That’s like the lottery. We’re going to do manicures and pedicures today. Can we borrow your purple polish?”
“Sure.”
“And the clear glitter?”
“Why not.”
“And we’ll base coat and top coat. Oh! And we need rose petals for the foot soak.”
“Charlie,” I grumble, tapping my temples with two fingers. “I’m going to need thirty minutes and two cups of coffee before you start being a handful this morning, okay?”
“Okay,” she says through a giggle.
“I love how happy you are though. How’s Claire doing? Did she mention anything about Nathan?” Sue me. I need a little intel from my sister.
“Not much. She said they used to be like best friends. Nathan almost married her mom. Did you know that?”
I bow my head slightly. “I did.”
“Claire said something…” Charlie sits up, and a cloudy, sorrowful expression ages her young face. “It made me wonder…”
“What, babes? What did she say?” Pivoting, I turn my knee, facing Charlie.
“ On Mom , you can’t say anything to Claire.”
“ On Mom ,” I swear.
“I was showing Claire our scrapbooks. She really liked them. I told her we do that to keep Mom close by. I told her we could make one for her mom too. So she could keep her close.”
I cup her face, stroking gently against her cheekbone. “I did a pretty good job with you, know that?” I wink. “You’re a very sweet girl, Charlotte. Don’t ever lose that.”
She gives me a half-smile, one cheek bunching up into a perfect sphere. “Well, Claire said we can’t because she doesn’t have so many pictures of her mom. Her grandma doesn’t like a lot of pictures of the past. She doesn’t even like to take Claire to her mom’s gravestone.”
It’s becoming increasingly more difficult to like Ruby. Ripping Claire from Nathan was shameful enough, but keeping her from the memories of her mother? It’s heartless.
“I was thinking,” Charlie continues, “Nathan probably has some pictures of Claire’s mom, right? What if we asked him for some and made Claire a scrapbook she could keep here and look at whenever she wanted to?”
I need to tell Charlie that after this weekend, when Ruby finds out where her granddaughter has been staying, who I’m dating, who Charlie calls friend—we might not get to see Claire anymore.
But I just don’t have the heart to ruin such a sweet morning.
“I love that idea. I’ll talk to Nathan about rummaging up some pictures. ”
“Okay. Thank you.”
I beam at my baby sister. “Mom would be so proud of you, you know.”
“I try,” she sasses.
I let out a breathy chuckle. This girl is powerless not to ruin sentimental moments with her snark.
I giggle again when I remember Nathan saying the same thing about me.
Guess it runs in the family. How’d we get here?
We didn’t need Nathan to be a family, but it sure feels better now that he’s here.
“Pancakes?” I ask.
Her eyes bulge. “Can we go big with the toppings? Strawberries, chocolate chips, and whipped cream?”
I match her buggy stare. “And powdered sugar and sprinkles too?”
Her fists go high in the air. “Yesss! Are you going to eat with us? Or are you still on your diet?” She pouts her bottom lip.
“I’m taking a little break from dieting. What do you think?”
“Good. You cook better when you actually taste your food.”
This girl. “All right, out.” I point to the door. “I’m right behind you. Go get the piggies fed. And Spike needs a bedding change today, don’t forget.”
“I’ll do it now,” Charlie answers.
“Put Spike in his own carrier while you clean. Don’t put him with Babe, okay?
They can’t share a cage.” Charlie goes still.
The look she gives me is the same one she had a year ago when she accidentally purchased seasons one through ten of Friends from the digital library.
Over two hundred dollars was charged to my credit card—nonrefundable.
I swear it’s my mom’s scold that comes out of me. “What did you do?”
“ Nothing ,” she whines. “We let Babe and Spike play together last night. They’re already in the same cage.”
“ All night ?”
“Yeah,” Charlie squeaks.
Welp. Too late. Babe’s pregnant.
The girls are tag-teaming breakfast dishes, flinging soap at each other, making more of a mess than they are actually cleaning up.
“Enough,” I playfully scold. “Finish up already. Sun’s high enough.
Let’s get changed and in the pool.” It’s the best way to wear them out.
When they’re swimming, their diva demands are curtailed.
I’m looking forward to a morning of sunbathing by the pool, listening to the screeching and splashing of best-friendship until we break for lunch.
I’m praying Nathan’s back by the time we fire up the outdoor stove for grilled cheese paired with virgin pina coladas.
The doorbell chimes, echoing in the living room and kitchen with a loud, resonant ring.
“I’ll get it!” Charlie belts out.
“Halt, missy.” I stop her. “Don’t even think about it.” I make my way to the door and point Charlie down the hall. “Go get your swimsuit on, nosy. You know you aren’t supposed to answer the doorbell.”
She scoffs. “When it wasn’t our home,” she mutters. “Now it is.”
Another conversation I have to table for now.
Charlie’s living out a Cinderella story, but she has to understand Nathan and I just started dating.
This is still his home in which we’re guests.
I’m not going to rush into forever this time.
Not because I can’t picture my life with Nathan.
I can . But I want to savor this. I don’t think I’ve ever really fallen in love before.
It’s creating a shift, where my happiness matters just as much as Charlie’s.
Being self-full is a new concept for me, and I want to take my time, approach this with care.
I want Nathan and me to build something solid and everlasting together.
I open the front door expecting Miller who drops by daily to check on us.
Instead, there’s a man I don’t recognize standing on the stoop.
He looks homeless. His beard is unkempt and patchy.
Thick in some places, sparse in others. His red, long-sleeved shirt and dirty jeans have holes in a variety of sizes.
“Who are you?”
“Peter,” a small voice says from behind me. Claire approaches us, but stays mostly hidden behind me, an obvious display of fear and apprehension.
“It’s Dad ,” he growls out. “Get your shit. We’re going.”
His breath is rancid. Not just morning breath after coffee, it smells like rotting. He tries to smile, and there’s the source. Several teeth are missing, and the swelling and discoloration on his gumline is screaming for emergency dental attention.
I turn around, blocking Peter’s view of Claire’s face with my back. I raise my brows, wordlessly asking if she’s supposed to go with him. Taking the cue, she widens her eyes with a pleading look and subtly shakes her head. I nod, concluding the most dramatic game of charades I’ve ever played.
“Go find Charlie, and get changed for the pool, sweetheart. I’ll talk to your dad and see if you can stay to swim.”
With my permission, she flies down the hallway out of sight.
My mama-bear instinct kicks into high gear.
I wheel around, ready to give Peter a piece of my mind for showing up in this state.
Not just his tattered clothing and dirty mouth.
His eyes are bloodshot and he’s swaying in place like he’s drunk or high.
He’s out of his damn mind if he thinks I’m letting him take Claire anywhere.
“Peter, you need to go.”
My intuition tells me to shut the door about two seconds too late. Before I can lock him out, Peter digs into his pocket and produces a handgun. He points it between my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere without my fucking kid.”