Chapter 29
Cash
“What the . . .?”
Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, I stare at my phone and the message on the screen. My chest aches where my heart used to be, but I rarely feel it anymore even with adrenaline pumping through me.
“What is it, Daddy?” Cullen whines, “This is boring.” I’ve heard that a few times over the past two weeks. It was nice to have him for an extended period, but I think he might be sick of his old man.
I shove my phone in my back pocket because I can’t reply with my mind going in a million directions and my kid tugging on my hand. I try not to be on my phone as much when I’m with my son, but I can’t stop thinking that I’m imagining the message that just popped up.
“It’s not boring. We walk to experience life instead of sitting in the back of a vehicle. Look around, Cullen. What do you see?”
While he’s busy trying to spot one of a million differences from the last time we walked this route, I can’t help but wonder why now? Why would Marina text me out of the blue?
Has the anger dulled?
Her hate for me subsided?
Change of heart?
Decided to return mine?
I want to reply so badly, but I can’t think straight.
“Are you listening?”
“I missed that, buddy. Say it again?”
He points. “Mommy.”
I look up to see Terpidy standing by a tree we always pass when walking to her place. Something’s different, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe her outfit? Not as tight? Her hair is pulled back? How does she usually wear it?
“Hi,” she says, bending down to greet Cullen. He runs excitedly into her open arms.
Keeping my pace, I need a few extra seconds to suss out the situation. She never meets us. She barely even opens the door.
With Cullen in her arms, she meets me halfway. I’ll never entirely burn this bridge because we share a son, but I’m not letting my guard down.
“Hello,” she greets me, her voice breezy as if we haven’t been to hell and back at least three times.
“Hey.” I hand her Cullen’s backpack and shove my hands in my front pockets, still unsure of her motive.
“I was hoping we could talk?” She turns, and we start walking together, but I sense I don’t have much choice. Hopefully, we can remain civil for one block.
“All right.”
“How are you doing since the accident?”
The question still elicits raw emotion. The surface has healed, but there’s nerve damage. It’s the organ underneath that was most affected, and that’s not something I’m getting into with her. “Almost healed,” I lie.
“That’s good. You’re having a great season.” She laughs, setting Cullen down and letting him walk a few feet ahead of her. “Five feet, Cullen. No more.”
“I’m almost six,” he complains. It’s not a busy street, which is why we go this route, but it’s interesting to see her parent. It’s not something I’ve witnessed much since we’ve been apart from the time he was born.
She glances at me with a knowing grin and back to him. “When you’re six, you can have six feet. Five feet until then.”
“Ugh, fine.”
“Sometimes he reminds me of you.”
I laugh, watching Cullen in the beginning stages of a meltdown. “Is that a compliment?”
She laughs in response. “It actually is.”
I’m starting to think she could fill an hour with small talk, which is not typical for us. As much as I want to get along, I’m not opening the door to hang out like old friends. “What is it that you want to talk about, Terpidy?”
“I used the past two weeks to reevaluate my life and how I want to be more present in Cullen’s.”
I don’t hold her past against her because I was no saint, so I’m not one to lecture, but the part about her reevaluating her relationship with our son has me listening closely.
I stop and look for him. He’s seven feet.
Always pushing boundaries. “Cullen?” Turning back to her, I ask, “Why are you telling me this?”
Not shying away, she holds her head high and says, “I started talking to a therapist.”
That is not how I saw this going. “And?” I check on Cullen, who is spinning around and looking everywhere but at us. Guess we’re not interesting enough for him. This is one time I’m glad he’s bored.
Having the rest of this conversation in private is probably a good idea. We keep things light for the rest of the walk. And when I give him a hug and kiss his head, I say, “I love you so much.”
He leans back and taps me on the nose. “I love you so much, Daddy.”
We get him inside, and I take a few steps back down. I feel more comfortable keeping space and our lives unentangled outside of our son.
She sits on the top step of the stoop and says, “I’ve blamed you for so long that I believed the lies I told.
I’m sorry, Cash. I’m sorry for what I put you through.
I’m sorry for what I put Cullen through as well.
But I’m also sorry that I treated myself so awful.
” She’s busy fidgeting with the hem of her shirt but looks back at me.
“I didn’t feel alive on that photo shoot last month like I used to in my twenties. ”
Something I can relate to since I lost Marina.
Struggling to hold eye contact, she looks away when she continues, “I wish I would have gotten therapy years ago. I didn’t expect it to be so . . .” She laughs. “Therapeutic.”
Standing, she brushes the dust off the back of her skirt.
“I know you’re probably anxious to leave.
I won’t keep you any longer. I just wanted you to know that I’m getting help.
” Grabbing the concrete railing, she appears to summon another bout of courage.
“I love Cullen more than anything. I would never put him in danger.”
“I appreciate you safeguarding our son.”
“Yes, always.”
She’s said in court that Cullen was a priority on many occasions.
This is the first time I believe her. I rub the back of my neck, wanting to give credit when it’s due, but uncertain what I should say.
I can’t forget what she’s put us through, but she’s taking a big leap of faith in telling me.
“I think it takes a lot of courage to get help. You wanting to be better for yourself is better for Cullen as well.” I smile, and it feels genuine around her, which is foreign more recently.
“I also appreciate the apology. It means a lot.”
Healthier. Happier. That’s what is different about her.
I take a step down onto the sidewalk as she steps up to the platform.
Since this has gone so well, I push my luck. “I’ve been thinking about Cullen’s last name.”
Her brow peaks as her smile fades. “What about it?”
“I want to change his name to Warren. I thought Ryatt was about legacy and racing. I’d rather the legacy be tied to me as his dad. That’s how I want to be remembered.”
I expected her to be mad and flat-out deny me, so I have no idea why she’s smiling again. “Have you talked to him about it?”
“No, I wanted to talk to you first.”
Resting her hip against the railing, she says, “I appreciate that, but he’s already a Warren.”
“As the name he lists with Cullen.”
“I know what you mean. You’re a great dad.
I’ll never take that away from you, but you’re more into the physical activities with him.
You should see how he signs his artwork.
I don’t think you’ll get an argument from him.
” She heads to the door but doesn’t open it.
“Cullen Bryne Ryatt Warren?” she asks, swapping the last two surnames around.
Feeling like we’re turning over a new leaf, I reply, “I was thinking Cullen Bryne Warren if that’s okay?”
Her smile grows as she opens the door. Holding her head down, she wipes her eyes. “It’s okay with me.”
“Thank you, Terpidy.”
I’m given a nod before she disappears inside. Just before the door closes, I hear her call to Cullen, “Come over here and give me a hug. I missed you so much.”
New leaf and second chances.
As soon as I get to the corner of the block, I pull my phone out again, and read the text Marina sent:
I was mad.
Fuck it. I stop overthinking and text her back: And you’re not now?
I will stand here all fucking day if I get the chance to speak to her in any way.
Another message arrives:
I was also hurt.
Me:
I fucked up. I’m sorry.
Fifteen. Thirty. Forty. Every second that passes without hearing from her is fucking torture.
Marina:
Don’t fuck up again.
Me:
I won’t.
As desperate as I am to see her, I can’t make this about me. The breakup was done selfishly. The makeup must be about righting the wrongs if given the chance.
Ten minutes pass and I hear nothing. Do I text her again? Or let it lie for now? Do I yank the door she cracked open or bide my time? Fuck.
Apparently, patience is a virtue.
But I’ve never been the virtuous type.
Tucking the phone in my back pocket, I start home, chalking the day up to a good one overall.
“Cash?”
I cross the street toward my building and see Harbor standing next to one of his million-dollar custom cars that built his business. One day, he’s going to give me one. Until then, I’ll just admire his. I walk the perimeter and squat to get a good look at the grill. “Nice.”
“Thanks.”
But Harbor doesn’t make house calls for fun, so I step back on the sidewalk and ask, “What brings you by?”
Dipping inside the car, he grabs something off the seat. “I wanted to give you this.”
I take it, turning it over to see what the event is listed on the front. “A ticket?”
“It’s a new play opening tomorrow. I’m a donor, so I get extras.”
“Are you asking me out?” I can’t hold a poker face and start laughing.
He chuckles. “Lark is going with me, but we were given a third. Unfortunately, it’s for standing room only.”
“Best way to see a play.” Marina’s words come back like they were yesterday.
“I didn’t take you for a fan of Broadway?”
I didn’t realize I said that out loud. It’s easy to get lost in the memories of her. “It’s become a new passion of mine.”
Staring at me, I have a feeling he knows why. He doesn’t say anything, which is a first. I’ll take the win while I’m ahead. “Thanks for the ticket.”
“Will we see you there?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Great. Have a good night, and get some rest. We leave on Sunday.”
Taking the ticket, I tap it against my hand a few times, then dash up the nine flights of stairs to my apartment.
Out of breath, I shoulder the door open and rush to the gallery display on the side of my fridge.
I see it at the bottom. It’s not really legible unless you know what you’re looking for.
How did I not know? Did Cullen ever sign Ryatt as his name? Or has he always written Warren? He doesn’t want a legacy of race car driving or a TV personality. He wants a father.
He’s my proudest accomplishment, and I’ll happily trade ten world champion titles for the one where I’m called Cullen’s Dad.
Good fucking day.
Tomorrow is going to be even better. I’ve not only been given an olive branch from the Westcott Brothers but the second chance I’ve been waiting for. It’s Marina though, so I know it won’t come without an argument.
That’s okay. I’ll fight for her.