T W E N T Y-S I X Come to Jesus
Will’s POV
I laid in that hospital bed, trying not to cry, and failing.
Then I just tried not to sob too loudly.
I didn’t want to bother them more than I already had.
I laid there that night, looking at the ceiling, listening to her words playing over and over again in my head.
I let them sink in. I sat with them for hours.
And the conclusion? Something I hadn’t thought possible before last night.
She was right. I was selfish. I had been thinking only of myself for years, so my line of thought was skewed.
Everything was so fucked from where I thought I’d be.
I was supposed to be living a happy life with the younger woman on my arm.
Instead, I ended up with a psycho pointing a gun at me and my ex-wife.
“It all comes out in the wash. Your washing just came clean sooner than you planned.”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d been doing a lot of thinking over the last few weeks, ever since Paloma found the folder I’d been saving all their photos in.
My mother had come to visit, bringing Cece with her.
Her eyes almost popped out of her head when she saw that my roommate was none other than my ex-wife’s fiancé.
Her eyes were wide the whole visit. They were wide when a couple brought in the boys.
They didn’t even look over here. I had never felt more invisible than I did in that moment.
It was like I was so insignificant that I didn’t register on anyone’s radar.
I felt so small. I felt like the kid who wasn’t picked for a team in gym class.
I was gimpy with one arm in a sling, trying to play with Cece one-handed.
This would take some getting used to, and as much as I didn’t want to, I would need to rely on my parents for a lot until I was healed.
When the group on the other side of the curtain left, Mom finally spoke.
“She’s really with… him ? Do you think—”
“No.” My voice was sharp as I stopped her from saying anything more.
“No, Mom. Sarah was always faithful. I…” I swallowed past the guilt and regret lodged in my throat, “I was the one who fucked up. I never should have gotten involved with Paloma.” I shook my head, tears forming.
I hated showing people my emotions, growing up to be exactly how my parents were with theirs.
Fucking constipated . Emotions and feelings were something we never talked about.
If something was wrong, you sucked it up and moved on.
Keep a stiff upper lip. Boys don’t cry. All that shit they told us.
I know I could have been a different person if I hadn’t grown up with my parents the way they were.
If at least one of them were open with their emotions, I think I would have been able to handle and process emotions instead of pushing everything deep in me like an overstuffed suitcase that is barely staying zipped.
I felt ready to burst and let the contents fly.
“I love Cece, and I can’t see life without her.
But, Mom.” I searched her eyes for something, anything.
I don’t know what I was looking for, but it wasn’t there.
My voice came out, a hoarse, watery whisper, “She should have been mine with Sarah. I get where she was coming from. She was with the kids all the time. I never gave her a break, like Paloma never gives me a break. It was like, as soon as Cece was past the cute infant stage, she was over being a mom. Like she was putting on a show, letting me think I was seeing everything I wanted. She was fake.”
I watched as my little girl ate her snacks sitting at the end of my bed.
She would smile up at me, hold out a goldfish in one hand and a very slobbery PB there was no way around that.
I had listened to Devereaux and Sarah. They were pressing charges and suing her for harassment.
They offered me a deal. If I agreed to press charges against Paloma, they wouldn’t pursue any of the harassment lawsuit they had ready to go.
So, I did the reasonable thing.
I pressed charges and called a therapist.
I knew I needed to go. I needed to figure out how to unclog myself. I needed to know why I did what I did. I needed to make sure I never fucked up like that again, and that I could be a better father than mine.
I had moved out when Paloma was asleep. I had packed essentials for myself and Cece and left in the middle of the night.
I was terrified that Cece would be in danger if I left her there.
I was worried Paloma wouldn’t take care of her, but I was also worried about the mental state she was in over the last few weeks.
She’d been drugging me, logging into my banking apps, and trying to move money around.
Thankfully, I didn’t do online banking with the business. Something my father always told me.
“They’ll always know who you are in person,” when online banking first became popular.
It was also a blessing that we hadn’t already gotten married.
Six months ago, I was thinking she was the woman I wanted to spend my life with, but now?
I didn’t know who she was, or if anything she showed me was real.
Mom took Cece home to watch her until I am released tomorrow.
After that, I’d be hiring the nanny back, full-time, and the maid part-time.
Devereaux slid me his lawyer’s information.
The man who drew up the paperwork I signed, giving my boys away, was going to help me keep my daughter away from Paloma.
A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.
“Gentlemen. Detective Scarnsdale. I just wanted to let you all know, she’s been arraigned and entered a plea of not guilty by way of mental disease or defect. She’s going to be undergoing a psych eval. If there’s anything either of you wishes to tell us, that would be helpful.”
Devereaux went first. Filling the detective in on what he saw and experienced. Then I filled him in on everything. All the crazy things she pulled, the way I feel I can’t trust her with Cece, I spilled it all, and what led to her mental state. I was to blame for part of it. More than part of it.