Chapter 29 Michelle Destiny’s Child #2
Scott was a hundred feet down the beach, his silhouette dark against the shimmering water as he held Emma in his arms and kept Keith from running too far out into the sea. My focus was on the boy sitting beside me on the thick flannel blanket.
Mitchell.
Normally, we only had him for the weekend, a frantic 48 hours that involved a Saturday morning drive to Venice Beach for Keith’s and Mitchell’s baseball games, then a good hour’s drive to our house in Ventura, and then the same roundtrip drive back Sunday evening in bumper-to-bumper traffic.
But this week was different. April had finally married Tony, and they’d gone on a honeymoon.
For seven uninterrupted days, Mitchell was ours.
But with our week coming to an end tomorrow, he’d been quiet all afternoon, his usual chatter conspicuously absent. Now he sat hugging his knees, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
“Sunny?”
I smiled at the nickname. He’d given it to me himself, back when he was barely two. We were facepainting on the kitchen floor when I drew a crooked sunbeam on my cheek and said, “Look, I’m sunny.”
He’d stared at me, blinked once, and said, “You sunny.”
Mitchell called me You Sunny for months, until one day the you fell away and Sunny stuck.
“Yes,” I said, letting sand fall through my fingers onto his leg.
“Is… is the baby coming out soon?” he asked.
“Ten more weeks,” I smiled, placing a hand over the firm swell of my stomach.
Mitchell didn’t look at me. He just kept staring at the ocean. “Are you… are you gonna like him more than me?”
I didn’t know what broke my heart more—the question or that he felt the need to ask it. I wrapped an arm around his thin shoulders and pulled him close. “Oh, honey, no. It doesn’t work like that. Hearts just get bigger to fit you all.”
He leaned into me, but his small body was rigid with tension. “I think I’m moving away,” he said, his eyes swimming with tears. “To Arizona.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard Mom and Tony talking. He got a job there.”
My eyes widened. This was news to me, and it would definitely be news to Scott. “When did you hear this?”
“Just before the wedding.” That was all it took.
The dam broke. A sob tore from his throat, and he buried his face in my side.
“I don’t want to go. Can I stay with you and Dad?
” He choked between gasps. “Please, Sunny? I know you like me. You do, right? I’ll be really good.
I can help with Jake. I won’t be any trouble, I promise. Please don’t make me go.”
I held him tighter, smoothing his hair, whispering nonsense reassurances, though the truth was if April wanted to move him to Arizona, there wasn’t much Scott or I could do to stop it.
Mitchell wiped the tears away with the hem of his shirt. “I’m trying not to cry,” he said.
“It’s okay to cry.”
“Tony says if I don’t toughen up, I’ll never be a baseball star.”
I winced. Mitchell was sensitive, yes—but he was strong where it mattered.
He didn’t need Tony telling him what kind of boy he should be.
Scott would hate this. As much as I didn’t want this news to mar our last day with Mitchell, Scott was his father.
And fathers needed to know these things.
I tried to wave him over without making a scene, but he was splashing in the water with Keith and Emma, completely oblivious to what was unfolding behind him.
I squeezed Mitchell’s shoulder and smiled down at him. “I think you’re the toughest kid I know.”
And I meant it. Mitchell handled the disruption in his life like a pro.
He never complained about the long car rides or the things he missed moving between houses.
And while he and Keith fought sometimes, he rarely—if ever—started it.
I often wondered where he got his strength, how a boy raised by teenage parents had his maturity and naturally sweet disposition.
Scott returned with the kids just as the sun began to set. He dropped down beside me and brushed sand off his legs, his eyes going immediately to Mitch’s puffy face.
“You good, bud?”
Mitchell nodded, but stayed silent. Scott looked to me for answers, but I shook my head. This wasn’t the time. The news of April’s move would gut him, and he deserved this last, beautiful moment of peace.
“It’s time,” Scott said, as the sun slowly disappeared behind the ocean. He pulled Mitch closer and held all three kids in his arms. God, he was such a good dad. If what Mitchell said was true, he didn’t deserve this devastation.
Scott’s eyes were on the horizon. “You know what?” he said, voice soft with a wistful edge. “I wish the Shaggin’ Wagon was here to see this.”
“Pretty sure your truck is enjoying life as a golf cart somewhere.”
“According to Tom, he plays in tournaments every weekend. I should stalk every golf course in the Glendale and Pasadena area until I find him, and demand my truck back.”
The idea hit me like a spark. “Scott! We have the spare key. It’s in the junk drawer.”
He turned, squinting at me. “So?”
“So,” I said, giddy, “if we can find out where he plays golf, we can drive there and steal it back.”
Scott blinked at me, his smile lingering, thoughtful now. “That’s honestly not a bad idea. But how do we know he’d be there?”
“You said he plays in golf tournaments, right?”
“That’s what he said, but maybe the whole golf thing was a lie to get me to trust him.”
“No one’s going to lie about golf.”
“True. What do you suggest we do?”
“Okay, so, we make a list of the courses and when their next tournaments are. And then I’ll call up and ask if”—I slipped into my sweetest drawl—“my favorite uncle Tom is playing.”
Scott went quiet, turning it over.
I shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
A slow smile spread across his face before he grabbed my cheeks and kissed me.
“You’re brilliant,” he said against my lips. “What would I ever do without you?”
I smiled back. “Hopefully, you’ll never have to find out.”
Bronzed and smiling, April and Tony strolled up the porch to collect Mitchell, unaware they were walking straight into a minefield.
Inside, Scott was a live wire, barely contained.
The anger pulsated off him. I’d waited until Mitchell was asleep to tell him what had been said on the beach—and thank god for that. Scott did not take it well.
Now all that fury was coiled, waiting for the knock.
Mitchell bolted out of the house the moment he saw his mom arrive.
“There he is. My favorite boy in the whole world,” April said, sweeping him into her arms and peppering his cheeks with kisses. “I missed you like crazy. Did you have fun?”
“Yes! I beat my time in Super Mario,” Mitch said, glowing with pride. You’d never guess he’d been sobbing in my arms yesterday. “And I learned to play roller hockey with the kids on the street. And Sunny taught me how to make scalped potatoes.”
“Scalloped,” I corrected, laughing softly.
“You’ll have to teach me,” she said, smoothing his hair. “You ready to go?”
Scott leaned against the hallway wall, arms crossed, his expression carved from stone. Even from across the room, I could feel the temperature drop.
“I’m just gonna say bye to my new friends,” Mitch called before sprinting toward the crowd of kids.
April turned back, catching the storm brewing in Scott’s eyes. “Is something wrong?”
He pushed off the wall and started for the front door. “When were you going to tell me about Arizona?”
Her smile faltered, her gaze flicking to Tony, then narrowed on the spot where her son had just been standing. “He must have overheard something he shouldn’t have.”
Scott’s voice went low and lethal. “You made me feel like the world’s worst father for even thinking about moving an hour away, and all this time, you were planning to drag him halfway across the damn country?”
“It’s the next state over, Scott,” she said, her tone already defensive. “Tony got an offer. A really good one. This is a huge opportunity for us.”
“For you,” Scott shot back. “Not for him. He doesn’t want to go, April. He begged us to let him stay.”
She sighed, waving toward the group of laughing kids outside. “Of course he doesn’t want to leave. He’s eight. He’s sad about his friends, his baseball team, Grandma Meg… you. But he’s a kid. He’ll adjust.”
I bit my tongue hard enough to taste blood. This wasn’t adjusting. It was ripping a child out of his life. But this wasn’t my fight, and any input I gave as the stepmother would only fan the flames.
Scott stepped forward, and his voice shook. “He’s not going. If you want to fight this in court, fine. But I’m not giving up my son.”
April crossed her arms, chin lifting in challenge. “He needs his mother, Scott. You can still see him. Summers. Holidays.”
You could see it the instant her words hit. Scott’s face twisted in disbelief. “So, what, you’re just going to erase me? Offer visitation rights to my own kid?”
And then Tony made the dumbest move imaginable.
He stepped between them, laying a hand on Scott’s arm like he was trying to calm a wild animal.
“Let’s just take a breath,” he said in that smug, patronizing tone used only by men who’ve never been punched in the face.
“If what you want is stability for Mitchell,” Tony said, “then we should talk about making this permanent.”
“Tony, stop,” April warned.
“Permanent?” Scott echoed, barely able to control his anger. “You better not be suggesting adoption, because that is never going to happen.”
“I just think he needs a steady male influence full-time.”
For one breathless second, the world just… stopped. Scott’s whole body went rigid. His fist clenched at his side, and the tendons in his forearm stood out like ropes. I saw it happen in slow motion—the flash in his eyes, the lunge.
“Scott, no!” I threw myself in front of him, pressing both palms to his chest. His heart was slamming against my hands like a trapped thing. Tony stumbled backward, pale and wide-eyed. The fight was over before it began. But the damage was done.
April stared at Scott, her expression softening, not with triumph, but in something closer to resignation. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she said. “I just… I knew it would be hard, and I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Her voice steadied, though her eyes stayed on him.
“No one is trying to erase you, Scott. That’s not what this is.” She paused, voice softening. “I gave you the same grace when you moved here with Michelle and the kids. I didn’t fight you. I trusted we’d figure it out. I’m asking for that same trust now.”
Her tone remained calm, almost pleading now.
“This doesn’t have to get ugly. I don’t want that. I will go to court if I have to—but I don’t want to.” She shook her head slightly. “Or you can accept this, and you’re still his dad. You’ll always be his dad.”
A breath.
“I promise, Scott. We’ll make it work.”
Scott didn’t respond. Couldn’t. His shoulders sagged under the weight of something too heavy to name. I stood frozen in the doorway, arms wrapped around myself, feeling like I’d brought this storm down on all of us. If Scott hadn’t moved for me, would any of this be happening?
Mitchell came running back, all sunshine and innocence—until he saw our faces. Until he understood. His joy collapsed in on itself.
He started to cry, and Scott dropped to his knees on the porch step, pulling him in tight. Neither of them spoke. They just held on, as if they could keep the world still long enough to stop what was already happening, yet knowing the agony of what they were both about to lose.