She sniffs. "My feet are perfectly formed. Cunt."
"You are trying toemasculateme,aren'tyou?"
"No."
The man taps my foot and I stare down at him. He points to the waterthenmy foot and I sink my feet into the warm water.I can'tbelieveI amdoing this. What the fuck am I doing in a damn nail salon? Jesus-fucking Christ.It can’t get any worse. It can’t.
Hope glances over at me and smiles. Fuck my life, she knows she’s breaking me and she likes it. Larry was right. She-fucking-devil. The man grabs my ankle and hoist my foot out of the tub, placing it on the little towel folding over the edge.
He glances up at me and shakes his head. "Very dry," he says, running his hand over my heel.
Hope laughs and I glare at her. "This is wrong,yourealise that, right?"
"What,pamperingyourself? God,Finnley, breakout of thestereotype, would you? I hear DavidBeckhamgetspedicures."
"FuckDavid Beckham," Isayand the little Asian manshakes hishead on a sighbefore hegrabs something that resembles a cheese graterandgoes at my heel with it.
"Look at that," he says and points to the foot shavings scattered all over the towel. "All that dry skin."
Bingo and pedicures. What's next, fucking church?
“After this we can go visit Poppy or something.”
“No, I have somewhere I have to go this afternoon.” The second I say it, my stomach knots and sweat beads on my brow. I don’t want her to ask me where I’m going, but it’s Hope and she’s nosey as shit.
“Where are you going?” she asks and I turn to look at her. She’s all smiles.
“Somewhere.”
“Of course, somewhere, how stupid of me.” She rolls her eyes and grabs a magazine from the side of the chair, popping it open as she sinks down in the chair. “Dark and mysterious…” she mumbles.
And this is why, even though I want Hope, I know I don’t need her. There is too much to my past. Too many skeletons. Things that she doesn’t need to get involved in.
* * *
Icutthe engine to my bike andkickthestanddown. The bell rings and a flurry of children scurry out of theschoolhousedoors. Skipping, jumping, laughing. Lydia walks out with a friend. Her blondehair spills over hershouldersin ringlets. I watch her smile and giggle. I don't even know what her laugh sounds like. Sighing, I wonder what Kiera has told her about me—ifshe'stold her about me. It's fucking hardtowatchherlike this.Just watch her grow, day after day, imagining what she likes...ponies and fairies, or what herfavouritestory is. She's my flesh and fucking blood and I don't have the faintest idea about her at all.
Sheskips acrosstheyard,runningright into—whothehell isthat?I stand from my bikeand narrow my gaze, staringattheman in a business suit who iswrapping his arms around mybabygirl.My faceheats, tension ripples throughout my body. I watch as he takes her by the hand and leads her to a whiteBMWSUV. He opens the door,kissing herbeforeshecrawls inside.Wave after wave of jealousy beats through me. Thatman is living my life and it'senoughto make mehate him. The engineto the BMWroars to life. Thetaillightsflash.And then, he's pulling out onto thestreetwithmylittle girl inthe back.WhenI goto crankmybike, Inoticehow hardI'mgripping the handles. Myknucklesare white, my fingers tense. The motor growls and I swerve out onto the street, following a few cars behind them. He eventually turns down a side road, stopping in front of the building I once lived in. The building I once had a family in. I brake by the stop sign at the end of the street, watching as he helps her out, carrying her back pack as theywalk up the steps and disappear inside.
It shouldn't bother me.He could be a great guy.A great rolemodel,but selfishly,all Ican think aboutis thatshe ismydaughter.Idon't know why I'm still standing here, straddlingmy bikeand just staringat thatapartment door.I justdon't wanttoleave. It's a sick feeling knowing another man is taking better care of her than Iam—Isend Kiera money every month and she sendsitright backtome.She won't evenlet me have thatlittlebit of dignity.I pull my phone from my jacket and dial David’s number. It goes straight to voicemail. “David, something has to happen with my case. I’m wasting time. Fix it or your fired. You’ve got a week. You hear me? A fucking week.” I hang up and just when I'mabout to start themotorbike,I seeKiera's Audipullup. I know I shouldstart the bike and leave, butthe anger won'tlet me. It keepsmegroundedrighthere,heart pounding,jaw clenching.Her blonde hair catches in the wind as she steps out of her car. Her scrubs cling to her curvesandbefore I even realizeit, I'm marching upto her.
"Kiera," I shout.
She stops, but doesn't turn around. I keep walkinguntil I'm so closeto herI cansmellherperfume,thewarm smell ofamber and vanilla wraps around me.
"What areyou doing here, Finn?Ithought we had an understanding andI'dhate to—"
"WhoisthatguywithLydia?"
Her shouldersriseon ahard inhale. "It doesn't matter who he is."
"The fuck it doesn't. He'swith my goddamn daughter!" I can feel a fire scorching through my veins and I close my eyes to try and rein it in. "Kiera..."
"Finn. Stop!" She turns around. Her blue eyes landon mine, dredging up feelings I'd rather not be reminded of."You need to leave."
"Iknow. I know.Ineedto leavebeforeLydia sees me andasks about her piece ofshitfather, right?"I turnaround andhead back to mybike, but stop."Whathave youtold her about me, Kiera,huh?"
Inhaling, she slowly shakes her head. "She's never really asked about you, Finn."
