He smiles. “Guilty. But think about this: if you let him in, let him establish a relationship with Rose, what’s the worst that could happen?”
I hold the warm mug tightly in my hands. “He could leave her. He could break her heart.”
“He could. If you turn him away, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“He could hire lawyers and demand visitation, at the very least. And then I’d be back to scenario number one.”
“That’s fair. What if he doesn’t? What if you kick him in the balls and he goes away quietly?”
“I don’t think that would happen, but even then, Rose is going to want to meet him someday. I don’t want to be the kind of parent who keeps a father and daughter apart. I won’t do that to her.”
“Of course not, you love her.”
“More than anything. Enough to pick up the shattered pieces of her heart, no matter who breaks it.”
“You’re strong as hell, honey. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you and Rose, no matter what. Promise. And, at least from what Booker has said, Knox is pretty wrecked. He wants to make things right.”
For Rose’s sake, I hope that’s true. “I feel weak and tired and overwhelmed, but…”
“But?” he prompts.
“But you better text Booker back and tell him we’ll be there on Sunday.”
The smile on Ian’s face does little to relieve the butterflies waging a war in my stomach.
* * *
Knox
They’re coming over here, and I’m a goddamn mess. Which is stupid. But also warranted.
The last time Willa was here, things didn’t go so well. But a lot has changed in the last week.
Taking a look around my room, I’m happy with the few changes I’ve made. I got new sheets. Though Rachel and I didn’t get as far as the bed, it’s fair to say that my sheets have seen more than a few partners. And yea, Willa’s not coming for a sleepover (even I know better than to ask that this early in the game), but still. It felt skeevy to keep those sheets, so out they went. The comforter, too. And the pillows.
I hear the doorbell chime and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna throw up. People don’t usually make me nervous, but the thought of seeing Willa again and spending time with our daughter has me anxious. It’s not a sensation I’m used to. When confronted with a social situation, I typically have one of three reactions: annoyance at the general population, a need to drink to deal with these fools, and/or a desire to fuck.
Yea. Too bad there wasn’t time to brush up on my social skills before Willa agreed to visit. But I’m a lucky bastard, and I know it, so I need to get my ass downstairs. After I ran out of Drip like I was a wannabe influencer and Hollywood was calling, it’s a miracle she agreed to come over.
I make my way to the hall and look over the stair rail at the living room below. Willa sits tentatively on one of the sofas while Ian stands guard next to her. It’d be funny, if it didn’t piss me the hell off. The guy’s no taller than I am, and he definitely has less muscle mass. It’s laughable that he thinks he could take on my three best friends, though he looks prepared to, should the occasion arise. It won’t, of course. First off, those three are housebroken. What’s more, none of them have beef with Ian since he’s close with Phoebe and now Willa and Rose.
And speaking of my little girl, she’s staring with wonder at the lights on the Christmas tree Booker’s mom always makes us put up. Whit reaches his arms out, and after a moment, Willa hands Rose over, but she stays close, I notice. Soon, Rose is sitting in Whit’s lap while he reads her a book, no doubt changing his voice for all the characters. The book is made of thick cardboard and has all of ten pages, but she babbles and claps her chubby little hands together when he finishes, so he reads it again.
While I stand up here in the hall like some kind of paranoid voyeur.
“You need to get the hell downstairs. We’re all waiting for you,” Ty says, coming to stand at the top of the steps. Leave it to my best friend to tell me exactly how it is.
“I know, I just—”
“Just prefer to wallow up here in self-doubt. Yea, no. That’s healthy.” Ty rolls his eyes.
“Look, this is a big fucking deal. You know that. And if I screw it up—”
“The only way you’re gonna screw this up is if you stay up here instead of heading downstairs to properly meet your daughter.”
“Yea, for now. But there are a million ways I could fuck this up. Like, literally one million. Trust me. I’ve been making a list.”
He shrugs. “Knox, the same could be said of any parent. But you’re not even going to get the opportunity to screw shit up if you don't go down there. Willa’s been patient enough with your ass, no?” He turns and heads back down the steps, no doubt figuring I’ll follow.
