40
FALLON
Brad saunters through the door with a smug look on his face. It’s like he already knows this meeting, or whatever you want to call it, is going to go in his favor. His new wife, the same woman that was with him at the wedding last weekend, follows behind him like a lost puppy. I really didn’t want to believe it until now that he was here, that this was happening. I’d hoped that it was all a really bad dream, but no. Here we are.
He greets the waiter, who points over at us. When Brad looks our way, he gives me a killer-watt smile I recognize as his fake one. The one he used when we went to his work events, and he wanted to impress his boss and co-workers. Anger roils in my gut at the sight of it. We were married for a long time. He should know I can see right through his bullshit, even after a few years.
Brad reaches the table and holds his arms out. “Fallon,” he greets in a condescending tone. Does he really expect me to give him a hug?
I glare, not giving in to his desire, and hoping he gets thehint. After a long moment, he drops his fake ass smile, along with his arms, and sits across from me. His wife follows suit.
When she sits, I get a waft of herextremelystrong perfume. The small whiff of it gives me an instant headache. With it, a sense of irritation blooms. So her perfume doesn’t bother him, but my much more subtle perfume did? Apparently, his issue wasn’t with my perfume. It was with me.
The table is silent for a long moment until I’m fed up. “Well?” I ask. “You show up after three years after you left me with no explanation. What do you want?”
“Can’t we just catch up, Fallon? There’s no need for the third-degree here.” Brad runs his hand through his slicked back hair, leaning back in his chair like he’s got all the time in the world.
“No. The time for ‘catching up’ was before you left me for another woman with no warning the day after I was in the hospital having a miscarriage, leaving me alone to grieve and raise our child on my own, Brad.” I didn’t expect myself to be quite so forward, so aggressive with him right off the bat, but I’m a little proud of myself. Jason’s hand is under the table, and he reaches over, squeezing my thigh. I let out a little breath of air. I’m doing this.
Brad sighs. “I wanted to bring up the concept of what it might look like to spend some time with my daughter. My wife, Trixie,” he gestures to the woman sitting awkwardly beside him, “wants to meet Presley. How old is Pres now, seven?”
I cannot believe him. Three years, and not a word, and now suddenly he wants to be in his daughter's life? Or is it that Trixie found out he had a whole other family when they met, and wants to be a good person and help us reconnect?
“You’re kidding me, right?” I ask incredulously. “Because either this is some sort of cruel, twisted joke, or you’re serious, and I can’t decide which is worse.”
Brad has the audacity to look shocked. Trixie can’t even look at me. She’s staring down at the napkin in her palm as she rips it to shreds. My chest is heaving as I suck in lungfuls of air. Jason rubs a soothing thumb over my hand, keeping me grounded.
I hold my gaze on Brad. He swallows roughly, taking a sip of the water in front of him.
“This isn’t a joke. I want Presley to know me, and to meet Trixie. I suppose maybe I did some things wrong.”
“Just a few.” Jason scoffs, earning him a glare from Brad.
“Why now?” I ask. I have to know. “You left me. You told me you met someone new. Is this her? Or is this another woman in a line of women you will love and leave? What changed that you want to try and be father of the year?”
“It sounds harsh, but I didn’t love you anymore. I met Trixie at a work conference about six months before I left you. Remember the trip I extended in Boston?”
The memory flares in my brain. I’d been home with a very sick Presley, and he told me he had to stay an extra three days to network with his boss. I begged him to come home. I needed help. Presley was miserable, and so was I. I was exhausted, trying to care for my toddler who was so sick I was scared she would have to be hospitalized. The anger returns with a vengeance.
“You knew your daughter was sick at home and yet you still decided to stay with her?” I point at Trixie, who flinches. Perhaps I’m being too harsh on her, but what the fuck?
“Trixie isn’t at fault for any of this,” Brad explains. “She didn’t know any of it until a few months ago. I kept all of it asecret. I wanted to start over, leave my past completely behind. Maybe it was a mid-life crisis. But I needed a change. For me, the easiest way to do that was to disappear. I quit my job, filed for divorce, and started over with Trixie. I never told her anything until she found an old picture I had saved of us on my phone.”
Trixie sniffles. “I thought he was cheating on me. Only to find out I was actually the other woman.”
I ignore Trixie, going back to Brad. “Did you even miss your daughter?” I ask. I could give two shits if he missed me. I’ve moved on, and made my peace with that time of my life. But Presley? She lost her dad, and she’s still confused and hurt over it. I don’t look at Brad, but the way he doesn’t answer right away gives me a bit of his answer.
“I did, but probably not as much as you think I should,” he finally replies. Well, at least the asshole is honest about it.
“Why, then?” I ask. “Why are you suddenly appearing in my, inour, life again?”
“Trixie and I are starting a family. I thought it was only right that she knew our child had a sibling. That Presley be part of our family, too. We'd like to meet with Presley and have her spend some time with us.”
“No,” I blurt before I can think twice about it.
“No?” Brad cocks an eyebrow at me, and I can already see the cogs in his brain turning, figuring out a way he can win this battle.
“No,” I repeat, shaking my head.Stand your ground, Fallon.Like Jason said, we can go through the lawyers. “You signed away your custody and visitation rights, Brad. We’ve been on our own for years now. I’m not going to have you meet with Presley until I know you are serious about being in her life. You have no idea the amount of hurt you have put that little girl through. Her dadlefther. Do you knowhow many times I rocked her to sleep as she sobbed in my arms, because she didn’t understand why she didn’t have a dad who loved her enough to stay? How many times I had to tell her he loved her, even though I wasn’t sure that was the truth?”
