“That does sound like the best option. What are you hesitant about?”
I blew out a breath. “You know, the day Harps was born, I was terrified. Fucking terrified. I didn’t know how to be a parent. Hell, most days I’m just making it up as I go, you know? So who the fuck am I to tell someone they shouldn’t be a mom?”
“Who the fuck are you?” she asked. “You’re Charlie fucking Huxley, that’s who. You’re the best dad I’ve ever known. The dad who gets his hair and makeup done just to see his daughter smile. The dad who asks how to make pink pancakes because he knows that’s what his little girl wants. The dad who shows up every single day for Harper. You know what a parent is, Charlie. You’re the hashtag.” She smiled.
“What hashtag is that?”
“Hashtag ‘love you, mean it.’ You show it. You feel it. And you live it.” She took my hand in hers. “And Caroline is not it. And your daughter is telling you that she’s uncomfortable with the situation, so you’re trying to fix it the best way you can.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I guess there’s this fear that she’ll push back. That she’ll let her ego get involved and fight for Harper just for the sake of winning and not losing.”
“I get that,” she said. “And I don’t know all the different legal things that can happen in a custody battle like this. But I know what a good parent looks like, and I’m looking at him. Caroline is not a parent. Hell, she’s not even a friend. She doesn’t call and check in. She shows up one day a year. That is not a woman who seems like she would want to fight to be a mother. But I also understand being scared, because you have something to lose.”
“I have everything to lose,” I said as a deep pain settled in the middle of my chest.
“So then, there’s your answer, Charles.” She moved across the seat and climbed onto my lap. She placed a hand on each side of my face as her gaze locked with mine. “There is too much at risk. So maybe when she calls once a year, you change the way things happen. You don’t let it happen at Harper’s party. You tell her how it’s going to go down.”
“But Harper doesn’t want to see her at all,” I said, shaking my head.
“You explain to Harper next year when the time comes that you are setting ground rules with Caroline. About when she can visit and what an age-appropriate gift looks like. You can be honest with her about some of this, you know? She’ll appreciate how hard you’re trying. And if she doesn’t want to see her, you go with her to a public place, and Harper can tell her that, and you go from there. She left immediately when she felt rejected at the party. She won’t keep coming back if she feels unwanted. She’s a complete narcissist. When it doesn’t serve her, she’ll stop showing up.”
I thought it over, and she’d made a good point.
The risk was too high. The possibility that she could push back, even though it was highly unlikely, was still possible.
As much as I wanted this to go away, the worst-case scenario forced me to reconsider doing this.
I’d never had someone I could talk to about Harper.
But Violet Beaumont was not just a woman I was painfully attracted to.
She was not just a woman who got under my skin when she argued with me.
She’d become more than I’d realized.
She’d become someone I relied on.
Someone I trusted.
Someone I thought about when I wasn’t with her.
Someone I wanted when I was with her.
“Okay. That’s what I’m going to do. I appreciate it.” I tucked the hair behind her ear, my large palm covering the side of her neck as my thumb stroked her jaw.
“‘Okay’? You’re actually listening to me?”
“Yeah. I agree with you on this. I didn’t know what to do, but you’re right, the answer is clear. There’s too much at risk. I need to ride it out.”
“I like agreeable Charlie.”
“Don’t get used to it. He doesn’t come around often,” I said as I tugged her closer, grazing my lips against hers.
“I think you’re a lot softer than you let on, Charlie Huxley.” She nipped at my bottom lip.
“Nothing soft here, Firefly.” I thrust forward, letting her know just how much I wanted her.
“Take me home and show me.”
