“You were out there, calmin’ yourself down. I had no intention of interrupting you,” Mom interrupts with a stern look. “You sure as hell need it after yesterday.”
I ignore the annoyance that shows in her voice and walk past her into the house. “What time is she picking Mila up?”
“In an hour,” Mom replies. “Leila texted me.”
“Okay.” I kiss Mila’s head and put some toast in the toaster. “She okay?”
“Leila? She’s fine.”
“You know I mean Sofie.”
“How do you define ‘fine’?” she asks with an eyebrow raise. “Would you say you’re fine right now?”
I’ll take that as a no.
My toast pops, and I spread peanut butter across each slice. I bite into it, the crunch satisfying, and lean against the counter. The silence is tense and awkward.
Until Tate comes in the front door looking like he slept outside all night.
“Tate Burke!” Mom snaps. “Where have you been?”
“Lay off it, Mom.” He goes straight upstairs. Hopefully to shower.
Aidan snorts, walking into the kitchen. “Hey, bro, at least they’ll have another Burke brother to speculate about. He might even knock you off the front page when his latest sells her sordid story.” He slaps me on the shoulder.
I smirk. Yeah. That threesome story was awkward, to say the least. Still, it wasn’t Tate’s fault one of the girls was a hooker who sold celebrity stories on the side. I don’t think Mom and Dad looked at him for three months. Hell, they didn’t talk to him for six.
“Better not be,” Mom grumbles.
“Diane, darlin’, why don’t you go get a shower?” Dad ushers her out of the kitchen.
She grumbles again but does as he says. Dad waits until she’s out of earshot and sits at the table, slumping onto it.
“Thank God,” he says, sighing. “I’ve had it all night, so you boys better start behavin’ yourselves. I understand it’s too late for Conner and Tate, but, Aidan, dear me, behave, son, for your dear old dad.”
“Dear old dad, my left butt cheek.” Aidan grabs my other piece of toast and moves when I go to punch his arm.
“Butt!” Mila shrieks happily.
“What? No.” I bend in front of her high chair. “Bad. Bad word.”
“Butt.” She giggles behind her hands.
I glare at Aidan. “Thanks.”
“Sorry, bro.” He actually looks apologetic.
I rub my forehead and sweep her out of her high chair. Time to get ready.
“What do you think? It’s trash, huh?”
Mila grabs her toes and rocks.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I sigh and grab my pencil, switching a couple of words out. “Okay, master songwriter, how about . . .” I strum the final few notes before the chorus and read off the page. “Seasons pass and feelings change, but don’t you know we’re still the same, I still want you the way I did before, I still want you the way you wanted me. . . . Yeah?”
Mila claps her hands. “Yeah, Dadda!”
“You obviously got your mama’s talent for songwriting and not mine.” I check the next verse. “Okay, next lines.” I play again. “I deny it ’cause it hurts, I fight it ’cause it burns, but I want everythin’ you have to give. . . . How’s that?”
I look up, and Sofie’s standing a couple feet behind Mila. Her hair is tied on top of her head, dark shadows under her eyes, her lips chapped.
Mila claps her hands again in agreement, and I nod. “Good job, baby.” I tick next to the lines. “Look who’s here.”
She turns her little head and falls backward. She laughs and pulls herself up, running to Sofie and hugging her legs.
“Hey, baby girl!” Sofie bends down and picks her up. “Did you have fun with Daddy?”
Mila nods. “Sin! Dadda sin!” She looks at me with a big smile.
“Yeah, Daddy did some singing.” I set the guitar down and stand. “I’ll get her things,” I tell Sofie.
She nods and carries Mila onto the porch. Leila shoves me in the back, and I stumble into the kitchen. I hiss a curse at her and go upstairs with her hot on my heels.
She slams my bedroom door. “The hell were you thinking, talkin’ to her that way yesterday?”
“I obviously wasn’t thinking.” I gather Mila’s things and tuck them inside her bag.
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. She cried on my shoulder, Con.” She grabs my arm and makes me look at her. “All night. All fucking night.”
I snatch my arm back, my heart clenching. “What do you want me to do, huh, Lei? I already know she won’t take an apology. She won’t talk to me. You want me to send her flowers and a fucking teddy bear holding a balloon that says ‘I’m sorry’?”
“I don’t know, but you better think of something.”
“I am. I’m doing what she wants me to do. I’m being a father and staying clear away from her.” I open my door. “I’m respectin’ her wishes on this.”
“Unreal.” She shakes her head and backs into her room. “You are unreal.”
She closes the door, shutting me out, and I stare at it for a minute. What the hell does that mean?
I go downstairs and hand Sofie Mila’s repacked bag.
“Thanks,” she says quietly, strapping Mila into the stroller. “I’ll bring her over tomorrow. If you want.”
“Yeah. I can come and get her.”
“No. I’ll bring her over.” She leans forward. “Ready to go, Mila?”
Mila nods. I bend down and kiss her forehead, then her cheeks, then her nose, then her tiny mouth. She laughs and hugs my neck tightly.
“Bye, Dadda. Bye, bye, bye.” She waves a chubby fist at me.
“Bye, baby.”
I wait until they go, then drop onto the grass and put my head in my hands. Shit, I wish it wasn’t this way. It’s not supposed to be this way. She’s supposed to be here, right by my side, all the time.
Both of them are.
Fuck it all. I slam my hand into the wooden post next to me. I’ll never forgive Sofie, but I can’t condemn her forever. And dammit, they’re both mine, my girls, and they should be with me. Not at the other end of the woods, together, while I’m sitting here alone.
There ain’t a damn thing I can do about it, either.
My fingers nudge the guitar and I set it back on my lap, stare at the pad, and get lost once again.