Chapter 21

Haylee

The phone rings and rings. The fact is not lost on me that this is the first time since he’s been back that he’s ignored my methods of communication. A knot forms in the pit of my stomach because I understand the consequences of Ford’s unwillingness to talk to me. If I can’t even get him to talk, how am I ever going to get him to co-parent? We’re going to be like two ships full of angry sailors passing in the night, throwing shade over the rail but never really speaking.

Realizing that a face-to-face meeting is probably better, I jump in my sputtering Honda and head toward the Armónico. Since I basically told Dante to go fuck himself, I’m back at the café, feeling lucky that Ginny was willing to give me my old job back and send me back into the plush and comforting bosom of Dixie. Maybe someday I’ll be able to better myself but that time isn’t now. Not with Atlee’s future on the line.

I park in the self-parking, so I don’t draw attention to myself, knowing that Troy Cass seems to be everywhere all at once. What the eyes in the back of his head don’t see, the eye in the sky does. I don’t want Ford getting a heads up that I’m on my way to his office so he can go hide in the bathroom. It’s about time he faces something.

It’s about time he faces me.

Stabbing the top button to call for the elevator, I lean back on my heels and then stare down at my worn jeans and tank top. I probably should have dressed up a little bit more for this date with the devil of my own making. But the truth is, I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, even though I am. Troy stands in the lobby talking to another executive, always at attention. Nixon’s door is closed and Carol, his assistant, mans the front desk.

“Is Ford available?” I ask, plastering a smile on my face like I’m just another appointment. Not that my entire life is resting on the outcome of this surprise meeting.

“And you are?”

For a moment, I wonder if I should lie about my true identity. “Haylee. Haylee Jacobs.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Jacobs. Let me check his calendar.” She begins moving the mouse to her computer and frowning. Dammit, I knew it was a bad idea to just show up here. But making it impromptu gave me more of a feeling of control in a situation where I’m completely out of control.

“He’s available.”

Troy’s deep voice cuts through the charged atmosphere, slaying me where I stand. I’ve never heard a man’s tone sound so deadly. Like he holds your life in the palm of his hand, and you’re nothing but a tiny, defenseless fly waiting on the crush of his fingers. Will he squeeze the life from your body or allow you to fly away with your freedom? I guess only time will tell.

“He is?” I ask, looking to Carol for confirmation.

“I guess he is,” Carol confirms, glancing at Troy.

I feel like I’m involved in a game of telephone gone wrong. They’re communicating with each other in code, but neither one is actually saying anything. I shrug and turn toward Ford’s closed door. I wonder if I should knock or just barge in. Troy nods, urging me forward. Barging in unannounced it is, then.

The doorknob feels hot to the touch, as if it’s been charged with electricity. I imagine one of those cartoons where the person holding it gets lifted off their feed with that yellow zig-zag line drawn around them. I open it like I’m ripping a Band-Aid off a fresh wound and step inside. He’s not at his desk. At first, I can’t find him, my eyes darting everywhere in the room. Until I do.

He’s laying down flat on his back on the carpet, a washrag over his eyes and his fingertips massaging his temples.

“You withheld my daughter from me, Haylee. How could you do that?”

The words pepper my skin, stinging like rubber bullets. I’m too late. I sink to my knees, but he doesn’t see it because his eyes are clamped shut. I don’t even get the grace of his anger. His tone is deadly calm, not one thread of emotion running through it. I realize in that moment how much he hates me. Because if anyone took Atlee from me, that’s exactly how I’d feel too.

I lean forward and put my hands over my throbbing face as the tears start to flow. And once they start, they’re not going to stop. I know because this has happened every single night since the evening I lied to Ford and told him I didn’t love him. The lie has become the truth because he doesn’t love me anymore.

I don’t ask him to forgive me. I don’t beg or plead. I just cry, a seemingly endless river of hot tears that fall to the carpet like little drops of liquid pain. I’m a lost cause. A mother who cared so much about her child she forgot about everything and everyone else, including herself. Maybe Ford knew me well enough to anticipate that I’d never be what he needed. Maybe that’s really why he left.

“Don’t you fucking have anything to say for yourself?”

His voice is stronger now. Closer. I can almost feel him hovering over me. Is he going to slap me? I almost wish he would because I’d welcome the absolution that kind of punishment might bring.

“No.” The word pops out on a strangled sob. I don’t look up. I can’t. I’m just not ready yet to see the finality in his eyes reflected back at me.

“Haylee, I can think of at least ten times you easily could have told me about Atlee since I’ve been back in Vegas. Not the least of which was the time I had my cock buried balls deep inside you. Were you trying to steal another child from me?” he asks, setting his jaw into a chiseled line of stone. “You promised me you were on birth control, but I can’t believe a fucking word that comes out of your lying mouth.”

In response, I sob so hard I have trouble catching my breath. The simple act of breathing in and out seems more than I can handle. More than I can bear. He’s accusing me of heinous things, and I’m guilty of every damn one of them.

“Ford…”

He doesn’t allow me to speak, just interrupts me by stepping closer. “Just shut up. You’re going to hear me out this time. I’m not going to buy into any of your pathetic excuses. I’m no longer going to bear the brunt of everything that went wrong between us. I made mistakes. But you have too. It’s about time you step up and take some accountability for your part in this disaster.”

That part causes my head to snap up, and as the tears continue to run, I hold up a hand. “Don’t you ever fucking call my daughter a disaster.”

“Our daughter. And I’m not calling Atlee a disaster. I’m talking about the years and years of lie on top of lie until all the layers are so tightly pressed together they’ve turned into stone. I walked away because I couldn’t stay. But you lied. Which is worse?”

My hands shake, but even though I need his touch, his assurance that I’m going to make it out of this office unscathed, I don’t reach out. Neither does he.

He drops back down to the floor again at my level, sitting cross-legged a few feet away from me. As my eyes rake over his face, I notice the lines creasing his forehead, the smudges of blue underneath his piercing eyes and the exhaustion that oozes from every pore. And I know that I caused every last one of them.

“I never lied to you, Ford. Not once did you ask me if I gave birth to your child. I withheld information, and I admit, it’s horse shit. But you left me. What was I supposed to do? Go running to San Francisco on foot and ask you to take care of me? Of us? You wouldn’t even return my phone calls, and I wasn’t about to run to your brothers for charity. I don’t take charity.”

“You don’t take charity. You don’t like being told what to do. You don’t like a man taking care of you. Seems the person always at the scene of every crime is you.”

I take up my wounded and foolish pride again like a coat of armor and wrap myself in it. Only this time, its safety and protection seem shallow. Like I unwrapped the shiny present only to find that the one wrapped in newspaper was everything I ever wanted and the one in the tempting gold foil is a lump of coal.

Someone has to offer the first olive branch. Maybe that someone is meant to be me.

“You’re right,” I whisper, not even worried that snot’s running down my face and landing in a pool on my chin. I don’t want to dig in my purse for a Kleenex. I don’t want to do anything that will cause me to look away from Ford until I know that he’s hearing me.

“I am?”

He looks befuddled, like he expected me to start railing at him like I’ve always done. This might be the first time in the history of our relationship that I’ve conceded. That I’ve told the man that I love that I believe him. That I have faith in him. Maybe the reason he didn’t think he could step up is because I never let him. It hits me that I haven’t been a very good partner. I’ve never really been a partner at all, just an entitled bitch who probably ran him off because I didn’t know how to let him grieve.

“I was afraid,” I say, voice shaking, tears falling. “You come from a rich and powerful family. When you walked away, I knew you didn’t want me. But what if you didn’t want her, either. What if you took her away from me just because you could?”

He pulls me onto his lap and hands me a tissue that seems to appear from nowhere. I rub my nose and suppress a sniffle, melting into his strong chest. Maybe allowing my vulnerability to surface and telling the truth isn’t so bad after all. Nuzzling my face into his shoulder, I breathe him in, and it gives me the strength I never knew was missing. The comfort washes over me in waves. After several seconds, he rubs my back and soothes me, turning the tables.

“Haylee, I would never take your child from you. What kind of a fucking monster would do that? Is that what you really think of me? I realize I ran away from my father’s death like a coward, but that just makes me immature, not a person who would steal a little girl from the mother she adores.”

“I don’t really think you would do that,” I admit. “It’s just a lie I was telling myself, so I would never have to admit the truth.”

“Which is?”

“I’m devastated by the fact that you don’t want me. If you did, you wouldn’t have run away. I’d never trap a man by claiming pregnancy just to get him to stay.”

He sighs and hugs me even closer. I revel in his smell, like fresh citrus, and I time my ragged breathing to his inhales.

“Even if it didn’t work out between us, you never had to go this alone, Haylee. For fuck’s sake, you live in a hovel with our daughter, barely able to make ends meet. She has special needs. You sacrifice everything to pay for it when I could just write a check and make everything better. You don’t have to struggle like this. I’m so pissed off that I can’t travel back in time and return those wasted years to you. Years that should have included joy and safety. And help.”

I blow my nose and toss the Kleenex to the carpet. It seems the waterworks have dried up for the day. “Making all the sacrifices has made me stronger. I wouldn’t be half the person I am today without the struggle. And I’d do it all over again in a second because that’s what my little girl needs. Sorry. Our little girl, I guess.”

He strokes my hair, and his lips find mine. A gentle kiss passes between us that speaks volumes. About hope and forgiveness. About the possibility of a family.

“Will you let me help you? Help Atlee?”

I’m happy he’s asking and not demanding. He could, but he doesn’t. He knows how much my pride and independence mean to me, and he’s going to create a gap between my emotions and what he thinks is right so I can maneuver without losing myself. I love him more in that moment than I ever have before.

“Yes, I will. You’re her father, and I’m sorry I kept her away from you.”