It had been six months since I was released from prison. A few days after the beach, Jacob filled out all the paperwork in his office for us to share custody of Giselle. After we signed the papers I wrote Aubrey a check for child support to cover the last sixteen years. She fought me tooth and nail, claiming she didn’t want it or need it. We finally came to an agreement weeks later. She would open a separate bank account where all money concerning Giselle would go. A place I could deposit future child support checks that Giselle could use for college.
I was civil towards Aubrey, but to be completely honest we only spoke when it came to Giselle.
And I damn well preferred it that way.
Since Lucas was a general contractor he was able to work out something with one of his realtors for me to be able to rent a house near Aubrey’s in South Port. I wanted to stay close to Giselle. It was a two bedroom, two and a half bathroom colonial style that had been upgraded with modern finishes and fixtures. It had a huge back porch with a pool and outdoor kitchen.
Giselle immediately started decorating her room as soon as I got the keys. My baby girl loved purple. We spent a whole weekend painting her room a deep shade and buying furniture for her room and the entire house. I had always been good at saving money and smart with investments that were still earning me income during my time in prison. I didn’t have to work for years to come, so it allowed me the liberty to try to get whatever was left of my life back on track, without worrying about finances.
I got Giselle every other weekend and one day during the week. Aubrey and I each got our own holiday, switching back and forth every year. Giselle stayed with me every summer.
Aubrey was right about one thing. My daughter was exactly like me. Strong willed, stubborn as all hell, cocky as shit, and said what she felt, not caring about other peoples feelings.
She was perfect in my eyes.
She sat on the couch when I walked in from the grocery store.
“Darlin’, can you help me with the groceries?”
She got up and walked out into the garage without saying a word to me, which wasn’t like her at all.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I got stuck in traffic, but I bought everything you like.”
She nodded, walking back into the house. I grabbed her arm, stopping her. Obviously something was bothering her.
“Talk to me.”
She shrugged.
“Giselle,” I coaxed.
“I put away our laundry while you were gone.”
“Okay…” I let go of her arm to lean against the counter.
“I just wanted to do something nice for you.”
I tugged on the ends of her hair, trying to get her to smile. It usually worked, but today it didn’t.
“What’s wrong—”
“I’m fine!” she yelled in my face.
She left to go into the garage, leaving me standing there stunned by the turn of events. She never acted that way toward me before. We spent the entire weekend together and she barely said more than a few words to me. I swear one morning she looked like she had been crying all night. I paid extra close attention to her for the next few days, calling and texting her more often and most of the time she ignored my efforts.
“Hey, what’s up?” Aubrey answered her phone.
“Hey, how are you?”
“I’m good. I just got off work.”
Aubrey had gone back to school to get her certification in counseling. She was now helping battered women who were going through similar situations she had gone through. She said it helped her heal.
“How are things over there?” I asked, catching her off guard.
“What do you mean?”
“With Giselle. How is she actin’ with you?”
“I guess she’s been kinda quiet these last few days, but that’s normal, Dylan. She’s a teenage girl.”
“I think there’s more to it than that. She’s blowing me off, and I don’t fucking like it.”
“Hmm…”
“Say it.”
“I’ll talk to Giselle. I’ll see if I can get anything out of her. Better?”
“Much.”
“God, McGraw. It’s always a pleasure,” she sassed like the old Aubrey I once loved, and then hung up on me.
I was meeting Jacob for drinks at Half-Pint’s restaurant later that night. Lily was still the entertainment there and Jacob was just as pussy- whipped as he was before I was put away, waiting for her to get off to drive her home and shit.
“How’s the little man at home?” I questioned.
“Exhausting,” Jacob replied, peeling off the label from his beer.
I nodded toward what he was doing. “Damn, Jacob, been that long? Sexually frustrated, huh?”
He chuckled, “You prick. My sex life is on point. More than I can say for you. Haven’t seen any pussy around you since you been out. Makes sense though. I guess Bubba would be hard to replace.”
I grinned. “Jacob, you watch too many goddamn movies. Bubba doesn't exist, but Yolanda, my counselor. I tore that shit up.”
“Wouldn’t put it past you, bro.”
I took a few swigs of my beer.
“Don’t worry about me, Jacob. I don’t have a problem getting pussy. How do you know I’m not seeing someone right now and I just don’t want your sorry asses’ to meet her until I’m sure I want to keep her around.”
“How’s Giselle?” he asked, ignoring me.
“Going through some hormonal shit that I apparently don’t understand.”
He nodded. “And Aubrey?”
I shrugged. “Don’t ask, don’t care.” I placed my beer back on the table.
“So, if she was seeing someone that would be okay with you?”
I played off the impact of his words, instantly hating how it stirred up old emotions inside me.
“Jacob, I don't care who she's spreading her legs for now. That ship’s been sailed too many times. Been there and fucked that.”
His eyes widened. “You may want to reconsider talking about her like that, asshole, she’s the reason you’re out four years early.”
I jerked back like he hit me. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I said a little too loudly.
He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”
“The fuck I will.”
“Listen, it’s not my place to say anything.”
“Not your place as what, my lawyer or my friend?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Her friend.”
I slowly nodded. “I guess some things do change.”
“Or they stay the same. You’ve been playing this role for the last sixteen years, Dylan. It must be getting a little old. You gotta be getting a little tired.”
“The only thing I see that is old and tired here is you, but being pussy-whipped will do that to a man.”
“I’m not the one going home alone, dick.” He stood up. “You want to know the truth so bad then ask her. But prepare to eat your fucking words for ever thinking or talking about her like that.”
And with that he left.
“Hey, honey,” I said, walking into Giselle’s room. She was lying on her bed reading a book.
“Hey,” she replied, sitting up and scooting over for me to sit beside her.
“Good story?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“How’s school?” I asked, glancing at her.
“Fine.”
“Your friends?”
“The same.”
“Mason?”
She blushed, shrugging.
It was obvious to both Alex and I that Mason and her had a thing for each other. They never left one another’s sides since the day they met. I couldn’t blame her, he was as charming as Lucas was. We didn’t get involved, but if something were to happen between them, it was more than okay with us.
“So, it’s Mason that has you all quiet?”
She shook her head, playing with the seams of her tank top.
“Your dad says you’ve been ignoring him.”
She shrugged again.
“Honey, you gotta give me more than that.”
She took a deep breath, contemplating what she was going to tell me. “I was putting away our laundry at dad’s house the other day. I wanted to do something nice for him.”
“Okay…”
“I wasn’t snooping. I mean not entirely.”
I smiled, waiting for her to say she found a condom or a dirty magazine. That would have been typical to find with Dylan.
Nothing could have prepared me for the next words that came out of her mouth.
Not one damn thing.
“I found a black, velvet, ring box hidden in the corner of his sock drawer.”
All the blood drained from my face. My body instantly turned cold.
“I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone. Did you?”
I shook my head unable to form words. My mind was instantly spinning in circles, trying to form coherent thoughts.
“I guess… I don’t know. I just guess I hoped you guys would find your way back to each other. Like Uncle Lucas and Aunt Alex or even Uncle Jacob and Aunt Lily.”
I did, too.
I sucked back the tears that so badly wanted to surface. I had to be strong for her, even though I wanted to break down and hate myself all over again for what I did to us.
This was all my fault.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she wept, snapping me out of my daze.
I pulled her into my arms, laying her head on my lap to play with her hair.
“You have nothing to be sorry about, honey. It’s normal for kids to want their parents together,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
She sniffled, tears still falling down her face. “But you still love him.”
“Giselle…”
“You told me all the time when he was away. Just because you haven’t said it since he’s been out, doesn’t mean it’s changed.”
“There’s always going to be apart of me that loves your father. That’s never going to change, even if I’m with someone or he is,” I explained, dreading the words that came out of my mouth.
“I’m so mad at him. I’m so mad that he didn’t even let me meet her. Like my opinion doesn’t even matter.”
“Honey, I’m positive it’s not that. I’m sure he’s just waiting for the right time.”
“There’s never a right time to break my heart, Mom,” she cried.
“You’re so young. There’s so much you don’t understand.”
“What if she hates me and then she takes him away from me? I don’t want to lose him again when I just got him back.”
I wiped the tears away from her face. “That could never happen. He’s your dad, and that’s a bond no one can ever break.”
“Promise?”
I closed my eyes. Remembering every single time I said that to Dylan. Every. Single. Memory. Hitting me hard. Leaving me drowning in a sea of nothing but mistakes and regrets.
“Always,” I whispered loud enough so she could hear me.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry you didn’t get your happily ever after,” she bellowed for me.
Taking the words right out of my mouth.
I spent the night with her head on my lap as I comforted her the only way I knew how. I let her cry for as long as she needed I let her cry for me, because I knew that if I cried for myself.
I may never be able to stop.
I spent the entire night mourning the loss of something I never had. Our love had been gone for years. After every unopened letter that got returned, after every time the guard came back and told me he didn’t want to see me, every hope, every wish, every maybe simply turned into never.
Vanished in thin air.
Giselle finally passed out from the exhaustion of her tears and the next morning I made the phone call that kept me up all night.
“We need to talk,” I said.
“Yeah, we do,” Dylan replied.
“Are you busy with someone tonight?” I snapped, regretting my words immediately.
He was quiet for what seemed like forever, and I waited on pins and needles for him to just tell me he was getting married to a woman that wasn’t me.
“Come over at eight.”
“Okay,” I breathed. “I’ll see you tonight.” I hung up before he said anything else.
Terrified that he would change his mind and that I would have to tell him goodbye without us being alone.
One. Last. Time.
I knocked on his door right at eight and I swear a part of me feared that a woman would be there, too. That he was going to introduce us. When he called out to come in, I made my way inside. I couldn’t breathe the entire thirty steps it took to walk into his kitchen.
I knew because I counted.
It was the only way to keep me from passing out from the emotions that I couldn’t control for the life of me.
He was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island, paperwork scattered in front of him.
“Hey—”
“Do you care to explain to me how my record is sealed?” he asked not taking his gaze from the papers in front of him.
“What?” I asked, taken aback.
We locked eyes.
“I haven’t tried to look for a job, I haven’t had any need or desire to be told I’m a convicted felon and can’t do jack shit with my life. According to Jacob I need to ask you why I got out of prison four years earlier than I was supposed to. Patience has never been one of my goddamn virtues, especially when it comes to your bullshit lies. I pulled up my record and it’s been sealed. Now, are you going to tell me how the fuck that is possible? Or am I going to have to lose the bit of patience I do have left when it comes to you and make you fucking tell me.”
“Dylan, I’ve been trying—”
“You haven’t been trying shit. You want to know how I know? Because I still don’t know the fucking truth!” he roared, making me jump.
“Are you for real? I spent six years trying to talk to you. Trying to see you. Trying to explain. Six fucking years!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
He was over to me in three strides, knocking the stool over. He was in my face before I even saw him coming.
“Do I look like I want to be yelled at? Do I seem like I want to be fucked with? If you really want to start throwing out numbers, Bree, how about we start with the number ten! Ten years I waited for you! Ten years I was left on my goddamn knees with your back turned to me! Ten years of hell! For what? For nothing! For your fucking lies! Ten years you lied to me! Kept me away from my daughter!” he yelled in my face.
“That’s not—”
“Oh, that number’s not good enough for you? How about sixteen, huh? That number better? Sixteen years I’ve been away from my kid!”
I shook my head not knowing what to say to make it better. To make him see reason.
“Still not good enough? How about six then?” he rasped so close to my face that I could physically feel his hate toward me.
My eyes widened, my heart beating profusely with what he was about to say. I didn’t think I would be able to live through it.
I stepped back, and he stepped forward.
“Six years I stayed locked up behind bars!”
Another step.
“Six more years away from my daughter.”
Another step.
“Six years away from my family and friends.”
Two more steps.
My back hit the wall, and I instinctively placed my hands on his chest. My left palm right over his heart and it was the first time that I ever felt it beating as fast as mine.
He leaned in close to my lips and spoke with conviction,
“Six years rotting in prison for you, for a crime I didn’t commit.”