Chapter Ten
Leighton Mitchell
“WE NEED TO TALK.”
Nothing good has ever followed those words. And nothing good has ever followed a gloomy expression like the one on Judd’s face.
Is he regretting the time that we spent together today? I thought he was having a good time. So good that at one point, I wondered if maybe he was having some of the same thoughts as the ones in my head.
Was I wrong?
I’m finished with Scarlett’s therapy so I get up, carrying her with me when I sit beside Judd on the sofa. He smiles and holds out his hands to take her from me. He kisses the top of her head and pulls her close to his chest. “Daddy loves you, baby girl.”
I haven’t seen him look like this since the day Scarlett stopped breathing and turned blue while he was holding her.
“Doug didn’t come for a casual visit. He came to talk about my tour schedule.” Judd tilts his head and presses his cheek to the top of Scarlett’s head. “He rebooked the events I canceled without talking to me first. Now I have no choice; I can’t cancel the same shows a second time. Fans will be pissed off.”
“That’s understandable.” Fans sometimes forget that performers are real people with real lives.
“I leave next week. Not in two months like I originally told you.”
“Oh.”
“This isn’t okay with me, but what’s done is done, and I can’t change it now.”
Judd isn’t saying so, but I can tell that he’s angry about this alteration in his schedule. “How long will you be gone?”
“Eight weeks.”
Holy shit. Eight weeks. Two months of Scarlett and me in this house without Judd. I knew it was going to be like this eventually, but I thought I’d have more time before he left.
“I’m really sorry. I know that’s a lot for you to absorb so soon in your employment here.”
I don’t want Judd to feel worse than he already does.
“Well, it’s your job and what you do. It is what it is, but I know that Miss prissy pants is going to miss you while you’re gone. She’s gotten used to your being around.” And me too. The house is going to feel so empty without Judd in it.
“Please believe me when I say that this wasn’t my choice. I want to be here, not on the back of a tour bus.”
“I know.” Anyone can see how much Judd loves his daughter. It’s impossible to miss.
I smile so he doesn’t see the way that I really feel on the inside. “It’s two months. It’ll come and go before you know it.”
“I’m going to drop everything between now and Thursday. I want to spend every minute I can with her before I leave.”
“Of course you do.”
He’s leaving on Thursday. Why does it have to be Thursday? That’s the worst possible day that he could leave me. Us.
I was hoping that May 3rd would be different this year. That I wouldn’t spend it alone crying. But it’s going to be the same as it was last year, except this time I’ll have Scarlett to keep me company. Maybe she’ll help take my mind off of it.
***
This week has gone by so quickly. Too quickly. It’s as though I blinked and Judd’s departure is upon me.
It’s Scarlett’s bedtime, and he’s next door rocking her to sleep. He’s done it every night since he was told that he’d be leaving. He’s given her almost every bottle she’s taken this week. Changed almost every diaper. Given her every bath. He’s been so attentive to her, giving her every minute of his time. And to me. We’ve spent every waking minute together. Just the three of us.
There was more than one time this week when I forgot my place. And there were many times when I suspected that Judd had forgotten too.
The way that he looks at me sometimes . . . it makes my mouth dry.
And my panties wet.
I’m so damn attracted to him—just like almost every other female on this planet in love with superstar country-music sensation Judd Mathews. But there’s one huge difference.
I know the real Judd Mathews.
I know his kind nature. His loving heart. His attachment to his child.
Women admire him from a distance and think he’s hot. They want to sleep with him just to say they had a piece of him. And after tomorrow, he’s going to be on the road again. Thrown back into that environment where women openly offer him their bodies.
He has taken them up on their offers in the past. Scarlett is proof of that. And he’ll probably do it again, only more carefully.
I’m crushed because Judd is leaving and also heartbroken because tomorrow is the anniversary of the worst day of my life.
The day that my lifeless baby girl was born.
I go into my closet, fetch Sadie’s memory box from the top shelf, and return to bed. I haven’t opened this box once since she was born two years ago. I couldn’t bring myself to do it last year; I wasn’t ready. But I’m in a better place today. I can finally look at these keepsakes and find something besides heartache and grief in them.
Ultrasound pictures. Tiny inked footprints. Her nearly blank baby book. The crocheted white dress with matching cap that I had bought for her to wear on the day Brad and I brought her home from the hospital. So beautiful.
I’m holding Sadie’s dress when my phone rings. I instantly recognize the number. I may have removed his contact information a long time ago, but I will never forget that number.
Brad Hayes.
What. The. Hell?
I debate answering the phone. I don’t want to talk to him. Don’t even want to hear his voice, but I fear that he’s calling after all of this time because something has happened to his parents or siblings. And I still love them. They are good people.
“Hello.”
“Hey Leigh-Leigh.” I once loved hearing him call me that, but now I despise it.
“Hey.”
“How are you?”
I don’t care about pleasantries. “Has something happened?”
“No. Everyone is fine. I’m calling because I just went by your apartment and found out that you were gone.”
“Yup.”
“I called NICU, and they said that you no longer worked at the hospital.”
“Sure don’t.”
“Where are you?”
I don’t want Brad to know anything about where I am or who I work for; my life is no longer his business. “Not in Austin.”
“Seriously? You aren’t going to tell me where you’re living?”
“We aren’t married anymore. I don’t have to tell you where I’m living or with whom.”
“You’re living with someone?” He sounds like that’s hurtful. That’s rich after everything he did to me.
“Why did you call? What do you want?”
“Tomorrow is our daughter’s birthday. I thought we might spend the day together. Maybe do something in her memory.”
“Are you high?” The words seem to pop out on their own.
“You know, Leigh-Leigh, you aren’t the only one who lost a child. I still mourn losing her too.”
Oh. My. God. He has to be shitting me. “You mourned Sadie so much that you left me by myself while they were inducing my labor. You left the hospital and went to fuck another woman while I was giving birth to her.”
“Our baby had died. I was hurting. And I told you that I was sorry. Are you never going to let me forget that?”
I can’t believe that he still uses his emotional pain as a legitimate reason for being with another woman while I was delivering our stillborn baby.
“I don’t care if you forget what you did or not. It means nothing to me. Nothing!”
“I made a mistake, a big one and I admit that, but you have to forgive me at some point.”
Brad’s been wrong about a lot of things, but he’s never been more wrong about anything in his life. “I don’t owe you forgiveness because you demand it. Frankly, I don’t care enough about you or your feelings to forgive or not forgive. You aren’t on my mind. Ever. I’m over it. I’m over you, and I have been for a while.”
“You were over it a long time before we divorced. You stopped trying to make me happy, and that’s why I went looking elsewhere.”
He has an incredible way of bending the facts so that he comes out looking like the victim. Always has.
“Brad . . . I was working no less than four twelve-hour shifts every week. I picked up every extra shift that I could so you didn’t have to be distracted by work while you were pursuing your doctorate. I was too busy or too tired to fluff your ego because I was the one working to keep us afloat financially. Those sluts you were fucking didn’t have anything to do but go to class for a few hours and then fuck around with you. They didn’t bring in every cent in our bank account. They didn’t keep your house clean, your lawn mowed, the oil changed in our cars . . . And they damn sure didn’t wash your shit-stained underwear. Forgive the fuck out of me if I was too tired on my days off to spend them making you feel good about yourself.”
He’s silent.
“Fuck . . . you just don’t get it, Brad. Everything isn’t always all about you and your happiness. This invitation to get together tomorrow . . . it isn’t about doing something in Sadie’s memory. It’s about your finding a way to make you feel better about yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Leigh-Leigh. I never thought about it like that.”
“Because you’re incapable of considering anyone but yourself. You only care about you and what makes you happy. To hell with everyone else and their feelings.”
“That’s not true. I wanted you to be happy. I still do.”
“I am happy. I’m in a good place in my life for the first time in a while. Listen . . . I don’t mean for this to sound spiteful or hateful, but you’re toxic for me. There’s no room for you in my life anymore. And there hasn’t been for a while.”
“I can’t dispute that, not even a little. I did horrible things to you. I’ve been so damn selfish that I’ve not been able to see that until recently. I’m so damn sorry, Leigh-Leigh.”
I actually believe him. But it changes nothing.
“I accept your apology, and I forgive you, but we’re a thing of the past. You need to go your way, and I’ll go mine. Lose my number. Never call me again.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“Yes, it does have to be that way.”
“Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“I wish you the best with a life full of happiness, but I never want to hear your voice again. Ever.”
“Then I guess that this is goodbye.”
“It is. Goodbye, Brad.”
I end the call before he can say anything else; I don’t want to drag this out any longer. No reason to.
Brad Hayes and I are no longer unfinished business.
And it’s a good feeling.