Chapter 7

Tyler

Driving Rachel to Marnie’s place wasn’t exactly simple and easy, not after encountering the most gorgeous woman I’d seen in years—actually spending time with her, speaking with her for the first time. I felt out of my mind, forcing my eyes on the road, hardly able to listen to Rachel as she spoke excitedly about the new neighbor.

“Dad, can you believe a woman scientist moved in beside us?” she asked, her eyes wide. “I mean, think of all the things she could teach me. And when I’m a little bit older, maybe I can walk her dog around the neighborhood by myself! And what if she took me to her lab…” She trailed off, pressing her hands across her thighs, excitement making her quiver. “Dad, seriously. She’s even cooler than you.”

“Is that so?” I asked her, giving her a sneaky smile. “Come on, squirt. Don’t overwhelm the poor girl. She just moved in. Let’s not bombard her with all of our schemes to make her a part of our life just yet.”

“You want to be friends with her, too?” Rachel asked, her voice honest and pure.

God, I could hardly face what I actually wanted to do with that girl. Quinn. She was so breathtakingly gorgeous, and every time I was in her presence I wanted to take her into my arms and ravish her. Completely inappropriate given the fact that Rachel was always around.

Once I reached Marnie’s, I pulled into the driveway, my eyebrows low. I was always uneasy when I was about to see Marnie since I was never quite sure what kind of mood she was going to be in. She’d been an explosive person when we’d met, which was part of the reason I was so attracted to her. Her zest for life, her joie de vivre—it had all been exciting. That is until she’d gone absolutely ape shit with that affair.

With the flower guy.

When she’d wanted to get back together a few months after, I’d refused. I’d realized just how strong I was without her, how much of a better father I would be to Rachel. And I thanked god every single day that we hadn’t had another child, just to ‘fix’ the problems between us.

Now, we were like strangers.

“Why haven’t you ever dated anyone, Daddy?” Rachel asked me suddenly.

“Why are you asking that?” I said, trying to keep my voice even. She’d never shown any kind of interest in my personal life, and I didn’t want anything getting to Marnie about what had just happened between Quinn and I. Not that anything had, or would.

“Because Mom met someone. Even got married,” Rachel said, shrugging. She eyed the trees outside. “She says you’re a loser because you don’t date anyone.”

“A loser, huh?”

I felt my blood begin to boil, as we sat there in the driveway. With my nostrils flared, I waited as Rachel gathered her overnight bag and cranked open the door.

“You coming?” she called.

“Sure,” I said, wanting to blast back down the driveway and leave before saying hello. But I had never done that, had always shown that I was the stronger of the two of us, if only because I came to the door. I said hello. I told her what was going on with Rachel’s school homework. I was fucking diligent in all the ways Marnie never was.

When we reached the door, I had to ring the doorbell three times before Marnie appeared in the crack. She gave Rachel a dry, almost drunken smile. I wanted to ask her if she’d started drinking before dinner again—as she’d begun doing right after Rachel was born. But I pressed my lips together, waiting.

I had to behave.

“Hey, Mom,” Rachel said, sounding disappointed. “What’s up?”

“I’m making your dinner,” Marnie said, turning her fingers through her dyed red hair. “Hot dogs and fries. Hope you’re hungry.”

I felt the scoff come out before I even planned it. Tilting my head toward her, my eyes flashed. “Hot dogs? Fries?” I asked.

“You have a problem with that?” Marnie asked, always prepared for a fight. She dangled this in front of me, like a worm for a fish, waiting for me to strike. Then, she could lure me in. Use my anger as some kind of example.

It was disgusting.

Rachel popped into the door, giving an unfriendly wave to Greg, who was plastered across the couch. His belly was large, almost bouncing as he gruffed a ‘hello’ to my daughter. I felt my blood continue to burn.

“So you’re heading back to Frisco this week?” Marnie asked me, cracking the door a bit more. “You’re back, what. Sunday?”

“That’s right,” I said. I’d been over this with her four times now. “Big meetings with some investors. Rachel has a test in English and in Social Studies. She’ll tell you about it. Make sure you listen.”

Marnie had a hard time being a mother. Her selfishness didn’t play well into it, incidentally. What a huge shock.

Greg lurched up from the couch, taking up space beside Marnie in front of the door. I inhaled the scent of hot dogs and fries and felt my face begin to scrunch with anger. Hold back. Hold back, I thought.

But I had to say something.

“I’m trying to keep her on a healthy diet,” I began, my nostrils flaring. “Her anxiety goes through the roof if she eats too much junk food.”

Marnie would know that if she paid even an ounce of attention. Each time Rachel got back from being with Marnie for more than just a few days, her body seemed bloated and fatigued. It had been when I got back from San Francisco a few days before. She was no longer the happy girl I’d dropped off. She didn’t want to run around in the back yard with me. She didn’t laugh with me till her gut burst. She sat like a lump. Like Greg.

“Broccoli. Chicken. Rice. Things like that,” I continued. “Not hot dogs. Not fries.”

“It’s meat and potatoes,” Marnie said, snorting. “We were raised on meat and potatoes.”

“Is that really your argument for serving our daughter hot dogs?” I asked.

“It’s a good argument,” Marnie said. “Now, run along and go to your little tech meetings. We all know they’re more important to you than Rachel is.”

“That’s just not true,” I began, my voice rising in volume. “Jesus Christ, Marnie. All I ask is you don’t make a lump out of our daughter. Goodness knows I don’t want her to turn into someone like you.”

I couldn’t believe I’d said it out loud—all the things I’d been holding back since I’d first began this ‘single dad’ status. Marnie’s bottom lip began to tremble after the insult, making her look meek and insecure. Greg, ever the upstanding gentleman, bucked between Marnie and I, trying to raise himself to be as tall as me, despite being under six feet.

“That’s not how you talk to my wife,” he stammered.

“This is none of your business,” I told him, searching behind him, on the hunt for Rachel. Where had she disappeared? Could she hear this fight?

“It is my damn business. This is my house,” Greg bellowed.

He had a point, but I didn’t give a shit. I slotted myself between him and the door, entering without being asked to. I found myself in the mess of their foyer, gazing at Rachel’s backpack, which she’d flung at the base of the staircase.

“Rachel?” I yelled out. “Can you come back down here for a second?”

“Tyler. Listen to Greg,” Marnie began her voice a whine. “And get out of here. Just go back to Silicon Valley and leave us be.”

“Not until you get my daughter something better to eat,” I demanded. It was no longer about the food. Maybe it wasn’t even about Greg and Marnie. I was enraged, and I couldn’t pinpoint precisely why. I worked so fucking hard to be a good father, to be an organized and centered partner. And here I was, losing my mind over a few hot dogs.

“Fine, fine,” Marnie said, stomping into the kitchen. “I think we have some fruit—“

“Dammit, Marnie. Why can’t you just—“

But Greg pounded over to me, then, his fists raised toward my face. He was huffing madly, like a bulldog. “Say it,” he growled. “Say what you were going to say. Insult my wife. I fucking dare you.”

Marnie quivered near the door. I flashed her a half-confident smile, knowing she remembered me from my university days—when I’d been the strongest guy in my fraternity house, able to blast in somebody’s nose if I was dared. And I often was, in the heat of drunkenness, during those raucous university nights.

I raised my fists in answer, making Marnie cry out. She waved her hands madly, her face scrunching into something like a root vegetable. Had that really been the woman who’d birthed Rachel?

“STOP IT!” she cried. “I swear to God, Tyler, if you hit Greg, I’ll find a way to take Rachel away from you for good. Full time. I promise.”

I felt a twinge in my heart after the words spilled from her lips. Slowly, yet surely, I drew my arms back down to my sides, allowing my nostrils to flare out in rage. Jesus. She’d never been so drastic in her threats before, and I knew that the mother always had the upper hand in the courts. If Marnie said I was doing anything out of line, she really could have Rachel full time. No matter how much Rachel and I kicked and screamed about it, Rachel would have to hang her hat in that trash house day in and day out.

I had to be on my best behavior.

“Fine,” I retorted, stretching my palms skyward. “But if you don’t start straightening up, I’ll tell the courts what you’re up to.”

“Great. You have a really wonderful argument, Tyler,” Marnie said, sounding sarcastic. “A hot dog argument. Really great. All the while you’re raising your fists to Greg. Wonderful. I’m sure that will work out just splendidly for you.”

I left and strutted toward my truck. As I flung myself into the vehicle, I glanced upward, toward Rachel’s room—which I’d never actually been allowed to see. She peered down at me, waving sadly, tears glinting in her eyes.

“I’ll see you on Sunday,” I mouthed to her, feeling my heart stab in my chest. “I promise.”

Unable to take it another moment more, I put the engine in drive and then revved down the driveway, driving back toward my lonely, shadowed home. My shoulders were tense from my rage.

God, I needed to get Rachel to myself full time. I wanted to keep her from those white trash scoundrels, who didn’t just serve her hot dogs and put bad thoughts in her head about what living was meant to be like—about how you could squander your hours in front of the television and not accomplish anything.

But with the stress at work, along with the promotion, I wasn’t sure how I could fight them.