Chapter 20

Talia

I had been at a loss, knowing that Evelyn’s threats weren’t fully empty. Each morning when I awoke, I looked in at Lily-Rose, wondering if the sweet girl’s early morning rituals – her breakfast eating, her brushing her hair and teeth at the sink, her little kiss before she ran to her play set – would soon belong to someone else. I’d requested help from countless people, including even Andrew. But he had simply spewed that he would “do something about Fox” if he ever bothered me again. And had said that perhaps, at the end of the day, it was better if Lily-Rose went with her grandmother. “Don’t you want to focus on yourself for a while?” he asked me, leering over his drink at the local pub. “Don’t you want to focus on finding a husband and building a family of your own?”

“You don’t get it,” I sighed. “Lily-Rose is my only family. I have to keep her. We’ve been through too much.”

But suddenly, out of the blue, Fox had arrived with the single-greatest recommendation: find a social worker, get a report. Boom. It had a sense of power to it, a sense of formality. Just seeing him on my porch had made me want to fall into his arms, melt into him, and spread my legs. But it seemed he wanted to maintain this divide between us. “I can’t be what you want me to be,” he’d stammered, countless times now. I had to find a way to listen.

“Lily-Rose? Are you ready?” I yelled up the steps, my heart hammering. I was wearing a simple pink dress, one that flirted with my knees, and some light sandals. Lily-Rose strutted down the steps wearing a pair of overalls, so unlike the dress I’d picked for the social worker’s visit. But she grinned widely, shrugging, looking every bit the happiest girl in the world. Who cared if she was a tomboy? She was mine.

“You ready for today, Lily-Rose?” I asked her, squinting and adjusting her wild hair. “Just tell the lady everything you can about our life, okay? That we have a good life, even if you aren’t allowed to eat pizza every single day, or watch—”

Mid-sentence, a knock rang out at the door. I rushed toward it, running my fingers through my hair before opening it. On the other side, I found Monica Hawright, a five-foot-six social worker with a shock of black hair, chopped off barely below her ears. She threw her hand forward, shaking mine.

“Talia?” she asked, forming a shark-like smile. “Thank you so much for inviting me today. Oh, and this must be Lily-Rose! The famous Lily-Rose.”

I watched from the corner as Monica drew herself toward my niece, dropping to a knee. Lily-Rose was not exactly warm and fuzzy. simmered with fear, her shoulders quaking.

“She’s not great with strangers,” I called, knowing my words would do nothing at all to help.

“Lily-Rose, how are you doing today?” Monica asked, her voice sweet. “Are you having a good afternoon?”

“Yes,” Lily-Rose said finally, blinking her wide, blue eyes several times. “But Aunt Talia makes me play outside, when all I want to do is watch television.”

Monica chuckled. I expected her to make a small note on a clipboard, or give me a look. But instead, she said, “Well, it’s a beautiful day out there. I know you’d regret not using the summer when it’s so chilly in the winter, and you have to be indoors. Why don’t you show me your playset outside? I’d love to see your world.”

I waited inside, perched at the kitchen table, while Lily-Rose roamed around the backyard, showing Monica the rickety playset, the tulips we’d planted over the springtime, and the vegetable garden, which so far had produced only onions and Brussels sprouts. As I watched, I heard Fox’s car driving up in the driveway. He appeared at the other side of the door, hearing me call to him. “It’s open!”

“Great. I didn’t miss it,” Fox said, slipping through the door. He wore a clean button-down, and a pair of blue jeans. Rather than a black-wearing, angst-filled rock star, today he looked, frankly, like a hot dad. His biceps strained against the button-down, and his stomach was flat, tight, the ripple of his abs slipping through the fabric. He’d gelled his hair, putting it in place, and he didn’t smell of cigarettes or whiskey. Rather, it seemed he’d donned some cologne, something refined, masculine. Sandalwood maybe.

“Wow,” I whispered, drawing myself up from the table. I adjusted my bra, feeling my nipples straining against the fabric. “You look—“

“I just wanted to make sure I was looking my best. For Lily-Rose,” Fox said. “If we’re going to keep her here, then I figured—.”

Monica and Lily-Rose appeared in the doorway, with Monica giving Fox a bright, almost plastic smile. Lily-Rose’s cry of recognition filled the air.

“Fox!” She rushed forward, giving Fox a large hug. Whirling back, she pointed to him. “This is my piano teacher. He taught me a song for the benefit concert. But… but I got too angry to play it.”

Monica’s face grew a bit stony. She leaned toward Lily-Rose. “And why did you get so angry?”

Lily-Rose shrugged, turning her face toward the ground. “I don’t know. I just can’t handle my emotions sometimes. But Fox told me that the music can help. And now, when I get angry, I’m just going to practice the piano. Like this…” She rushed toward the piano and began to tinker upon it, tossing her hair behind her shoulders.

Monica drew her eyes first toward me, then toward Fox. Her smile seemed electric, verbalizing so much. “I really think you’ve built a pretty good home for her here, Talia,” she said. “You said she’s been living here for six months?”

“About seven, now,” I heard myself say, trying to force my heart to stop its anxious beating. “But the music has really helped the past month or so. It really calms her down, especially in the evenings. Of course, she misses her mother. But we talk about her as much as we can, to reinforce the memory. I read that that’s… um… a good thing to do.”

Monica nodded slowly, before turning her attention toward Fox. “And you’re just the music teacher, correct? Not a boyfriend, a paternal figure?”

Silence fell for a moment, thick and deafening. Fox gave her a dazzling smile, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, no. But I like to think of myself as a role model in Lily-Rose’s life. And I aspire to be a better one for her, every day.”

This answer seemed sufficient, even as it slid a knife through my heart. As Lily-Rose played through the final bars of the song, a truck eased along the side of the yard, parking next to the mailbox. I looked toward the window and saw Andrew getting out from the driver’s side.

“Are you expecting more people?” Monica asked, tilting her head.

“No. Not at all,” I said. I’d hardly told anyone about the day with the social worker, wanting to keep it private.

“Oh, that’s my friend Jessica’s husband,” Monica said, her voice brightening. “Andrew, isn’t it?”

“Oh, fuck,” Fox said under his breath.

I blinked toward Monica, suddenly aghast. “You didn’t… you didn’t mention to Jessica you were having this meeting with me today, did you?”

Monica leered at me, her face revealing a sour tone. “What are you suggesting?” she demanded, although her immediate anger seemed to give the game away. “Of course, I would never do something like that. That’s absolutely ridiculous.”

But already, Andrew had blasted up the steps and was rapping his thick fist against the door. “Fox? Fox! I know you’re in there. And I know, if you’re involved in this little girl’s life in any capacity, that little girl is better off anywhere else. I’ll tell the entire world that, Fox. I’ll ruin you, and Talia, before I let that little girl be ruined. For the children, Fox. It’s what I live for.”