Wes: ‘Your autocorrect is all kinds of screwed up. Try again.’
Me: ‘Your. DAUGHTER. Is. Here. You know, the one who calls you Da-da.’
Wes: ‘Are you talking about Macy?’
Oh, so now he’s not going to play stupid with me.
Me: ‘Yes. Why didn’t you tell me?’
Wes: ‘Damn it. I’m in my meeting right now, but I’ll get out of it and come straight home. Don’t run, Cal. Let me explain.’
Me: ‘I’m not running, Wes. You’re pushing me away.’
No denial. No apology.
Guess it’s time to put my big girl panties on—a few pairs of them—and go out there. This is going to be like stepping into the seventh circle of hell, but I’m not going to be a coward and hide out until he gets here.
The woman is going to know I’m coming out of his bedroom because I slept there, so there’s not really any sense in changing clothes to look like I haven’t. Besides that, I don’t really care what she thinks right now. I just want to know what the hell is going on.
After a few minutes—okay, more like ten—I pull the door open slowly, cringing when the hinges screech like a dying cat. Well, at least they know I’m here now.
“Da-da!” the little girl squeals as the little pitter-patter of footsteps comes closer.
“Daddy must’ve left a window op . . .” the woman’s voice trails off when they both turn the corner, finding me in the bedroom doorway.
“Seems you’re both wrong,” I laugh nervously, even though this is far from funny. “Uh, I’m Callie.”
The woman crosses her arms over her chest and scowls at me. “Well, he’s brought in another stray cat, I guess.”
No, the bitch did not. “Excuse me?”
“A kitty?” Macy looks all around the floor frantically. “Where Ma-ma?”
“No kitty, baby. How about another cookie?”
Macy claps and nods emphatically.
She’d better be glad the kid is here for a buffer because I’d really like to be clawing her eyes out right now, being that I’m a stray cat, and all. I follow them into the living room, every nerve is alive and ready for a fight. But I have to force myself to stay centered. I won’t scare the little girl by screaming that her mom is a self-righteous whore, as much as I’d like to.
After the woman gives her another cookie, Macy toddles back over to her pile of toys in the floor, not caring about anything other than her treat and a fuzzy pink elephant. Of-freaking-course.
“So . . .” The mom eases onto the couch and crosses her legs primly. “What did you do to end up here? Are you knocked up, too?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Wes and I are—”
“Don’t kid yourself, sweetie,” she interrupts. “You and Wes are nothing. This is his thing; there’s a new girl all the time. He makes a lot of promises and makes himself out to look like a saint, but I promise you, you won’t get anywhere with him. Me and Macy . . . we’re all he’ll ever need. But he has a serious problem, and as much as I’ve tried to help him, he keeps repeating this vicious cycle. My advice to you is to get out now, while you can. Your baby is better off without him, too.”
My mouth hangs open, and for one of the very few times in my life, I have absolutely no idea what to say, which seems to be happening a lot since Wes came into my life. I mean, it does sound familiar. It sounds as if she knows about his issues, but at the same time, I can’t believe that I’m just one of many. I can’t believe that this is some sort of sick game he plays, even if I thought that about him in the very beginning.
“Why don’t you call a cab and run on back to wherever you came from? When Wesley gets home tonight, I’ll let him know that you got smart.”
The squealing tires outside is all I need to hear to let me know that I’m about to get some answers, if I have to strangle him to get them. I don’t play games, so it’s way past time to get it all laid out on the table. “Sounds like you can tell him now.”
She blanches and jumps to her feet just as he bursts through the front door looking like a madman.
“Sarah, what in the hell are you doing here?”
My head whips in her direction. “Sarah? Wait . . . you’re his . . .”
“Wife,” she answers smugly.
Wes flicks his eyes to me. “Ex-wife. You know that, Callie.”
“Da-da!” Macy squeals, running to greet him. “Da-da work.”
“Yeah, Mace, I was at work. Why don’t you go build a house with your blocks, okay?”
He ruffles her hair, and she goes back to her toys, completely oblivious to the intense animosity building in the room. “Sarah, answer my damn question. What are you doing here?”