“The other day.” He glanced at the fairy with the halo-like hair that crackled with life and energy next to the warrior that was Zack, on the other side from the angel with the broken wings. The new sprite looked upward with aspiration, her body crouched and ready to leap into flight, monarch wings unfolding, poised to take her as high as she wanted to go.
“Just when I think you’re an incorrigible asshole, you do something like that.” She thumped her purse off her lap and onto the deck. “I so didn’t want to do this again, but I guess we should start talking about how we’re going to make this work, huh?”
“Yeah.” He watched his daughter crouch to examine something in the grass. A slug maybe. He’d had to stop her feeding one to Lizzie Beth yesterday. “I wish I could tell you I don’t want anything to do with her, Brit, but I can’t.”
She stared at the babies, too. “I know. Why do you think I sent you away?”
“Because I’m a lousy father?”
She pulled the face he always thought of as her mother look. A scold. She passionately hated him at times and had wished him dead to his face more than once, but Brit had the biggest heart, she really did.
“You’re not a lousy father. I just didn’t want this for her. I mean, Zack survived being bounced around, but I’ve built this beautiful, stable little world for Lindsay. Sure, she thinks Paige and Sterling are her second parents, but she knows where she belongs, where she’s supposed to come home to, you know?”
“Yeah.” He wished he could say the same for himself. He was a guest in his sister’s home and that was fine for now, but the thought of building and living on the street where he’d grown up didn’t give him a sense of stability. It depressed the hell out of him. “And I don’t want to mess her up, Brit. I really don’t. I just wish I knew how to fit in without getting in the way.”
“That’s not fair. No, I should say, I have never been fair to you,” Britta said. “I know that. I mean, yes, God knows you’ve had your issues, but you’re a good dad, Lyle. The times when it really counted, when Zack really needed you, you were there. And let’s face it, when the only thing I needed from you was for you to get out of town, you did that. Lindsay deserves to have you in her life. Maybe it’s not obvious right now, but at some point, she will need you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s true. It’s like when we were married. You are so independent, Brit. Maybe you had to be, because I wasn’t exactly there for you, but I always had this sense that whether I was there or not didn’t matter. So I wasn’t. I went out and got drunk.”
“And since Lindsay doesn’t need you, you want to go out and get drunk? Is being here making it hard for you to stay sober?” She bit her lip, instantly worried.
“Being awake makes it hard to stay sober. But no, that’s not the problem. I keep wondering what the hell I’m doing here. Am I making a difference in her life? No.” He took a swig off his root beer.
“Did I do this? With all those things I’ve said over the years about what I don’t need from you? Have I left you thinking you don’t have anything to offer your kids?”
“No.” He shook his head, not really lying. “I just sobered up in time for my mid-life crisis.”
She snorted.
“Seriously,” he said, because he feared that was part of it. He wasn’t young and stupid and oblivious to his place in the world. He was hyper-aware he hadn’t made one for himself.
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I can’t watch Lindsay and Lizzie without thinking of Paige and me and where we came from and how having people in your life that give a shit makes a difference. So then I start thinking of the flip side. If Lindsay is surrounded by people who give a shit, does one more or less matter?”
Brit propped her elbow on her knee, her head in her hand, and gave him a puzzled look. “Does this have anything to do with those kids in Arizona? Dayton and Ayjia?”
He jerked, surprised that hearing their names put such a squeeze on his heart. Surprised she knew their names. “Paige tell you about them?”
“Zack did. No, Paige talked about their aunt.” She tilted her chin with the significance of the statement. “Give it to me straight. Is she younger than me?”
“Significantly,” he lied. “And has a perfect smile. Natural. Didn’t need braces. She has a huge rack.” He cupped invisible melons in front of his chest. “And stylish? She shops in New York.”
“And she thinks this sort of routine is witty as hell.”
He grinned, thinking of wild hair and non-stop freckles and worry-shadowed eyes. With a shrug, he conceded, “She’s had some hard knocks. She was desperate for a laugh.” Had needed one. He wondered if she was laughing much these days. She hadn’t called. He wished she would.
“Hmph.” Britta turned back to watching babies. “Well, maybe she’ll come see you now that her sister is back.”
“What?” His heart lurched. Where were the kids? Gone? No. Was Mercedes upset? Should he go to her? Would she come? He should call. No, if she wanted to talk, she’d call. “How in the hell do you know her sister is back?”
“Zack talked to Holly last night. What’s she like, by the way?”
“Cute and smart. What did she say? What happened with the kids? Are they gone?” Was that good? He stood, ready to call Mercedes right now.
“I don’t think much has happened yet.” Britta frowned up at him. “Holly told Zack the mother showed up and Mercedes—is that right?”
He nodded.
“Apparently Mercedes is trying to hang on to custody. She had to tell Holly not to let her sister take the kids if Holly was babysitting. Anyway, Zack thought I might be able to help, but I’m not familiar with the particulars of family law in Arizona.”
“Why in hell didn’t he tell me?”
“He just talked to Holly last night. I guess he thought he’d tell you tonight when he comes for dinner.”
Speaking over his shoulder as he went into the house, he ordered, “Watch the kids.” Inside, he reached for the telephone then put it back in the cradle. He went back outside. “Are you okay with the kids? I’m going.”
Britta blinked. “Where?”
He glanced at Lindsay, about to pour sand in her cousin’s hair. A tug of divided loyalty jerked and ripped inside his chest. He strode out and scooped up the younger baby, brushed a few grains off the top of her blond head and made sure none had fallen in her eyes. “Sand stays in the box, Lindsay. Not on Lizzie Beth.”
He dumped the sand off the shovel of the protesting toddler, kissed both babies, handed his niece to Britta, then went to find his wallet and keys, calling back, “I’m going to Arizona.”
Chapter 25
Mercedes completely understood where the urge to shoot someone came from.
“That’s not right, is it, Auntie M?” Ayjia asked, her eyes big and scared, her bottom lip trembling. She had the cordless phone hugged into her neck, but now held it out. “Tell Nana Mommy’s staying here. We don’t need to go there with her.”
Mercedes took the phone and ended the call without speaking, resisting the urge to bash the phone on the coffee table until it never worked again.
Glaring at Porsha, Mercedes dared her sister to pretend this wasn’t a set-up. They had agreed, right in this very room in front of Shonda, not to put the kids in the middle of this.
“What?” Porsha curled her lip. “Mom wanted me to bring the kids for the weekend. I told her to ask them.”
“Nana said you won’t let Mommy have us,” Ayjia said, her flat little chest heaving. “She said you want to take us away from Mommy.”
Dayton stopped clawing through the bucket of Legos and looked between his mother and Mercedes. “What?”
Mercedes licked her lips, swallowing back temper because Porsha had agreed—she had agreed—that if she regained custody of the children, it would be better for the children if they never knew this had happened at all.
Porsha was scared, obviously. Terrified that she would lose, so she was resorting to fighting dirty.
Mercedes wanted to hate her for it, but Porsha was her sister and in any other crisis, Mercedes would be the one Porsha would turn to.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t let that sway her. Porsha was an adult. The children were children. Mercedes sank to her knees on the floor in front of Ayjia.
“Your mom and I are trying to work some things out. She can stay here a few more days, but then she wants to go visit her friend in Phoenix. She wants both of you to go with her, but I’d like you to stay here.”
“But why can’t we all stay here?” Ayjia asked, voice thinning with anxiety. “Mommy, why can’t we stay here?”
“Because Auntie M’s freak show boss has rules about how long guests can stay.”
Mercedes fought reacting. Frankly, the new bylaws would work in her favor if she won permanent custody of the children. Porsha could only visit for two weeks at a time, and managers with children—or custody of children—were now welcome and would be accommodated. However, if Mercedes lost custody, but wound up with the kids informally again sometime down the road, she would have some tough decisions to make.