Cammy sits down beside her on the couch and rests her head on her shoulder. “I think you are an even split between AJ and me. You have AJ’s eyes, that much is for sure. His lips too.”
“You would know,” Ever mutters.
“Excuse me, you are only thirteen and I’m pretty sure you should not be speaking to us like that,” Cammy says, looking at me, which is not a great idea since I’m trying not to laugh. “AJ!” she snaps, glaring at me…just like a mom.
“Sorry!”
“You two look like you have something to tell me. At least I think I should be assuming that you were only talking in the other room,” Ever says, looking between the two of us with a smirk. I had no idea thirteen-year-olds were so knowledgeable about shit I had no clue about until I was—oh, maybe I was thirteen. Oh God.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I snap at her.
She recoils and lifts a brow…my brow, just like I do when I’m questioning someone. “No, thank you. The boys I went to school with were all jerks.”
Thank God.
“We do have something we need to talk to you about, Ever,” Cammy spits out.
“Let me guess,” Ever says, standing from the couch. “You two have come to a fork in the road and can’t make a decision on who I should stay with.”
“That’s not it,” I tell her. “Not even close.”
“Then what?” she asks softly, as the confidence her voice seeps away.
Gavin is squirming out of Cammy’s arms. She puts him down on the floor where he crawls over to me. It’s almost as if Gavin can sense the destruction coming at us a million miles an hour. I lift him up and take a seat on the other side of Cammy. “So, you ran away from your foster home last week,” Cammy begins.
“Yeah, so? I found you, and you’re my biological parents. It shouldn’t be an issue, obviously,” Ever spits out, making it clear she’s thought her actions through already.
“Yes, we are, but we don’t have any rights to you. As of this minute, the state of Pennsylvania owns the rights to you, as well as your well-being, and the authorities there are requiring us to take you back temporarily until we settle things properly. It sounds awful, Ever, I know this.”
“Awful?” she says with a cynical laugh. “Awful would be if you lived one day in that foster house with six other brats who all beat each other up while fighting for the attention of the two foster parents. It felt like they didn’t even know I was living there.”
“We understand,” I say. “But in order to regain our parental rights, we have to go through the state to do so. There is a lot of paperwork involved and even a trial.” I say the last part, looking at Cammy, trying to remember if that’s what she said.
Cammy nods with agreement. “That’s right. We have to play the state’s game while they get everything in order. I need to meet with the adoption agency in Pennsylvania to find out what steps need to happen next.”
Ever is pacing in small circles, holding the back of her neck between her hands. “Well, do you even want me?” she asks us both.
Cammy and I look at each other, sharing a brief moment through a question that travels back thirteen years to the few moments we spent together as a family right after Ever was born.
“More than anything in this world,” Cammy says.
“More than pizza,” I add.
Ever cocks her head to the side and narrows her eyes at me. “You’re not funny,” she says.
“I kind of am,” I argue.
“Ever,” Cammy interrupts our bickering. “We want you more than anything in the world, but we have to do things correctly.”
“Well, you’re a lawyer. Can’t you do that?” Ever asks.
“Yes, but things have to go through the process, which can take a little time, from what I’ve been told.”
Ever stops pacing and nods her head a little. “Wait, what are you saying?” We both give her a minute to try and understand before continuing. “No. No! You can’t make me go back to that foster house. You can’t!”
“It’s not up to us, Ever,” I tell her.
She races across the hotel room, grabbing a grocery bag full of things and heads for the door. “I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not,” I tell her, handing Gavin to Cammy. “You’re staying here, and we’re figuring this out as a family.”
I take her by the arm, pulling her away from the door. “A family?” she laughs. “A family—that’s what you call this? You’re married to a woman who obviously hates your guts, and Cameron’s engaged to some…some…ghost or whatever, and let’s not forget about the fact that you two were the morons who got knocked up at seventeen and had to hand me off to a couple of rich people who promised to give me the best life ever. Except, then they died and left me as an orphan.”
Each of her words is like bullet to my chest. My fears of what I always suspected my daughter might think of me are shooting up like explosives in my face, blaring the truth I wanted to pretend wasn’t real.