Hell. The front desk doesn’t bother tenants unless it’s actually important.
We both give a sigh of defeat. With the utmost reluctance, I slide my fingers out of paradise and gently ease Hailey off my lap and onto the cushion. Then I get up in search of the cordless phone I always misplace. I find it on top of the fridge, of all places.
“Yeah?” I’m a tad irritable as I greet the doorman.
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Eriksson, but you’ve got visitors,” Henry says politely.
My forehead creases. “Who is it?”
“It’s your ex-wife and daughters, sir. I know you have a guest, so I asked them to wait a moment. But Mrs. Eriksson is rather impatient to be let up.”
What the hell? My gaze swivels to Hailey, who’s discreetly fixing her clothing and buttoning her pants.
Shit. What is Kara doing here? She never shows up without calling first.
A sliver of fear pierces me. Are the girls okay? Oh fuck, now I’m worried.
“Let them up,” I blurt into the phone.
And then I hang up and hurry to the living room to check my cell.
Shit.
There are five missed calls from Kara, which I didn’t see because my phone was on silent. There are also two text messages, which I’m terrified to read. Jesus, if something happened to one of the kids…
Pick up your damn phone, Matt! Emergency!
My heart jumps into my throat, but the fear dissipates slightly when I read the second message.
Girls are ok. But I’m dropping them off at your place. You better fucking be there.
As if on cue, the doorbell rings.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Hailey, who’s still staring at me waiting for an explanation. “My kids are here, apparently.”
Her face pales. “What?”
Rather than respond, I head to the door, open it, and find a frazzled-looking Kara and two pyjama-clad pre-schoolers.
“Mommy cut her thumb off!” Libby shouts when she sees me.
“Not off,” Kara quickly corrects. “But I need stitches.”
“There was b-blood,” June whispers, attaching herself to my legs and hanging on tight. “I don’t like blood.”
“And Mommy said a bad word!” Libby announces. “But then she said we could have a slumber party with Daddy!”
June holds on to my legs even tighter. “You were gone forever, Daddy.”
“Just for a week,” I say, trying to make light of my absence even though my heart clenches hard.
Kara mutters under her breath, “A week can feel like forever when you’re home alone and waiting.”
I give her a sharp look, but luckily, I don’t think the girls caught that. Still. She can blame me all she wants for the demise of our marriage, but she’s not going to fucking do it in front of our kids.
“Can you fix Mommy’s thumb?" June asks, bottom lip quivering.
I put a palm on her warm little head. “Okay, calm down, everyone. Let me see that thumb, Kara.” She’s holding it wrapped up in a dish towel, and I tug her hand toward mine and flip the cloth open.
“What? You don’t believe me?” Her brown eyes flash. “Would have sent you a photo if you’d answer your phone.”
“I’m sorry. My phone was on silent,” I admit. “How did you do this?” There’s a deep slice in the pad of her thumb, and when I expose the wound it oozes blood. But, hey. I’m a hockey player. Blood doesn’t faze me.
“Daniel and I were julienning organic carrots for the girls’ lunch tomorrow.”
And he couldn’t stitch it up for you himself? Oh, that’s right, he’s a dentist, not an actual doctor.
I shove the mean-spirited jab out of my head before my mouth can give it voice.
“He’s waiting for me downstairs in the car, actually. I would’ve left the girls at home with him if I didn’t think I’d bleed all over the steering wheel driving myself.”
Although I’m inwardly bristling, I choose not to comment on the fact that Kara’s boyfriend was at my old house, preparing lunches for my kids. At least he’s not fucking living there. Yet—but I push that notion aside.
I apply more gentle pressure and wrap it for her again. “Stitches are a good idea.”
Kara winces at the thought. I feel a rush of sympathy for her, but it evaporates when she pushes past me into the room. “Girls, your bedtime is in thirty-seven minutes and— Oh. Hello.”
I know the moment Kara spots Hailey, because her tone turns to ice. So does her gaze. Gulping, I watch as my ex-wife takes in the scene before her. Hailey’s tousled hair and rumpled clothing. The two wine glasses on the coffee table After a long, tense moment, Kara’s head swings back to me. “I see,” she says coolly. “So this is why you can’t be bothered to answer your phone? Because you’re too busy entertaining college girls?”
I frown, while Hailey’s cheeks turn beet red.
“Hailey, this is Kara. Kara, Hailey.” My tone is as frosty as Kara’s. “And I can assure you, she graduated from college a long time ago.” At least I think she did. We haven’t even discussed shit like post-secondary-school education yet. We’re still just getting to know each other. But I’m not admitting that to Kara.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Hailey says faintly, and I see her edging toward her purse as if she’s planning her escape.
“A pleasure,” Kara replies, though we all know pleasure is the last thing she’s feeling right now. Then she dismisses Hailey with her eyes and turns to me. “I can’t take the girls to a germy emergency room. And there’s no way to know how long this will take, so I figured the girls would just spend the night here and I’ll collect them in the morning. I assume that’s all right?”
“Of course,” I say tersely. I’m not about to let my children hear me say they aren’t welcome. But Kara clearly has no qualms about restricting my access to the girls until the moment she needs something.
Kara sets her jaw, then winces as if the action causes her pain. She squeezes her thumb inside its wrapping. “Christ.”
Her obvious discomfort thaws some of my anger. She might have been rude to Hailey just now, but she’s obviously panicked. “Go,” I tell my ex-wife. “Take care of it. The girls will be fine.”
Kara stays rooted in place. She stares at the wine glasses again, then at Hailey, and it’s easy to guess what she’s thinking.
“Don’t worry, I was just leaving,” Hailey blurts out.
Startled, I glance over at her. “Stay,” I find myself saying, even while Kara scowls at me. “We can watch a movie with the girls.”
The suggestion goes unacknowledged. Hailey simply slings her purse over her shoulder and sprints to the door. “Thanks for dinner, Matt!” she calls without looking back at me. “I’ll just let myself out.”
A second later, she’s gone.
Twelve
Latherblather
Hailey
The next morning, I work for a few hours in peace. With my office door closed, nobody bothers me. And I absolutely force myself not to think about the prior night’s disasters. But my solitude goes to hell at noon when Jenny arrives for a twelve-to-nine shift.
At 12:01, Jenny pounces.