He looked down at his bowl of cereal. If it were up to him, he’d get Petal and fly down to hang out with Pixie. Or have her come to him to meet Petal. Even though it was only two days since he’d seen her on Tuesday. Instead, he was racing to eat breakfast and get to Amanda’s so he could board a plane to Brazil for four nights for what was pretty much a publicity tour that ended with a festival. His heart most definitely wasn’t in it.
His heart also wasn’t up for what he knew was best for Petal. She’d be much better off in a stable home, with two loving parents, preferably a couple who had been trying for a child of their own for years, ones who would be so desperate for a child, they’d cherish the shit out of her. Problem was, every time he visualized her in the arms of someone else, his breathing gave out like someone placed a ton of weight on his chest.
He reached for his lyrics notebook, and added to the lyrics he’d written for the song he thought was for Pixie. I can’t breathe without you. I can’t even sing this song without you
How could he be anything for Petal? Or Pixie?
When the heart wants what it wants, does the heart get what it needs?
Was it love of Petal? Or Pixie? Or both.
Unable to straighten the feelings out in his mind, he took his cereal bowl to the sink and dumped the milk before rinsing the bowl and placing it in the dishwasher.
His suitcase was packed and in the hallway, his carry-on parked next to it. Both ready for Jordan to throw into the limo that was going to collect him on the way to the airport.
He grabbed the bags of supplies he’d bought for Amanda and Petal, and made his way to the street to get in the cab he’d called.
Thankfully all the snow had cleared, but roadwork on the ramp to the Gardiner Expressway slowed his progress, and by the time he pulled up at Amanda’s building and buzzed to be let in, forty minutes had passed. The guys would be by within the hour for him.
He took the elevator to the fourth floor and walked to her condo. The building was clean and tidy. From the hallway he could hear a baby screaming. It had to be Petal. He hurried to the room number and knocked.
Amanda opened the door. Dark circles ringed her eyes, but she was well dressed and was wearing too much makeup, seemingly nonplussed about the distressed cries.
“Come in,” she said cheerily.
Dred buried his frustration. How could she stand there, all smiles of welcome, when she’d deliberately hidden Petal from him? But his lawyer had warned him the best strategy was to play nice and keep communication channels open.
“Here,” Dred said, offering her the things he’d bought. A distinguished-looking man was sitting on the sofa. Silver-haired and wearing a sharp gray suit.
Amanda pulled the items out of the bag and placed them on the table. Diapers and wipes which, holy shit, cost a fucking fortune. And some gifts for Petal, a couple of cute outfits, some toys, and some books the woman in the bookstore had said were perfect for babies. “Thanks.”
“Where is Petal? Can I get her?” She needed to be held. Lennon would have a fucking fit if he knew a screaming baby was being ignored.
“Theo, I want to introduce you to my lawyer, Bernie Kates.”
“Well, I didn’t come here to meet your lawyer. I want to get my daughter. And call me Dred.”
“I can ask you to leave at any time, Theo. And I have a witness. So please. Sit with us first.”
Dred looked in the direction of the screaming, torn between what was right in that moment, and right in the long term. He made a mental apology to Petal. “Can you at least go to her for a moment? Soothe her at least?”
“Not until we’ve talked.”
Dred remembered his lawyer’s counsel to keep his anger out of it. “This feels like an ambush. Should I call my lawyer?”
“Now, now, Mr. Zander. This is a simple conversation. Nothing legally binding about a chat.”
“What do you want?” The cries were getting louder, his own levels of distress escalating in direct proportion to the wails. He knew the hard reality of what it meant to a baby to be left alone, screaming for attention for hours upon hours without being held. How they finally realized nobody was ever going to come for them, to love them, to hold them, to be there for them. How they stopped crying for attention that never came, and withdrew into themselves.
“I want to talk about access between now and the final decision about custody. If you are willing to pay to see her between now and the custody hearing, I won’t request one hundred percent custody.”
What the . . . ? “What do you mean?”
Bernie leaned forward. “Ms. Veitch means she is willing to offset her desire for full custody against your financial flexibility on the settlement, starting now. She wants an apartment bigger than this one-bed plus den, and expects to receive a to-be-determined monetary sum payable to Amanda Veitch at the start of every visit.”
“This isn’t a chat,” Dred said starting to pace. “I was right, it’s an unprofessional ambush. I’ll have the two of you reported.”
Petal’s shrill cries were cutting through his skin like a whip. He couldn’t take much more.
“You’ll have us reported for what? As far as Ms. Veitch and I are concerned, this conversation never happened, and you came to the condo aggressively with attempts to intimidate Ms. Veitch. If I hadn’t been here to intervene, who knows how you might have responded.”