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“She’s infuriating,” I groan aloud.
“You used to love that about her,” Mom says with a small eye roll and a sweet smile. I did love that about Isla. Her snark and no-bullshit attitude used to turn me on like nothing else. Now, I want to choke it out of her.
“How can you be so easygoing about all of this? She hid your granddaughter for four years.”
“I don’t judge what I don’t understand, Cillian. Isla said she had her reasons. Something else you used to love about her was her strength. It was admirable, but even I can see her flame has dimmed. She’s changed and I’ll save my opinion on that until I know all the reasons why.”
“That’s probably just her guilt,” I grumble, unwilling to consider anything else. At this point, I can’t. I’m still too angry.
Looking into my daughter’s eyes for the first time, knowing who she was, changed me. When she said she wanted to call me daddy last night… I swear I grew a whole extra heart inside my chest that’s reserved for her and only her.
“A heavy weight to carry. Something you know quite well,” she says. My mother has never been shy about reminding me of how I fucked up. It’s her way of keeping me grounded in reality; she’s determined to never bloat my ego.
“It’s not on the same scale though, is it? I kissed another woman; she hid my child from me for years,” I protest.
“No, Cillian, it’s not on the same scale. But don’t downplay what you did. It was more than a kiss. Or two,” she says, raising her eyebrow at me. “You fostered an emotional connection with another woman that blurred the line between friendship and something more. And you were so terrible at hiding it, that poor girl saw it all unraveling in front of her. You’ve both messed up. I love you, but I’m not going to lie to you for your own sense of righteous indignation.”
“I can’t just stop being mad about this, Mom, regardless of the part I played,” I argue. “I can’t get those years back.”
“I’m not asking you not to be mad. Though maybe if you cut her some slack, she’ll do the same. For the sake of my beautiful grandchild, you two need to find a way to coexist and that’s likely going to mean you both eat some damn crow.”
She leaves me with a pat on the shoulder and a mountain to climb. I’m no more ready to forgive Isla than she is, but she’s had years to digest what I’ve only had days to do. My mom is right about Sadie; she’s my priority and I do need to do what is right for her. Which isn’t being in a constant battle with her mother.
Today’s expansion draft announcement is being held on an old-ass boat. Being on the shores of Lake Union wasn’t enough, I guess, so we’ll be cruising the lake for the two-hour program. We’re all still milling about in the parking lot waiting for the rest of the team staff and press to arrive. My mother talks to Isla’s mom, who I haven’t had the guts to go say hello to yet. My cheek is still healing, after all. But the view lets me see Isla when she pulls in. She still drives the same Honda sedan she’s driven since she was sixteen. The car I’m bringing from Boston is worth about ten of her cars. I swallow down the lump in my throat as I walk over to help her unload Sadie.
Did she ever consider telling me about our daughter and asking me to provide child support?
Isla has always had an enormous amount of pride. Her family has money, of course, but she hated the idea of Coach paying her way in life or even getting her extravagant gifts. I never knew her to be materialistic or to covet the latest brand name anything.
Coach had to really put his foot down when he convinced her to move into the condo he’d bought near campus. And even then, she worked a part-time job after classes to pay the utilities and buy her own groceries, though he’d offered to do both.
With money from me, she’d have been able to afford a new car and a place to live where Sadie could have her own room.
I open the back door when Isla shuts off the engine.
“Hi, Daddy,” my sweet girl says with the same timid look she gave me when she offered to start calling me that. I beam at her, and it washes away the apprehension between her dark brows.
“Hey, baby girl. How are you?” I fumble with the buckle of her car seat, and she places her small hands over mine to show me how to do it, making me laugh lightly. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she says, easily. “I’m good. Mommy says we can have sketti for dinner.”
“Oh yeah? Spaghetti is one of my favorites.”
“Mine too,” she confirms, as I hoist her out of the car.
“I think she has your pallet,” Isla says behind me. It might be the first thing she’s said to me unprompted. A small win, but a win nonetheless.
“You probably like grilled cheese too, huh?”
“Yes! But only if it’s super gooey.”
“I think you’re right,” I say, turning to Isla. Her eyes are rimmed in bright pink, a telltale sign she spent time crying recently and it hasn’t had a chance to fade from what was likely an angry red. A safe bet it was because of me, even though I left her last night without signs of tears. I palm her cheek with the hand that isn’t wrapped around Sadie. “You okay?”
She flinches, either from my touch or the softness in my tone. Evidently, it’s easy to both hate her and care about her at the same time. If she showed signs of the same, I’d believe we could find some amicable place between her hate and mine.
“Why don’t you go say hello to your grandmothers, Sadie. We’ll be right behind you,” I tell my daughter, placing her on her feet. “Isla?”
“It’s not easy for me, either. Okay? This is hard.” Her lip trembles, and my mother’s words rush back. “You being back brings up a lot of… raw memories.”
