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Right, he doesn’t even know his daughter’s birthday.
“April 2nd.” My voice is quiet, with maybe a little shame seeping in. This is not the way I wanted to raise a child. Sometimes life deals you a tricky hand and you make a choice that’s best at the time, but then it snowballs. Growing into a larger problem that quickly feels insurmountable. The news of Sadie’s birth is a discussion we should have had ages ago. I know that. He knows that, too.
“And she was healthy? She is healthy?” His concern is another knife in my side.
“She’s perfect, Cillian. She’s never had anything more than a head cold.”
“And you?”
“Me?”
“You, Isla. Were you okay?”
No. No, I was far from okay. But I am now.
“I’m not your concern.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It’s not,” I argue. “I wasn’t a concern after you left for Boston, and I haven’t been since.”
“Another lie.” Cillian lifts my wine glass, placing it on the coffee table so he can turn me to face him. “I loved you. Even after I went to Boston, I loved you. It was agony, Isla. Every day without you was.”
“You don’t know agony, Cillian. Agony is the bone-deep knowledge of the truth but hearing the lies day after day. It’s seeing the evidence right in front of you and being helpless to do anything about it. Misery is having regular reminders that you weren’t the choice.”
“What reminders? Sadie?”
“No,” I balk. “Sadie is nothing but love. She doesn’t remind me of you. The reminders come from the same place they always have.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Trina.”
“What does she have to do with anything? I betrayed you, and you betrayed me.”
“Yes, you betrayed me. Just like she wanted you to. And she made sure I knew,” I say.
“Trina is… a subject. But she didn’t cause this. I did.”
“You’re still a liar. Or you’re plain stupid. Which is it? Because there is no way that woman had the information she did without your involvement.”
“What are you even talking about?”
Huh.
He’s actually confused. Which means he has no idea what she’s been up to.
“Stupid it is, then,” I say, shrugging. “She’s been sending me shit for years. Mostly now, it’s only on special occasions, like my birthday or the anniversary of our first date. Dates she could have only gotten from you.”
“What? Why?”
“Why?” I laugh. “Ask her, Cillian. You’ve been with her longer than you were with me. Do you honestly not know her by now?”
“I’m not with her,” he argues, clamping his thumb and pointer finger on my chin to turn my face to him. “I’ve never been in a relationship with Trina.”
The laugh bursts out of me spontaneously and uncontrolled.
“Label it whatever you want, but I won’t be playing into your fantasy. You know I saw what she texted you yesterday, right?”
