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But I sure as hell was finding out.
“Give me a minute,” I said to J.R., holding him off from leaving. I prowled out of the kitchen and yanked the door to the lounge open.
Shayla was standing at the lockers, chewing on her nail. She stopped chewing once I stepped inside, and looked at me with worry.
“The fuck was that?” I barked. “You see me and you go runnin’? We’re back to this?” I stopped on the other side of the bench seat and stared her down. “Explain,” I ordered.
“I didn’t think you were working today,” she said meekly.
“The kid has something he’s gotta do, so I offered to come in. So what?”
“I just…well, I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation yet. I’m not prepared.”
“What conversation?”
“Your ex is my client.”
I leaned back. “Say that again.”
“Valerie. She’s my client. I did her hair on Sunday.” Shayla scraped her teeth across her bottom lip. “And I’d never keep something like that from you, but I’d really like to keep her as a client, and I was worried you’d have a problem with that. I knew we were working together tomorrow, so tonight I’d planned on coming up with a list of reasons why her as my client would be a good thing. I’m not prepared with that list, so I retreated in here when I saw you. I panicked.”
Pinching my eyes shut, I rubbed at my face. “How the fuck do you know Val?”
“I met her Friday night at Frank’s Pizza. She was there.” Shayla quickly shook her head, as if to read my mind. “But I had no idea who she was to you until Sunday. I swear. This is all just one big coincidence.”
I thought on this. Did I care if Shayla kept Val as a client or whatever the fuck? No. That didn’t bother me. Was it a little weird? Fuck, yeah. It was weird.
“Um…”
I turned back to Shayla, brows lifted in question. “What?”
“I met your girls,” she said, and my chest constricted, making it too fucking hard to breathe. “They were at Frank’s too. Caroline and Fiona. I just love those names.”
Fuck.
FUCK.
She saw them. She saw my girls. They were at Frank’s.
Why the fuck wasn’t I at Frank’s? I needed to be going there if that’s where they went. I’d sleep there if I fucking had to.
“Would you like to see them?” she asked.
I blinked hard, forcing focus. “See them?” I questioned.
“Valerie friend-requested me on Facebook after her appointment,” Shayla explained as she slowly dug her phone out of her pocket. “She has pictures of the girls on there. I could show you…”
I shook my head in a quick no. I couldn’t. Fuck, no. I didn’t deserve that.
“You haven’t seen them for over a year, right? You should see them, Sean.” Shayla said this while hitting buttons on her screen, and then she was grabbing my arm and turning me when I tried to move away. She held the phone out for me to see it. “Look. Look at them,” she pleaded.
I swallowed hard with tears burning in my eyes. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Her profile isn’t private. Anybody can see it. Just look.” Shayla climbed over the bench, stood beside me, and held the phone out while her other hand stayed wrapped around my arm.
Her thumb pressed on an album labeled Christmas 2016.
I could feel myself shaking, my limbs vibrating uncontrollably, and Shayla’s gentle touch on my arm growing firmer to comfort me as I looked at pictures of my girls standing beside a tree and opening presents. Eating Christmas morning breakfast. Smiling. Decorating cookies with Val. They looked the same. Slightly taller, and their hair wasn’t as curly. But that was the only difference. Shayla clicked on another album. This was one of the beach—last summer in South Carolina. Caroline was standing proudly beside a sandcastle and Fi was filling up buckets with water. There were pictures of them jumping in the pool and at some amusement park riding the carousel. They looked happy. They were so fucking beautiful. Smiling. Always smiling.
“See?” Shayla spoke softly, clicking on more albums. “Aren’t you glad you looked? They’re so beautiful, Sean.”
I wiped harshly at my eyes, clearing wetness away.
“You bought that house for them, didn’t you? You’re fixing it up and making it perfect for your girls, right?”
I jerked my chin. “Wanted something better than my trailer,” I answered. “I’d never keep them there. That house…it was supposed to be what they deserved. It ain’t good enough.”
“It will be,” Shayla whispered, clicking out of the pictures then and tucking her phone away. “Let me help you, Sean. Did you paint the bedrooms yet? I saw the paint cans when you gave me the tour. The pink makes a lot more sense now.” She giggled.
I turned my head and looked down at her. “I was planning on starting it today,” I disclosed. “Didn’t have time before the kid called me.”
