The Space Needle. Of course he knows about that. Evan knows everything.
“That has nothing to do with the kids.”
“Doesn’t it? Because now every hockey fan in Seattle is going to be looking for more information about Dex Malone’s mystery woman. How long before they figure out who you are? How long before photographers start following you to their school?”
The thought sends ice through my veins. Photographers at Tyson’s school. Strangers asking Blythe questions. My children’s faces in tabloids because their mother was stupid enough to think she deserved one night of happiness.
“That won’t happen.”
“You’re naive if you believe that. Professional athletes’ girlfriends become public property, Golda. Is that what you wantfor my children? Pictures of them getting dragged into some hockey player’s drama?”
“We’re not—it’s not serious. It was just dinner.”
“Then end it. Now. Before this gets worse.”
“Evan—”
“I’m calling my lawyer this afternoon. We need to discuss modifications to the custody agreement.”
The words suck the air from my lungs. “What?”
“You heard me. This shows a clear pattern of poor judgment. The expensive activities I didn’t approve. The social situations you don’t inform me about. And now this public relationship with a man whose lifestyle poses a direct threat to the children’s stability.”
“That’s insane. One dinner doesn’t?—”
“One dinner that’s already made headlines. Judge Willis isn’t going to look kindly on a mother who exposes her children to media attention for the sake of her social life.”
Judge Willis. Evan’s golf buddy. The man who signs off on every modification Evan requests without question.
“You can’t take them from me.”
“I can if you’re not acting in their best interests. And dating a professional athlete with a history of public incidents while putting the children at risk of media exposure? That’s not acting in their best interests.”
My vision starts to blur around the edges. This is happening. He’s actually going to try to take them.
“I’ve done everything right. I’m a good mother.”
“Are you? Because good mothers put their children’s needs ahead of their own desires. Good mothers don’t parade around town with men they barely know.”
“I’m not parading?—”
“You’re in a gossip blog, Golda. My children’s mother is internet entertainment. How do you think that’s going to look in family court?”
The line goes dead.
I sit in my kitchen, phone still pressed to my ear, trying to breathe. The laptop screen still shows the photo, evidence of the one moment in months when I’d felt like a person instead of just a function.
He’s going to take them. He’s actually going to take my kids because I had dinner with someone.
Because I thought, for one stupid night, that I might deserve something good.
I close the laptop with shaking hands and try to think through my options, but my brain keeps short-circuiting on the same thought: I could lose them. I could lose Tyson and Blythe because I was selfish enough to want something for myself.
The house feels too quiet, too empty. In a few hours, I’ll have to pick them up from school and pretend everything’s normal while Evan’s lawyer prepares papers to rip them away from me.
My phone buzzes.
Thinking about you this morning. Hope you’re having a good day.
