Page 70 of Falling for Keeps

Jen scoffs. “You aren’t even going to ask me how it went?”

“I genuinely don’t know what you mean.”

“Carson,” she says, dragging my name out. “You know about my dreams of singing on stage. This is a step toward making that a reality. I really thought…you know, of all people, I thought you would immediately understand why this is so exciting for me.”

This is it. A prime example of why I have Penny all the time. I don’t think Jen’s a narcissist—not truly. I’m not that kind of doctor anyway, so it’s not my place to diagnose. But I think she’s the type of person who will always think of herself first. Everything is about her. Even being a mom was difficult because she had to sacrifice for her child. The things she would do with Penny were things to make her look good on her channel—in the last five years, at least, since she started trying to make a public name for herself—or reflected well on her to the people around us. The kind of selflessness it takes to be a decent parent isn’t part of her genetic makeup.

“I was upset when you sent Penny a phone, Jen. Those kinds of big decisions have to be discussed with me first. You can’t make parenting choices on your own. Even if we aren’t together, we have to co-parent.”

“You made sure I had no right to parent at all, Carson. Why should I discuss anything with you?”

“That was a mutual decision.”

“Emotional coercion, that’s what Stephen says it was. You took advantage of a low point in my life.”

I don’t know whether to be happy she was thinking of Penny enough to talk about her or angry she’s discussing our family with some new guy. Either way, she was probably only playing her second favorite game: Pity Me.

Her first favorite is: how long can I stay out without telling my husband where I am?

At least I don’t have to live that way anymore.

“I’m sorry you felt that way.” I breathe deeply again. “As her other parent, I need access to the parental controls on the phone or she won’t be able to keep it. I also need you to agree to discuss big purchases like this in the future with me before making them.”

“Stephen put her on his plan, Carson. It wasn’t like a whole thing I had to do.”

For a second, I can’t breathe. “It’s the most recent iPhone.”

I can practically feel her nonchalance coming through the phone. “It’s not a huge deal. I just complained about wishing I could talk to her more and he made it possible.”

“As far as I know, you haven’t talked to her at all since sending it.”

“We text.”

“Okay.” I pace further away from the dental office. “Can you agree, please? We need to be on the same page when it comes to Penny.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to you first next time.”

“And give me access to her parental controls.”

“Whatever. Sure.” She sounds annoyed, but it’s not my job to make her feel like a million bucks anymore. She has Stephen for that. If she was calling for me to lift her up and pat her back and tell her how amazing it is that she met some country star when she wants to be one herself, she shouldn’t have left me. Besides, it’s hard to keep track of her dreams. Last I heard, she was angling for a role on Broadway.

I loved her so much. I tried so hard. Hearing her voice now drives bittersweet feelings all down my spine. She’s so familiar and comfortable, but at the same time, I don’t know this person. This isn’t the woman I married.

“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later,” I say. She hangs up without another word.

When I make it back to the table, I’m antsy.

Barb stacks my fliers back into neat piles, giving me a side-eye. “That family made appointments for next week.”

“For all of them?”

“Yep. Both the kids and the parents. I’m glad you thought to bring a computer out here. Our books will be full by the end of the week.”

“Thanks, Barb.”

She must sense that my gratitude extends beyond making one set of appointments, because her expression softens. “Why don’t you take Penny down to the story time? That’s where the family was headed. It’ll probably be just the thing for her.”

“I’m not leaving you.”