Page 58 of Living at 40

“With Lorna?” I hiss again.

“Yes, Lorna.”

I don’t believe it. Peter might want Chloe, but he doesn’t want my daughter. He can’t have her.

“I don’t approve.” My arms flap to the side and slap my thigh for emphasis.

“Do you need to approve?” Chloe stammers, staring at me.

“Yes. When it concerns Lorna, I do have a say. We agreed we would share in the parenting responsibility.” I exhale. My heart is racing. I don’t like to fight with Chloe, considering it bad form for Lorna to see us at odds, but this is beyond anything we’ve ever encountered in co-parenting. Taking a deep breath, I try to soften my tone. “I don’t want to deny you anything, Chloe, but you cannot take my daughter from me.”

“Our daughter,” she reminds me, but it appears she’s the one who forgot we share her.

“Maybe we should ask Lorna how she feels,” I demand, no longer patient with this information. If Chloe wants to do this on the front stoop, then I want Lorna present.

“She won’t really have a say, but I’ll be talking to her tonight.”

“Jesus, Chloe, we just got back from a vacation. An emotional vacation. You were the one who told me before we left that we needed to treat her like a budding teenager, on the cusp of womanhood.” I shiver at the thought of Lorna growing older but accept that it’s inevitable. “She should have a choice.”

“What happened?” my ex-wife asks, ignoring my plea for Lorna’s decision-making ability. Chloe releases the door and crosses her arms over her chest. Her voice rings with concern but not sympathy. It’s more of a what did you do question.

“It’s . . . nothing. We just had a lot of fun, and . . .” I take another deep breath. I don’t want to tell Chloe about Ben yet. She liked my friends well enough, but she never felt she belonged when we shared vacations or attended weddings, funerals, or reunions. I never understood as everyone was nice to her, but she said she didn’t fit. “We should talk to Lorna together.”

“I think I can handle it.”

Like she’s handling this? “I’m not saying you can’t.” Although, my jaw clenches as I’m suddenly questioning her ability. On top of learning about Ben and leaving Autumn, this is the last thing I need. It’s also my first priority. “But you cannot take Lorna to France.”

I glare at Chloe, hoping she reads the warning in my eyes. I will not let my daughter go.

“Just let me talk to her,” Chloe adds, lowering her head. “I’ll have her call you after we talk.”

I do not like this solution. I want to see Lorna’s reaction. I want to be present when Chloe springs this bullshit on her, but most of all I need to know if Lorna might want to go. Would she really like to move to France? She hinted at her fears for the future in middle school. Would crossing an ocean be a solution?

After swiping a hand through my hair, I cup the back of my neck. “I want a call from Lorna as soon as you are done talking.”

Chloe smirks at me. “Fine.”

“Is Peter here?” I should have asked this first. I’d like to throat punch him. He doesn’t want my daughter, and I’m certain of it.

“No, he’s at his place. I wanted to talk to Lorna alone. Break the news between the two of us first.”

The only breaking that’s going to happen is skulls if this woman thinks she can take my child across the world, but I tamper down the fear, biting back the threat of lawyers. We’ve never had to go this route, and I don’t want to start, but this is too much.

When I finally return home, the weight of everything hits me hard. The two-story walk-up is too quiet. After a rowdy vacation with a dozen people in a spacious home, I’m suffocating under the silence and the small size of my place. I miss Autumn immediately, and I can’t settle my concerns for Ben. Now this fuckery with Chloe and the possibility of losing Lorna, and I’m coming out of my skin. I reach for my phone, hovering over Autumn’s contact number.

Staring at my screen’s background image, which consists of a sunset from Lakeside, I hesitate before tossing the phone on my kitchen island. I can’t call Autumn because that’s not what we had. That’s not what we were about, but I need to talk to someone. I need to scream and shout and wipe away the ache in my chest at the potential of losing too many people I care about—Autumn, Ben, Lorna. Their names circle on repeat until I pick back up my phone and press a different contact.

“Zack, I need some advice.”

+ + +

Three days later, I’m standing at my desk when my assistant knocks on my office door. “There’s someone here to see you, boss.”

“Okay . . . uh, give me a minute.” With all the chaos of dealing with Chloe’s bomb drop and asking Zack for legal advice, I’m struggling to keep my thoughts on work. My current project includes a multi-level apartment and shopping complex in a once run-down area of Indianapolis that’s being rejuvenated. My architectural firm not only designs commercial properties for the immediate Indianapolis area but has also created libraries for universities and an entire hospital.

My wandering concentration is also a result of not sleeping well in my quiet house and empty bed, spending most nights thinking of Autumn until the thoughts turn to memories, and I’m whacking off like a teenager again.

In the three days since I left Michigan, I’ve wanted to call her a million times but haven’t known what to say. Our last two nights together, we were out of sync, and I didn’t know how to right the pieces or if there was even a chance of mending whatever it was that happened. Perhaps we just came to an end as was expected. Only, I didn’t want it to end—not by a long shot—but what could I do about it? Now, I have this Lorna mess.