Page 92

Caleb

I SIP MY WARM beer and stare out at the city that no longer feels like home. It’s funny how you can spend a lifetime in one place, and then suddenly feel like you don’t belong there.

I feel like a fraud. And worse still, I’m an asshole.

An asshole who made the biggest mistake imaginable, and paid the ultimate price.

That thought alone makes me open another bottle, and swallow it one go.

I put Braelynn to bed an hour ago, and now I’m feeling sorry for myself.

Heels click loudly, and I’m pretty sure I smell Natalia before I see her. Her perfume is as pungent as both her personality and her mothering skills. She comes around the corner, and steps onto the terrace dressed in a long, lacy evening gown with a slit that stops just below her hip. Her dark hair is slicked back, hanging down her exposed back. One would think seeing the mother of your child would make your heart race or some shit, but she doesn’t even make my dick twitch.

“Caleb,” she whines. She thinks it’s sexy but I find it annoying as fuck. Like skinning a cat. “You’re not dressed. We’re going to be late.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not going.”

And then I wait for it.

Three.

Two.

One.

“You can’t not go, it’s my premier. You promised you’d be my date.”

Again with the whining.

How does she not make her own fucking ears bleed with that screech?

Okay, maybe it’s not exactly a screech but everything about Natalia rubs me wrong the way, even if she’s the woman who had my kid.

“I’m sure you can call one of your male model friends and have them take you. I don’t have a sitter in any case, I gave Henry the night off.”

“This is New York,” she retorts. “I’m sure you can find someone to watch the baby while we go out.”

I hold the bottle tighter, and try to keep my cool.

“I’m not leaving our child with a stranger. Just go without me.”

In my peripheral I see Natalia cock her hip, and fold her arms across her chest. Here we go.

“You can’t plan your life around a baby, Caleb. We need to get out once in a while. I’m losing my mind being stuck here all day.”

Doing nothing, I want to add, but don’t. With Natalia I’ve learned to pick my battles.

“She’s not just a baby,” I remind her. “She’s my daughter, and she comes first. Always.”

The fact that I have to explain this is telling.

She huffs. “You know, I’m getting tired of not being a priority in your life Caleb. I’m the mother of your child.”

“Then start acting like it,” I tell her.

“What is wrong with you? You have been moping around the house for almost three weeks, and I’ve had enough.”

As much as I want to tell her she’s what’s wrong with me, I decide against it.