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7
LANDON
Con put me in touch with a custody lawyer–the same one he used when his first daughter was growing up and he was constantly battling with his ex. Potts set up a meeting with me, the lawyer, and Cami for the following afternoon. I tried to arrange for a hundred thousand dollars to be transferred into Cami’s account, but to my irritation, she wouldn’t give Potts her banking information.
“In her defense, I wouldn’t give a stranger my banking information either,” Potts said when she came back to tell me the news.
“I’m trying togiveher money, not rob her,” I growled, grinding my fist into the palm of my hand. My knuckles cracked loudly, and Potts made a face.
“I think this might be something the two of you settle between yourselves,” she said. “Do you want her phone number?”
I didn’t, but I didn’t see any other way to make it happen. After Potts sent her contact information, I locked my office door and called her.
“Hello,” Cami answered warily.
“Tell me where to send the money,” I said shortly.
“Like I said, I don’t want your money unless it’s a loan and we’ve signed a contract.”
“Too fucking bad, Cami. You’re taking it.”
“I’ll take it when a lawyer or a judge tells us how much.”
“Why?” I demanded. “So I look like a deadbeat who has to be ordered to pay?”
“No!” Cami sounded genuinely shocked. “So I don’t look like a gold digger cashing in on her payday child.”
I rubbed my temples, wondering how the hell we would ever find a way to meet in the middle. “Cami, please just take the fucking money. I’m trying not to push you to introduce me to Emma, but I need to be involved somehow.”
She was silent for a moment. “I didn’t know you wanted to meet her so soon.”
I nearly threw the phone across the room in frustration. What the hell did I have to do to convince Cami I wasn’t a complete asshole? That I was capable of giving a damn about someone other than myself, despite whatever shit I’d spewed four years ago. “Well, I do,” I said through my teeth.
“Then why don’t we start with that instead of a wire transfer.”
“Fine. When?”
“We have an appointment with the custody lawyer tomorrow at two. Do you have time to meet up beforehand? I’ll have my mom come pick her up before our meeting.”
“I can do that.” I wasn’t sure what was on my calendar, but I sent a quick message to Potts to clear it.
Nothing was more important than meeting my daughter.
* * *
We arranged to meet at the Griffith Park playground. My suggestion. I’d gone there all the time with Con when his daughter Halley was young, but I hadn’t been in nearly fifteen years. I had Potts pick up a toy for Emma because I had no fucking clue what to get a three-year-old.
When I came into work the next morning, there was a pack of sparkle playdough, a soft doll with a long blonde braid, and a Pet Boutique Barbie set laid out on my desk. It turned out Potts had no fucking clue what to get a three-year-old either, so she hedged her bets.
“The playdough is fun. You two could do it together,” she said critically as we stood over the options.
“I’m not three, Potts.” I picked up Pet Boutique Barbie. It said it was for ages three and up, but it had so many small pieces. Tiny chew toys and dog collars and water bowls. Even the cat and dog looked like a choking hazard. Besides, I was sure I’d heard Cami rail against pet shops before, and she’d had anadopt not shopsticker on her car.
“Huh,” I said, unconvinced.
“Just take the doll.” Potts picked her up and handed her to me. “It’s the safest choice.”
“Who is this? Anna? Olaf?”
