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I couldn’t help how I felt about my daughter. That was biology. But I was damned if I was going to feel anything for her mother. I’d let her get too close once, and it had taken me longer than I cared to admit to get over her.
Robert arrived right at 1:15. It was strange to see him in person after so many hours of watching him on TV. He was even taller in person, even more skeletal, the stoop even more pronounced. Despite the heat of the day, he wore his trademark black overcoat, unbuttoned, the lapels flapping back like the wings of some giant bird.
He hugged Cami, kissing the side of her head affectionately. Then, with subzero temperatures in his eyes, he held his hand out to me. I shook it. I liked Robert, despite his obvious distaste for me. And now that I had a daughter of my own, I understood it completely. I’d do more than stare icily at men Emma brought around when she was older. They’d be lucky to be able to walk away from the encounters if I didn’t like them.
“Emma, Pop Pop is here,” Cami called into the bustling play structure. A dark head popped out of one of the tunnels, and pale green eyes found her mother’s. A quick, decisive nod, and then she disappeared again. Moments later, we watched her emerge from the throng of kids.
Cami caught her in a big hug and swung her around. “I’m leaving,” she said, setting her back on her feet, “but I’ll see you in a couple of hours. Make sure you eat lunch.”
The last part was directed more at Robert, who gave her a smile that managed to be both wintry and affectionate. “I’ll feed her.”
“You eat, too, Pops.” Cami leaned over and gave him a kiss on his thin cheek. “You’re too thin.”
Robert made a low, amused noise in the back of his throat. “You sound like your mother.”
Cami frowned and turned away. I wondered why. She had never minded being two peas in a pod with Elyna before.
“Bye,” Emma said to me brightly, taking Robert’s hand.
“Bye, Emma.” I knelt down. I wanted to hug her, but she leaned closer to Robert. I held out my hand instead. Nonplussed, she stared at it for a moment before finally extending her own. I took her small fingers in mine and shook decisively. She giggled, squeezing my fingers back for a moment before pulling away to wrap both hands around Robert’s. He nodded cooly to me and led her away to the other side of the playground.
We watched them until they rounded out of sight, then started back for the parking lot.
“Ride with me,” I said when we reached our cars.
Cami glanced toward hers. “That doesn’t make sense. Your office is closer to the Beverly than the playground, and you’ll have to drive me back after the meeting.”
“Humor me.” I didn’t bother telling Cami I’d already had Potts clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon. My job required my complete attention, and I couldn’t give it that today. All I could think about was Emma, and I had questions.
Cami hesitated but followed me to my car. I had a few of them. A discrete black Toyota Camry because it was the most common make and model in California and didn’t draw any attention. A Lambo that spent all its time in my garage because I never should have bought it in the first place. Even when I wasn’t on the job, I didn’t like to draw attention to myself. My usual car, when I wasn’t working, was a black Mercedes. Nice, but nothing that drew attention in a town like this. I unlocked it, and Cami slid into the passenger seat.
I didn’t say anything while I navigated out of the parking lot. I didn’t know where to start. I could tell Cami was nervous by the way she plaited her hands in the extra fabric of her flowing skirt and snuck glances over at me. Finally, she said, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“What’s her middle name?”
Cami hesitated. “Campbell. Her full name is Emma Campbell Lavigne.”
I nodded slowly, taking it in. She’d given our daughter her last name, but mine was in there, too. That meant something, although I couldn’t decide what or how I felt about it yet.
“When is her birthday?”
“December fourth.”
“Close to Christmas,” I noted.
“Close to yours, too.”
Eleven days before. I took a deep breath. I wanted to ask her what Emma had been like as a baby but having to ask the question made a band of anger tighten around my chest. I shouldn’t have to ask. I should have been there. I should know.
I thought about all the times I’d imagined meeting my father again. When I was a kid, it had been wish fulfillment-type shit. He’d lost his memory. He’d been kidnapped. He’d wanted to get back to me. When I was a sullen teenager, it had been vengeful. He would ask me questions about myself, and I’d give him the finger because he didn’t deserve to know. Because arealfather wouldn’t have to ask. When I was a young man in the military, trying to build a better life for myself, it had been with a sort of angry pity. He hadn’t been man enough to stay. He’d run away from his responsibilities.
It had been a long time since I thought about him. About what I’d do if I met up with him again. Now all the old feelings swamped me, as dark and bitter as black coffee. How had I ended up in this position? How was I sitting here having to ask the most basic questions about my daughter?
Because Cami had fucking put me here.
But while I could never let her get too close again, I couldn’t hate her either. I wanted to, but it wouldn’t do any good. If I started, I might not stop, and one day that hatred would poison Emma. So, I swallowed it back, let it trickle down my throat and into my own guts.
As if she sensed the dark turn my thoughts had taken, Cami turned to look out the window, her fingers plaiting the fabric of her skirt more frenetically. “I’m sorry,” she said to the window. “I’ll say it a hundred times.”
