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“Everything is fine.” Now I wish I hadn't said anything, but I needed an excuse for his behavior. Men and their bad behavior. I'm so tired of having to make up for it. “I’m more worried about him becoming his own worst enemy.”
“I absolutely can’t relate to having a dad like that,” she deadpans.
We share another laugh, but this time it’s tinged with sadness. “And you’re sure you’re okay?” I have to ask. “Are you… taking care of yourself?”
She lifts her chin, defiant. Typical Tatum. “It takes more than some egotistical asshole to break me. I wouldn’t ever dream of giving him that kind of power.”
I wish I could believe her.
I wish I could believe Callum is innocent.
I wish things weren’t so broken, and my heart didn’t beat for a man I never should've been involved with. I know the truth can set us all free. However, lies are easier to tell. It’s not the freedom we seek but the protection our lies offer us. I have to stop hiding behind them. I have to break free, even if I know it’s going to hurt.
CALLUM
“What's wrong? Is he okay? Did something happen?”
I tap the screen to pause the replay, then rewind it back ten seconds to watch it again. To savor the change in Bianca's voice and posture when she got the idea there was something wrong here. How quickly she jumped from bitter sadness to concern over me. The desperation edging her words, her breathlessness, it's all somewhat gratifying.
I sit back in my chair with a smile, watching the change come over her again. Does she realize she changed so suddenly, or is she still kidding herself into thinking we’re through?
She can run all she wants but can't pretend she doesn't care. At least I know I still have that.
Just as I still have my daughter’s loyalty. Am I entirely thrilled she went behind my back to visit Bianca without at least telling me her plan? No, but I can forgive her secret visit since I know she's defending me. While Tatum loves her best friend, she also wants to be sure Bianca knows the truth—at least, the truth as she knows it. There are still parts of my life she's unaware of, and that's by design. I'll never want anything more than to protect her from the ugliness and danger.
Even if she resents me for it. That little joke about her inability to relate to having a dishonest father. It touched a nerve, and I'm still seething more than an hour later after getting home and immediately pulling up the footage recorded by the camera in Bianca's room. I couldn't have imagined I'd find my daughter there, but if anything, she did me a favor. She gave me insight into my little bird’s psyche, probably more than she would have offered if I had come straight out and asked.
No, there’s no probably about it. I believed her when she swore she wouldn’t feed Bianca any stories about me. Not my fierce, independent kid. As much as it irritates me, I can’t help but appreciate her loyalty.
I have to know exactly what Bianca’s thinking, feeling, doing. I need to use any tool at my disposal, because she will not make it easy to win her back.
I hope she doesn’t think her stubbornness and a few ignored phone calls will convince me to leave her alone. If so, she should know me better than that. It's the hardest-won victories that are the most satisfying, and I always win. Bianca cannot escape me. She might think she has, but only because I let her believe she could.
Now the clock is ticking. It's past eleven, and knowing Bianca, she'll want to go to bed soon. Especially if she plans on going to work in the morning. I settle back at my desk, a drink in hand, my tie discarded, and my shirt partly unbuttoned. The house is quiet, painfully so. Incredible how the solitude I valued so highly not that long ago, now leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
All this peace and quiet does is remind me of what I've lost, even when I plan to get it back. Next time, I'll be more careful. I won't give her a reason to run away. If it means honesty, as Romero said earlier, I can make that sacrifice. I can learn to be better, to open up even when I don't think it matters.
I would tell her that, if only she were here. All the promises I would make. If she asked for the moon, I would happily comply, as long as it ended this constant, painful longing. Now that I've had her, it's the height of cruelty to ask me to live without her. Without her body, her sweetness.
Her goodness. Her warmth and her light.
