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So far, Isla is doing most of the talking, leaving Kinsley to mumble a few monosyllabic, uninterested words here and there. It’s hard for me to believe that this visit could be beneficial for my daughter in any possible way, but I can’t stand the thought of breaking her heart by telling her what a deadbeat her mother really is.
God knows she’ll discover the truth soon enough on her own.
“Did you want to come play for a while in my room, Mama?” Isla chirps, and I can’t help but grind my teeth at the thought of the two of them venturing to the other side of the penthouse where I can’t keep an eye—and both ears—focused on them.
I don’t have to worry for too long, though. Kinsley mumbles something and I can hear the disappointment in Isla’s voice when she says, “Oh, okay. That’s fine. We can stay out here and, um, watch TV. Do you like this show? One of my favorite cartoons is on a different channel. I can go ask Ella which one if—”
“No,” Kinsley snaps, making my daughter shut her mouth so quickly that I swear I can hear her teeth clack against each other. “We don’t need to ask her anything. You’re spending time withmenow.”
“Okay, Mama.” Isla sounds like she’s on the verge of tears and I’m halfway out of my chair before I can even think about stopping myself.
Should I interfere? Kinsley promised she’d be on her best behavior if I’d let her come over and spend some one-on-one time with Isla. This isn’t what I had in mind, and I know for sure it isn’t the fun-filled visit Isla has been dreaming of for so long.
Still, I don’t want to be an asshole about it—not in front of our daughter, anyway. But I’m also not going to sit here and listen to Kinsley make her feel bad for no damn reason.
No.
Nope.
Fuck that shit.
I walk over to the doorway that leads from the dining room to the living room and pause a beat to school my features out of the scowl I’ve been wearing for the past several minutes.
“How’s everything going out here?” I give Kinsley a pointed look. “Having fun?”
Her eyes narrow as she huffs out a short breath. “We’refine, Keiran. You don’t need to come in and check on us.” She turns to Isla without even attempting to soften her tone. “Go on, tell him you’re having fun.”
Jesus.
What is wrong with this woman? How in the hell did I ever convince myself I was in love with her? Giving birth to Isla was the only worthwhile thing she’s done in her entire life. I’ll be eternally grateful for that gift, but it sure as hell doesn’t give her a free pass to make our lives as miserable as hers.
Isla’s bottom lip is trembling as she looks from her mother to me. “We’re okay. I was just saying how we could maybe watch cartoons, but Mama doesn’t want to right now.”
I give Kinsley a moment to say something—anything—that might smooth things over with Isla, but no. She can’t be bothered. She’s more interested in looking at her phone screen than anything we might have to say.
Which is fine. Also totally predictable. I hope she’s texting my mother and telling her what a horrible idea this was. I hope she never turns up on my doorstep ever again after today, but that’s probably asking too much.
“It’s getting late,” I say even though it’s the middle of the afternoon. “Kinsley, didn’t you say you have somewhere else to be soon? An appointment or something?”
She looks up from her phone and shoots daggers at me. It’s a look I know all too well. We both know she doesn’t really have anywhere else to be or anything else going on, and for a moment I wonder if she might call my bluff.
I walk over to place a protective hand on Isla’s shoulder, making it as clear as I possibly can that this visit is over. Fortunately, Kinsley takes the hint.
“Fine. You know what? I don’t have to put up with this. I’m leaving.” Almost as an afterthought, she turns to Isla. “Mommy has to go now. Be good.”
She walks out the door without another word. Without even another glance in our direction. It’s so hard not to chase her down and berate her for being such an awful person, but my daughter needs me right now. Her needs will always outweigh anything I have to do with her mother.
The tears are flowing freely down Isla’s cheeks when I look down at her this time. “Why is she angry with me? Did I do something wrong?”
My heart breaks into a million tiny pieces as I scoop her up into my arms and hold her tight. “No, sweetheart. You haven’t done anything wrong. I promise she isn’t upset with you.”
I try not to hold onto anger and hatred. Not for anyone, ever. I still get mad, of course. I still yell and pound my fists and slam doors when the mood overtakes me. But actual hatred?
Only a handful of people have earned a spot on that list. Natasha earned a spot the day she tried to kill Isla and Ella. Kinsley earned her spot today.
“Where’s Ella?” Isla sniffles. “Did she leave? Mama said I shouldn’t talk to her.”
One more reason why Kinsley has no business being left alone with my daughter. Ella has spent more time and shown more love to Isla than Kinsley is even capable of, and Kinsley knows it. That’s why she feels so threatened.
