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“What happens if I don’t keep playing along?”
“I don’t want you to think you have to lie, Bishop.”
Is it horrible that pretending to be with Sunshine only sucks because it isn’t true?
“We’ve put options in place that will allow Sunshine to be a single parent in a way that the courts would agree with. Is it fucked up that a lot of courts frown on single families even in this day and age when there are close to twenty million kids living with a single parent? Yes, it’s beyond fucked up, but we still have to work within the parameters we’re given. Sunshine can stay there alone, or if you’re not wanting to come back to the clubhouse yet, then we can find another place for her. It would mean another home evaluation.”
“I don’t want some fucking red tape to tie her case up,” I say, pressing my fingertips to my forehead at the threat of a headache forming.
I also want to see the proof that she’s as trustworthy as everyone seems to think she is.
“I’ll stick around.” Because, honestly, the kid will need someone in his corner if she has managed to fool everyone.
“Let me know if that changes.”
“Will do.”
“Before we get off here, I have to ask. Are you going to continue being the boyfriend? I only ask because I know I’ll get a call from social services to verify anything that has been said regarding her case.”
I don’t know why, but without hesitation, I answer, “I’ll continue to play along and will let you know if that changes as well.”
I hide in my room like a coward, wondering if I made that call to Kincaid because of the hit to my pride I took when she didn’t want to kiss me back. Was it a way to try and get back at her?
Jesus, how fucked up would it be if that’s where my subconscious thoughts went to?
Punishing her for her God-given right to say no? Maybe Cerberus isn’t as fucking good at vetting as they think, because shit like that should get me disqualified.
Chapter 29
Sunshine
My skin has been itchy all day, and I know it has more to do with what happened last night than the dry summer air.
He never came out of his room after walking away, and I didn’t see him before leaving for work this morning.
I felt the shift in him yesterday. At first, he hated me, had his preconceived notions already locked in before I explained. I could tell he softened some, but he couldn’t hide the fact that he still didn’t believe me, or he didn’t know which parts to believe. It says he doesn’t trust me, and I don’t blame him. I don’t trust my ability to be a good mother any longer either. Why should I expect others to?
As much as I’d like to stay hidden, to keep my distance, I’m exhausted. I didn’t sleep much last night. Some of it had to do with the way Brent walked away from me yesterday evening, but a large part of it was the way Mrs. Brunello acted. She seemed like a different person in front of Brent than she did on our visits at her office. I can’t help but think that she would change her mind if the truth came out.
There’s always the possibility that he went to her office and told the truth after brewing on me pulling back from his kiss last night. Before he walked away, I wouldn’t have guessed he’d be that petty, but it’s obvious I’ve never been the best judge of character. Pointing out red flags isn’t exactly a strong suit of mine.
My phone rings just as I’m climbing in my car, my mother’s contact information on the screen.
I let it ring, cranking my car and turning the air conditioner all the way up. I cave, answering it when she hangs up and calls right back.
“Hello?” I say, climbing back out of my car because it’s just too suffocating to get in it right now.
“I’m getting pretty tired of you not bringing Ryder around here.”
“Excuse me?” That feeling like I’m living on two separate planes of existence hits me hard.
“My grandson,” she spits, ire and hatred in her voice. “It doesn’t matter that you’re upset with me. Keeping him from me is petty, Sunshine. I raised you better than that.”
I grind my teeth, wondering if she’s been using mind-altering substances, and I somehow missed those red flags as well.
“I shouldn’t be punished because I let him see his father.”
“Ryder is in fucking foster care because you let him see his father,” I growl.
“I’ll take custody of that boy myself. Lord knows you’re struggling to do the job right.”
I shake my head. The fucking audacity of this woman.
“That will never happen,” I tell her. “You’re the reason he isn’t with family right now in the first place.”
