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She lets out a derisive snort. “God, I forgot how fucking uptight you are. Maybe you should go get laid—that’s what you do, right?”
“I’m done with this conversation,” I grate out. “Goodbye, Natalia.”
Before she can respond, I slam the handset down to end the call. I steady myself on the edge of my desk, gripping tight with both hands, as I draw in some deep, slow breaths.
I know I can’t let this go on forever, with Natalia looming as a specter that could pop out at any moment, but I can’t see any way through the situation right now. If I could give her anything else besides the Grimco shares to agree to a quiet divorce settlement, I would. But she doesn’t want anything else. And I just can’t take that risk of her having such a sizable interest in the corporation. I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt and assuming she’s only after the money and influence the stake comes with, which would be bad enough, but with thirty per cent of Grimco’s stock in public hands, Natalia getting control of twenty-five opens the risk of a hostile takeover.
***
“God, Dad, you need to stop giving that bitch money,” my daughter Piper says with an exasperated sigh after I’ve told her about my call from Natalia.
We’ve just finished eating and Kit has taken Izzy off for her bath, so it’s the first chance I’ve had to discuss the issue with Piper since she came over this evening. “What am I supposed to do?” I ask, feeling helpless. “You know what the alternative is.”
She winces, understanding my meaning immediately. “But this approach isn’t exactly solving anything. You can’t keep doing this forever, so it’s just…delaying the inevitable. And in the meantime, you’re putting yourself through hell every time you have to talk to he. It’s like the death of a thousand paper cuts.”
She’s right. It’s definitely not a long term solution. In less than three years we’ll get to that ten year mark, and Natalia will happily divorce me, walking away with a major stake in Grimco media. And these past years of hell will have been for nothing.
I run my hands over my face, once again mentally kicking myself for not trying to divorce her years ago, when Izzy was still a baby and too young to know was happening. But the thought never even crossed my mind back then.
It was a shock for everyone when Izzy was born with Down’s; it didn’t come up on the tests Natalia had, and while the doctors expressed some concern about measurements in some late-term scans, it wasn’t enough to warrant further tests. The heartbeat was normal, and the baby was growing, and Natalia was healthy. All really good things. But they warned us that the tests weren’t a hundred per cent accurate, and that they couldn’t always get a clear picture with the scans.
And I’m not going to lie, the shock of seeing Izzy and realizing the insanely challenging life she’d have ahead of her was panic-inducing. Literally. I knew absolutely nothing about Down’s, except for common conceptions about a short life expectancy. And when you’re forty-four and holding your new baby daughter in your arms and all you can think about is the likelihood that you’ll outlive her, the fear and dread is crippling. I imagine it would be even for people without existing anxiety issues.
But even with all that going on, I loved her from the second I saw her face, and quickly became obsessed with learning everything I could about Down’s, and doing everything I could to make sure Izzy’s life is as long and fulfilling as possible.
Natalia didn’t have that attitude, however. It’s something I’ve thought about a lot, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s very possible she would have struggled with postpartum even if Izzy had been born the healthy, abled child we’d expected. But I’m sure all the additional pressures of caring for an infant with Down’s syndrome just made everything so much worse.
I kept thinking that in time she would adjust and start bonding with our daughter the way I had, and finally take an interest in all the plans and strategies I’d worked out for her future.
But that never happened. It just kept getting worse and worse.
And bit by bit, as Natalia grew colder, and harsher, and more distant, whatever sympathy I’d had turned to frustration, then resentment, then anger.
But I still hesitated about filing for divorce once we eventually separated. Whatever feelings I’d ever had for her had completely shriveled up and died by that point, but I guess in some way, even through the hostility that had developed between us I still felt…responsible for her, I guess you could say. And I wanted to see her back on her feet before dragging her into settlement negotiations.
If I’d imagined for even a second she would shoot down what was an insanely generous offer and callously threaten a custody hearing, there’s not a chance I would have waited.
And now it’s too late.
“You could just call her bluff,” Piper suggests, taking a sip from her wine glass. “It’s not like she actuallywantscustody of Izzy. She’s just holding you to ransom by using your worst fear against you.”
“I know that,” I bite out through a tight jaw. And I know I could win custody if she fought me; but at what cost? Izzy would be put through an endless series of depositions, grilled by lawyers she doesn’t know, who would likely have little sympathy for a child with special needs; the full contents of my life would be laid out for people to gawk at, including my mental health issues and certain…coping mechanisms I employ; Grimco would probably be under scrutiny as well, and the financial issues we’re currently dealing with would surely come to light; and I’m sure Piper and Jazz would be under the radar as well. And frankly, after a judge hears all the shit that’s likely to come out during the process, I certainly can’t guarantee a successful outcome, even if getting custody isn’t really Natalia’s goal.
“I can’t do that to Izzy,” I tell Piper. “I can’t put her through it. And, honestly, I’m not sure I’d cope with it either—you know how I get.”
She offers me a sympathetic smile, her eyes full of understanding. “You cope with shit way better than you think, Dad. You should give yourself more credit.” She sighs, leaning back in her chair. “As for Izzy…maybe there’s some way she could be kept out of it? Surely they’d make an exception for a special needs five-year-old?”
“You know Natalia won’t let that happen,” I say wearily, rubbing my forehead.
Once Piper leaves, I potter around the kitchen, making sure everything is sparkling clean and there aren’t any stray dishes left around. Then I turn on the dishwasher and move into the living room, tidying up some stray cushions and wiping away a water ring from the coffee table—I’m pretty sure Piper always neglects to use a coaster on purpose simply to give me something to clean.
After I’m sure everything is in order, I head upstairs and peek into Izzy’s room, checking that she’s still asleep. My heart swells with love at the sight of her sucking on her thumb, her elephant stuffy clutched tight in her other arm.
I close her door over and head to my room to get ready for bed, my hand thrusting through my hair in frustration the second I’m alone in my bedroom. God damn it, I need a fuck.
I need a hard, strong body holding me down while a thick cock fills my ass and pounds in deep. Over, and over, and over.
But I don’t need some random, faceless guy’s dick. I need Deacon’s.
