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A little girl who could’ve died under my watch because I was stupid and selfish and reckless.
“You think I don’t know that?” I say numbly, my voice barely audible.
Mel’s face bunches and she shakes her head. “Please, Nol. Just this one last thing, okay? For me. For her. I just…”
I continue to stare at her, unblinking, barely even recognizing the woman before me.
She’s lost weight. She trembles. Her clothes are wrinkled.
Her normally silky blond hair is thrown up into a messy knot, flyaways curling up every which way.
Melody Caldwell-Dresden is nothing if not carefully poised and put together at all times. She’s fierce and confident, and kind to those she loves. Understanding.Soft.
She’s not…this.
She brings her pale shaky fingers to her lips, clasping her palms together like she’s in prayer.
Praying to me? Pleading with me to understand why she needs this?
“It’s just six weeks,” she says.
But I already did eight,I think.This isn’t how it works.I shake my head and try to tell her as much, “Mel, I don’t need—”
“You do though!” she shouts, her voice shrill. I don’t know who it surprises more.
My eyes widen, mirroring hers.
Her chest heaves and she drops her hands to her side in fists. Lifting her chin, she clenches her jaw, and sears me with her hardened gaze.
There she is.
There’s the woman I fell in love with,I think sadly, realizing just how far we’ve grown apart. How far I’ve fallen.
Because this is the first time she’s aimed that look at me, instead of the asshole snobs in her parents’ circle. The ones who never had any qualms about making it known how much they disapprove of her marriage to a man with nothing to his name.
The people that would turn their noses up at me, barely acknowledging my presence all these years, despite how hard I worked to be a partner worthy of an heiress.
Nothing’s ever enough.
Nothing I do will ever be enough.
I see that now, in her pale blue eyes.
Our marriage is over. And no amount of rehab will change that. It’s been over for months, well before I fucked it all up. The papers on the table are just the final nail in the coffin.
The only thing I have left worth living for now is our daughter.
The only thing I care about is seeing her. Being a parent to her. And I can’t very well be a parent to Abby if I’m living my days in rehab.
But I also can’t be a father to Abby if Mel keeps her from me.
“This is all I have to do?” I say tightly. “One last stint, and you’ll let me see her?”
Mel’s chin quivers and she nods.
And what about shared custody?I want to ask, but I know better than to push it right now.
Baby steps…
