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Carter
Istare at Dominic. I know he doesn’t really approve of my measures to keep Ed away from Noah, but he’s still taken me off-guard. “What do you mean by that?”
“Mitchell came to see me today,” he replies. “He threatened our employees. Again.”
“I’m already on that—”
“Let me finish. He ended our conversation by referencing Ed.” My friend’s expression is troubled. “You bad-mouthed Ed around town and made sure no casino would touch him.”
“He has a record,” I snap. “They wouldn’t have hired him anyway.”
“That’s not true. If you’d put in a word for him, they would have considered him. His arrest isn’t automatically disqualifying.” He takes a sip of his water. “I’m not getting into what-if scenarios with you. You know and I know that you made it difficult for him to find work. You figured that if Ed had to move away from Atlantic City, that he wouldn’t pursue custody of Noah.”
He takes another deep breath. “Lawyers aren’t cheap. You know Ed can’t afford them. So, you keep dragging him to the courts again and again.”
He’s making me sound like an asshole. And maybe I am. “Ed isn’t a good parent. Noah deserves better.”
“Noah is Ed’s son,” he responds flatly. “He lost it when Chloe died. You can’t hold that against him for the rest of his life. Noah deserves better than that.”
I don’t want to hear this. Not now. “Where’s this going, Dominic? You said you’re done supporting me. What the fuck does that mean? Are you firing me?”
Hurt flashes across his face. “You think I’d do that?” He leans back in the booth. “You’re my best friend, and you think I’m going to use money to control you?”
I feel like an asshole. I exhale slowly and count to ten, something I should have done before I blurted out my accusation. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he takes a business card out of his wallet and hands it to me. “Renata Causi is a highly respected mediator,” he says. “Megan could not say enough good things about her.” He gives me a steady look. “I can’t make you talk to her. You can stew in your anger for the rest of your life. You can make things difficult for Ed until Noah turns eighteen. But if you really care about your nephew, you’ll stop dwelling on the way you feel, and start thinking about him.”
Goddamn it. The last thing I need is to feel guilty. I know Noah’s better off with me. I don’t understand why Dominic can’t see it too.
I shouldn’t have asked Dominic if he was going to fire me. That’s not fair. He might not approve of how I’m dealing with Wagner, but ever since Ed walked out of his son’s life, Dominic has been nothing but supportive. When Noah’s daycare shut down last year for a month, I worked from home. When Noah’s been sick, or when Andrea, the woman who watches Noah in the evening can’t make it in, I’ve taken time off, and it has never once been a problem.
Dominic’s shown up for every court hearing. He’s changed almost as many diapers as I have. Guilt trickles through me. This thing with Mitchell is escalating, and I haven’t been paying as much attention as I should. Under the circumstances, Dominic would be perfectly justified in asking me why the hell I’m not doing my job. I’m the Director of Security. The buck should stop with me.
I tuck the business card into my wallet. “I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you.” He opens his mouth to say something, but my phone beeps before he can voice his thought.
Talk about the fucking devil; it’s a text from Ed. Noah wants to talk to you. Is now a good time?
Every time Wagner’s name appears on my screen, my blood pressure rises. I grit my teeth and type out a reply. On my way home. Give me thirty minutes.
“I have to talk to Noah,” I tell Dominic, getting to my feet.
I open my wallet to pay for the meal, and he waves it away. “It’s my turn,” he says. “Tell Noah I said hi.”
“Sounds good.” I give him a slight smile. Are we good? I don’t know. I hope we are. This business with Ed is making me lose my mind, but I have no desire to lose my friendship with Dominic. “See you tonight.”
I drive home, my mind bouncing chaotically from one thought to another. Ed, Noah, Dominic, Denton Mitchell. The twenty-minute drive does nothing to calm me. Pulling into my driveway, I note absently that the grass needs to be cut. Again. Noah’s soccer ball is on the lawn, and the sight of it sends a pang through me. We were playing just a few days ago. Dominic had come over, and I’d set up the grill, and Noah had kicked the ball into Mrs. Sharma’s garden three times.
Noah calls shortly after I go inside. “Hey buddy,” I say, studying his face. He looks clean and reasonably well-cared for. Then again, Ed’s not entirely stupid. He’s not going to give me any incentive to call the judge. “How have you been?”
His eyes are bright with excitement. “Uncle Carter, guess what I did today?”
“You played soccer?”
“I went to the aquarium,” he blurts out. “I saw five sharks, and a jellyfish, and a clownfish, and I saw them feed the stingrays, and I—”
I start to laugh. “Slow down, kid.”
