Page 120 of Forfeits

“Dad! Robin’s not playing fair!” Lucy said, running over to us with Robin at her heels.

He put a hand to his chest.

“Excuse me! I always play fair, missy. Ask your dad.”

“How the hell would I know?” I said, giving him a look.

“Please,” Robin scoffed, as if it weren’t even in question. “Anyway, here.” He handed the bag of popcorn to Lucy. “You can have it. I need to worry about my girlish figure.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Um, your girlish figure is fine. But I’ll take it.”

“Huh,” Robin said, leaning seductively on the breakfast bar and gazing at me and Aiden. “So, looks like nobody’s here but you two. What have you been up to?”

“Not a whole lot. Our guests left in a huff. The lasagna’s going in the fridge. But, on the positive side”—a glance at Aiden showed he was worried I would say too much about how we’d gotten past it—“I’d forgotten how good peanut butter sandwiches were.”

Robin cocked his head. “Is that some kind of euphemism?”

“No!” I said.

“Why wouldn’t you have just eaten the lasagna?” Patrick asked.

“Unless,” Robin said, smiling, “Aiden was too busy making Fletcher feel better…”

“Ew,” Lucy said. “Dad.”

“We weren’t that hungry,” I said, between clenched teeth, glaring at Robin and Patrick.

“Not for food, anyway,” Robin said.

“Oh my God, good one!” She held her hand up for a high five, and Robin obliged, giving me a triumphant look.

* * * *

Over the next few weeks, despite Aiden’s suggestion to stop, I wracked my brain for a way to dissuade Annie and Brian from fighting me for custody of Lucy, while expecting to be served legal documents at any moment.

It wasn’t an ideal way to live.

If not for weekly sessions in the Bordello with Aiden, I’m pretty sure I’d have had some kind of nervous breakdown.

I went to see Aiden’s band play again, and it was fun to be the lead singer’s boyfriend. Again, I admired the easy way Aiden seemed to exist in his body, especially when he was living his best life as lead singer of The Tardy Boys. I teased him that they should have named the band ‘The Tarty Boys’, because they all wore T-shirts that were too small and very tight jeans. Not that I was complaining.

Tuesday dawned with buckets of rain coming down, and I decided to work at home instead of going into the office. I texted Patrick that I didn’t need him to watch Lucy.

From nine to eleven I worked hard on a couple of different projects, then took a break to make a cup of tea and relax before lunch. While I waited for my tea to steep, my phone went off. Annie Marin’s name came up on the lock screen.

My first thought was, Jesus, this is it. She was going to tell me that they were serving legal papers. I almost didn’t answer, but I couldn’t ignore a phone call from Daniel’s mom.

I tapped my phone with dread swirling in my gut and a cold sweat spreading on my forehead.

“Hello?”

There was nothing but breathing for a second and I wondered what the hell was going on. Then Annie sniffled and said, “It’s Lilly. Something’s wrong!”

“Pardon?” I said. It took me a minute to catch up. “Annie, what’s wrong?”

“The kitten,” she blurted. “She’s collapsed… I don’t know what to do!” Her voice wobbled, and I remembered that she was a sixty-eight-year-old woman who’d lost her only son a few years earlier.

“Oh no,” I said. “You should probably take her to the vet.”

---