Page 19 of Trusting You

“Fine. I can do it. She’s my kid, I’ll figure it out.”

I refuse to give her any more ammo by asking her what a fucking changing station is.

Carter won’t break her hold on me. “This isn’t a game, Locke. Not something you can win.”

I break our staring contest and utter, “You have no faith.”

She barks out a humorless laugh. “I lost my faith a long time ago.”

Carter stands. “And I’ll wait for your text telling me you’ve changed your mind and can’t handle it.”

After that parting shot, she makes her way out of the booth.

“Hey! We’re not finished yet, Carter,” I say.

The waiter has picked this time to place my meal on the table, but I still have room to get out if I elbow him out of the way. I ignore his grunt of surprise and sprint after Carter.

She’s near the entrance, and I have to dodge more than a few squealing families and rainbow cocktail gallons, but I catch her by the arm. She looks back with a glare containing lava, but I don’t back down. I lean in so close I can feel her hot breath on my jaw.

“Consider this your first mistake,” I say, and only she can hear. “Underestimating me.”

I let go and don’t leave her room to reply. Storming back to my table, I run into a helium balloon of the mascot and end up tangled in its string. All the pent-up emotion, the frustration, the fucking uselessness I’ve felt all day, culminates into this one mocking, floating cartoon prawn closing in on me.

I get an arm loose and punch it in the face.

Below me, someone starts screaming. Then crying, then hiccupping. Awesome. I’ve deflated a child’s balloon.

“Yeah, great father material,” I hear Carter say behind me, and I don’t turn around and give her any satisfaction, because now I want to punch the fucking wall.

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