Page 50 of Reclaim Me

Rae is at her wit’s end, so her tone is lethal and unforgiving. While she processes her feelings, I take the opportunity to jump on a topic I’ve been meaning to broach for a while now.

“A discount won’t be necessary because I’ll be taking over Riley’s tuition payments.”

I’m not asking, mainly because it doesn’t sit right with me to have another man paying for anything that has to do with my daughter when I’m more than capable of doing so myself, but Rae still shakes her head and says, “No, I can’t let you do that,” while Aaron sits there like a slack jawed fool.

“You’re not letting me do anything, Rae. She’s my daughter, and it’s my job to provide for her.” I look at Riley, relieved to see that she’s once again tuned us out. “I’ve missed out on nearly ten years of birthdays, Christmases, sports, and special interests, so I’ve got a lot of making up to do. Let me start with this.”

I don’t mention that taking over tuition payments is also the first step in my plan to help make Rae’s ballet school a reality because I don’t want to mention it in front of Aaron, and I’m still waiting for the other, most important, part of all of this to come together.

“Hunter, I?—”

“Just say yes, Rae.”

I don’t mean for it to come out as an order, but it does, and heat flashes in her eyes as the authoritative growl unearths memories of a time when she never hesitated to say yes to me because she trusted me to take care of her mentally, emotionally, and physically.

“We’ll consider it,” Aaron says, placing his hand over Rae’s.

My first instinct is to tell him to fuck off because I wasn’t talking to him, but I think I’ve threatened enough little boys for today, so I nod like I don’t plan to push Rae for an answer the next time we’re alone and focus my attention on the menu.

The rest of our dinner passes by in an uneventful blur that’s only tolerable because I get to sit next to Riley for the entirety of it. I get to watch her devour an entire plate of plain spaghetti noodles with nothing but grated Parmesan on top and decline Rae’s offer to try her carbonara dish several times. Then I get to see Rae pout about how unfair it is that she takes a bite of my lasagna as soon as I offer it. Aaron stays quiet during all of these exchanges, spending most of his time slugging down the bottle of red wine he ordered—which made it necessary for me to explain to my nine-year-old what it means to be sober—and typing on his phone under the table.

Rae does the best she can to ignore his petulant behavior, but by the time we’re making our way to our separate vehicles, she looks ready to explode. I don’t feel all that comfortable with leaving Riley to ride with them when I can tell by how hard Rae is grasping the keys that she’s going to lay into Aaron on the way home, but the curse of being a former absentee father is that you don’t get a lot of say in situations like this. You get to pick one battle per day, and today, I chose tuition, which means I can’t voice my opinions on the car ride or offer any kind of solution.

“Daddy, can you take me home?” Riley asks as we walk hand in hand to Aaron’s car.

“Oh. I don’t know, Ri, you’d have to ask your mom.”

“Mommy! Can Daddy take me home?”

Nothing but a weary sigh proceeds Rae’s response. “If he doesn’t mind, baby.”

“I don’t mind.”

I’d actually prefer to put them both in my car and take them far away from the human embodiment of misery that is Aaron Scott, but I know that’s not an option right now. Rae flashes me a tight smile, and my heart aches as the desire to fix everything that’s wrong in her life comes rushing to the surface, refusing to be held at bay any longer.

“Thanks,” she says, unlocking the car doors. “You can just follow me. It’s like a five-minute drive.”

“Sounds good.” I scoop Ri up, placing her on my back while she clutches her trophy tight. “Let’s go, Nugget.”

By the time I get Riley settled in my backseat and pull out of my parking spot, Rae is already waiting for us at the exit with her right blinker flashing. I put my blinker on, too, then flash my lights at her to let her know I’m ready to go. She whips the car onto the road and accelerates. From the back seat, Riley says, “Mommy drives fast when she’s mad.”

I don’t laugh even though I want to, even though I remember the one time I let Rae get behind the wheel of my car when she was mad at me, and she flew through a stop sign and got upset with me when the other vehicles in the intersection blew their horns at her.

“How do you feel about winning first place at the science fair?” I ask, changing the subject to a safer topic.

“Good! I feel even better that you stopped Pierre and his friends from being mean to me. I can’t wait to tell Scarlett all about it.” From the rearview, I can see her wide smile as she looks out the window.

“Where was Scarlett tonight anyway? I was looking forward to meeting your new best friend.”

Most of our post-school calls are filled with the Adventures of Riley and Scarlett. I was looking forward to meeting the little spitfire who has quickly become the Deanna to Riley’s Rae.

“She was sick,” Riley says. “She threw up in class, and Ms. Ryder made her mom come and get her.”

Rae switches lanes, and I follow her lead, watching as she gestures wildly with one hand through the back window of the car. The evidence of her outrage illuminated by my headlights. Aaron is slumped down in his seat, probably too far gone on wine to engage or defend himself.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m sure she was sad to miss your big win.”

“Mommy took pictures. She said she’ll send them to Scarlett’s mom so she doesn’t feel like she missed anything.”

---