Page 137 of Embracing the Change

After that Sunday, she and I had a short conversation about it, during which, as I suspected, she’d admitted she let slip to her father we were having a blend-the-families lunch. After that day, I’d spoken to all my children to take their pulse and allow them to take mine.

I moved away from the building and continued walking while I assured, “As I’ve said. I’m fine.”

I wasn’t, knowing Roland was up to no good with Paloma and AJ, but if I could help it, none of my children would know about that.

“Dad’s been calling. I’m not answering. Darryn intervened, phoned him, and told him he needed to back off and give me time.”

Yes, Darryn was nearly perfect.

“Has he stopped calling?”

“Yeah,” she said.

She sounded sad.

She loved her father.

I just hated being able to fully feel that was difficult for her.

“Take your time to find the way you wish to share with him how that made you feel, then reach out when you’re ready,” I advised. “He’ll listen to you.”

“It sucked you guys got divorced, and why,” Allegra began. “But it was cool how neither of you ever badmouthed the other to us kids. So I honestly don’t get what his thing is with this. Why he suddenly changed.”

I did.

Paloma.

“Maybe, when you’re ready to talk to him again, ask him,” I suggested.

“Yeah,” she muttered.

“I’d like that Sunday lunch to be a monthly thing. Would you like that?” I asked.

Her voice perked up. “That’d be awesome. Maybe we could do a ’round the houses. Every month at a different person’s place.”

“An excellent idea, dearest.”

I turned the corner, and halfway down the block, saw Arnold standing outside my building in his sharp gray uniform, and I was glad of it. I’d overestimated how far I could walk in my Louboutin heels.

“My house next. I’ll talk to Darryn,” Allegra said.

“That would be lovely.”

“Speak soon. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, darling. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

We hung up and I was about to drop my phone in my bag, smiling at Arnold, who had stepped toward the door in preparation for opening for me, when suddenly, I was slammed against the side of my building.

I opened my mouth to shout, but it died in my throat when I saw Chester “Chet” Lynch, Dru’s biological father, standing in front of me, shoving me against the stonework with a forearm against my chest.

“You think you can be her mom?” he snarled.

I stared in his enraged eyes.

Arnold’s whistle was going off frantically.

---