Page 46 of Succeeding Love

Nick

“You’re back already?” Jessie looked surprised as I walked back into the apartment, holding a pink bag with whatever Fay packed for our daughter.

I smiled sadly, feeling lower than I ever have before, but not wanting it to show for Jessie. “Your mom had company, so I just got you some things you might need and came back.”

“Company?” Jessie looked confused. “Was Aunt Kate over?”

“No, I sighed, walking to the kitchen to find the liquor bottle I had stashed in the freezer. “It wasn’t Katherine.”

“Then who?” Jessie pressed.

I placed a hand on the counter to keep myself steady as piping fiery anger coursed through me again. “Just a neighbor,” I gritted through my teeth.

“Huh,” Jessie murmured nervously, no doubt sensing my mood. She picked up the bag and twisted the handles in her hands. “So, we’re not going to Preston’s game tomorrow?”

That game. I had forgotten the reason for going over there in the first place because of the scene I had walked into. Mywifekissing and getting groped on by some deviant-hoodlum. I’m going to have my secretary do a background check on him tomorrow. I’m sure I can call in a favor through Albert Milton at city hall on Monday too. I have this new neighbor’s address, so looking up his other information should be easy.

Jessie and standing anxiously, waiting for an answer.

“I think your mom already has a ride.”

“Oh.” She looked disappointed. If I told her exactly what it was her mother was doing, I’m sure she would be even more disappointed than she is now. I won’t be the one to tell her, though. That would ruin any chance of getting on Fay’s good side. “That’s too bad. I wanted to see Pres play.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

Fay. My Feighlynn. That punk was calling her Lynn? That’s never been her nickname. Never or for anyone. She was always Fay. He acted all big and bad, like her house was his. He looked like some dumb dog, pissing all over what he thought was his territory. He can’t know her too well yet, or he would call her by her real nickname. Not something ridiculous like ‘Lynn’.

And damn it, and the way he was all over her. She had red marks all over her damned neck. He really might be part dog. He acted just like one. She already has one annoying dog. She doesn’t need two.

I poured the bourbon into a plastic cup, a fast food freebie that once came with a happy meal or something. I scowled, recognizing and remembering the cup instantly. And that Fay kept it because it had puppies and kittens all over it. We couldn’t have a real dog back then, and she was completely happy justhaving pictures of cartoon ones on a cup. She drank out of this thing every day for about a year until I got my first real paycheck at my job and replaced our plastic dishes with real ones. Even then, she would gravitate to this cup from time to time, until I told her it looked trashy. Then she retired it to the back of the cabinet until it ended up boxed up in the garage.

Why didn’t I just let her use the damned cup in peace? Why did I have to ruin that for her?

As I turned the cup in my hands, I was too consumed with my memories of happier times to drink.

“Daddy?”

“Hmm?” I turned to stare at my daughter. She was looking at me with so much concern.

“Are you okay?”

She gnawed on her bottom lip with worry, and she looked so much like her mother that I choked on a sob.

“Daddy?!”

“I’m okay,” I rasped in a rough voice. When she came to comfort me, I wrapped my arms around her, thankful for her warmth. “I’m just a little sad.”

“Because Preston didn’t invite you to his game?”

“Yeah,” I laughed humorlessly, wetness filling my eyes. I looked up at the ceiling, willing the tears not to break free. “I’m just worried I won’t ever get forgiveness. I messed up so much, Jessie. I ruined everything.”

“Daddy,” Jessie said softly, and I suspected she may cry too. “If you want forgiveness, earn it. Mama says that. Sorrydoesn’t always fix a problem, but actions can. Why don’t you show Preston that you’re sorry?”

I buried my nose in my daughter’s hair, smiling sadly because she is way too good of a soul to be saddled with a father like me. But she was right. My sweet daughter is still the light in my every day and the voice of reason in my madness.

“It’s not just your brother I’m scared will never forgive me, but your mom too.”

“That’s silly,” Jessie smiled softly. “Mom doesn’t hold grudges.”

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