Page 43 of Erik

When we get to the door that leads to an exit separate from the waiting room, I turn the knob. He wraps his fingers around my wrist. I gulp, heart pounding. Every time we’ve met, he’s dropped a bombshell right before I left.

“Until next week, I want you to consider this: Your happiness is your responsibility, no one else’s. It shouldn’t matter whether your son, or your girlfriend, appreciate you or not. Self-worth is a construct you build each day. The key here being ‘you’.” He employs air quotes for emphasis. “It’s called self for a reason.”

He opens the door for me when his words paralyze my limbs. I drag myself out of his office carrying a time bomb.

***

Dex drops me in front of the house and heads to the garage. My head is about to explode running scenarios inspired by the doctor’s suggestions. My throat is so parched I decide to get a bottle of water before going to Liam’s room. As I cross the living room on my way to the kitchen, an unwelcome sight stops me on my tracks. Carlotta sits on a chair opposite the couch, scrolling down her phone screen.

I bark, “Thought you’d have gone to the hotel by now.”

She deposits her phone face down on the coffee table, holding my eyes with a defiant expression on her hazel-green ones. She demands, in her jarring voice, “We’ve got to talk.”

I grit my teeth. Since she washed up on my front door holding the allure of driftwood the high tide rejected, I’ve avoided her like the plague she is. My seven-day lucky streak ends now.

With a one-shoulder shrug, I offer a non-committal reply. “I guess.”

“Don’t be such a drag. I’ve got great news.” She pouts. “Now, I wanted to tell it to you right away, but you’ve been so busy with the band. I’ve respected your priority.” She pauses. My eyes ache with an urge to roll to the back of my head and stay there at such a blatant lie. The woman has zero notion of priority, or respect.

“Thanks, I think?” I widen my stance, crossing my arms on my chest. “Where are you going with this? I’m too tired for your brand of bat-shit crazy.”

She throws her hands up, squinting. “That’s precious. I’m crazy? I don’t want to remind you the kind of crazy stuff you were doing when we arrived at your office today,” she mutters, arching an eyebrow.

“You just did,” I growl.

Ignoring my retort, she adds, “You said she was there to wrap up some business. The spectacle I witnessed had nothing businesslike about it. Unless you’ve opened a ‘special massage’ parlor.” She hisses the phrase ‘special massage’.

My blood sizzles at her venomous insinuation about Christine, but footsteps thudding down the stairs make me swallow a fiery reply. To spare Liam the trauma of witnessing a bitter confrontation between his parents, I’ll endure her bitter attacks. That’s a given.

“Dad,” he shouts, hugging my legs. “You promised you’d read me a bedtime story.”

“I see you’re ready too. Love this dinosaur pj’s, by the way. Go ahead. Daddy will be up in a little while.”

He sinks his fists on his hips, frowning. “No, Dad. Meg and I came down for warm milk and peanut butter sandwiches.” As if he’s flicked an internal switch, Liam’s face light up again and he wobbles to where Carlotta’s remained sitting. True to his loving nature, he throws his arms around her neck. “You coming upstairs too, Mom?”

“Sorry, I can’t,” she replies in a sugary tone. She unclutches his hands from her neck breaking the embrace. Her face beams with joy and eagerness, none of which reaches her eyes. She cups Liam’s chin. “Mommy’s been away, but she’s missed her sweet pie so much.”

And who’s fault is that?

“Missed you too.”

Liam’s words cut into my flesh, reaching my bones, but this time I feel no relief. Agony grips me by the throat.

She adds, looking at me over his head, “I’ll make up for lost time.”

Before she makes him a promise she won’t keep, again, I interrupt. “Kiddo, it’s getting late. Go with Meg to the kitchen. I need to talk to your mother.”

I wait until they’re out of earshot. Stabbing the air with an index finger, I command, “Whatever idea you’ve had, forget it. It won’t work. Liam and I are not interested. I’ll have Dex take you to your hotel and wait while you pack. He’ll take you to Sausalito, back to your husband.”

Carlotta shakes her head, snickering. “That’s the good news I wanted to tell you, silly. Harold’s dead.”

I blurt, “Please tell me you didn’t kill your billionaire husband.”

“We’re on a roll today, aren’t we? One stupid idea after another. The man was ninety-five, for fuck’s sake. I just had to wait. Now, you, Liam and I can finally be a family.”

I rub my forehead. “And you think that’s a good thing.”

“Dad! Mrs. Giry’s making pancakes. Your favorite!”

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