Page 42 of His Greatest Treasure

Does six hours late even still count as simple tardiness? Fuck, probably not. But to a seven-year-old, that’s what I’ll downplay it as so he doesn’t hurt her feelings.

Anger sizzles beneath my skin. You’d have thought only getting to spend every second weekend with your daughter would light a fire beneath your ass and have you actually excited to spend quality time with her, but Chris has proven once again that he’s such a sorry excuse?—

“Has Dad called yet?” Nova asks, peeking her head out from inside the backroom.

With pink cheeks and hopeful eyes, she gazes up at me, her hands pressed to her stomach. I blink past the sudden prickle in my eyes and try to smile. It’s heavy and so, so tired.

“I’m going to step out to give him a ring, okay? Maybe he lost his phone.”

My daughter’s too smart for someone her age, and while it usually makes me so proud, right now, I wish she weren’t. Some naivety would have been appreciated for once.

“Okay,” she whispers before going back into the cooler room, shoulders sagging.

I wait until she’s gone and then turn, pressing the heel of my hand hard against my sternum. Three inhales and exhales, and then I’m pushing the door open and stepping onto the street. I don’t pay attention to the white AC van parked directly out front or the line of cars on either side of it.

The location of the shop is alright, right in the centre of a little shopping centre with a farmer’s market every Tuesday afternoon.

They’re all fleeting thoughts. Nothing matters right now besides fixing this situation for my daughter.

Calling Chris, I listen to the line ring six times before he picks up.

“I know I’m late, Avery,” he snaps, no hello or sliver of an apology.

“We’ve passed late. Now you’re only hurting Nova.”

“She’s tough.”

“Shesevenand doesn’t need to be tough. Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, I’m coming. I just got tied up at work.”

It’s a bald-faced lie and one I call him out on. “Since when is the shop open on Saturday afternoons? That many people needing oil changes?”

“Since fucking now. Drop it. This wouldn’t have even been a problem at all if you hadn’t moved to Vancouver and taken my daughter away.”

He’s spewing the same shit I’ve heard since I told him we were moving. It’s always big talk, but we both know the only reason he wants us close is so he can keep an eye on us. Not to spend time with Nova and definitely not to speak with me.

“You getting caught up at work wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t moved? Right. Don’t put this on me. Please, I’m exhausted. Nova just wants to spend the weekend with you.” I’m half pleading, but for Nova, I’d drop to my knees and downright beg.

“Have her ready and waiting at the house after dinner, and I’ll pick her up.”

Emotion clogs my throat. A raw sense of guilt at the reminder that this is the man who gets the title of Nova’s father. Someone who sounds resigned to spend his two weekends a month with her. Tipping my head back, I inhale through my nose to keep the tears at bay.

“If you don’t want to take her, then I’d rather you didn’t. She’s not a burden, Chris. Don’t speak about her in a way that makes me think that’s what you believe.”

“I’ve already moved my plans so that I can. You’ll pick her up first thing Mondaymorning?”

A tear drips, slithering down my cheek. “Yes, I’ll pick her up the moment your two days are up.”

“Don’t say it like that, Avery. Don’t guilt me.”

“I’m not . . .” I trail off when two familiar people step onto the sidewalk from the street and head my way. “I’ve got to go. Text me before you head to the house, and I’ll make sure she’s waiting.”

Oliver Bateman keeps his mom’s arm tucked in his as he stares at me with laser focus. The closer he gets to me and the shop, the closer his brows tug together. His jaw pulses, eyes slipping to the wetness I feel on my cheek.

With my hand still gripping my phone, I use the back of it to hastily wipe the tear away. I’m embarrassed to be caught like this, especially by him, and I can feel myself beginning to burn with it.

“Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” The low timbre of his voice makes me jump, but not out of fear.

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