Page 19 of The Sweetest Chirp

“This,” he says, moving his hand between us.

“There is no this,” I say, mirroring his motion.

His brows pull in tighter, and annoyance starts to burn in his eyes. “There is a this,” he corrects with conviction. “And the faster you realize that, the easier this will go.”

I scoff, holding his gaze. “I told you, you aren’t going to march in here and start demanding things.”

“No, you’re right,” he says, catching me off guard. “I’m going to ask, fucking beg, for you to come home, because I can’t move here and be in my child’s life.” Another tear rolls down his face as his eyes plead with mine, leaving me breathless. His voice is rough as he says, “I don’t want to bring our parents into this yet. I want this to be handled between the two of us, because I know Ifucked up, Audrina. I know I’m the reason you ran, but you have fucked up too.”

“You think I don’t know that? That’s why I’ve stayed gone.”

“How does that make sense?”

“I couldn’t face you and be rejected again. That’s what your words did to me. They humiliated me and rejected me. I…” My words fall off as I swallow. “I couldn’t do it again.”

He’s silent for a moment as he watches me. “I understand,” he says softly, his eyes breathtaking and catching me so off guard, I feel like I’m losing my footing. “Which is why I’m trying not to lose my temper with you. But I need to know what you’re willing to do here. I have missed enough of her life, and we both know I’m not the kind of man to be an absent parent. I can’t fixusat this moment, but I can be a father. So, how would you like to proceed?”

I had fully prepared to be on the defensive when I finally faced Thatcher after these three years, but that’s not what he’s forcing me to do.

He’s giving us a level playing field, yet I feel like I’m the underdog.

Especially when my heart is still singing for him and his fingers trail along our daughter’s back.

CHAPTER NINE

Before I can answer Thatcher—though, really, I have no clue what I want to say—my phone rings. I answer and feel his gaze on me as I explain to the doctor what is going on. He has been Arwen’s doctor since she was born. He’s a good man and cares for my daughter, but I think Imay be more knowledgeable about her condition than he is. The reality of that fact causes me to miss Ingrid something fierce. He says he’ll send in a prescription for some antibiotics, but he also suggests the tympanostomy surgery for her once more. As always, I decline. When Ingrid was younger and this happened to her, they changed her ear gear, and everything got better.

I need a specialist, but I don’t have health insurance here.

I thank him for the antibiotics before I hang up. I feel Thatcher’s gaze on me, but I don’t want to admit what we both know. That I’m failing as a mother. Tears burn my eyes as I search for nearby specialists for hard-of-hearing children who are self-pay, trying to ignore Thatcher.

I need a plan.

Something to pacify him.

“What did he say?”

I swallow. “He sent in antibiotics and suggested tympanostomy surgery.”

Before I look up, he’s shaking his head. “It’s not a draining issue. This ear gear is cheap.”

He tosses the gear to me to make his point, and I snatch it up, placing it up by Arwen’s head. I know if I utter a word, I’ll start crying or screaming at him, so I ignore him as I search the web for information.

“What is her hearing percentage?”

I press my lips together. “Forty-three percent.”

I feel his scrutinizing gaze. “Is her doctor a specialist?”

“No, they don’t have them here. I have to go to Richmond, and I’m on the waitlist to get in.”

A growl rattles his chest as he tugs his phone out of his pocket. He gets up, walking over to where my desk is. He sits down, and I watch as he opens my computer. It’s not password-protected since no one is ever in my room. His brows pull in before he looks back at me. “You’re going back to school?”

I see the online schooling platform up on the screen. I had a paper due last night and forgot to log off. Not that it’s a secret, but shyly, I answer, “Yes, I’m getting my master's.”

He rolls his eyes. “While you work at a fucking diner and raise my daughter. Alone.” He sneers the last word as he shakes his head, his annoyance getting the best of him. “Fucking frustrating is what you’re getting your master’s in,” he mutters under his breath as he starts to type while holding his phone at his shoulder.

“I heard that.”

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