Page 29 of Fighter
“I'm sorry.”
I blinked, startled for the tenth time tonight. Wait, what?
“I'm sorry,” she said again, and met my gaze. “That was . . . pretty harsh. I believe you're doing the best you can and it must be really hard as a single parent, but . . . I just felt a bit duped. Like there was a bigger mess dropped on my lap than I expected, but no boundaries set and no help given. Ava is amazing, but she needs more help than I thought. Did you know she barely knows her letters?”
“Her teacher and I have spoken about it.”
She softened, then grimaced as she adjusted her position. Her arm braced against her ribs almost like an instinct now. “I just . . . I'm tired. It's been a long, somewhat unexpected day and I'm sorry I took it out on you. I'm worried about Ava and my ability to help her, that's all.”
True remorse filled her tone. I couldn't even doubt her sincerity, even though I normally did for almost-strangers. Were we strangers? How could we not be friends at this point? I cleared my throat again, only feeling marginally better for her apology. Her observations were warranted and spot on.
“This is my fault,” I said. “All of it. The food, the laundry. The house. I’m a mess, Sera. I work so much that I crash on the weekend instead of cleaning the house. Both of us are . . . sort of walking disasters and it’s not Ava’s fault. She's a product of her ridiculous parents. If you wanted to leave, I wouldn't blame you. You're under no obligation and I'll write you a check for today's work right now.”
She studied me for a moment, and I could tell she'd already considered that. Maybe she had been considering it for the last hour and a half that Ava had been sleeping. Panic filled me at the thought of her going, and it wasn't entirely tied to Ava.
“Tell me about Sadie?” she asked and it sounded like acquiescence. Like a willingness to move forward or get more information.
Whatever it was, it wasn'tno.
I ran a hand through my hair, a bitter taste in my mouth. The last thing I wanted to discuss was Sadie, but it had to happen. Serafina deserved it. But the thought of Sadie's ugly shadow reaching Sera made me internally recoil.
How did she always manage to haunt me?
“Sadie was a fan of mine,” I said, punching a fist into my other hand with a soft, quiet rhythm. My teeth clacked together while I tried to think about how to lay this story out. “She worked at the gym where I did most of my training and followed my career as it moved up and up and up. We would talk whenever I saw her and, eventually, I asked her out.”
My chest ached just thinking about the early days with Sadie. The good days, when we were just two people that liked to be around each other. Before the shadow of reality extended over even the best of memories.
“It was great at first. Young love. My career grew and she was at my side. Then it got . . . rocky. We fought. She grew jealous of other fans. Accused me of cheating on her all the time. Sadie was something of a party girl and loved the spotlight. It's like she craved attention. She was obsessed with the magazine features, social media, you name it. She ran most of my PR for a while, and that was a mistake I didn't realize I'd made at first.”
Serafina hadn't moved from her position on the couch, but I didn't sense any tension from her, so I kept going.
“We were constantly breaking up, then coming back together. She couldn't control her jealousy and I stayed with her because she kept most of the other people off my back. Sadie, for all her faults, was key to my career growing the way it did. As a PR manager, she did her job very well. People had a way of just . . . doing what she wanted. Myself included. Then she let me know she was pregnant, and she broke up with me. For the last time.”
Sera's eyes widened. Her lips rounded in silent shock. A bitter laugh bubbled out of my chest.
“Yeah. She left. At first, I thought it was one of her manipulations, but I soon realized it was real. I kept up with her as best I could. Paid child support. Saw Ava every chance I had, but Sadie never made it easy. She'd go missing for weeks and visit her family without telling me. She'd send me pictures and then just stop. Tell me lies about what the pediatrician was saying.” I ran a hand through my hair. “It was a disaster. Then last summer Sadie was at a party with some friends. She must have been horribly drunk, somehow got ahold of her car keys, and tried to drive home. She crashed, then died the next day.”
A warm hand settled on my wrist. I looked up to see Sera with a mixture of concern and compassion on her face. Did I look wrecked? I felt it. Those hours with Ava, at Sadie's bedside in the hospital, filtered back through my mind. Ava had been limp against my body, crying so hard in my arms that she'd thrown up, as Sadie slipped away.
“I don't mourn Sadie much,” I admitted, and felt like a cold bastard for the harshness of the truth. “Maybe what we could have been, or her presence in Ava's life, but Sadie spent too long getting in between me and Ava for me to be sad she's gone. Sadie was determined to make me as miserable as possible.”
“She sounds like a lovely person,” Serafina murmured wryly, and something in her response crashed the tension in the air.
“She tried,” I said, “but she hated me too much. Ava came to live with me last summer after it happened, which is when I came to stay with Mav. I needed his help. I'm not sure what life was like for Ava with Sadie. She refuses to talk about her Mom. But I don't think it was great. She's behind in school, seemed to spend way too much time on her tablet, and is wary of me.”
“Think she dragged Ava with her to her parties?”
“Probably.” He nodded. “Social events, social ladders, publicity. It was her love. Her god. She wanted more and more and more and I just wanted to get away from it. To getAvaaway from it.”
A dozen thoughts seemed to stream through Serafina's eyes, like a parade of sorrows, while she took all that in. My stomach still felt like a knot, but I couldn't deny there was also some relief. Sadie was out there now. I didn't have to live under her weight and the worry of what Sera would say when she found out.
Now Sera could stay or go.
“Okay,” Sera whispered.
My brows rose.
“Okay,” she said again, eyes on mine this time. “Thank you. That helps. The context will help.”
