Page 86 of What About Us
I glance over at Finn and grin at her.Making sandwiches, I mouth and poke my tongue into my cheek, working it until she’s stifling a laugh behind her hand.
“Stop,” she whispers around a grin.
“Of course, he is,” Tristen snarks, making me grit my teeth. Finn’s hand tightens on the edge of the counter. “Well, I have a surprise for you,” Tristen croons and I immediately stiffen.
Tristen’s “surprises” typically end with her buying Paige something outrageously expensive that she doesn’t need—or want, in most cases—or her disappointing our daughter by promising something she won’t deliver, like a visit for her birthday or Christmas.
Before I can step in to stop whatever she’s surprising her with, Tristen says, “I’m coming to visit!”
The butter knife Finn is holding hits the edge of the countertop and clangs to the floor at the same time I mutter, “Fuck.”
“You are?” Paige exclaims, bouncing up off the couch and running around it into the kitchen. “Daddy, did you hear? Mommy’s coming to Timber Forge to visit!”
I turn to her and plaster a smile on my face. “I heard, Pip,” I say, then reach for the phone. “Why don’t you run upstairs and wash your hands for lunch, while I talk to your mom for a minute, ok?”
“Ok, Daddy,” she says, then holds the phone up so Tristen can see her. “Bye, Mommy. I love you!”
“I’ll see you, then,” she says. No ‘I love you’; no ‘Goodbye.’
Paige passes me the phone and I throw a glance at Finn. She nods and tips her chin with a silentGo.
I cross the kitchen, stepping out on to the back patio. When I raise the phone, I’m met with Tristen’s face, and I can hear the chatter of others nearby. The sound fades away as she moves to another part of the house.
“Hi, Hudson,” she says.
“Are you really coming here?” I don’t want to be an asshole to the mother of my child, but she makes it really fucking hard not to be.
She laughs at something someone says to her when she passes by, then seems to remember she called me. “Yes, I thought I should come since she’s been sick lately.”
I scoff and run a hand through my hair. “She’s not sick anymore. Hasn’t been in over six months.”
“Well, I have a break in my schedule. So, I thought I would come out there. I haven’t seen her in two years, and then you went and moved her halfway across the country. I miss her.” She pouts.
I let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, all you seem to do is miss shit where she’s concerned. You missed two birthdays and both Christmases. And we’ve only been in Timber Forge a few weeks. What is your excuse for the last two years?”
“You’re so dramatic, Hudson. I have a life. I can’t just drop everything and come running for every little holiday.”
“Her fucking birthdayisn’t a holiday, Tristen. She didn’t even get a call from you the day of last year. And when she was sick, it took me three goddamn days to get a return call from you.”
“Yeah, and when I did call, you wouldn’t let me speak to her,” she bites out. “You probably couldn’t wait to get back to shacking up with that trash best friend of yours.”
I almost tell her to watch her mouth when she’s talking about my wife. I know it’d give me a sick sort of satisfaction to put her in her place. But I can’t do that. Not when it’s a technicality.
“Don’t fucking talk about her,” I bite out, instead. “This isn’t about Jameson. She’s done nothing but love our daughter. This is about you and your piss-poor excuse for mothering.”
I glance up then to see Finn on the other side of the screen. She slides the glass door closed with a sympathetic smile, then walks away as Paige comes into view.
“You’re such an asshole, Hudson,” Tristen seethes. “I just want to see my daughter. You can’t keep me from her.”
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and run a hand down my face. “I’ve never kept her from you, Tristen,” I say, trying to rein in my temper. “But I swear to Christ, you better be here. If you disappoint her again, it’ll be the last fucking time.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m not threatening you. But I won’t let you do it to her again.”
“Fine. I’ll text you with the details,” she snaps.
I disconnect the call and chuck my phone on the wicker loveseat. Lacing my fingers together behind my head, I take a couple of steadying breaths. Paige will have a thousand questions about when her mom will be here, and I have no answers. She doesn’t need my anger on top of that.
