Page 92 of Sunshine
I expect to find Izzy dozing on my pillows. Instead, she’s propped up against the headboard with my phone to her ear, talking to someone on the other end.
I hurry over and sit on the edge of the mattress. “Izzy? Who is that?”
She glances up at me with innocent brown eyes that throw golden hints in the lamplight. “It’s Mommy.”
“It’s—” I clear my throat and extend my palm, and Izzy deposits the phone in my hand without question. “Go back tosleep, Little Bee,” I say as I get to my feet. “Daddy needs to talk to Mommy for a minute, but I’ll be back soon. Okay?”
Izzy yawns again and wriggles down under the covers, her eyes already drifting closed. “Okay.”
The house is quiet enough that my pulse rushes in my ears, but I wait until I’m in the hallway before I speak into the phone.
“Annalise?”
“Dylan. Hello. How are you?”
She’s always been this way—brisk and a little detached—and I’ve always pretended it didn’t bother me. Now it feels so cold. “I’m fine. How are you?”
“I’m well. Listen. I’m calling to let you know I’ll be in town later this week. It’s only a short visit—I’ll arrive at Silver Leaf on Friday afternoon, but I need to leave on Saturday for an evening flight to Brussels. I’ll take my usual cabin.”
“Uh…”
Again, this is the standard pattern. Izzy and I live our lives here on the ranch and Annalise decides when she visits and how long she stays. I’ve never made things difficult for her because she’s Izzy’s mother, but I started questioning our casual custody agreement when Izzy stopped sleeping after Annalise’s last visit. She needs more structure. More predictability. Add Poppy to the equation, and there’s no way I’m comfortable with our old arrangements.
“Dylan?” Annalise’s tone is familiar but confident. The tone of a woman used to getting what she wants, even from the people she cares about. “Is there a problem?”
“No. Not a problem.”
I glance at my closed bedroom door, thinking of my daughter asleep on the other side and counting all the balls I need to juggle in order to keep her happy. All the relationships I need to manage on her behalf. All the problems I need to solve before they get the chance to become an issue.
Fuck. Just when I thought I had everything under control.
“Annalise, I—”
“Good. I’ll be there in time to join you for dinner. See you then.”
The line goes dead, and I stare at my screen until it winks to darkness.
I don’t know why the idea of seeing Annalise makes my stomach tighten. It’s not reasonable to wish I never had to see the woman again, but there it is. I wish I didn’t have to deal with her, but I do. I made my bed, and I’ve got to lie in it. But it’s fine. It’s all going to be fine.
It will even work out for the better. I can’t make things official with Poppy until I’ve told Daisy about usandestablished healthier boundaries with Annalise. Now I can do both. A one-two punch. I’ll be home free by the end of the week.
Izzy’s asleep by the time I return, and I pause for a few minutes to watch her sleep. She never asked for any of this, and I know I’ve fucked up in the past, but that all stops now. It’s a small relief that Izzy doesn’t know about Annalise’s visit yet—I worry that if she’s given too much notice, she’ll just spend the next three days fixated on it. I’ll find a good time to tell her later in the week. Maybe after I explain it to Poppy. And Poppy will understand, won’t she? No. It’ll be better than that. Poppy will help me finally get this right.
There’s no time to talk to Poppy when she gets to the house. She’s distracted helping Izzy get ready for school and I’m running late for the restaurant, but we’ve got a date later tonight, and I’ve got every intention of explaining it then.
Until she calls me from her car just after midday.
“Hey,” I say. “What’s up?”
“The school called,” she says. “Izzy doesn’t feel well and they asked me to pick her up.”
My apron’s off, and I’m halfway to the front door before she finishes her sentence. “I’m coming now.”
“No. Dylan. I’m on my way already, and you’ll just pass us on the road heading home. Meet us at the house instead. We won’t be long.”
I stall in the middle of the restaurant, eyes darting back to the kitchen, then toward the doors, and finally through the far wall in the direction of the house. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Dylan…” Poppy pauses, but even over the phone, I can tell she wants to say more.
