It cleared my head, allowed the girls to have some childhood glee, and brought me much closer to Walker. I also got to see what a relationship between him and my girls would look like, and I love what I saw. Not only would Noelle and Breanna not stop gushing about him, or asking when he would come over and play again, but I got to see how good he is with kids.
I’m not looking for a new father for them, or even considering the possibility that I’ll commit to someone so deeply so fast after my divorce is finalized. But it was a good sign that he could help prepare their meals while I juggled getting them set up at the table. And I appreciated how seamless he made everything; usually it’s me dealing with my daughters alone on all road trips or vacations, Shane was never much help.
Not to mention, Walker and I got some rare couple time in a place that we didn’t have to shy away from displaying our attraction in public. No one who was on the short weekend stay is going to say anything about us, and it’s everything to be able to share a bed with the man I am seeing. As a single mom, especially one who is divorcing a man with a jealous streak and many connections, I didn’t really get to do that.
Falling asleep in Walker’s arms, waking up to him for those couple of mornings? It’s kept my heart warm and confident in the past week, when we’ve returned to reality and have to resume sneaking around.
I’m supposed to meet Dahlia at the nail salon after she drops the girls off for a little R & R while they’re with their father. Plus, it’s been a hot minute since my toes have seen a pedicure and the winter hasn’t been kind to them.
So I’m shocked when my sister walks in, thirty minutes after the time she said she’d meet me, with both of my daughters, who are carrying on about which nail polish color they want.
“Hey.” I try to affix a neutral smile to my face as I bend down to kiss Noelle and Breanna.
Dahlia shakes her head at me, as if instructing me not to ask until the girls are out of earshot. “We wanted to all come and get our nails done with Mommy!”
Her voice holds so much fake enthusiasm that I know something is wrong.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” Lily, the woman who owns the local nail salon and has known me and my girls for years, comes over to hug them. “Come with me, girls, and you can soak your feet in the bubbles!”
Either she knows I need a minute alone with Dahlia, or she really is just a godsend and loves spending time with my daughters. Either way, I shoot her a glance that says thank you.
“What’s going on?” I ask as the girls go to the back with Lily, their excited chatter echoing to the front of the shop.
“I waited for him in the driveway for half an hour. Called the house, his cell. Rang the doorbell, even tried to peer in a few windows. Either he was avoiding me, or he wasn’t home. No matter how you slice it, he missed his visit.”
My heart sinks, because this seems to be a pattern lately. First, it was the indecisiveness when planning visits, which was odd because he really wasn’t doing anything else now that he’s suspended from the league. And now it’s missing visits?
“Shit …” I rub my chin, trailing off. “Do you think something is wrong?”
Dahlia rolls her eyes. “Please, don’t stick up for him.”
I immediately get defensive. “You really think I would? I just think it’s not like him to miss this, especially with how hard he’s been fighting on the custody issue.”
During the last round of mediation, which he didn’t bother to show up to but instead sent his lawyer, Shane rebuffed my suggestion that I retain primary custody and we work out a schedule for his visitation. I have no clue why he wants a fifty-fifty split, seeing as he never bothered to parent when we were actually living under the same roof.
“I think we should google him. I’m sure he’s got some shit on his social media.” Dahlia buries her head in her phone.
It’s not her worst idea, though part of me does not want to find out what’s being said by trolls and haters.
I haven’t been online in a month or two, mostly for my own sanity. I was never much of a social media poster, so it doesn’t bother me to stay away from those apps. I know any comments on there, or news articles, about Shane and me would be awful. I don’t need to know what random strangers on the Internet think about my divorce or the abuse.
But if Dahlia couldn’t get in touch with my husband, though hopefully, that status will be changing soon, then this is probably the next best option. He’s a public figure. If he’s out, someone has probably spotted him somewhere.
A couple of the most recent articles just detail what is going on with our divorce case, or how Shane is fighting the ruling that the baseball commissioners sent down suspending him from playing for any team right now.
But then one headline catches my eye: Former Baseball Hunk Mourns Death of Marriage with New Companions.
I click on it, my heart already in my throat. And then the sting of reality flicks my tear ducts, and the back of my neck. There, in a full spread before the article even starts, are a dozen pictures of Shane running around some beach with four different models. All thin, way too young, and barely clad. Scrolling back up, I check the date of the article … yesterday.
“This says he’s in Miami,” I croak, holding up my phone to show my sister.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Dahlia snatches it, scrolling through the pictures herself. “These girls look like they’re barely eighteen. And he missed a visit to go frolicking with them! Without even telling you, or explaining to the girls he wouldn’t be around?”
A sickening sense travels down my spine, because I know she’s right. “He went on vacation, when I’m here trying to provide for these girls. First, he takes away their financial security, and then withholds his love.”
My temper is getting the best of me, but I can’t help it. I’ve been quiet through this process, to the point of appearing weak. To both strangers, and those that know me.
Someday, the girls will get wind of this. That’s what hurt the most. Of course, I wanted them all to myself, of course, Shane missing a scheduled court visit will reflect poorly on him which bodes well for me. But I never want my daughters in harm’s way. I never want them to know that their own father gave up time with them to live out a midlife crisis. I never want them to know any of the ugly details of our marriage.
“After seeing this, fuck his threats about Walker. You should gallivant that shit all over the place. Dry hump your boyfriend in the middle of Central Street.” Dahlia is getting fired up.
“Does that sound like me?” I snort, because she’s being ridiculous even if she’s trying to console me. “I’m not the one to dry hump in public.”
My pointed eyebrow goes straight to her, and she shrugs innocently. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She and Clark were awfully cozy during our winter getaway, but my sister is remaining tight-lipped about what actually went down. I am curious to know if it’s because the fling is over, or because she kind of likes him, which would be rare for her.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, deciding not to get off topic. “Even if he’s running around with college co-eds, it doesn’t mean I get to do the same. I have everything to lose, and he knows it. It’s why he’s being so reckless, he thinks he can fall back on his athlete status and money.”