He thought about her question for the rest of the drive, about staying with him and how she must feel that he didn’t do what she wanted and keep her full-time. She didn’t understand that legally he couldn’t just take her from her mom. And that even if she felt like Steph didn’t want her, Steph would fight him to keep her. It ate away at him for every mile and minute it took to get to her.
Chapter Thirteen
Trinity knocked on the door of apartment one-twelve and held her breath, hoping Emmy opened up and was okay.
“Trinity,” she called through the door.
“It’s me. I have yummy stuff for you.” She hoped that eased Emmy’s mind about opening the door.
It flew open and Emmy launched herself into Trinity’s legs and held on tight. Trinity rubbed her hand up and down Emmy’s back. “There now. I’m here. You’re okay.”
Emmy looked up at her. “I’m hungry.”
“You, my little friend, are always hungry.” She tapped Emmy on the nose, hoping to tease her back into a good mood.
Emmy unhooked her arms from Trinity’s legs and held the phone to her ear. “She’s here.” Then she handed it to her. “He wants to talk to you.”
Trinity took the phone and nudged Emmy to go back inside. “I’ve got her.”
“Thank you.” The gratitude and relief in Jon’s voice broke her heart. “I’m about ten minutes out myself.”
“No problem. I’ll feed her, put a bandage on her finger, and brush out her hair.”
Emmy looked nearly as bad as she had last week when they met.
“Is she okay?”
As good as can be expected when she stayed with her mom, Trinity thought uncharitably, but it seemed correct. “She appears to be, but you’ll see for yourself when you get here.”
“Is the place a wreck?”
Trinity glanced at the stack of dishes in the sink, the dirty pans on the stove, the empty food containers overflowing the garbage can. The floor needed to be mopped and the carpet vacuumed. The whole place smelled like cat piss.
“Your silence speaks volumes.”
Trinity simply said, “It could be worse.” If it was, she’d seriously reconsider stepping foot in the place.
She set the bag of food she’d brought on the only space available on the dining table. She put the phone on speaker, set it down, and stacked the mail that had been strewn across the table’s surface. Her nose wrinkled at the dirty dishes, but she piled those up, stacking them atop the ones cluttering the counter by the already-full sink.
“Emmy, where are the forks?”
She pulled open a drawer that had two spoons and one clean fork left.
“Take a seat at the table.” Trinity pulled out the hot container of pasta.
“That’s not spaghetti.”
“Sorry. This is the only pasta we had. It’s called Alfredo. It has chicken in it.”
“What’s the green?”
“Spinach.”
“Just try it,” Jon coaxed over the phone.
Emmy pulled a noodle out, held it up, and slowly lowered it into her mouth. Once the creamy sauce hit her tongue, she smiled. “Yum.”
“You eat that. I’m going to find you a bandage and your hairbrush.”
“Bathroom,” Emmy said around a big bite of chicken and spinach. “This is good.”
“I’m glad you like it. If you eat half, you can have your brownie.” She’d brought a large portion just in case once again Emmy hadn’t eaten in a while.
Trinity found the bandages, hairbrush, and a band. She checked out Emmy’s room across from the bathroom. Toys and stuffed animals littered the floor. Her bed wasn’t made. Two cats slept side by side, nested in a wadded-up blanket on the end of her bed.
“Go away, Puff!” Emmy banged on the table.
Trinity rushed down the hall and pushed the cat who was trying to eat Emmy’s dinner off the table. “Shoo.”
“Do the cats have food?” Jon asked.
She looked around, spotted the empty bowls on the floor, and picked up the largest to fill with water. “No.”
“Check the pantry cupboard,” he called out, his voice growing more irritated with every sentence.
She found the food, filled the bowls as all three cats twined around her legs while she tried to do it, and they jockeyed for position at each bowl she filled.
Steph either didn’t care or simply couldn’t handle taking care of her home, pets, or daughter. Sad. But also, what the fuck? How hard was it to use the dishwasher, toss the trash, and run the vacuum once in a while?
She left the messes alone, wet a paper towel, and went to Emmy and gently wiped the cut on her finger clean, covered it with the bandage, then started working the tangles out of her hair. “So, what do you think of spinach?”
Emmy shrugged. “It tastes like the sauce.”
“Who the hell are you?”
Trinity calmly ran the brush through Emmy’s hair and barely spared a glance for the lanky dirty blonde, who looked anything but friendly. The deep frown and narrowed bloodshot gaze only made her look haggard, but she had the curves men loved and legs for days. “You must be Steph. Emmy’s mom.”
“You must be the one Jon’s sleeping with,” she shot back, her words slow and slurred.
“Tone it down, Steph.” Jon’s voice had gone cold and flat.
Steph stared at the phone on the table. “What is she doing in my house?”
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Out,” she snapped. “What the hell are you feeding my kid? She hates vegetables.”
Trinity lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “She likes spinach.”
Emmy slurped up another long noodle, then popped a spinach-draped piece of chicken into her mouth to go with it.
Trinity started braiding Emmy’s hair down the back of her head.
“Who let you in?”
Trinity raised a brow at that stupid question.
Jon took over. “Emmy called me because you left her alone. You’re lucky she didn’t set the house on fire when she put a can in the microwave and blew it up.”
Steph rushed to Emmy, grabbed her arm, and shook it. “What did you do? I told you to eat the cereal I left out.”
Trinity took a step closer to Steph. “Let her go. Now.”
Jon walked in with his phone in hand, tapped it to end the call they’d been on all this time, and stared at them facing off. “Steph,” he said in warning.
She released Emmy but not without some force.
Emmy frowned, her eyes glassed over, and she rubbed her sore arm.
Trinity stepped back, took the end of the braid she’d finished, pulled it tight because it had come loose when she let go, and wrapped the band around it.
Emmy sat staring at her half-empty container of food.
Trinity went to her side and touched her chin to get her to look up. “Finished?”
She nodded.
“Let’s go see if the stars have come out yet while you work on that big, fat brownie.”
Trinity picked up Emmy, who held her plastic-wrapped brownie against her chest.
Steph stood her ground in front of them. “You’re not going anywhere with my daughter.”