She thinks about that for a second. “All my friends have a mommy. Why can’t I?”
Callan puts his hands on her shoulders. “Your mommy—”
“I know she’s in heaven,” she says. “But Gemma can be my stepmother.”
“What do you know about stepmothers?” Callan asks.
“Brooklyn has a stepmother. She doesn’t like her, though. She’s a mean stepmother.” Kaitlyn glances up at me. “She’s not nice like you.”
“I’m glad you think I’m nice.” I tap her nose and note how shaky my finger is. “I think you’re nice, too.”
“Then you can be my stepmother,” she says, like the matter is simple, when it’s anything but.
Callan rakes his hand through his hair and glances up at me, an apology in his eyes.
“It’s fine,” I say my voice low for his ears only. Maybe Callan and I shouldn’t be playing house. Maybe this was a bad idea, for so many reasons. Maybe I should put an end to this now, before I too am asking for more, for something he can’t give. “Kids her age go through phases. She’ll probably forget by tomorrow.”
“You think?”
I nod. “Come on.” I swing Kaitlyn’s arm. “Let’s head back and check on Gilbert the guinea pig before we get changed for the fireworks.”
“I love Gilbert,” Kaitlyn says and hugs her free arm to her chest and rocks. “He’s so snuggly.”
We make our way to a side street where Callan parked his car, and we all climb in. Kaitlyn talks nonstop on the way home and Callan shakes his head.
“Too much sugar,” he says.
“I see I’ve been a good influence on her,” I tease and he reaches across the seat, takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.
“You have been,” he says and looks straight ahead, like he has something on his mind.
“I’m glad you’re going out with the guys tonight,” I tell him.
“Why’s that?” he asks, sounding distracted.
“I’ve been monopolizing all your time. It will be good for you to get out.”
We pull into his driveway and he scrubs his face. His thoughts are clearly elsewhere. “Yeah, I guess,” he says and unbuckles.
Kaitlyn jumps from the backseat and makes a beeline for the front door. We follow her up and my stomach is tight. What does Callan have on his mind? After his daughter asking if I was going to be her mother, is he thinking maybe we need to end this? Maybe we shouldn’t be setting Kaitlyn up for disappointment…maybe I shouldn’t be setting myself up for it.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
My heart is a little heavy as we head inside and change into long pants and we all grab sweaters. The air gets much cooler at night, even in the summer. I plaster on a smile, not wanting Callan to think there is anything wrong as we all pile back into his car.
A short while later, we find a grassy spot at the park, which is filled with people, and we settle in to watch the show. Kaitlyn is so hyped, she’s running circles around us, but then stops abruptly.
“Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom.”
“I can take her,” I say and glance at the line near the portables.
“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll take her. Come on, kiddo. Let’s hurry before the show starts.” Callan jumps up, and the sun slips lower on the horizon when he disappears into the crowd. I dig into my purse and pull out my phone, about to text Amanda, to make sure we’re still on for dinner tomorrow night.
As I text, Callan drops back down next to me. “That was fast,” I say but my heart leaps into my throat when I turn and find Brad sitting next to me. He tugs his legs up and wraps his arms around them. “What are you doing here?” I ask and glance around.
He gestures with a nod to the portables. “Lover boy is in the line,” he says. “It’s just you and me.” He eyes me for a second. “Relax, Gemma.”
My heart crashes against my chest. “What do you want?”
He shuffles closer and I move from the blanket to the grass. “You know what I want.”
“And you know I’m with Callan,” I say. “Didn’t we make that clear at the weekend gathering?”
“You’re not really with him, Gemma.” He snorts. “I know all about his wife, and how she died, and how he’s not interested in doing that all over again, so believe me when I say I know you’re not really with him.”
“I don’t know where you got your information. But you’re wrong,” I say, even though it’s a lie. Brad is telling me the hard truth that I haven’t wanted to face as we played house this last month. “You should leave.”
“No, Gemma, you’re the one who should leave. If you think he’s going to give you what you want, you’re wrong.”
“You don’t know anything about us.”
“Now that’s where you’re wrong. I know everything.” I open my mouth to tell him to leave, but he cuts me off. “You always wanted a family, and children of your own. He’s not going to give you that, Gemma.” A fast pause and then, “I will, though. We used to talk about that, remember?”
Tears fill my eyes, and I work to blink them back. “I remember a lot of things, Brad, and most of them aren’t good.”
“Things will be different this time.”
“You said that to me many times to get me back, but things never changed, Brad. You have anger issues and need therapy.”
“That’s because you continued to do things that angered me, baby. If you would just stop that…”
I shake my head. Just like a typical narcissist, he’s turning the blame on me. Gaslighting me. But I’m stronger now. Being with Callan, a man who treats me with respect, has taught me so much, about myself, and life. I hate that I stayed with him as long as I did, that I believed he would change, that he cared about me enough to try. I was broken then. But I’m not now. Callan helped put the pieces of myself back together.
“We were good,” he says in a low soft voice, the same one he used to use when he swore things would get better. But I’m not that girl he once knew. I’m a different person now, and it’s not going to work. “Remember how much fun we had when we went to that bed and breakfast on the lake last year?”
“I remember,” I say. “Things were good at first, then you got angry when I nearly tipped the canoe. Do you remember that, Brad?”
He ignores the comment and says, “We made love by the fire that night. Remember how good that was?”
I shake my head as my blood rushes faster through my veins, and once again, the world spins around me. I calm myself as my mind goes back to that weekend, and what I remember—Brad taking me rough, getting off and rolling over and going to sleep.
“Just leave, please,” I say and inject authority into my voice.
His voice takes on a hard edge when he says, “You’ll be mine again, Gemma. I promise you that.”
“I don’t want you, Brad. I want Callan, and you’ll never be half the man he is.”
His twisted smirk slithers down my spine and elicits a hard shiver. “Yeah, but he’ll never really be yours, now will he? The sooner you realize that, the sooner you’ll come back to me.”