A Co-Worker's Crush Page 6

  “What?” I put on her other sock.

  “That’s not Santa. Plus Knox’s mommy said that Santa is her friend, and she was going to give him my letter, so I don’t have to go see one of his helpers.”

  We’ve been over this so many times. But I have to get her to ask Santa for anything else before Christmas morning.

  My phone buzzes on the table, but I ignore it. “I thought we’d go to the big toy store in the city, then go see Santa.”

  She blows out a breath. “Okay.”

  I’m shocked she agreed. I set down my coffee and pick up my cell phone, seeing Michael’s name on the screen right before my phone dings a bunch of times. “Go get your sweater and bring me your brush to do your hair before we leave.”

  She jumps off the couch. Lately, we haven’t had time to spend together just us, so I was excited for today. Until Michael called.

  I read his stream of messages filled with vulgar language. I’d better respond before he shows up at the door. Instead of getting in a text war with him, I call him to confront this head-on. It rings once before he picks up. I step onto the balcony-slash-fire escape, shivering when the cold air hits me.

  “Michael,” I say.

  “What the hell, Frankie? Sole custody? You act like I’ve tried to take her away from you. Why are you doing this?”

  “I’m doing this because she needs consistency in her life.” I don’t want to throw Sandy under the bus, but I so badly want to call him out about leaving.

  “She has it. I barely come around.”

  “Exactly.” I look behind me to see if Jolie’s there, but she’s not.

  “I cannot believe you’re going to try to take her away from me. You know I don’t have any money to fight you. My mom won’t even give me any to fight you. Jolie’s mine.”

  There was a time when I felt bad for Michael. I know his family history, that the addiction and physical assaults trickled down from his father to him. I think that’s why Sandy harbors so much guilt. She stayed with Michael’s dad until he died. The night I realized I had to leave Michael for good was when she told me that when Michael’s dad took his final breath, she exhaled a sigh of relief. It was the first time since they’d been married that she felt safe.

  I refused to be there in twenty years or allow Jolie to fall into the same pattern.

  “Get clean and we’ll talk.”

  “I am clean.”

  “Michael,” I sigh.

  “Mommy!” Jolie runs into the room.

  I glance over my shoulder and she stops on a dime, staring at me outside. Her smile turns into a frown. She knows I come out here so she can’t hear me.

  I cover the receiver and poke my head in. “Why don’t you water Earl really quick?”

  “Earl? You’re with some guy named Earl? And what the hell does that mean, water him?”

  “Jesus, Michael, get off that shit.”

  “Listen, just give me some time. I swear I’ll straighten out.”

  I’m used to this song and dance though, and I’ve fallen for it more than once. “As soon as you get clean, you can challenge the ruling. If things are good, you’ll be granted visitation.”

  For Jolie’s sake, I hope Michael gets clean one day, but he’s not even close to hitting rock bottom. As much as I wish losing any custody rights to Jolie would be the bottom for him, it’s probably not. Which tells me I’m making the right choice.

  “How did they even find me anyway?”

  “I know your hang-outs, and this is important. You can’t keep floating in and out of her life, Michael. It’s not fair to her, and it’s not fair to me to have to pick up the pieces every time you say you’re coming, and you don’t. Or when you stop by and she thinks it’s to see her but really you’re looking to steal something to pawn or to ask for money.”

  “Goddamn it, Frankie!” A loud pounding sound echoes through the phone, and I think a door, or a countertop is absorbing his anger this time.

  “I’m not changing my mind. Sign the papers and make this easy. Otherwise we’ll go to court. I’m pretty sure it’ll be the same result when they see what you’ve done while you’re using. I may not have reported you, but I took pictures, Michael.” I poke my head in to see Jolie talking to Earl as she waters him with the watering can we bought. “I have to go. She’s here and I’m not having this conversation in front of her.”

  “I’m coming over for Christmas,” he says.

  “You’re not welcome.”

  “As of right now, she’s mine. I have rights to her.”

  “She’s not a piece of property, she’s a person,” I say, my heart rate picking up at the thought of him showing up on Christmas morning.

  “You better be there, otherwise…”

  “Otherwise what?”

  “Just be there, Frankie. With Jolie. You two are my family.”

  “We aren’t anymore.”

  Another sound of him hitting something.

  “I’m hanging up. Merry Christmas, Michael. I do hope you get the help you need.”

  “No, you—”

  I hang up the phone and put it on silent. Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath of cold air. I’ve let him in before, but not this time. This time, things need to change for good.

  “Ready, Mommy?” Jolie appears at the doorway to the balcony and looks at the phone in my hand.

  “Yep. Let’s go.” I go back into the apartment, knowing my train ride into the city will be spent ignoring a barrage of texts.

  I stare out the train window as the buildings get closer together until we’re in the city. I’m not exactly in the mindset I hoped to spend the day with Jolie in, but such is our life. I wonder what it’s like to not feel as if something is coming for you all the time.

  Walking around the toy store, Jolie sets her eyes on the rack of dolls. She kneels on the floor and touches each and every box.

  “Would you like a baby doll like that?” I ask.

  She purses her lips. “I’d like a brother or a sister.”

  My stomach drops. “Well, you could practice on a doll.” I hope she takes the bait.

  “The doll can’t talk.” She stands and walks farther down the aisle.

  “Neither can Earl,” I murmur to myself.

  She stops at a scooter but doesn’t linger. When I was her age, I would’ve died to have any of these toys.

  “Crafts? You could ask Santa for some crafts.”

  “Mommy.” Her small shoulders fall. “I already told Santa what I want.”

  “Okay, well, I have to get you something too. What do you want from me?”

  She walks ahead and watches a few kids playing at a train table. “I told Santa two things, and he’s gonna get me one of them, so I don’t really need anything else.”

  She continues perusing the store while I watch. I’m so telling her this story when she’s old enough. And hope her own child puts her in the spot I’m in right now.

  “How about one of those dogs that barks, and you take for a walk?”

  She shakes her head.

  I look at my phone to check the time. “It’s almost our time for Santa. We better go.”

  “Okay.”

  I take her hand, and we walk out of the toy store and down the block to where Santa is. I check-in with our name. Who knew nowadays you have to make an appointment to see Santa Claus and then you still have to wait?

  As we inch up in the line, Jolie points out Santa’s workshop, the little elves, and the fake snow. It’s magical and she seems to be eating it up. Thank goodness.

  Soon it’s our turn and the elf opens the barrier for Jolie to go sit on Santa’s lap, which she does with no problem. The woman takes a picture—as do I, because I’m not spending fifty dollars for them to print a picture on their color printer.

  “Now what do you want for Christmas?” Santa asks in a jolly voice.

  Jolie smiles at him. “It’s okay, I know you’re not him.”

  The kids close in line gasp and look at
their mothers and fathers. I lower my head in embarrassment.

  “I gave my letter to one of Santa’s friends. I’m sure he’s got it,” Jolie says.

  Santa doesn’t even blink. “Well, Santa checks in with me. So if you tell me what you asked for, I’ll make sure he got your letter.”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. He knows. Have a Merry Christmas.” She hops off his lap.

  The elf looks at me like WTF, lady?

  “So sorry,” I mouth and take Jolie’s hand. While shoving her back into her coat, we head in any direction that leads away from Santa. “Jolie, why wouldn’t you just tell Santa what you want?”

  “I told you I wasn’t going to.”

  I blow out a breath. “Let’s just go home.”

  I’m silent on the train ride home because I’m going to have to break my daughter’s heart on Christmas morning. Hopefully, she’ll understand that she’s asking for too much. Then I remember she’s only five.

  We get off the train and walk back to our apartment, but the hair on the back of my neck raises when we turn onto our block. I look around, not seeing anything unusual. I’m sure that by now, Michael has gone and gotten high, so he didn’t have to feel anything about me suing him for full custody. We walk closer to our building and almost stop in my tracks.

  “Daddy?” Jolie drops my hand.

  I look up, finding Michael outside of our apartment doors.

  “There’s my girl.” He holds out his arms, but she doesn’t run to him as she once would have.

  We slowly approach. Michael snatches Jolie up in a hug, but she remains limp in his arms.

  “Aren’t you excited to see me?” he asks.

  “You should have called, Michael.”

  He lowers Jolie to the ground, and I grab her hand.

  “I called you this morning,” he says in a biting voice.

  He’s obviously been using, so I insert my key into the door and usher Jolie inside the building.

  “Seriously, Frankie, you’re just going to go inside and not let me see her?”

  “Maybe we can make arrangements for you to see her, but no surprise visits anymore.” I go to slide into the apartment door, but he slams the glass door shut before I can make it.

  “Mommy!” Jolie cries.

  I smile and hold up my finger at her, trying to appear relaxed. Circling around, he cages me against the apartment building.

  “She’s right there, Michael,” I whisper.

  He looks through the glass as though he had a momentarily lapse of memory. “She doesn’t even want to be with me.”

  “What do you expect? You’re never around. You’re in and out of her life like a turnstile.” I grip the door handle. Jolie tries to push it open, and I slam it shut with my butt.

  He shakes his head but doesn’t move.

  “Just go,” I beg.

  His eyes stay on me and my hand cramps from holding the door handle so hard, but I’d never let go and let Jolie get in the middle of this. A car pulls up along the curb and squawks its siren.

  “That your cop friend?” Michael glances over his shoulder and shakes his head. “This isn’t over.”

  He walks away, but it isn’t until Knox gets out of the car that I release my grip on the door. Jolie opens the door and runs over to him. He gives me an apologetic smile and keeps her occupied for a minute while I sit on the curb and pull out my phone.

  Me: Do you mind some guests for Christmas this year?

  Three dots appear immediately. And I know they’ll both be super sweet about it.

  Dylan: I was kind of sick of Rian anyway. ;)

  Rian: I need some girl time.

  Me: Thanks. I promise we’ll be gone right after Christmas.

  Rian: Stay as long as you want.

  Dylan: Need any help?

  I look at Jolie, who has come up beside me and cuddled in, looking as if she could fall asleep any second.

  Me: I’m good. See you tonight.

  Rian: You have the key, let yourself in.

  If I had a minute to decompress, I’d probably burst into tears over having such good people in my life. But I don’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I have to get my daughter somewhere safe.

  Chapter Nine

  Jax

  * * *

  Seth examines the tree, his head tipping right then left. “You paid money for this?”

  “Earl. His name is Earl.” Jolie’s busy watering the tree. “What’s your tree’s name, Rian?”

  “Yeah, Rian, what’s your tree’s name?” Seth mocks. One day Jolie might stomp on his foot when she figures out what sarcasm is.

  “Um.” Rian glances at their perfectly decorated tree with an “Our First Christmas” ornament prominently displayed. “Glenda?”

  “Glenda?” I scoff.

  Rian gives me that death stare like she did in the back of the bakery. “She’s the good witch.”

  None of us say anything.

  “Seriously? No one? Wizard of Oz…” Rian adds.

  “The hottie in the big pink puffball of a dress?” Seth asks. He’s walking on thin ice.

  “As opposed to the one dressed in black with the green face. Yes, Seth. That one.” Rian rolls her eyes.

  Jolie walks back over. “Earl, this is Glenda. Remember we’re her guests.”

  Seth raises his eyebrows at me.

  I shrug, a little protective, like it’s no big deal that Jolie’s formed a relationship with a Christmas tree.

  “So since tomorrow is Christmas morning, how long is Earl staying with us?” Seth asks.

  After Frankie called Dylan about staying with them for a few days, I got the lowdown from Knox that her ex had cornered her at the apartment. Although I want to find her ex and ask him why he’d think that’s appropriate to do in front of his little girl, I refrain because it’s really none of my business. Besides, I don’t want to make things worse for Frankie.

  But Jolie demanded that Earl had to come too. Frankie only lives seven blocks away, but Dylan and I had to carry Earl here, fully decorated, while Jolie acted like an overprotective mother watching her son get a tattoo.

  “As long as he’s healthy,” I say.

  “Jolie waters him every day,” Rian calls from the kitchen. “Glenda’s losing needles like she’s aged ten years, but Earl there is still fully covered.”

  Seth crosses his arms, inspecting the difference. “Way to hold up, man. Stayin’ healthy for the ladies.”

  I raise my eyebrows at Seth because he’s talking to the tree.

  “Want to help me, Jolie?” Rian asks from the kitchen, cookie cutters in the air.

  It’s Dylan’s late night at the shop and Frankie was booked solid. Since I’m pretty much appointment only through the holidays, I came over here on a last-minute quest to change Jolie’s mind about what she’s expecting tomorrow morning when she wakes up.

  “So did you get it yet?” Seth whispers.

  I grab my beer and walk out to the balcony that overlooks Ink Envy and the street below. I’ve yet to talk to anyone about the Santa letter and since tomorrow’s D-day, I guess I’m going to Seth for advice. He’s a pretty cool guy. I haven’t known him as long as Knox and Dylan, but I think I can trust his judgment. He follows and we rest our forearms on the cold metal railing.

  I ask, “Get what?”

  “The dog of course. Why? Are you thinking a wedding ring?”

  “What?” I screech.

  “Your answer was vague.” He sips his beer.

  “I’m not getting either. Frankie said she’d handle it, but from what I hear, Jolie’s still adamant about the whole ‘I wrote Santa a note’ thing. Rian tried to give her a toy catalog she wanted no part of. Frankie took her toy shopping. She’s going to bed expecting me with a bow on my head and a pin with Daddy written on it in the morning. Either that or a four-legged furball that she can’t have in her apartment.”

  As though Winston, Rian and Dylan’s dog, knows what we’re talking about, he waddles out
with us and lifts his leg on the fake grass pad they have out here for him. The life of a dog in a city. All Frankie’s got is a fire escape she thinks can be used as a balcony. I rub my calf. It still hurts from the fall that day.

  “You guys are screwed. Did I ever tell you the story about how my brother ruined it all for me? By the time I was five, I no longer believed. It sucked because it’s like parents get lazy once they find out you know. There are no more surprises. They might as well just wrap the gifts up right in front of you. I’m still pissed about it. Being the youngest sucks.”

  I finish my beer and allow it to dangle from my hand. “Shit, you don’t even want to know what it was like for me.”

  Although Seth would listen to my pitiful ass story, I’m not going to tell him how I don’t even remember ever believing in Santa Claus. Which is what happens when you end up at a foster care house where Christmas morning is like every other day. The only gift you get is one that someone donated from a card you filled out with your name, age, gender, and two items you might want. Some years you got something and some you didn’t. The older you got, the less chance you had of receiving anything.

  Thinking about my depressing childhood, I realize there’s no way I can let Jolie wake up tomorrow morning and not get what she wants. I turn away from the street and look inside at her laughing with Rian as they cut cookies and lay them on the baking sheets. I can’t be the reason her belief in the magic of Christmas is stripped away.

  “I’ll be back. I gotta go,” I say.

  Seth laughs. “Not without me, you aren’t.”

  Good thing I never gave my key back to Rian and Dylan after I moved out. Not that it matters much. If one of them is home, the door is usually unlocked. As with most of us who live on this floor. Knox swears one day someone is going to rob us all blind. And he’s probably not wrong.