El doesn’t call or text me. Neither do I. I slip the phone inside my breast pocket, tired of waiting for a call I am sure will never come. It fucking stings. Staring at the phone, hoping for a text or a missed call from her. It won’t come but I keep hoping, checking. Less than a week apart from her and it feels like the end.
The conversation would have ended differently if we weren’t so intent on hurting each other. I didn’t lie. She’s a flee or flight woman. I need her to be my ride or die. I am her ride or die, together forever.
God. This is fucking it. The end of our love story. Good things really don’t last. We didn’t even get up to eight months like last time. I stare at the roof of the car until it blurs, my eyes sting from trying not to break down.
El hates me. She fucking hates me.
I rub circles on Wyn’s back absentmindedly, careful not to rumple her uniform. Another sigh escapes me, Bren looks up from her position by the window and I muster a smile. Is she thinking about us?
She has been too quiet.
The car stops. “Time to go.” I ruffle their hair. Wyn swats my hand and Bren offers me a tight smile. They know something is amiss. The house hasn’t been the same since El left but they are not bold enough to ask. For strange reasons, I hop out of the car with them and a gust of wind slams into me. “Be good, okay?”
They nod. I take turns to hug them tight. I won’t be seeing my little princesses until Friday. That routine feels like so long ago. I don’t want to return to that lifestyle. Sadly, we don’t always get what we want.
Wyn bounces off to the entrance, I watch the more bubbly twin skitter up the stairs until she disappears through the doors. “Daddy?” I look down at the little girl staring at me. “Are you coming to pick us?”
A jolt of pain stabs me, I shake my head. Her eyes water. The dagger in my chest twists, lodging deeper with each shaky breath she takes. I hoist my little girl on my hip, wipe the tears leaking down her cheeks.
“Don’t cry, Princess.” If I didn’t have to be the man, I would be bawling my eyes out with Bren. I miss her Mummy too but she is a self-centred ass who will always choose T over us. “Mummy is coming to pick you.” I force a smile to my lips and a cheer to my voice. “Wouldn’t you like that?” We haven’t seen El since she left. “Mummy and her girls.”
The girls might have heard from her but I haven’t. She won’t call me and I won’t either. We already said what we needed to say to each other. Without voicing it out, we have returned to our former lifestyle and routines.
“I don’t want only Mummy to pick me, I want both of you to pick us,” she breathes out against my neck, soaking my shirt with her tears. I stroke her back. “Daddy, please tell Mummy. We want both of you.”
She knows. The butterflies in my belly die a slow death, my heart lurches against my chest. I want that too. Me and El as a team. I wish that night never happened. Maybe I should have told her earlier. But how? One year turned into two, the rift grew and our only conversations ranged between the kids and their routines. There was no way I could have told her I helped two years ago. How the fuck was I supposed to know she had a backup when she wouldn’t even talk to me about the problem? I don’t want my babies to suffer for this.
I should have minded my business. But it’s too late. I understand her hesitance to tell me about Brianna better. It is never easy to confess even if the decision is influenced by good intentions. I plant a sloppy kiss on Bren’s temple. That’s all I have got for her and her sister. Kisses and unconditional love.
“Will you come to the house?” She peers at me, her brown eyes identical to El’s. My brain goes blank as I try to think up a smooth lie. In the end, I settle for shaking my head. “Is Mummy sending you away again?
Again. That word feels like a cord around my neck. I loosen my tie. “Yes.”
Her arms tighten around my neck. We are in our little bubble, ignoring the bell and the kids racing to the door. If El wasn’t so selfish, she would have considered the girls. She might be fine living far from me. But they are not. I am not. Why does it have to be about her and not the girls? Their feelings come first.
“Is it because of something we did?”
Anger boils my insides, I hook a finger under her jaw. Bren clamps her eyes shut and more tears roll down her cheeks. The girls are a handful sometimes. Talk about swapping salt with sugar or trying to do laundry but I won’t have them any other way. They are the most wonderful kids any parents could have.
“Hey. Look at me.” Bren lifts her eyes to my face and I almost forget what I should have said. The pad of my thumb brushes her cheek, I try and fail to smile. We put that sad look in those innocent eyes. We promised to protect them yet we are the cause of their tears. We are awful parents. “Princess, this is not your fault. I promise.” She nods and I catch a lone tear from falling. Her lips tremble. “It is not your fault. It is not Wyn’s fault. Okay?”
She sniffs, her gaze pleading with me to fix this. “Then why? Why is Mummy sending you away?”
A defeated sigh escapes me, my shoulder sags. There’s no point lying. El is not the bad guy in this story. I am. I am always the bad guy so it makes sense to take all the blame. I tuck her hair behind her ear and press a kiss to her neck. “I hurt her feelings.” Bren rolls her eyes, I let out a soundless laugh. “She’s hurt.”
Her nose wrinkles, her thinking face comes on. I am lucky to have both girls. “But Wyn hurts my feelings all the time and I don’t send her away.” She yanks a strand of my beard. “Why can’t she forgive you?”
Yes, El. Why can’t you forgive me? I’m sorry.
“It’s different with adults.” So complicated and I wish it didn’t have to be. She is making me and the kids suffer. I swear I won’t ruin any more chances she gives me. No more secrets. “She needs time and space to process it.”
“There’s plenty space in the house.”
I don’t hold back my laughter. “Princess, Mummy doesn’t want me at the house because I did something bad.” It is crazy how much they want us at the mansion. I thought we were doing fine in my house. Just like I thought she would forgive me again. We could have remained a happy family but I had to remind her a leopard never changes its spots. Bren sighs. I lace our fingers. “It’s like that one time Wyn misplaced your doll and you did not speak to her until she found it. Mummy’s not happy and it’s my fault, not hers. Not yours or Wyn’s.”
The sky rumbles, our gazes dart upward. “I will be late,” she says, wiggling out of my arms. She is already late. I set her to her feet and bop her nose. “Daddy, please apologise to Mummy so you can come home. I want you to come home to us.”
Her stern eyes narrow at my delayed reply. If only it is as easy as she thinks. “Okay.”
The frown on her lips doesn’t ease up, I pucker my lips for a goodbye kiss but she shakes her head. My knees weaken at her blunt refusal and I lean on the car for support. It is one thing to be rejected by your wife but by your own child? This isn’t what we meant by exercising boundaries and doing things if and only if you are comfortable with them. I force a small smile to my lips, Bren starts walking backwards.
“I love you,” I call out to her.
Bren stops. We share a glance, I hold my breath as she races to the entrance of her school without a reply.
I am seated in the backseat of the car when I realise the pain spreading through my chest is not physical. It is the broken pieces of my heart breaking all over again, piercing my chest from inside. Only now, my daughter is the cause of the heartbreak. I squeeze my knees to keep the anger, hurt and tears at bay. Everyone talks about handling heartbreak, no one tells you how to handle it when it’s done by your child.
Does she also hate me? No, she is not capable of hate. Kids act out all the time, this could be one of such moments. My nails dig into my temples, I stare blankly at my shoes as the pain in my chest worsens. Is this a taste of hell? Bren never throws a tantrum. It’s Wyn’s thing. I sigh softly. What have we done?
“Enzo.” The driver turns to me at the same time my phone pings with a reminder for my next session with Ava in five minutes. I toss the phone to the seat and lean back for support. “Take me to the office.”