“Do you not have any mineral water?” she yells.
I ignore her.
“Moni, you remember Lotus, right?”
She scrutinizes every detail of Lotus’s appearance, starting at her red shoes and inspecting every inch to the wild platinum curls.
“How do you get your hair to do that?” Simone asks, her brows pinched, eyes curious.
“Um, to do what?” Lotus touches her hair uncertainly.
“Curl and stuff,” Simone answers grudgingly, like even this small interest in Lotus is being dragged from her.
“Well, it wouldn’t always.” Lotus laughs dryly. “When I first tried, it wouldn’t curl at all. It’s taken me a long time to figure out the products that work for me.”
Lotus eyes Simone’s hair, scraped back into a ponytail.
“I’d guess you’re a 3C, like me,” Lotus says.
“What’s a 3C?” Simone asks.
“It’s just a hair type. There’s a system to determine hair texture. It helps you figure out the best products.” Lotus hesitates, biting her lip before speaking. “I could help you if—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Bridget snaps from the kitchen. “Kenan, I wanted to talk about tomorrow if we can.”
“About what?” I ask with deliberate calm. I have no desire to speak privately with her. We’ll just fight, and I’d rather do that under Dr. Packer’s unbiased third-party watch.
Bridget slides a meaningful look to Lotus and then back to me. I want to tell her to leave my apartment and go ruin someone else’s Sunday, but Lotus clears her throat, drawing my attention. She shakes her head subtly.
“I need to get going. I’m catching an Uber,” she says, making her way to the door. She smiles at my daughter. “It was nice seeing you again, Simone.”
Simone pretends to be occupied with her phone and flicks a longsuffering look my way, like she’s wondering why she has to endure my new girlfriend.
“Let me at least walk you out,” I tell Lotus, my hand at her back.
“No, that’s okay,” she says quickly. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I follow her out into the hall and close the door behind me.
“Kenan, go back inside,” she whispers. “Your daughter needs you. I don’t think she’s taking this well.”
“No, but we’ll work on it tomorrow in our session, when she was supposed to find out about you. I know Bridget did this on purpose trying to catch me off guard.” I run a frustrated hand over my head. “This isn’t how I saw us spending our morning.”
“How’d you see it?” Lotus asks, walking backward to the elevator, her eyes never leaving mine.
I take a few steps in her direction, closer, so I won’t have to be loud.
“Like last night,” I say softly, and glance at the closed door. ”Spending time getting to know my new girlfriend.”
The elevator opens with a ding and she steps in, holding the door for a second and meeting my eyes, no humor in sight.
“I love the sound of that,” she says, letting the doors close.
I could ask if she likes the sound of me getting to know her better or the sound of me calling her my girlfriend. I think, I hope, it’s both.
“Tell us what you’re feeling, Simone.”
Dr. Packer’s calm tone doesn’t soothe the turbulence in my daughter’s eyes. It’s Monday, and Simone barely spoke to me yesterday when I returned from the elevator. She gave me the cold shoulder on the ride to Barclays, where Kenya’s team played. She was borderline rude when she met Jade, giving us all sullen silences and rolling eyes. If there’s such a thing as the terrible teens, we’re smack dab in the middle of it.
With her lips parted to speak, Simone flicks an uncertain look between Bridget and me, only to clamp her mouth into a stubborn line and trace the hole at the knee of her jeans with one slim finger.
“You can tell us, Simone,” Dr. Packer prods gently. “Your parents won’t get upset, and we need to all be honest if we want to make this work.”
“Daddy wasn’t honest,” she says, not looking at me.
“Simone, I didn’t mean for you to find out about Lotus that way,” I say. “But I didn’t lie to you.”
Accusation flares in the eyes Simone finally turns on me. “You said she was a friend when we saw her at the restaurant.”
“She was a friend then,” I return evenly. “We decided we . . . liked each other more not long after that. I planned to tell you about her in our session today.”
I hope the look I flash to Bridget, seated on the other side of Simone, isn’t as irritated as I feel.
“But when your mom brought you to the apartment yesterday,” I say, “it took me by surprise. I thought I’d have time to tell you. I promise I had every intention of discussing it.”
“It’s true, Simone,” Dr. Packer confirms. “It was on today’s agenda.”
“So you knew, Mommy?” Simone demands.
“Yes.” Bridget clears her throat. “I didn’t mention it because we were planning to tell you today.”
But you showing up unannounced ruined that plan, huh, Bridge?
God, I wish I could say it out loud, but I bite back the comment.
“With that said,” Dr. Packer says, “can you tell us how your father’s new relationship makes you feel?”
Simone swallows and rapidly blinks long lashes. “Sad.”
I open my mouth, ready to dive in, not even sure what I’ll say, but needing to make her feel better. Dr. Packer catches my eyes, offering a subtle shake of her head.
“Why sad?” she probes.
“Everything keeps changing,” Simone whispers, a frown gathering over her troubled eyes. “And I just want it to be how it used to be when my mom and dad were together.”
When I meet Bridget’s eyes, they hold the hint of the smugness I expect, but there’s also helplessness. Hurt. Guilt. I want to scream “You did this!” But the more distance I have between our marriage and our current situation, the more I gain perspective. I know Bridget isn’t to blame for everything. I wasn’t the best husband. Hell, on the road three quarters of every year, I wasn’t always the best father. I share that guilt in Bridget’s eyes.
“Marriages don’t always last,” Dr. Packer says. “But family does.”
Simone’s bottom lip quivers. “How long was Grandpa married to Grandma, Daddy?”
The question is a foul ball, errant, flying over the fence and landing in the middle of the conversation. All the emotions I’ve carefully suppressed bob to the surface at the mention of my father. I look to Dr. Packer for guidance and her quick nod encourages me to answer.
“Uh, they were married forty years,” I reply.
“Did you think you’d be married to Mommy that long?” Simone asks, her eyes intense, bright, scouring my face like a searchlight.
“I thought I’d be married to your mom the rest of my life, Moni.” I slant a look at Bridget’s increasingly strained expression. “I took my wedding vows very seriously.”
“So did I,” Bridget says, her words curt. “Just because I made a mistake doesn’t mean I didn’t value our vows.”
I don’t answer because this isn’t the time to rehash my past with Bridget, but to acclimate Simone to my future with Lotus.
“You were gone so much,” Bridget mutters.
God, if that woman burps she finds a way to blame me for it.
“That still doesn’t excuse . . .” I smother the words and my anger before continuing. “It’s behind us now. We both made mistakes and it’s time we moved on.”
“Are you gonna leave me if I make a mistake, too?” Simone twists her fingers into an anxious knot in her lap.
“Never.” I reach over and gently tilt her face until she looks at me. “I won’t ever leave you, Moni.”
“What’s the difference?” she whispers, glaring. The daggers in her eyes stab my heart, and I struggle to keep my voice even while I’m bleeding inside.
“I can’t undo my blood in your veins,” I tell her. “You’re part of me and nothing can make me not your father.”
“But the divorce made Mommy not your wife,” she says, her eyes shiny and the same exact shade of begging blue as her mother’s. “You can’t forgive her?”
I look past Simone to catch Bridget’s alert stare, and then to Dr. Packer.
“Tell her, Kenan,” Dr. Packer says.
“I don’t know, honey,” I reply honestly, shrugging. “I’m sure I’ll forgive her one day, but we won’t ever be married again. It’s not going to happen.”
“Because of her,” Simone says, her voice carrying a bitter edge. “You’re so busy with Lotus that—”
“Simone, don’t,” I warn, as close to sharp as I’ll be, keeping my voice gentle, but not having it. “You know your mother and I were apart long before I met Lotus.”
“So you’re already in love with her, or what?” Simone scoffs, but her bravado doesn’t hide the hurt and fear.
“I care about her a lot. We’re in a relationship. I think you’d really like—”
“Are we done?” she cuts me off, jerking her glance to Dr. Packer.
“We actually have a few more minutes.” Dr. Packer glances at her watch. “But we’re almost finished and—”
“I’m done.” Simone stands abruptly and strides to the door. “I’ll be in the car, Mommy.”
The door slams behind her and I release a heavy breath, lean forward, and rest my elbows on my knees. My head feels so heavy in my hands. My heart, like lead in my chest.
“Well, that went well,” Bridget drawls dryly.
The tenuous hold on my frustration snaps. I swivel my head to scowl at her.