“I guess we should see our lawyers regarding visitation rights.” Where the fuck did that come from? When I’m nervous around Cora, I say the stupidest things. I try to rectify my mistake. “I mean—”
“You’re a fool, Thomas,” she shouts and jumps to her feet. “You can go and see your lawyer for all I care. I’ll let you see Taylor but make sure that I never clap my eyes on you. Right now, I want you to get the fuck out of my house.”
I look at her, stunned. We have a baby. Surely, she can’t be throwing me out of her house? “I didn’t mean—”
She makes as though to pick up a cushion, and I jump to my feet. “Cora, be reasonable.”
I see the red cushion flying across the room, but I’m too shocked to duck. It hits me square in the face, and before I can react, another one follows it.
“Fuck, Cora, this is beyond immature.” A rain of cushions pummels me as I hurry to the door.
There’s no point in trying to talk to her when she’s like this. I slam the door behind me. Serves her right if Taylor wakes up from her nap. I immediately feel ashamed of myself for that thought. I deserve everything Cora unleashes on me.
I want to punch myself. Why the fuck did I mention lawyers and visitation rights as if she would ever refuse me to see Taylor?
I take an Uber home.
The moment I’ve been dreading is upon me. I insert the key into the front door lock, and the moment I step into my house, I feel the difference. It’s deathly quiet, and it feels lonely. I know that last part is probably my mind playing games with my head.
I spend the next hour or so cleaning up. All through the morning, I’m thinking of what Cora and Taylor are doing. I know her schedule perfectly. All I have to do is glance at the time, and I’ll know if she’s feeding, sleeping, or staring into space and just looking adorable.
***
“I can’t believe that she kicked you out again, but I have to say, you deserve it every time.” Martin wipes tears from the sides of his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” I tell him miserably.
It’s been the longest week of my life. I’ve gone to Cora’s to see Taylor, and I’ve made sure to abide by Cora’s wishes and go when she’s at work. It’s Friday evening, and I asked Fran to invite me to their place for dinner.
I can’t stand my own company anymore. She’s taken Willow to bed, and Martin and I are relaxing with a beer each on the porch, enjoying the warm weather.
“You miss Cora.” It’s a statement rather than a question.
“I do, more than I thought possible,” I admit. I thought that by now, I’d have fallen into a routine of my own. And I suppose I have, but it doesn’t bring me satisfaction or joy. Neither does my work. Everything that I enjoyed doing has lost its sparkle.
“You’re the most stubborn man I know,” Martin says. “Why not just admit that you fell in love with her and move on from there? Marry the woman and become a family.”
Fear wraps itself tightly around my heart, but it doesn’t last for long. I tentatively give thought to Martin’s question. What am I really afraid of?
Is it to lose Cora? No, it’s not that. I know that the chances of something like that happening again are akin to lightning striking the same place twice. Then it dawns on me what I’m afraid of.
I’m afraid of losing Cora to another man. I’m afraid that when work consumes me, as it inevitably does sometimes, she’ll turn elsewhere to find love and attention.
The moment that thought forms in my mind, I see the ridiculousness of it. Cora is not Tessa. Her values are different, and in any case, I’ve learned from my mistakes. There’s no way I could neglect Cora and Taylor when they are the two people who bring me the most joy.
The memories come then of Cora staring at Taylor, her eyes brimming with tears of love and then shifting the same gaze to me. Of Cora laughing and clutching her stomach. Of Cora asleep looking so peaceful and happy.
I want all of that again. I want a full, busy life again. I want to go home to my girls every night. I want Taylor to keep me up at all hours of the night while I pace and try to soothe her back to sleep.
I want her mother in my arms—until death do us part.
The front door opens softly, and Fran steps out. “She’s out like a light.” She goes to Martin and kisses him, and then sinks into a rocking chair. “I hope you managed to talk some sense into him.”