Never Say Forever

“Where the fuck is the other slipper?” I begin to yank and tear through our belongings as sobs wrack my chest. If I can barely think, “I can barely fucking pack!”

The floor looks so tempting right now. I want to drop to it and curl myself into a tight ball to sob and sob. Maybe kick and scream and rage against the world. But how would that help? There’s nothing that will make this better and of one thing I’m deadly certain.

If I stay here, I risk losing my child to a man who can only hurt her.

During my internet legal fest, I read that the New York family court will consider themselves to have authority to decide on matters of visitation and custody if a child has lived within the State for a six-month period. We haven’t been here six months yet, but I’m not comforted by this. Further reading reveals pretty much anyone can bring a visitation or custody case. Mothers, fathers, stepparents and cohabitants, siblings and half siblings, grandparents, relatives and friends! The list seems endless, and yes, I’m sure it’s not as simple as all that, but Simon has money and connections and the kind of ammunition that could only serve to cripple. And while I know Carson has money and is sure to have his own kind of influence, he also happens to be the weapon from which the ammunition will be launched.

“Slippers,” I mutter, pushing the lank hair from my face as I dash from one room to another, almost collapsing on the bed in Lulu’s princess suite. All I can think of is Carson so patient sitting on the floor, wearing his silver crown as he’d attended to Lulu at her afternoon gin party as the pair conspired to make us a family.

“It’s so fucking unfair!” I grab Norman from Lu’s pillow and hug him tight to my chest. This will crush him, I silently sob. This will crush me. And devastate Lulu.

How will she ever trust me again?

But my choices are few and her heart will heal, even if I’m not sure mine ever will.

If I stay, I risk losing my child. Risk ruining her life, bringing a man into it who will only hurt her. If I go, I will destroy Carson’s love. I can’t ask him to leave with me because his past is his past no matter where we live. No matter which jurisdiction or court of law we abide by, I risk losing her.

My choices are not few. My choices are not at all.

No matter where I go, I know my heart will always be his. And I know, once he gets over this, once he moves on from what I’m about to do, I know a man like him won’t be alone very long. Maybe he’ll go back to Ardeo, drown himself in women. And though the thought is crushing and makes me want to throw down against any woman who would look at him, never mind use him, could I ever really blame him for going back there?

I should take solace in the fact that love will find him at some point, because a man as good as him deserves to love and be loved. He might fall in love a dozen times, he might marry, he might have children of his own. Maybe even a bushel of them. God knows he deserves to be on the receiving end of such unconditional love. And he has such a capacity to give. I should find solace, but I don’t.

Forcing myself to rise from Lulu’s bed, I shove Norman under my arm, and cross over to the dresser to pull out more of her clothes. My face in the mirror is . . . fucking wretched. Mascara-streaked cheeks and a red nose but my expression is tortured. Desolate. And no more than I deserve.

I swallow back the rising tide of emotion before it threatens to drown me. If the punishment fits the crime, maybe I’ll drown in my own tears of self-pity.

I swing away from the mirror, despairing how I’ll ever manage to tell him.

A man like Carson Hayes will find love again, though he might grow to hate me. Or he might never ever think of me again. Meanwhile, I know my heart is truly breaking. But I have to leave. Today. Now. Get on a flight because I can’t risk staying.

But my heart will stay here. It will always be a part of him.

CARSON

The front door slams closed behind me and I slip off my jacket, awkwardly swapping a box of donuts between my hands as I do. The donuts are for Lulu. They’re a reward for protecting my virtue this morning.

Who hits on someone in a schoolyard?

Single moms, apparently. At least, I hope she was single. Not that it matters either way to me because there’s only one woman I want hitting on me. And biting on me. Scratching me a little . . .