“Because plastic cleats are more important than developing a relationship with the father who missed out on his first five years? Or because he’s going to be the next David Beckham and missing one practice will ruin his future career?” Harvey said sardonically.
“No, because his routine and his well-being are more important than your little tantrum. You’re going to stand up and stomp your feet and yell mine-mine-mine and demand that they miss team practice and birthday parties and anything else that isn’t 100% about you and how you were wronged and they owe you time,” she spat back at him, “Be pissed at me. That’s fine. I deserve it, but don’t take it out on them. Don’t disrupt their lives and be a self-centered jackhole.”
“Did you just call me a jackhole?”
“Yes! I did. Because making your son miss his soccer practice so he can admire your brilliance is a shitty thing to do.”
“He doesn’t even know he’s my son, Bella.”
“I’d like to keep it that way, for the moment. You can be an old friend of mommy’s who wanted to meet them, and then we all have a few play dates together, do something fun, let them get comfortable around you and see that we get along before breaking it to them that you’re their father.”
“And that, you know, their mother lied about me being dead. How do you plan to explain that? How was I resurrected? Are you going to tell them I was in prison or some shit to excuse yourself?”
“No, I’m going to tell them I made a wrong choice, and I’m sorry. I’m not going to tell them I was scared you’d take them away—which is the truth—because that would equate you with something terrifying who might steal them from me. I want them to be secure and comfortable and to have a positive relationship with you.”
“That’s the least you could do,” he harrumphed.
“How about we meet for dinner after soccer practice? He can show you the new cleats, and Corinne can tell you how boring it was to wait for him to be done.”
“
Are you cooking?”
“I could. I’ve gotten much better since the last time I cooked for you. Or we could go out, or I could order in. They like Chinese.”
“My kids? Ugh. Order me some quesadillas.”
“Would you settle for Kung Pao Chicken?”
“No. I would not.”
“Then perhaps that’s where Corinne gets her diva attitude about meals.”
“Then it’s time I gave her a quesadilla and let her try some real food.”
“First of all, I’ve kept them alive this long, so they’re not starving. Second of all, don’t think you’re going to swoop in and buy them, like, hover boards and magic carpets and shit to win them over.”
“Magic carpets? Did you really say that?”
“I’m a little freaked out by all of this.”
“I’m not the competition, Bella,” he said, “I have a right to know them and be their father. That doesn’t mean they’ll choose one of us over the other unless it comes to that in court. And from what I understand, it’s highly unlikely children of their age would be given serious weight in any testimony.”
“That sounds disturbingly legal. Like you’ve looked into this.”
“Any fool knows that a small child’s deposition wouldn’t be reliable,” he said dismissively as the landing gear lowered and they touched down at the airfield.
“Right. I’ll text you with a time and meeting place.”
“How about Mexican?” he said, his voice a little strained.
“I just want to make you happy. So if Mexican is where you want to go, then shall be it.”
“Thank you for compromising.”
She pasted on a fake smile. He’d been talking to lawyers. Of course, he had. Why wouldn’t he? Because she hoped they could settle this between them, be friendly and figure out how to share the kids in a way that made them comfortable. That there wouldn’t be paperwork and court appearances and character assassination and crying in front of a judge while some highly paid attorney called her unfit. He might be trying to play nice out in front, but he was planning to take her to court. She knew it.
Bella brushed Corinne’s baby blonde curls, trying to tame the flyaways and pull it into a ponytail even as silky hairs escaped her efforts. She wanted the children to look neat, clean, well-cared for. She wanted Harvey to have to acknowledge, even to himself, that she was a good mother and they had everything they needed. She even vowed to take a picture of him with them at their first meeting, to show that it was both an occasion and the beginning of their new life as a modern family. A family where mommy and daddy were fighting in court, probably, but a family just the same. And she wanted to hide in his arms, lay her head on his shoulder to weep out her fears and frustrations. He was the one she wanted to turn to in her distress.