Instead, I’m stuck in this obnoxious town car with one of the only people in my life that I trust sitting behind the wheel.
The city passes by in a blur of people and tall buildings and we’re soon heading toward home, but to get there we have to pass through what my father calls, “the poor area.” The place where I’ve always felt more at home than my actual home.
I haven’t walked on this side of town for ten years and even after all this time, I still can’t bear to look out of the windows as we pass through. I look down at my dark gray suit pants, dusting a piece of invisible lint off them to distract myself.
“Tristan?”
I startle at Edward’s voice coming from the front of the car and bring my eyes up to the rearview mirror, meeting his chocolate brown ones.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Yes?”
“I was wondering if you wanted me to take Miss Isabel to her dance rehearsal for her recital?”
I frown at him and clench my teeth, my hands balling into fists. Why didn’t I know about this? I feel like I’m always the last to know anything when it comes to my kids and I hate it. I hate how I threw myself into my work so much after Izzie was born, so much so that I now don’t even know when she has a simple rehearsal.
As much as I despise missing out and feeling like a failure, I can’t help immersing myself in work to drown out the pain that rolls around inside of me.
I should be there for them more, I should have kept my promise.
“When did you say it was?” I ask, breathing in deeply to try and tamp down the rage that burns inside of my chest like an inferno.
When did I become this person that lets the days slip by like nothing matters?
“It’s, erm…” I watch as Edward visibly swallows and moves his eyes from mine, focusing on the road in front of him. That’s a recent thing; the nervousness when he’s around me. “It’s at six.”
I stretch my arm out, causing the sleeve of my suit jacket and shirt to ride up, allowing me to see the silver Rolex that sits snuggly on my wrist. The white dial shines at me brightly, the silver hands pointing at the numbers telling me that it’s only forty-five minutes away.
“Okay, how far out are we? It’s fifteen after five now.”
“About ten minutes, Tristan.”
I nod and look back out of the window, my reflection staring back at me as we go through the tunnel.
“I’ll take her,” I finally grit out.
“Got it,” Edward replies, nodding his head for added effect.
Pulling my cell out, I check for any messages or emails, trying to distract myself against the raging thoughts in my head. But it doesn’t work.
All I can think of is that if Natalia were here, she would have known every single rehearsal time and date, she would have made sure I knew too. She would have taken Clay and Izzie to all of their after school clubs, loving every minute of it. She would have been that mom: the one that was there no matter what. The one that is on the PTA and always goes into the school to volunteer. She would have been the one that all of the kids wished were their mom.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to see her face but it’s no use, my mind automatically goes back to that day, the one where she left us. Her soft, sad smile stares back at me; her dark blue eyes filled with both love and fear.
I throw my cell across the back seat, narrowing my eyes at it when it smacks off the door and lands o
n the floor. My breaths come faster, my hands clenching to the point of pain.
This isn’t how it was meant to be, we should have been a family. I shouldn’t be trying and failing as a single parent.
“Daddy!” Izzie squeals as I walk through the front door to our house, jumping down off the bench in the grand entrance and throwing her arms around my legs, squeezing me as tight as her little arms can muster.
It takes me several seconds to get myself together as I try to push all of my thoughts to the back of my mind. Shaking my head, I look down at her, my lips widening into a smile as I bend down, picking her up and holding her against my chest as I pepper kisses all over her face.
“You taking me today?” she asks in her sweet, little voice.
I feel all of the anger start to wane at her being in my arms, peace slowly replacing it.
“I sure am, pumpkin,” I tell her enthusiastically, pulling back and placing her on the floor. She spins around, her blond ponytail swinging like the pendulum of a grandfather clock as she skips back to the bench and shoulders her light-purple bag.