Page 106 of Delicate Storm

“Macy called about thirty minutes ago.” She pauses and whether she meant it as dramatic effect or not, it worked, because I am already fuming. I’ve asked her time and time again to call me first. Or to call on days she knows I’m there. That if sheneeded to speak to Isaac, I had to know. But of course she’d wait until I was at an away game.

“What did she say? Please tell me you kept the phone on speaker.”

“Oh, definitely, and she asked him if he wanted to spend Christmas with her in Florida.”

“Florida? What’s in Florida?”

“She is. Apparently.”

Fuck. I can’t keep up.

My heart lodges in my throat as I ask the next question. I’d rather not know the answer, but I have to. “What did Isaac say?”

“He said yes. He asked if she could take him to Disney World. She mumbled a half-assed noncommittal response, but he was still pretty excited.”

I put Mom on speaker and drop my head into my hands, groaning. “What the hell do I do? Can I stop it?”

“I don’t know. We can try. Your father knows a great lawyer and—”

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t want him involved, Mom. He’ll use it as a favor, so that I owe him one, and I don’t want to owe him.”

“When are you going to forgive him?”

“When I forgive Macy.”

Mom sighs. She knows the answer to both is never.

I can handle a lot of shit being thrown my way. I can forgive a lot of things. Hell, I have no doubt that I’ll one day forgive Zane. But I draw the line at walking out on a child. I get that there are extenuating circumstances at times, but neither Macy nor my dad had a solid excuse.

“Find another lawyer then,” Mom says, a little annoyed. “But do it quickly. That woman doesn’t want to spend time with Isaac when she’s here, so why would she want him there?”

That’s a great question and one I’m afraid to have answered.

Isaac’s sweet voice filters in from the living room before we get the chance to say more, so I talk to him instead. I doubt we would have come up with any brilliant ideas anyway.

Isaac tells me about his day at the park and seeing the seals at the pier—one of his favorite things to do—and then we say good night and hang up. With no mention of his mom. At all.

He didn’t even mention Disney.

Since it’s still early, I change into sweats and a tee and crash on the couch, massaging my temples as I watch the last half of LA’s game against Philadelphia.

My phone rings again just as the game goes into overtime, and I almost throw it against the wall in frustration, until I realize it might be Mom calling me back now that Isaac’s likely asleep.

Taking a deep breath, I lift the phone to my face and a smile pulls at my lips. Paige. It’s been two weeks since I gave her my key and she’s yet to use it. I’d be demanding answers if my life wasn’t as crazy as hers. And on top of that, we’ve been texting and she admitted she’s got some stuff going on with her dad.

Yet another reason I should ask her what she knows.

“It’s not a Wednesday, Paige,” I answer, my lips curled into a smirk. “Are you calling to tell me you got your days wrong and you’re finally in my apartment?”

“No.” She giggles and the sound vibrates through my chest. “I actually have no idea why I’m calling. Is that okay?”

Her response catches me off guard and I pause. There’s a hint of vulnerability in her tone that I’m not used to from Paige. But I saw it when she was telling me about that damn gossip magazine, even if she said she was fine.

“It is. But is something wrong?”

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