Page 56 of Like Home
I snort a laugh, sure he’s being dramatic, and push his hair back from where it falls in his eyes. I lean in and whisper, “And would you like to make up for it on your knees?”
He tips his head back with his eyes closed, looking almost pained before he opens them and says, “Stop being sexy, I don’t deserve it.” His face crumples in a genuine pout, and I drag him by the hand into his place. I kick off my work pumps by the door and hang my bag on the coat rack.
We sit on the black leather couch, my back to the armrest and legs draped over his lap. He draws little shapes on my exposed knees and down my shins with the tip of his calloused finger. We don’t spend much time here, but his little house already feels like home to me because it's an extension of him. The place is masculine with clean lines and an air of comfort with family pictures on the wall and multiple throw blankets draped over the couch.
We relax in silence for a while before something dawns on me and I ask, “So, what was the number that called you again?”
He shows me the number on his phone and I say, “You know what’s weird? A random number called my phone just before you called me. They didn’t leave a voicemail or text me. Let me see if it’s the same one.” We put our heads together over my phone as I pull up my call log. I sit back defeated when the numbers don’t match.
Ryan fiddles with his phone before turning the screen to me and saying, “This is another one of those random numbers you can use with a Wi-Fi signal. Remember how I told you Jared said the same about the one that called my phone? Your random caller called ten minutes before they called me. It was almost like they were seeing if you would answer your phone.”
I get the chills because suddenly this doesn’t feel like a weird misunderstanding anymore, this feels like a targeted attack. “Who would do that though? Why would they want you to pick up Emma?” My stomach trembles when the seed of anxiety plants firmly in my gut.
Is someone trying to hurt my daughter?
Ryan shakes his head slowly side to side and squeezes my legs. “I don’t know. I guess in the grand scheme of things it was pretty harmless because they called me and not some random person. I’m obviously not going to hurt Emma.”
I’ve seen way too many true crime documentaries, because my next question is, “But what if that was just the first step? What if they just wanted to see if they could pass as Jared so they could do something worse?”
Ryan notices my visible trembling and takes my hands in his, giving them a squeeze, “Hey. We don’t know what their intentions are, but let's not jump to the worst conclusions. What else could it be?” I shake my head mutely. I don’t know who would do this. If Jared did it so he could say I violated the clause in our custody agreement about romantic partners, I wouldn’t be scared right now—I’d be furious. It makes the most sense, but from the way Jared sounded genuinely panicked in his voicemails and over the phone, I don’t think he was behind this. He’s not that good of an actor.
I hardly sleep that night. Between worrying over whether or not Jared would use this against me for custody, and worrying about Emma’s safety, I could not get settled. I stupidly insisted on sleeping in my own home because I knew Ryan had to be up early to get to work on some roofing projects before it gets too hot. I regret my benevolence, because I know I would have slept better if he had been next to me. I wouldn’t have been so freaked out over every noise.
In my sleep-deprived state, the work day passes in a blur. The door jingles while I’m zoning out over new client intake forms. I look up blearily and see Jared striding towards me with a giant to-go cup of iced coffee in one hand and a to-go bag from the cafe down the street in the other.
“Hey,” he greets, tentatively.
“Hi,” I reply, eyeing the giant coffee that looks suspiciously like what I typically order.
“Do you want to come sit in my truck with me? I brought lunch and a coffee. Figured you’d be tired too. I hardly slept last night because I kept getting up to check on Emma. It felt like she was a newborn again when we’d get up randomly to make sure she was still breathing.”
Even though he doesn’t say it outright, I can sense an undercurrent of apology in his words. He hands me the coffee and I take a sip (yep, definitely my order.) I nod and round the high-top desk. I wave to Sherry on the way out who is giving Jared the stink eye. She narrows her eyes further and mimes slitting his throat with a thumb dragged across her own. One thing about Sherry is that she is, and will forever be, a girl’s girl. Let’s just say there’s a reason her ex-husband moved towns and she’s the one still friends with his mistress. I press my lips together to hide my smirk and turn to follow Jared.
Once we’re settled in his truck, lunch sandwiches spread out around us I hedge, “So, yesterday was weird.”
He laughs and sputters over a bite of sandwich. Once he hashimself together he says, “Understatement of the fucking century.”
I can’t help the half smile that tugs at my lips. I miss being able to joke with him. This is what I hoped we would have after splitting up. “I know, but, like, how do you bring up what happened yesterday when it feels mostly harmless, but also kind of terrifying?” I take a sip of my coffee and look at him pointedly.
“True. But really, what the hell was that?”
“I have no clue. Ryan said it sounded like you on the phone, but the call quality was bad and he’s not exactly super familiar with your voice,” I take a bite of my sandwich and chew contemplatively before continuing. “So, does this mean you believe us? You don’t think we did this out of some weird desire to push you out?”
He breathes out a heaving sigh and says, “Yeah. I believe you.”
I mime checking his temperature and he playfully bats away my hand. “What changed your mind?” I ask, hoping I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth on this one.
“Well, I started seeing someone.” My eyes must bug out of my head because he says a little uncomfortably, “A therapist, not a woman. Well, she is a woman, but Ruth is about sixty and happily married. Anyway, I asked for an emergency appointment this morning because I was kind of spiraling, and she helped me think a little more clearly about the facts. I realize now that you wouldn’t have benefitted at all if you and Ryan had done this on purpose, especially since we have it in our custody agreement.”
I nod and say with as much genuine care as I can, “I’m really proud of you for getting help. What made you finally take the plunge?” I have been trying to convince him to see a therapist for years. After my mom passed, I spent a solid couple of years in weekly appointments, and I’m a firm believer that everyone needs it. We ended up working through not only my grief but a lot of my other issues as well.
“I made an appointment with her for the first time after ourcustody mediation. I was so angry because I felt like you were getting everything you wanted, and I was getting nothing.” He gives me a look to silence the argument I’m sure he can see brewing in my expression. “I know. Logically, I know that isn’t fair to you. It’s just hard to remember that sometimes. Hence the ‘frequent outbursts.’” He puts quotes around the words, and I can tell he’s referring to his therapist. “Anyway, I was suddenly so angry that I was scaring myself. You know that I’ve never been an angry person. I didn’t want tobethat person anymore. I didn’t want that for Emma either, so I finally bucked up and made an appointment. I’ve never been so afraid of a sixty-year-old woman in my life.” He smiles at me tentatively and for the first time in months, I feel like we might be able to be around each other again.
“Well, I’m really glad she’s helping you. And not just because it seems to benefit me,” I offer. Even though I’m still upset at the way he’s behaved since splitting up, I’m happy to see him working to better himself. Now all his hot and cold behavior over the last few months makes sense. He’s been trying to work on it, but it’s going to take time.
After a few minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence wolfing down what’s left of our food, Jared says, “So, about yesterday. If it wasn’t you, and it wasn’t me, who the hell was it? And why would they do it?”
The sandwich feels like it congeals in my stomach. Every time I think about it, it makes me nauseous. “I don’t know. I mean, as far as Emma was concerned, it was mostly harmless. Despite what you may think of him, Ryan is a good guy and really just thought he was helping.”
