I smile. “That’s good. Need me to do anything?”
“Got it covered,” she replies, which makes my smile wider. She’s like Dorothy Knight incarnate, able to put on a charity gala that will cater to the Vegas wealthy elite, yet be relaxed enough to crunch on whatever the hell she’s eating while she talks about it.
And this is no small affair. It’s been renamed in honor of our late mother—the Dorothy Knight Charity Extravaganza for the Benefit of Children’s Hospital. There will be over one hundred in attendance for a dinner that costs one-thousand-dollars a plate to raise money for the hospital. It was a project my mother was passionate about, which my sister took over without any hesitation.
“Listen,” she says after swallowing her food loudly—also to annoy me. “I’ve got someone who would be perfect for you to take to the gala. She’s a new teacher at my school, and she’s—”
“Forget it, Christina,” I say curtly before she can get another word out. “I’m not interested.”
“But she’s so sweet and really pretty. I think if you—”
“I said forget it,” I say with a little more bite than I’d intended. Christina is the person I love most in this world. I don’t like to hurt her, but I also don’t want her overstepping her bounds. She can get a little crazy with her notions of wanting me to find love again.
“Asher,” she says quietly, a slightly chiding tone to her voice. “It’s time to move on.”
Ignoring her, I wrap our conversation up. “Listen… call me if you need any help and I’ll be glad to step in.”
She sighs into the phone, sad I won’t talk to her about the most terrible and horrific thing to ever happen to me. My sister wants me to move on, but how can I get over the fact that my wife killed herself and it’s all my fault for not stopping her?
“I’ll talk to you later,” I mumble, then disconnect the phone before I start feeling too guilty for cutting my sister out. I know she loves me and only wants to help, but I don’t want her to be disappointed in the fact I can’t be fixed.
Nor do I want to be.
CHAPTER 6
Hannah
I pull up in front of Nelson’s house, a red-tiled, five-thousand-square-foot stuccoed monstrosity that he kicked me out of when I asked for a divorce. Which was fine. I never liked its formality anyway. There was too much blank space to feel cozy.
Still, it irritates me just a little that he continues to live in splendor, has my daughter almost exclusively, and takes child support from me, not because he needs it but because he wants me to suffer.
None of that compares to the bitterness I must swallow daily when I think of the way I got hosed in Hope’s custody hearing. My attorney was decent, but I could have had the best in the world and it wouldn’t have mattered because the judge was one of Nelson’s golfing buddies. He tried to make it seem like he fairly considered all the facts but when he awarded full custody to Nelson, granting me weekend visitation with alternating holidays, I knew that the judicial system was anything but unbiased.
When it boiled down to it, Nelson’s connections, money, and influence swayed the court, not what was in Hope’s best interest.
It’s been hell watching him raise her with me having so little say in what happens in her day-to-day life. Our moments together are so fleeting. It makes me feel like she’s slipping away from me.
It’s unbearably frustrating that my economic situation is what is holding me back from playing on a level field with Nelson.
My mind drifts briefly to Asher and his incredibly ridiculous offer, and there’s a moment of wistfulness as I consider what that bonus could do for Hope and me.
Pushing that out of my head, I turn the rearview mirror my way to take a quick peek at myself. I didn’t get home from work until about three AM, and I couldn’t get to sleep weighed down by my worries about Hope and Asher’s bold offer to be his “house manager”.
Ridiculous.
I sigh, disregarding the black circles under my eyes and the fact I didn’t even bother to put on makeup this morning to cover them up. Pushing the mirror back into place, I get out of my car, taking only my keys with me.
After I lock the car, I cross over Nelson’s perfectly manicured lawn to the large portico. I trot up the steps, ring the doorbell, and step back to wait for him to make his way through the cavernous house to greet me. Sometimes, I’ll hear the patter of Hope’s feet as she races to the door in excitement to start our short weekend together.
Right now, I get nothing but silence.
I ring the doorbell again.
When no one comes, I finally hit the button repetitively, hearing the gong of the bells inside over and over again.
Nothing.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, stomping off the porch and back to my car. I unlock the passenger door, reach into my purse, and pull my phone out, angrily tapping on the screen to pull up Nelson’s number.
I dial him, and he answers in a breezy tone. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” I growl. “I’m here to pick up Hope.”
“She’s on a camping trip,” he replies with a smirking undertone. “I texted you about it yesterday.”
“You did not text me about it,” I grit out, my voice quavering with fury.
“I did,” he insists, and I can see the smug look on his face in my mind. If he were here before me, I’d claw it off him. “It’s not my fault you’ve got a shitty phone. It probably didn’t come through or something, but when I didn’t hear back from you, I just assumed it was okay.”
“You are an asshole,” I screech. “You know I wouldn’t have agreed to it. I get so little time with her, and I would not have let her go.”
“She really wanted to, Hannah,” he chides me. “You know, it’s not all about you. You have to let Hope do stuff without you.”
My body starts shaking over the unfairness of what he’s saying—as well as the little bit of truth within.
Sucking in a breath, I let it out slowly. “Fine. Then I want her on Monday and Tuesday night to make up for it.”
Nelson laughs through the phone. “What are you going to do, Hannah? Have her sit up at the bar while you serve drunks?”
My free hand balls up into a fist, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t even fucking have my kid on a weeknight because I have to work to be able to support her. It’s fucked up and incredibly unfair.
Tears spring to my eyes. I blink furiously to battle them back. It doesn’t work, and they slip down my cheeks.
“Listen,” Nelson says dismissively. “I’ve got to go. But I’ll make sure to tell Hope when she comes home tomorrow that you don’t want her to go on any trips with friends in the future. I’m sure she’ll love you for that.”
“Don’t you dare,” I hiss, but all I can hear is dead air.
The asshole hung up on me.
“Goddamn motherfucker,” I scream as I turn and slap my hand against the hood of my car. The shock reverberates through me, causing my bones to ache.
The anger starting to swiftly turn to depression, I make my way around to the driver’s side and throw myself into the front seat. Just as I start my car, a text chimes through. I have an insane thought that perhaps Nelson has had an attack of conscience and is reaching out to make things better.