wait a week for some shitty phone call.
Showing up at her place still made sense, but what was I going to do? Just look apologetic and tell her: “Sorry, I was a dick.”
Not good enough. I needed something that packed more punch. If I was going to make her wait a week to hear me say that I was sorry, then I needed to say it in a more meaningful way.
I went into Naomi’s room. She was supposed to be sleeping, but I caught her crouched next to her nightlight with a Gobblegurt book open.
“Um,” she said, “I couldn’t sleep, Daddy.”
I put my arm around her. “Let’s read together then.”
I read her all of her favorites, even The Greedy Little Gobblegurt Who Didn’t Want To Share. That story had definitely taken on a new meaning since I’d learned that it was about me. Reading it was almost like having Lacey there with us. I felt a dull ache in the pit of my stomach whenever I thought about her now. I feared she’d never be together again with Naomi and me.
Eventually I realized that I was reading to Naomi more for myself than for her. She was dozing off as I read, and I picked her up and laid her down in her bed. I tucked her in tight, and she was out cold before I even got the blankets tucked under her just the way she liked.
I kissed her goodnight, and as I did, an idea hit me.
I grabbed all of the Gobblegurt books from Naomi’s room and took them with me into my office. I threw them down onto my desk, and then I headed to Naomi’s playroom. There were a few things I needed from there, and then I’d get to work.
17
Lacey
I checked my phone. No one had called me for two days.
“Natalie, can you call me again?”
I was shouting to her from my room. She was somewhere in the kitchen.
“Your phone is working fine,” she shouted back. “Dickhead just isn’t calling. You do not call him first.”
“Well, my phone might not be working anyway. I’ll try to call him to test it out—”
My phone rang. My heart pounded in my chest. I reached for it so fast that I knocked it off my bed. It hit the ground, but it had one of those rubber cases on it. I dove off the bed, scuffing my knees as I hit the wood floor, and snatched the phone up. I looked at the screen and saw who was calling.
It was just Natalie.
“Dammit! Natalie! I thought you were him!”
“You just told me to call you! I called you. Look, your phone works.”
“You and I are both on the same carrier. I think Noah was on a different one. Maybe there’s some kind of interference or bug. Or maybe—”
“There’s nothing wrong with your phone, Lace,” she was standing in the doorway now, looking down on me like I was a sad little puppy that she felt bad for.
I was curled up on the floor, clutching my phone.
“You’re pathetic,” she said.
“I already knew you thought that by the way you looked at me. Saying it out loud is just overkill.”
“Pathetic,” she said. “His favorite book is the novelization of Robocop, Lace.”
“I know. Isn’t that just so cute?”
“No, it’s not. He’s an asshole, remember? He probably likes Robocop because he’s all cold and emotionless.”
“Is he?” I asked, “I never actually saw that movie.”
“I haven’t seen it since I was like 13. I don’t remember. If you get back together with him, he’s going to make you watch it. Do you really want to have to watch Robocop, Lace?”
I looked at my phone and just stared at the home screen. I thought that maybe if I looked at the screen, the chances of him calling would increase. I didn’t believe in psychic powers or anything like that, but there was a chance they were real, and looking at the screen might fractionally increase my chances. Then again, a watched pot never boiled.
“Oh, shit!” I said, jumping up.
“What?”
“It’s Tuesday!” I showed her my phone. “Tuesday morning! Reading Hour!”
Natalie shook her head and walked out of the room as I ran around like a tornado trying to get ready in less than five minutes.
I needed to be there in fifteen minutes, and it took ten to walk there. I never got ready in faster than thirty minutes, so five was likely impossible.
I made it out the door—by some miracle—in about seven minutes. It took less