“Oh, a taste of your own medicine then.”
“Is this payback?” she asks, hands on her hips. “Along with leaving me next to nothing to live on?”
“Next to nothing?” I huff a disbelieving breath. “You do understand I’m paying you twice what we agreed on in our pre-nup, right?”
“You wouldn’t have to be paying me anything if you had just given me a chance to explain about Cliffton.”
God, doesn’t she have the self-preservation not to bring him up? “I don’t care anymore, Bridget.”
And it’s true. I hate that this has hurt Simone, and disrupted her life so badly, but I don’t regret divorcing Bridget and only wish I’d done it sooner.
Before she can challenge that statement, the office door opens and Simone comes out, followed closely by our therapist, Dr. Packer.
“Daddy!” Simone’s face lights up and she rushes over to hug around my waist.
She’s a perfect mix of the two of us, with Bridget’s blue eyes, and my mouth and cheekbones. Her sandy hair riots all over her head, equal parts curly and coarse. Every time my mother sees Simone’s hair, she begs me to let her do it. But Simone is fourteen, too old for me to dictate who touches her hair.
“Hey, Moni.” I swipe a hand down my daughter’s face. We watched Face/Off together last year, and Simone loved how John Travolta brushed his hand down his kids’ faces to demonstrate his love. We’ve been doing it ever since.
“I can’t wait to see your new place,” Simone says. “I have a room?”
“Of course.” I bring her head to my chest and kiss her hair. “You’ll have a room anywhere I am. We can grab some food on our way home. This place called Playa Betty’s claims to have Cali-style beach food.”
“For real?” Simone’s expression brightens. Though she’s spent most of her life in Houston, she loves California as much as I do. So few things have made Simone happy lately that I notice every one.
“We’ll check it out for ourselves,” I tell her, “after we’re done here.”
“Can Mommy come, too?” She glances from me to Bridget, a mixture of caution and hope in her eyes.
A smug smile lights Bridget’s face.
“Your mom has a commitment after the session,” I tell her carefully. “Maybe next time.”
“Oh.” Simone’s expression falls.” Okay.”
I’d do almost anything to restore the spark that seems to come and go so quickly in what was once my joyful little girl, but being with her mother isn’t one of them. I’ll have to find new ways to make her happy.
“Simone, I need to talk to your parents for a few minutes, okay?” Dr. Packer asks, her kind eyes resting on my daughter.