Star Promise

Charli

The Décarie men are no angels.

Adam can be regimented and stubborn, Ryan can be arrogant and cocky, and their father can be downright tyrannical. I’d been at war with all of them at one time or another, but tonight’s battle was with Jean-Luc.

Attending Ryan’s birthday dinner was a chore made more difficult by the fact that Adam didn’t show up. The king’s smugness when explaining why was almost harder to bear than the abominable food. You must understand, Charli, he said. Work comes first. It’s the way of the world.

Not our world, I shot back.

He smirked. Your world must be a wondrous place.

Most of the time it was, just not when I was left to defend myself against Jean-Luc’s invisible blows.

I didn’t blame Adam for not showing up. Thanks to his father, his workload was impossible. Accepting a job at Décarie, Fontaine and Associates was a mistake, but the only one with the power to pull the pin was Adam. And as long as he felt the need to stand up to the king, that was never going to happen.

I wasn’t sharing the same level of career dissatisfaction. I loved my job at the gallery. I was surrounded by beautiful art all day and the cushy hours I worked meant that I got to spend plenty of time with my little girl.

Bridget had made the switch from the Apple Isle to the Big Apple without fuss, swapping days at the beach for days in the park. The change hadn’t hurt her. Her imagination was still perfectly in focus, which meant that as far as parenting goes, we were doing a good job.

While she was occupied playing under the coffee table, I slipped out to call her dad. Standing in the big empty foyer near the front door wasn’t going to buy me any privacy. I knew from past experience that even whispered words echoed off the marble floor, so I retreated to the downstairs bathroom.

Adam answered straight away. Hey, I’m sorry. I hadn’t even said a word yet. It proved that he knew what an ordeal dinner with his parents was when he wasn’t there. I’ll make it up to you.

I’m not mad, I insisted.

No?

No. Your dad is being a jerk but I escaped. I sat on the edge of the bath. I’m hiding out in the bathroom. I wish you were here.

That could be dangerous – or productive, depending on how you look at it. His low laugh sounded positively sinister, with good reason. We were ninety-nine percent sure that our daughter was conceived in that bathroom.

Wise guy. What time do you think you’ll leave work?

He sighed, and I could hear him shuffling papers around. Late, I think. I’ve got so much to do.

It was a reply I was expecting, but it still disappointed me. Okay, well you know where I’ll be when you’re done.

In the bathroom?

No, in bed, I laughed, waiting for you to make it up to me for blowing off dinner.

Challenge accepted, Charlotte, he replied. I’ll see you later.

***

I returned to the lounge room feeling slightly more optimistic about making it through the evening until my father-in-law took one more shot at pulling me into line.

I don’t enjoy tension, Charli. I hope you’ve calmed down.

That was a lie. Jean-Luc thrived on tension. I didn’t bother answering. I sat next to Ryan and tried my hand at silent combat instead. I could’ve stared him down indefinitely, but the battle was cut short when Bridget and Fiona walked in. I’d been so focused on the king that I hadn’t even noticed they were gone.

Fiona kept a firm hold on Bridget’s hand as she paraded her around the room. My little girl looked thoroughly miffed, which was understandable considering she was sporting a heavy tweed coat in July.

I was annoyed for a different reason. Fiona constantly took it upon herself to rain expensive gifts on Bridget. Absolutely nothing was off limits and I resented it, but like most Décarie related gripes, I kept it to myself.

I managed to force an insincere thank you just before Bridget broke free and landed in my lap.

I don’t like it, Mummy, she whispered.

Shush, I replied, determined to keep the peace.

We made it through dinner and got out of there as quickly as we could.

I probably would’ve taken Ryan up on his offer of walking us home if we’d been heading that way, but I had bigger plans. If Adam couldn’t come to us, we were going to go to him.

***

The massive foyer of the office building looked even bigger than usual when it was all lit up and empty. I knew the front doors would be locked but was hopeful that someone would be there to let us in. I was prepared to bribe security with cake if necessary, but I didn’t get the chance. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Our surprise was totally ruined, leaving me with no choice but to call Adam to come downstairs to get us.

You’re here? he asked.

We’re outside, I explained. But we’re locked out.

We brought you cake, Daddy, yelled Bridget.

Adam told me to stay put. I’m coming down now anyway.

It seemed to take forever for him to get there. Bridget – ramped up on an excess of chocolate cake – killed time by jumping around on the front steps.

Slow your roll, Bridge, I ordered. You’re going to hurt yourself.

Mummy, I hate Mamie’s coat, she said.

I didn’t give her declaration too much credence. There were no shades of grey with Bridget. She either loved something or she hated it. She also changed her mind at the drop of a hat. There was a fair chance that it would become her favourite piece by winter.

My opinion, on the other hand, was firm. I hated the bloody coat.

We’ll talk about it another day, I said, unwilling to discuss it with her.

I love paper money, she said randomly.

Do you?

Papy gave me paper money. She reached into the front pocket of her dress and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. See?

I fought the urge to snatch it from her. You’re a lucky girl, I said falsely. Put it back in your pocket, baby.

Why?

I pointed at the glass behind her. Because your daddy is here.

As Adam ambled across the empty lobby, a security guard appeared out of nowhere and let him out. Finally he was free – at least until morning when he’d don his pretentious suit and go back again.

Hey, little girl, he crowed, scooping Bridget off her feet.

She leaned back and took his face in her hands. It was Bridget’s most powerful move, one she made when commanding total attention. Ry’s very old today, she announced making him laugh. We happy-dayed him.

Awesome. Adam leaned across and kissed me. Sorry I missed dinner.

I shrugged. Are you hungry? I half heartedly waved the plate of cake at him.

I couldn’t blame him for his look of distaste. The frosting had run and the chocolately mess was stuck to the Clingfilm.

I made it, said Bridget proudly. I let Ry help.

How about we find a restaurant and get Daddy some real dinner before he has his cake? I suggested.

Yeah. Adam shifted his hold on Bridget to check his watch. Let’s go.

***

The balmy July night was perfect weather for walking, but Adam was tired and Bridget’s slow wander was beginning to grate on him. She was tired too, scuffing her little boots along the pavement with each step she took – but she still insisted on walking.

Her father finally lost patience and picked her up. Bridget didn’t complain, which meant she truly was ready to drop at any second. When she buried her head in his shoulder, I used the opportunity to dump the cake in a nearby bin while she wasn’t looking.

We ended up at the first restaurant we came across, a little Chinese place hidden behind scaffolding on Broadway. Adam ate, I drank tea and Bridget embarked on a one-girl sword fight with a pair of chopsticks. It was a short war. She climbed onto Adam’s lap a few minutes later and crashed, still holding her weapons.

Adam somehow managed to keep eating with the dead weight of a sleeping child in his arms. Are you sure you don’t want anything? he asked. I’ll share.

No thank you. I huffed out a long breath. Your mum cooked tonight. I won’t be able to eat again until Wednesday.

I’m sorry I missed it.

It had to be the fiftieth time he’d apologised in as many minutes, and judging by the grimace on his face, he was beginning to annoy even himself. I moved quickly to change the subject. You look tired.

He abandoned the frown in favour of a sly smile. Not too tired.

I smiled back. How was work?

I don’t want to talk about work. The frown set in again. How was your day?

Adam never talked about his job. I wasn’t even sure what he did during the long hours he spent at the office. I never pushed for an explanation. I knew he was unhappy there, and I also knew that as long as we were in New York he was never going to admit it to me. As a result, we had a lot of conversations that danced around the subject.

It was okay. We spent the morning at Ryan’s making cake, had a quiet afternoon and then headed to the palace for dinner.

Adam pushed food around his plate. Dad gave you a hard time?

I shrugged. Nothing I couldn’t handle.

I could see the tension in his jaw. I don’t know what his problem is.

I do, I volunteered. You married her.

Tired as he was, his dark blue eyes shone as he smiled across at me. A mistake, you think?

A massive error in judgement, I confirmed. You’ll never amount to anything now.

Adam reached for me. You’re wrong, Charlotte. He kissed my hand and then kissed the top of Bridget’s head. I’m pretty sure I’ve reached great heights.

2. GIRAFFE STOCK

Adam

After eight months of taking care of Bridget during the week, Mrs Brown was starting to become unreliable – and always at the last minute. Keeping up with Bridget was hard, and it was becoming more and more obvious that sweet old Mrs Brown just wasn’t up to the task any more.

We need to find someone else, Charli. I slipped my phone into my pocket. Mrs Brown isn’t working out.

I know, she agreed, kissing the top of Bridget’s head as she passed. We’ll sort it out.

If Charli had a plan, she wasn’t sharing. She was heading for the door as if our childcare problem didn’t exist.

Stop right there, blondie, I ordered.

She dropped her grip on the door handle and turned back. I’m going to be late.

I’m already late, I replied.

Me too, added Bridget.

Both of us looked across at the scruffy girl at the table eating breakfast. Some mornings we were organised, and some mornings we weren’t – like today. There was a puddle of milk on the table, Bridget was still wearing pyjamas, and even from a distance I could see oatmeal in her hair.

One of us has to stay home.

I would love to. Charli’s smooth tone would’ve sounded completely believable to Bridget, but I knew better. But I have a meeting at nine.

I didn’t even need to put my argument forward. There was no way I could swing a day off.

He owes you a day, Adam, she added. You’ve worked late all week. I shook my head but didn’t reply, mindful of little ears. Fine, Charli huffed, changing tack. We’ll resolve this like adults.

Scissors, paper, rock probably wasn’t the most adult way to settle who’d stay home, but that’s how we decided. Charlotte won because Charlotte always wins, but Bridget was confused by the result. Who’s the winner?

Your daddy is, she replied, grinning at me. You’ve got him for the whole day, Bridge.

I just love that winner! she squealed, whacking her spoon on the edge of the table.

Bridget scored the first kiss. I got one in the dying seconds as Charli was leaving. Even in heels, she had to stretch to kiss me. She wasn’t the least bit apologetic so I stood tall, making access difficult. I love you both, she said, straightening my tie.

As the front door closed, I looked across at my newly acquired sidekick, wondering how the heck I was going to tie the day together. I had a mountain of work waiting for me at the office, and not getting it done would mean another night of working back late.

Bridge, what experience do you have in drafting stock purchase agreements? I asked.

She shrugged. I like giraffe stock.

I smiled. Perfect. You’re hired. Let’s go. She clambered off the chair before asking where we were headed. You can come to work with me today.

She took off down the hall, heading for the bathroom. If her excitement had anything to do with spending the day with giraffes, she was out of luck. The only animals working at my office were lions and the odd snake.

***

I usually spent the long elevator ride up to the office in silence, daydreaming of all the ways I could tell my dad to shove his stupid job. This morning was a little different. There’s nothing silent about a little girl protesting at having her hair brushed. Stand still, I demanded.

I can’t stand still, Bridget replied. My feet need to move.

I shoved her hairbrush into her backpack, admitting defeat. You look like a street urchin, Bridge.

I watched her through the mirror, sweeping her messy hair from her eyes. Yes, I do, she proudly agreed.

A bell chimed and the doors opened onto the forty-third floor, home of the law offices of Décarie, Fontaine and Associates.

I firmly held Bridget’s hand as we walked through the reception area, successfully ignoring Tennille’s disapproving stare as we passed her desk.

In here, baby, I said, leading Bridget through my office door.

I had no clue how I was going to occupy her for the day. Bribery was my best bet. If you’re a good girl I’ll take you out for lunch, I offered, closing the door. Anywhere you want to go. I was prepared to endure a meal of chicken nuggets if necessary.

Bridget was loud and fidgety and had no place in a law office, but she did look the part as she dumped her little backpack down on my desk and took up residence on my chair. Perhaps her outfit had something to do with it. After getting her showered, dressed and semi presentable, she had made me wait ten minutes while she raided my closet for a tie, settling on a blue silk number that she claimed matched her pink boots nicely.

She grabbed one end of her tie and flapped it at me. Can you tie it better, please?

I spun the chair so she was facing me. Is a Windsor knot okay?

No, I need a girl knot.

I looped the tie around her neck. A girl knot it is.

There must’ve been something wrong with my technique. She asked me to redo it, and I obliged as if I had nothing better to do with my time. My father stormed my office a moment later to remind me otherwise.

I wasn’t worried about bearing his wrath. As long as Bridget was in the room, I was untouchable. She scrambled off the chair and ran to greet him. "Bonjour, Papy!"

Dad scooped her up at the last second, saving them both from certain collision. I reclaimed my chair.

Why are you here today, my love? He sounded calm and cheerful, but wasn’t. Little girls don’t belong here.

Bridget picked up the end of her tie and waved it at him. Yes I do. I have a tie.

Dad glared at me. Your mother could watch her if you’re in a bind, he suggested. Call her.

She’s fine, Dad, I muttered. She brought plenty of toys to keep herself occupied.

The mention of toys reminded Bridget of her backpack. She wriggled free of her grandfather, rushed back to my desk and upended the whole lot, scattering severed doll parts everywhere.

For Dad, it was the last straw. Call your mother, he demanded, exiting the room.

Poor Papy, said Bridget, piling onto my lap. He’s too busy to play with us today.

***

It would’ve been logical to call my mother to babysit. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Any time spent with my daughter was precious, even if it was spent trying to stop her rifling through my desk.

I pulled her hand free of the drawer and closed it – for the third time in as many minutes.

I need something in there, she insisted.

What do you need?

Bridget replied as if it was a silly question. All the things that are in there.

It should’ve been a conversation that annoyed me, but it wasn’t. I was more pissed at the prospect of having to do some actual work. I leaned back in my chair, resting my hands behind my head while I plotted my next move.

Look, I said finally. I’ll make you a deal.

I love deals! She bounced on the spot. I just love them.

You’re in luck then. Her bright blue eyes widened as I pulled open the top drawer of my desk. You can have one thing in here – anything you like. I glanced inside and instantly regretted the offer – she was likely to choose the stapler. I continued negotiations anyway. All you have to do in return is sit quietly and let me get some work done.

I breathed a sigh of relief when she made a grab for the calculator.

Do we have a deal, Bridge?

She nodded too many times to be believable. Yes, a lovely deal.

***

With the exception of the quiet chatter directed at the pile of dolls spread out on the floor in front of her, Bridget kept to our arrangement.

She was still distracting me, but it wasn’t her fault. Hearing her narrate emails to Ryan as she typed them up on her calculator was far more entertaining than anything I had going on.

I love today, Daddy, she said out of the blue.

Me too. I meant it.

Can we go home now?

I glanced at my watch. Skipping out early would earn me a two-hour lecture from the king the next day. On the plus side, he might fire me at the end of it.

Yeah, I replied, closing my laptop. Let’s get out of here. We’ll go to the park.

Playing in the park and chicken nugget lunches were always going to trump mind-numbing hours in the office, but that hadn’t always been my mindset. Having Bridget changed everything. I’d learned to find joy in small things, and my daughter was the ultimate small thing.

Her take on the world was just as left of centre as her mama’s, only louder. She was bright, sweet and unintentionally funny – and by far the greatest gift Charlotte had ever given me.

***

We slipped out of the office stealthily, turned onto Broadway and just kept walking. I had no idea where we were heading, and Bridget didn’t seem to care. Her focus was on more important things, namely her plans for the rest of the day. We need to go shopping, she told me.

I tightened my hold on her hand as we waited for the crosswalk light. Why, Bridge?

I have too much money.

Spoken like a true Décarie, I didn’t reply.

My bag is full of paper money, she added.

The light turned green but I stood firm, much to Bridget’s annoyance. We can go now, she said, tugging on my hand.

Wait. I slipped her backpack off her shoulders. Show me where the money is.

She pointed at the front pocket. I nearly choked when I unzipped it. It was stuffed to the brim with fifty dollar bills. Working hard to keep the alarm out of my voice, I questioned her about it.

Papy gave them to me, she explained.

When?

She shrugged. All the time.

I was livid. Charli and I went to great lengths to keep Bridget grounded and unspoiled, which wasn’t easy to do while living in Manhattan. Having her grandparents undermine us didn’t help. Mom did it in the form of toys and clothes. I had no idea Dad was corrupting her with cold hard cash.

I wanted rid of it, and I didn’t care what she spent it on. As far as I was concerned, it would serve my father right to find out that his money had been blown on frivolous junk.

I zipped the bag closed and reached for Bridget’s hand. Let’s go.

Anger determined my pace as we crossed the road, which was unfair. The second I realised that Bridget was skipping to keep up with me I stopped walking. Ignoring the fact that I was loading my daughter up with hundreds of dollars on a public street, I hooked her bag over her shoulder and picked her up.

What do you want to buy, Bridge? I asked.

Her eyes bored into mine while she thought it through. A treasure map, she finally replied. One that squirrels can’t read.

Every ounce of anger I felt dissolved in an instant. It was going to take more than a pile of money to taint her. No matter how much Décarie my kid had in her, the Blake part of her always shone through.

3.ART ADVENTURES

Charli

Art is subjective. What some consider sheer perfection is unappealing to others. My boss, Bronson Merriman, was subjective too.

Many people disliked him. He was loud, animated and insulted someone every time he opened his mouth. I, however, adored him. He was kind, generous and extremely supportive of up-and-coming photographers and artists. Those traits explained why he hired me to do a job that I was nowhere near qualified to do.

Passion for art cannot be taught, he told me during our first meeting in Melbourne. You have it here, he put his hand to his heart, and here, he added tapping his temple.

Not all his words of wisdom were as insightful, but all were memorable. He once told Adam that his mother should’ve cut out his eyes and bottled them at birth. Cobalt blue is my favourite Wedgwood colour. They should be kept in a gallery and admired by all.

Adam hid his horror well, but he did make me promise never to let him near Bridget. He’d also never been back to the gallery since.

Bronson knew his people skills were zilch. As a result, I handled most of the sales and had recently been entrusted with the task of buying new pieces for the gallery. It was a very big deal, and I always gave my best – a far cry from the girl I used to be. There’s a certain confidence that comes with knowing you’re on the right path. I was headed in the right direction. The tricky part nowadays was keeping Adam from wandering off course.

***

After meeting with a prospective buyer over brunch at a midtown café, I rushed back to the gallery so Bronson could leave. He met me at the door, almost complimenting me on my shoes as he left. I love them, darling. He kissed both my cheeks. Being three feet tall is challenging. It’s nice that they make pretty heels for you.

The rest of the morning passed fairly slowly. In between cataloguing, I had time to embark on a gossipy text message session with Bente. The gossip was extra juicy that morning. Years after having her heart stomped on by Ryan, she was gearing up for round two.

A chance meeting the day before had paved the way for Ryan to make amends. I truly believed he regretted the way he had treated her in the past. I just wasn’t sure he was beyond doing it again.

– Want me to lay down the law and tell him to behave?

Her reply was almost instant.

– No. I like him better when he’s bad.

I smiled down at my phone. If they could survive the date without killing each other, it might just work out for them. I was midway through telling her so when the front door opened.

I abandoned the texting in an instant, dropped my phone into my drawer and neatened my hair. Then I looked up and wished I hadn’t bothered.

I knew Jean-Luc would be upset that Adam hadn’t shown at work that day. What I didn’t realise was that he’d be angry enough to seek me out and take me to task over it.

Good morning, Charli.

Hi, I replied warily. What are you doing here?

Jean-Luc ignored me, wandering away to check the pictures lining the side wall.

I stayed put.

I wondered if you might like to go to lunch with me, he finally replied. We haven’t had a chance to talk much lately.

The king and I didn’t do lunch. Snarky comments and impolite banter was more our speed.

I can’t. I tried to sound regretful, but failed. I’m the only one here for the day.

It’s a terrible thing to be left in the lurch. He slowly turned to face me, arms folded and bulletproof. I’m sure your boss is grateful to have someone so diligent working for him.

I’m sure he is.

I appreciate the same level of dedication from my employees, especially my son.

My heels clicked on the wooden floor as I marched over to him. Cut him some slack for once, I said boldly. Bridget needed him today.

I wasn’t remotely scared of the king, but every now and then I’d say something that truly pissed him off – and today, this was it. If I said it didn’t rattle me, I’d be lying.

You’re detrimental to Adam’s career, he snapped. Do you understand that?

He’s spending the day with his daughter, I returned, matching his angry tone. I didn’t steal him away.

Jean-Luc turned his back on me and resumed studying the pictures. I understand that you need this little art adventure. The rage was gone, paving the way for condescension. But you need to manage your time better. Stop being selfish and take care of my granddaughter properly.

I didn’t know whether to be insulted or hurt. I went with royally pissed off. What exactly are you accusing me of?

The king took it up a notch. He turned around, gearing up to quietly yell at me. You lumber him with the child as if his time is secondary, he hissed. Adam put everything on hold for you four years ago. Enough is enough.

Jean-Luc had a cruel habit of making me second-guess my whole life in just a few sentences. It was pure artistry. I never got used to it and I never got over it, but I always fought back.

Adam put everything on hold for you his whole life, I bitterly replied. He knows better now.

Jean-Luc shook his head. Adam put his heart and soul into –

I am his heart, I cut him off. And Bridget is his soul. He’s not yours any more.

I might as well have slapped his face. The king pulled in a long breath through his nose and straightened his pose. He pointed to a photograph to the right of me. I want this picture for my home office.

He’d thrown me. It was as if the last nasty two minutes of conversation hadn’t happened. I took a long minute to study the picture, trying to pull myself together. The black and white photograph of a derelict old yacht didn’t seem his style, though it was gorgeous.

Have it delivered to the house, he added.

Say please.

Please, Charlotte, he sarcastically amended.

I cocked my head and focused on the picture. Why do you like it?

I wasn’t trying to rattle his cage. I was always curious to know what compelled people when choosing art for their homes.

It’s black and white, he replied. It will suit the room.

Half the pictures in this place are black and white. Why choose this one?

He glanced at the picture. You have terrible business acumen, Charli, he chided. Appalling, in fact.

I quickly reined in the smile incited by his mediocre dig. I’ll add that to my list of shortfalls.

I’m serious, he replied. If you were selling me a car, would it be appropriate to ask me why I was buying it?

I looked him straight in the eye, and let my smile break free. I don’t sell cars. I’m on an art adventure.

The king smirked at me. You have a smart mouth.

I focused back on the photograph. Maybe this picture chose you, I suggested. Did you consider that?

Stop with the nonsense, he snapped. Have it delivered tomorrow.

It’s four thousand dollars.

Fine. I want it framed too.

I locked eyes with him. That’s an extra two thousand dollars.

Fine.

I’ll get back to you about the delivery charges, I added.

The corner of his mouth lifted. If you’re trying to punish me, Charli, let it be known that it would take more than one lifetime to do it financially.

4.THE LITTLE BAD WOLF

Adam

Sourcing a treasure map in downtown Manhattan is no mean feat, especially one that challenges the literary skills of squirrels. I was just about to call the mission off and suggest Bridget find something else to buy when we stumbled across a military surplus store.

We spent a long time staring into the small window display. Everything in it was thick with dust and looked like it had been there for years. Old cigarette tins, yellowing decks of novelty playing cards and a stack of ancient newspapers held my attention. Bridget was fascinated by something else.

I love that hat, Daddy.

I followed her pointed finger. It’s not a hat, baby. It’s a gas mask.

Can I buy it?

I could deal with the quirk of her wearing galoshes every day of her life, but I’d struggle if she took to wearing a war-issue gas mask. I don’t think so, I said gently. I have a better idea.

The antique brass compass I spotted at the back of the cramped display was the perfect alternative to a treasure map – and even better, the hefty price tag chewed up Bridget’s loot. I didn’t try beating the shop owner down on price, which should’ve made for a short transaction. Instead I found myself giving Bridget a long lesson in the value of a dollar. She was perfectly willing to buy the compass until it came time to hand over the money.

Then she wanted both.

I excused us from the counter and pulled her aside. One or the other, Bridget, I explained. You can’t have both.

Bridget leaned to the side, sneaking a quick glimpse at the man behind the counter. Ask him nicely, she said, getting upset. Say please.

It doesn’t work that way. I swept her hair off her face. If you want the compass, you have to pay for it.

The tears that followed weren’t entirely her fault. She was used to sweet-talking people to get her own way. She did it to Ryan all the time, and had never once been told no by either of my parents. Parting with her money was new to her, and she wasn’t handling it well.

There’s nothing discreet about a little girl melting down in a small store, but my efforts at pulling her into line were. I bought us a little privacy by speaking to her in French. Make a decision, Bridget, I demanded.

"Les deux," she whimpered.

You can’t have both.

She fell forward, clung to my legs and began wailing as if her world was ending. The easy option would’ve been to cave and give her what she wanted. After a nanosecond of deliberation I went with the hard option and gave her what she needed instead.

Slightly embarrassed by my feral kid, I scooped her up, apologised to the man behind the counter, and for the first time in her short life carried her out of a place kicking and screaming.

***

It was a long cab ride home. Bridget spent the whole ride switching between calmly begging me to go back to the store and wailing about how mean I was when I refused. How we weren’t thrown out mid-journey is beyond me.

Bridget didn’t notice that Charli was home when we got there, mainly because she refused to come inside. She parked her butt on the floor of the foyer and told me she wasn’t moving.

Okay, I replied cheerily. I guess I’ll see you later then.

Before she had a chance to sass me again, I closed the door.

What the heck is going on? Charli rushed toward me. You just locked our kid out?

Today she’s your kid, I clarified. And she’s fine.

Charli couldn’t seem to find words. It was an understandable reaction. She’d missed all the drama. The only thing she saw was me locking our daughter out of the apartment.

She’s fine, Charlotte, I mumbled, leaning against the door as if there was a chance the little bad wolf was about to bust her way in. Trust me on this one.

After a long moment of focusing on Charli’s worried face, self-doubt began to niggle. I was just about to open the door when a tiny little knock came from the other side.

I slowly opened it. Yes, miss? I asked. Can I help you?

I’m home now, Daddy.

Bridget was calm, collected and marginally