Shattered Pieces

Fourteen

"Dada," Grayson screams while clinging to my shirt as I try to hand him back to his mom. I can't look at her. I can't see the pain in her eyes because then I might not have the resolve to actually walk out of the door.

I block out the disapproving glares from her parents as I place a soft kiss on top of my son's curly head.

"I'll see you tomorrow, lil man. I love you."

Olivia takes him, soothing, patting his back.

"You don't have to leave." She whispers. "I love you, Spencer."

"I love you too, Oliva. That's exactly why I have to leave. Right now, every time I see you, I'm more focused on how angry I am with you than how much I love you. I don't want to be angry with you. I have to go."

Grayson's screams grow louder the more restless he becomes in his mom's arms.

"May... maybe you should take him with you tonight."

"I'd never separate him from you, Olivia. Never." I find her eyes so she can see how sincere I am.

"I know that. It's not who you are." She gulps, her voice still low since her parents refuse to give us a second of privacy. "Which I why I don't understand you serving Kenned—"

"This conversation ends here." I don't mean to be so abrasive, but right now, my daughter is the last thing I feel safe discussing with my wife. It shouldn't be this way.

I turn toward the door, feeling the weight of everyone's stares on my back. To Mr. Baker, I'm letting his daughter down, letting him down. To Mrs. Baker, this is exactly why she thought we never should've married in the first place. My wife can decide if and how much of this situation she wants to share.

My front door closes behind me, and I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding. I hop into my car and prepare for my drive into the city. An unknown number calls me for the sixth time today, and for no other reason than to tell them to stop calling, I decide to answer.

"Who are you, and why are you blowing up my phone?"

"Spencer."

My world begins to spin. I must be imagining things because there's no way, after all this time. There's no way.

"Kennedy."

"Spencer, we need to talk."

"No shit."

I see little Ms. Psychopath got my delivery.

"Spencer, you don't want to do this."

"Is that a threat, Kennedy? I know you get off on manipulating people."

Silence. A welcome silence because hearing her voice is infuriating. Knowing what she's done. I hate her. I hate that I ever met her. I hate that I ever shared any part of myself with her. I hate that a perfectly innocent little girl has to call her 'mom.' I hate her.

"It— it's not a threat. I'm begging you, Spencer. Please don't do this. We just need a chance to talk."

"You're kidding, right? Did your mouth stop working for the past four years? You just learned how to make calls again? First time trying the phone number that hasn't changed since we were in college. Spare me, Kennedy. You don't want to talk. You're in damage control mode. You want to do what you do best, switch up the narrative."

"That's not true." She sobs. "I know you're angry, rightfully so. Just please, Spencer, please give me a chance to explain. I'm not that girl anymore. You can't take her, Spencer. She, her and Naomi are my world... you can't take her." Her voice cracks, and I'm too on guard to empathize. Everybody has been lying to me for years!