I hate his name as much as I hate him.
Mitchell’s eyes leave mine and flick to Annabelle, then back to me. “She’s beautiful,” he says, stepping away from my car and toward me.
I grip Annabelle tightly and hold her back. “What are you doing here?”
“You’ve been ignoring my calls. I got to town and didn’t know where you lived. So, I went out for drinks, and I saw you sitting in that restaurant when I passed. You’re impossible to miss, Kat.” His lip lifts in a soft smile, and I want to punch that smile clean off his face.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I want to know my daughter,” he says, then looks back at Annabelle, who’s currently leaning on my shoulder half asleep. I guess the food coma has hit her hard.
“Fuck off, you piece of shit,” I say, pushing past him and unlocking my car, then strapping Annabelle in her car seat. I struggle because I’m so angry, and it takes me a few tries to get the buckle to behave. Shutting her door quietly, I walk around to the driver’s side.
“I will fight if I have to, Kat. I have rights.”
“Fuck you,” I say while shuffling into the car and shutting the door behind me.
My hands shake as I drive home. I can’t help but think about that bastard and what he did to me. This whole thing has shaken me to my very core. I never expected to see him again.
Getting Annabelle, who’s now fast asleep, out of the car, I make my way inside and lay her in her bed, and then head down to pour myself a glass of wine. I try calling Rochelle, but she doesn’t answer, so I call my mother.
“Mitchell just showed up. Wants to have rights to Annabelle,” I barely manage to say without my voice cracking.
“I’ll be right there,” she says, and hangs up.
Wiping at the tears that have formed, I probably have mascara all over my face. It’s not that I didn’t want Mitchell to be in Annabelle’s life. I did. And I tried hard at the time. But when I received an envelope with cash inside asking me to get rid of the ‘problem,’ I cut all ties with him. Mitchell was a one-night stand, and I shouldn’t have expected much from that. So, I didn’t add his name to her birth certificate. She has my last name, not his.
Almost through my third glass of wine, my mother and father walk in the door, and they both stop when they see me sitting on the couch with wine in hand and tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Tell me everything,” my father says.
I get along with him more than my mother, but it was her I called. It was her that I needed.
“I went out for dinner with Annabelle to the local restaurant, and when we left, Mitchell was there, leaning against my car. He wants rights to Annabelle,” I say, looking up to her room where she’s now sound asleep.
“He doesn’t deserve them. He missed everything. The asshole,” my mother spits out.
I smile because she hardly ever swears. I kind of like this side of her.
“You raised her. Mitchell can’t come in thinking he can change that.” Mom reaches for my glass and takes a sip. “We will get a lawyer tomorrow, and we’ll cover all costs to find a solution.”
“I agree,” my father says.
“What if he gets her?” I question, the tears falling again. “She doesn’t know who he is. He didn’t want her. So why now?”
“He won’t get her,” my mother says, determination set in her eyes.Rochelle is at my front door the next day, and I let her inside. My head hurts from drinking all that wine last night, but she doesn’t care as she starts screaming, “That prick,” while shaking her head. “He can’t do that.”
“He can. But hopefully, it doesn’t go through,” I reply, waving with my hand for her to come in, and then I fall on the couch.
“So, Mom knows, huh?” Rochelle raises an eyebrow, and I smile, trying to contain my laughter.
“Yep.”
“And she didn’t flip her shit?” She sits next to me.
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “But I’m not holding my breath… it could still happen.” I stand and head off to finish getting ready.
“I can come tonight if you want… to keep you company,” Rochelle offers.
“I’m working,” I tell her. Mom has Annabelle. I know no harm will come to her, and Mitchell will never be able to reach her while she’s there and protected.
“I know, I like the place. I can see why you like working there,” she offers with a shrug, getting up and following me around as I get dressed.
I turn to face her. I didn’t expect that from her. Rochelle must read the shocked look on my face because her nose scrunches up.