Kyle’s phone buzzed, and he pulled his hand away, looking down at the screen. “Shit, the gazebo just showed up. I have to get back to the square.” He paused. “Thanks, Whit. I know this is weird. Us talking like this.”
“But it doesn’t have to be, Kyle. It really doesn't,” I said earnestly.
“Yeah, maybe it doesn’t,” he agreed, looking tired and miserable. He got to his feet, and I followed suit. We walked to the door, and he held it open for me. Always the gentleman. One of the few men I had encountered in my life that acted that way out of bone-deep decency.
We walked back to the square together in silence. He, lost in dark thoughts. Me, in how I could help him—whether he wanted me to help him—should I help him?
The thought of him losing his baby girl was more than I could bear. I was willing to do just about anything to prevent that. But I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do. What could a messed-up former makeup artist do to prevent Kyle from losing his kid?
When it was time to part ways, Kyle looked down at me. He took my hand, only for a moment. It was the first time in years he had initiated physical contact with me. I hated that it was due to such awful circumstances.
“Thanks for giving me your ear. I think I needed someone outside of it all, you know. Someone not close to the situation. Not close to me, who could see things a little clearer.”
He didn’t mean for the words to hurt, but damn if they didn’t.
“No problem,” I replied feebly, sounding like I was being strangled.
Kyle didn’t notice. He had already turned away from me.
I watched him leave, feeling heavy and inconsequential.
Chapter 7
Kyle
I was in absolute recoil. My entire world seemed to collapse in on itself.
I left Whitney and walked straight to my truck.
“Hey, Boss, where’re you going?” Jeff called out as I passed.
“I have to go—” I couldn’t even finish what I was going to say. My words choked me. I felt sick to my stomach. I waved a hand, hoping he’d get the point. “I’ll be back in a little while,” was all I could manage. I climbed into my truck and peeled off down the street.
Josie was filing for full physical custody of Katie. And the worst part was that she had a damn good chance of getting it.
“Courts tend to side with the mother in these situations,” Adam told me, trying to soften the blow as much as possible. How do you even soften that? It was like a sledgehammer to my heart.
“But she abandoned her, Adam!” I had tried not to shout. “I’ve been raising Katie by myself for almost two fucking years!”
Adam looked at me with all the sympathy I didn’t want. “She was suffering from postpartum depression. Received treatment for it too. That will play strongly in her favor. You said she called you, says she got her own place and is looking for jobs?”
I had nodded, bile rising in my throat.
Adam’s expression turned even more serious if that was at all possible. “Then she’s obviously getting good advice on how to fight for this. She’s proving her willingness to provide Katie with a proper home. A stable environment—”
“She already has that! With me!” I had bunched my hands into fists wanting to punch something. Anything. Adam seemed to be steeling himself to be on the receiving end of it.
I tried to settle down. How do you settle down when you’ve just been told there’s a chance your baby could be taken away from you?
“I know, Web. You’ve given her security and stability when her mother couldn’t. That will matter too.”
“But it might not be enough. And there’s a chance Josie could take her,” I surmised, my voice cracking.
Adam pressed his mouth into a thin line and nodded. “At worst, she could get full custody, and you would get visitation. At best it could be joint custody, with physical custody split 50/50—”
“But how is that possible when she lives in fucking Florida?” I demanded, my voice rising again.
“Well, either you or Josie would be awarded physical custody during the majority of the year, with the other having physical custody during summer months and long holidays. And depending on who has physical custody, the other parent would be allowed visitation whenever it suited their schedule and is in the best interests of Katie,” Adam explained.
The words had flowed in and out of my head. Physical custody. Visitation. Primary residency. It was a bunch of gibberish.
Adam also told me—in no uncertain terms—not to contact Josie myself. That I should leave communication between our attorneys. Well, screw that. I needed answers. And I needed them now.
I pulled over to the side of the road and pulled out my phone, calling the person who was responsible for messing up my whole world.