“Oh, and tostones,” she says, turning back to Phillip with an eager grin that makes me want to be sick. I get that every little girl wants to know her dad, but I’ve fought so hard to keep her safe from this monster. Seeing her trying so hard to charm him is torture. “They’re so good, Dad, and you can dip them in garlic sauce and they’re even better. But they do give you bad breath.”
Phillip smiles. “That’s okay. I don’t mind a little bad breath. It’s not like I’m going to be kissing anyone anytime soon.” As Crissy climbs onto the couch beside me, her back turned to him, he shoots me a lethal look. “Since Mommy’s got a boyfriend and all.”
“Cameron is really nice,” Crissy says, collecting the coloring book Phillip had waiting for her when we arrived at the apartment and selecting a blue from the small box of crayons. “He’s my new best friend. Until I make friends at school when I start kindergarten. But then he’ll still be my friend, just not my best friend since he’s old. Right, Mom?”
“But not as old as Mommy or me,” Phillip says before I can answer. He crouches down in front of me, bringing his gaze almost level with mine. “Never would have pegged you for a cradle robber, Nat. But ten years? That’s quite a spread.” His lips turn down in his patronizing version of a “thinking face.” “Gotta make you wonder what’s in it for him, right? Why go after an older single mom with stretch marks and smile lines, when he could have one of those tight, twentysomething waitresses wiggling around your restaurant? But I guess you make a lot more money than any of those girls.”
I swallow all the pointed things I want to say in response and force another smile. I can feel Crissy watching me, and I refuse to give her a single reason to be afraid. “Cameron’s very mature for his age. And very kind. You have no reason to worry about Crissy’s safety or happiness when she’s with him. He’s hanging out with us for all the right reasons. Now, dinner! We should make a decision. Crissy didn’t eat much popcorn at the movie, so I’m sure she’s getting hungry.” I glance my daughter’s way, finding her focus already locked on my face. “What’s your hunger threat level, baby?”
“An eight,” Crissy says, grinning at me before glancing over to Phillip and adding eagerly, “We have a scale from one to ten. Ten is the worst, code red, when you’re so starving your stomach is trying to eat your ribs.”
“Funny,” Phillip says, but he’s clearly annoyed that he didn’t get a rise out of me with his insults. His eyes remain hard as his lips curve into a thin smile. “But we’re not leaving the apartment until we head to the airport tomorrow morning. I’ll order Chinese.”
“Could we do Japanese instead? Since it’s healthier?” I ask, fresh hope rising inside of me. I speak a little Japanese from my time waitressing at a sushi restaurant when I was a teen. I’m not fluent by any means, but I can tell the delivery guy that I’m in trouble and beg him to call for help. And if I ask with a smile on my face, Phillip shouldn’t realize what I’ve done until it’s too late. “I can put it on my card if you don’t have enough cash.”
“You won’t be using your credit cards again,” Phillip says, making my stomach sink. “And I don’t need your charity. I’m a grown man with money of my own. I’m doing just fine. Even after you wrecked my career with your lies.”
I almost blurt out that I didn’t wreck anything, that he wrecked his own life when he broke into my apartment, punched me in the stomach, threatened to stab me, and tried to drag me out to his car.
But I bite the inside of my lip instead, and nod. “Okay. Well, thank you. I’d love a spicy tuna roll. What would you like, honey? California roll and edamame?”
“Yes, please,” Crissy says, selecting a yellow crayon for the legs of the rooster she’s filling in. “And can I have a lemon-lime soda, too? Pretty please? Since it’s a special occasion meeting Dad?”
“Sure,” I say, before turning back to Phillip. “Is that okay with you? I don’t let her have sugar very often. It tends to hype her up, especially right before bed.”
“She can get as hyped as she wants,” Phillip says, a more genuine smile softening his expression as he squeezes Crissy’s knee. “Heck, we can order ice cream, too, and stay up all night if we feel like it. We can always catch up on sleep on the plane tomorrow. It’s going to be a long flight.”