“What was the ‘Mom’ for then? If you are not currently being kidnapped by human traffickers?” I demanded, leaning back into Swiss’s chest.
He kissed my head, and delightful shivers went down my spine.
It felt incredibly odd to have Swiss so close to me while I was talking to Violet, who knew nothing about the biker I was living with. As far as she knew, I was happily married to her father.
And as far as Swiss knew, I was divorced from her father.
My worlds were colliding, and I didn’t like it. As much as I wanted to escape that feeling, I didn’t want to leave Swiss either.
“Well, Jacques got us the most amazing little villa in Côte d'Azur,” she enthused. “It looks like a castle. It’s so beautiful, Mom. And super fancy. Like a Kardashian has rented it!”
“Oh my god,” I exclaimed in my best Valley Girl accent.
Swiss chuckled from behind me. Luckily Violet was too wrapped up in her excitement to notice the masculine laugh that did not belong to her father.
“Okay, I know it’s cliché, elitist and superficial to be impressed by that,” she admitted sheepishly, “but he did this for us. Because he’s been busy, and he gets time off at the end of November so we will be able to have a proper goodbye.”
“Wait,” I frowned. “The end of November? That can’t be right, you’re meant to be back in the US by Thanksgiving.”
There was a loaded pause on the other end of the phone.
“Violet,” I probed in the ‘Mom voice’ I rarely had to use with her after potty training.
“Okay, so yes, it would technically mean I wouldn’t be home for Thanksgiving,” she stated quickly. “But I already talked to Daddy, and he said you’re going to likely still be in California then anyway and—”
My spine went straight, and I was rigid in Swiss’s arms. I didn’t have the phone on speaker, and Violet was speaking so quickly that I doubted he would’ve heard the ‘California’ part of that, but I was still on guard and needed to get away from him.
But his hands were tight around my body.
My mind was whirling with everything that Violet said.
“You already spoke to your father?” I asked quietly.
She’d already spoken to him, and he’d already said I’d still be gone, which likely meant he still had no idea where I was. It was technically good news, but my insides were combusting at the mere thought of him.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t cool of me to speak to him first, but I know you’ve got so much on your plate,” she sighed. “And it had just come up when he happened to call. He was really understanding and supportive about it, which is… unusual for Daddy,” she continued, a smile in her voice.
I was fighting not to throw up.
Her father was supportive because he wanted his daughter away for as long as possible, so he had more time to find and likely punish her mother, and have time for the injuries to heal.
“I know that you were excited for me to come home,” Violet murmured apologetically. “And I miss you, Mom, I miss you so, so much. But I promise that I’m going to be home before Christmas. We’ll make cookies. Decorate the tree. Watch Christmas movies while drinking hot chocolate.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, and the very foundation of my soul felt like it was crumbling to pieces. Not just because it was going to be longer without my daughter—and I’d be spending an important holiday without her for the first time—but because all of our holidays were gone now. We would not be drinking hot chocolate, decorating the tree or making cookies. Because those were all routines we’d established as a family.
Preston included.
And no matter how this turned out, I would never live in that house again. The house I’d raised Violet in. The house I had all of those memories in, not all of them terrible. Some of them wonderful.
“Yeah, honey,” I replied, my voice high, thin and full of tears.
Swiss’s arms flexed around me.
“Mom,” Violet cooed. “Please don’t cry. I can come home. Daddy already changed my flights, but I’m sure when you talk to him next—”
“No, sweetie,” I interjected, my voice a tad stronger now. “You should stay. Have your experience at the Kardashian house. Get your proper goodbye with the age-inappropriate boyfriend.”
“Not funny, Mom,” she muttered.