Page 54 of Worth the Try
I narrow my eyes playfully at her. “I’m getting you back for this.”
She shrugs. “Might need to change before you head to practice.”
Ten minutes later, my head is blissfully empty as I weave through the interstate traffic. Maybe I should start every day with an orgasm delivered by a hot woman named Elodie in my foyer.
My phone rings. I curse. It’s my lawyer. Taking a deep breath and hoping like hell I can keep this blissful mood going, I answer her call with the car’s system.
“Jennifer.” I don’t bother with pleasantries, but I don’t feel bad. I assume she’s used to it.
“I want you to remember that we have a court order that gives you full custody,” she starts.
Well, there goes my mood. “Which we’ve had pretty much from the very beginning,” I remind her. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“We’ve tracked her down,” she replies.
“And?”
“And she’s living in Atlanta.”
My knuckles blanch on the steering wheel as I focus on not ramming into the car in front of me. “What did you just say?” I growl.
“She’s in Atlanta. And before you ask, there’s nothing I can do in terms of keeping her away from Rosalie, Ansel. She’s not done anything.”
“That’s the fuckingpoint,” I yell.
Jennifer stays silent.
On a deep inhale, I try again. “I apologize. But are you sure?”
“I am,” she confirms. “Have you heard anything else from her?”
“No.”
“Looks like she’s new to the area. She’s been pretty itinerant, and that works in our favor.”
I nearly freeze with rage. “What are you implying, Jennifer?”
“I’m implying that you should prepare yourself—and Rosalie—for the worst.”
“She’s five.” I have to force my eyes to focus on what’s in front of me. I’m on a seven-lane stretch of interstate. I should not have answered this call.
Jennifer continues, her voice clipped, “It doesn’t matter how young she is, Ansel. She needs to be prepared if a judge determines that her mother has a right to see her. Or more.”
This can’t be happening. This entire conversation is a joke. It has to be. “That woman has no right to be called her mother. None.”
“Should I refer to her as the dragon lady instead, Ansel?” Her sarcasm comes through easily.
I ignore that. “Do you really think a judge would agree to that?”
She sighs. “Hard to tell. But seriously, if you haven’t talked with Rosalie?—”
“That’s my business,” I snap, my nerves frayed.
“It is,” Jennifer concedes.
“Anything else?”
“No. There’s nothing more for us to do until or unless she makes a move.”
