Page 20

A pitch that curves or breaks from a straight or expected flight path toward home plate.
SYDNEY
Fairy tales. You know, that saying that you live happily ever after when you kiss the prince?
I think I kissed the devil because blah fucking blah, fairy tales do not exist.
Two weeks ago, I thought I had my life together. And then reality heard me and was like, wrong, bitch, hold my beer. My dad once told me that a pitcher’s curveball is his greatest asset as a pitcher. I’ve got a curveball for you.
A foreclosure notice.
They say I have options. At least the letter from the bank tells me that, and I googled it just to be sure.
With my hands in my hair that I haven’t washed in three days, I stare at the letter again.
Negotiate with the bank. Okay, well, Collin worked at the bank, and seeing how I can’t even use my debit card or credit cards, I’m not sure how much they’re going to negotiate with me.
Loan modification. That will result in higher payments, and seeing how our mortgage was already nearly three grand a month, without Collin’s income, I don’t know how I would afford that. I should have his life insurance coming in soon, and it’d pay for the house, but what am I going to do in the meantime?
File for bankruptcy? Uh, no, not doing that. I’d lose my business in the process. Then what would I have to make money?
Short sale? So that means I’d be selling the only home and security Tatum knows. I don’t want to do that either.
I can’t even form thoughts on what to do next other than what the fuck?
Tatum opening the container of blueberries next to me draws my attention to her.
“I like blueberries.”
I smile at Tatum as she picks blueberries from the tray. Yes, I washed them. No, they’re not organic. As I watch my daughter eating berries without a care in the world, I’m jealous of her innocence in all this.
Sighing, she frowns at me, the smallest hint of sadness in her eyes. “Daddy’s not coming back?”
“No, honey. He went to heaven.”
God wanted his lying ass back.
I would never tell Tatum anything derogatory about her dad. I want her image of her father to be exactly what it has been for the last three years of her life. The one of Saturday mornings at the park with him. Or the nights he’d come home late only to sleep on her bedroom floor to ensure no monsters get under her bed.
Though lately, they didn’t get to spend any time together, he was still her hero, and I’d never take that from her. Even if he’s a lying asshole.
Sadie slides into the booth next to Tatum, her hair a mess from sleep and still in her pajamas. “Care to share, Loretta?”
Happily, Tatum slides the package over to her. “They yummy, huh?” And then she waits, curiously watching Sadie’s face for her to take a bite. “You like ’em, Auntie?”
Sadie pops a handful into her mouth. “Nothing like little blue balls in the morning.”
I snort, folding the foreclosure notice up. “I have to meet Nahla at the bank this morning, and Emmie is at school. What time is your class today?” Sadie’s been attending ASU for about three years now. Still hasn’t declared a major and spends more time getting to know a local band than she does learning. I love her, but she has absolutely no direction in life. Exceptionally beautiful and a heart to match it, she’s a pushover. She lets people walk all over her and clings to the unstable ones she thinks she can fix. Which for her, currently, is a drummer named Diesel. She’s living at our aunt’s house, and Diesel’s van, has never held a job, and can’t decide if she wants her hair purple or red, so currently, it’s a shade of blue.
You will never meet a more loving person in your life. I guarantee it. I absolutely adore her and always have. Our parents were done having kids after me, but when I was seven, Sadie came along. She was like my own personal baby doll, and I’ve been fussing over her ever since.
“I haven’t decided if I’m going to class today,” Sadie says, hugging Tatum to her side. “I’m thinking I should take this little nugget to the movies.”
Tatum’s eyes light up. “I want to go!”
“Thank you,” I mouth to Sadie, grateful she’s here with me.
LATER THAT MORNING, with Nahla acting as my attorney, and let’s face it, therapist at this point, I head to the bank with the notice in my hand. The longer the time goes by, the more upset I become. By the time I’m at the bank, I’m pissed.