Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
As Bowie Jane’s nanny, she’s far more than a babysitter. She’s going to be protector, nurturer, disciplinarian, chief hugger and teller of bedtime stories, cook, playmate and to some extent, a surrogate mother. Mazzy will be caring for the most precious thing in my life, so she too will be precious to me.
I tap her number and bop along to some pop song I vaguely know on the radio. “Hello,” Mazzy answers almost hesitantly, as if she’s fearing the worst news.
“Looks like you’re officially employed,” I say.
She whoops a cheer. “Oh my God! Congratulations, Foster. That’s wonderful news. I mean, yes, I have a job, but I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks.” I’m beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll fly to San Francisco hopefully tonight. I’m going to wait a day though before bringing her back. Give Bowie Jane some time with her mom.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Mazzy says.
“My daughter loves her mother. This isn’t going to be easy on her so I want her to have that time, but I also want to get her back here. The sooner I can get her into a routine with you and school, the better it will be for her.”
“Agreed.”
“Would you like to move your stuff in while I’m gone? If so, you could come by and get a key and I’ll show you around. We also need to figure out the best way for me to pay you and handle taxes and all that shit.”
“I can direct you on how to do that,” she says with a laugh. “And yes… I’d love to come by and get a key so I can get my stuff moved in. If you leave me with Bowie Jane’s favorite things to eat, I’ll make a grocery run for you.”
“Perfect. I’ll leave you a credit card to use for stuff like that.”
Mazzy laughs. “Look at us working the teammate action!”
“I suppose we are sort of teammates when it comes to caring for Bowie Jane.”
We make plans to meet in a few hours and after we hang up, I take a moment to digest the monumental change my life is about to undergo. It never once occurred to me that I would be Bowie Jane’s primary caretaker. Her mom always had that role and was fucking fantastic at it. However, when push came to shove, I knew deep down I have what it takes. It might not be the same conventional lifestyle my kid is used to—having a mom take you and pick you up from school, cook all your meals, help with your homework—but the one thing my kid is is resilient and I know she’ll adjust.
I can only hope she makes a genuine connection with Mazzy, who will be the glue holding all our worlds together. If those two are right with each other, everything will be just fine.
CHAPTER 7
Foster
The mixture of extreme emotions running through me is a recipe for disaster. I’m sitting in Sandra’s driveway, prepared to go in and accept excited greetings from my kid and vengeful hate from my ex-wife. It’s not been a pleasant twenty-four hours since the judge ruled in my favor.
Sandra’s attorney reported back originally that she was not going to abide by the order and was refusing to turn Bowie Jane over to me if I came to California. Jared passed on the message to her that I would be showing up with the escort of the sheriff’s department if she intended to fight the order.
There was a lot of back-and-forth after that with Sandra demanding an extra week of time and me adamantly refusing. In my mind, that gave her time to make an early exit to Singapore.
Eventually, her attorney managed to strong-arm her into accepting not only the order but the reality that I would be flying in to get my daughter. I had thought to stay there a full day to give Bowie Jane some extra time but then Sandra hit me up with a flurry of outrageous text rants about maternal rights, traumatic harm to Bowie Jane and more threats to defy the order.
I made a FaceTime call to Bowie Jane so I could gauge her emotions. It went horribly, Sandra standing just off camera saying things like, “Tell your dad you don’t want to go with him” and “Tell your dad how sad you’re going to be to leave me.” My poor kid was frozen like a deer in the headlights, not wanting to disappoint her mom or me, and so she said nothing. That infuriated Sandra who then yelled at Bowie Jane, “Tell your dad he’s wrong to do this. Tell him you don’t want to go.”
I swear if I had the magical power to reach through the phone, wrap my hand around Sandra’s neck and wring it good, I would have done it because Bowie Jane’s hazel eyes filled with fat tears that spilled with a small blink.