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“Sorry, swamped with work. Talk later.”
I hit send and toss the phone aside, burying my face in my hands. This isn't fair to Chloe, and I know it. But every time I think about calling her back, about explaining everything that's going on with Valeria and Zola, I freeze up.
Days pass, and the pattern continues. Chloe calls, I ignore it. She texts, I give short, noncommittal responses. I tell myself it's for Zola's sake, that I'm just trying to figure out what's best for my daughter. But deep down, I know I'm running away from the difficult conversation I need to have.
One evening, as I'm tucking Zola into bed, she looks up at me with those big, innocent eyes.
"Daddy, when are we going to see Miss Chloe again? I miss her and Penelope."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I know she got used to seeing them outside of school, and I've been taking that away from her. I force a smile, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.
"Soon, sweetheart. We've all been busy lately."
As I leave her room, the guilt weighs heavy on my shoulders. I'm not just hurting Chloe, I'm hurting Zola too. And Penelope, who's become such a good friend to my daughter.
The next day, I run into Chloe at the school. I'm there to pick up Zola, and she's just finishing up for the day. Our eyes meet across the hallway, and I see the hurt and confusion in her gaze.
"Rendal," she says, her voice soft but strained. "It's…been a while."
I nod, my throat tight. "Yeah, of course. I've just been-"
"Busy with work," she finishes for me, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "I know. You've said."
We stand there in awkward silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. I open my mouth to explain, to tell her everything about Valeria and my fears for Zola, but the words won't come.
But then my daughter comes running out and I sweep her up in my arms. Instead of facing Chloe like I should, I make an excuse about getting Zola home and turn to leave.
But it sticks with me. All through the afternoon when Chloe doesn't call or text once. And I decide it's time to at least talk to someone about it.
I decide to call Grak, needing someone to talk to who isn't tangled up in this mess. He agrees to come over, bringing Mira along to play with Zola.
As the girls run off to Zola's room, giggling about some secret game, Grak turns to me with a raised eyebrow.
"Alright, spill it. You look like you've been chewing on a sour lemon for days."
I can't help but chuckle. "That obvious, huh?"
"Rendal, my friend, you've got 'hot mess' written all over your big green face."
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "It's Valeria... and Chloe. And Zola. Hell, it's everything."
Grak nods sagely. "Ah, the classic 'ex-wife, new girlfriend, kid in the middle' conundrum. Tale as old as time."
"You're not helping," I grumble, but I can't keep the smile off my face.
"Sorry, sorry. Go on, tell Uncle Grak all about it."
I glare at him. "Don't say shit like that."
He only arcs an eyebrow, and I take a deep breath and launch into the whole story - Valeria's manipulation, Chloe's hurt, and my own indecision.
"I feel like I'm being pulled in a thousand directions," I confess. "I want to do right by Zola, but I also... I'm falling for Chloe, Grak. Like actually falling for her." I swallow back the three words on the tip of my tongue, uncertainty winning out. "And I'm screwing it all up."
Grak listens intently, nodding along. When I finish, he leans back, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"Well, my friend, it sounds like you've got yourself in quite the pickle. Or should I say, quite the orc-ward situation?"
I groan at the pun, but Grak just grins.
