Chapter 74 SIX MONTHS AGREEMENT (1)
WILLA’S POV
Gallahan blinked at me twice. It seemed like he had failed to comprehend what I just said, as if my words rang foreign to his ears.
His jaw ticked taut and relaxed repeatedly for a few heartbeats before he said a baffled, “What?”
I shifted, moving near the end of the bed so I could have a semblance of detachment and defenses through the space between us. Then I folded and crossed my legs, settling down as comfortably as I possibly could.
“Custody, Gallahan,” I said nonchalantly. “Guardianship of our children. Where they stay and who will raise them. That type of thing that parents who aren’t together discuss and agree on.”
“Don’t get too cheeky with me, Willa. I know what custody is. I don’t need you to explain it to me.”
“Then why do you look like I just spouted something a spiel of gibberish you couldn’t understand?”
Gallahan threw his head back a little and stared at the ceiling, seemingly praying for a long thread of patience he clearly didn’t have the bone for.
Then when he looked at me again, he seemed like he didn't find even a flimsy bit of patience. There was a frustrated frown on his lips, and his voice was loud and snappish. “Because I expected that you already got the hint! I intend to stay with you and the kids, Willa.”
In response, I regarded him with exasperation, saying, “But you obviously can’t.”
“And why the hell not?” he retorted waspishly as he defensively held Calisto and Gillian closer to him. “I am their father. You cannot forbid me to-”
Gallahan’s mouth clamped shut when Calisto groggily stirred in his arm and said in a hoarse voice, “Daddy?”
He drew his attention towards Calisto, completely shedding the simmering hostility he had for me. So when he spoke again, he sounded atypically tender.
“Yes, Cal? It’s me. Daddy’s here.”
“Are you…” Calisto grimaced, and he cleared his throat, hoping to revitalize his vocal chords that had been unused for weeks. But even then, his voice remained soft and raspy when he asked, “Are you fighting with Mommy?”
“No. No, sweetheart,” Gallahan quickly denied. He threw me a quick glance before adding, “Of course not. Mom and I were just talking about something.”
“B-but you sounded mad,” Calisto pointed out as his tiny little hand clutched at the fabric of Gallahan’s singlet.
“I was,” Gallahan admitted honestly. “I’m sorry.”
Calisto clung to him tighter and whispered, “Don’t fight. Please?”
Gallahan hummed softly. He then pressed a kiss on top of Calisto’s head and said, “As you wish, Cal.”
The promise seemed to work wonders in placating Calisto’s worry, since his eyes fell close once more, and he went right back to slumber.
It left us in suffocating silence. But none of us dared to speak for quite a while, which worked well in my favor.
It gave me the chance to gather my wits and prepare a bit of a speech on how to explain things to Gallahan without him getting all riled up.
And honestly, it didn’t sit right with me that I had to walk on eggshells around him. This made me feel vindicated over my decision to leave him all those years ago. Because I would rather be torn apart, limb by limb, than settle down with a man I couldn’t candidly talk to without the fear of him losing his temper.
But then again… He was the father of my children. There was no way I could fully shut him out of our lives now that he knew, unless I was willing to start a bloody war against him.
So I was left with one option: discuss things as civilly as possible with him, and form a fair and firm agreement with regards to Calisto and Gillian.
“I’m sorry.”
I jolted a little on my spot, taken aback by Gallahan’s sudden apology.
“Excuse me?”
“I said I’m sorry. For getting all worked up and nearly losing my temper. I just… I’m not making excuses, okay? I just want you to understand that I really do not want to be pushed away.”
I opened my mouth to speak but Gallahan shook his head.
“Let me finish first. Please?”
I pursed my lips, sighed, then finally said, “Alright.”
“I know you may have your reservations about me, Willa. Sure, we agreed that everything that had happened to us is all water under the bridge, but you and I know that the bridge we have between us is just an old and weak plank.”
I nodded in understanding at his metaphor. And somehow, I couldn’t help the little tug at my lips, feeling endeared at his unconscious knack to speak figuratively.
Perhaps he truly wasn’t pulling my leg when he told me he loved to read back when we were at his cabin on the night we first met.
“Why are you smiling?”
“I’m not,” I denied, although I knew it was no use since I could feel my lips stretching into a grin.
“Liar.”