Hook Shot (Hoops #3)(16)

Bridget watches me in simmering silence, resentment tightening every line of her body. As soon as they’re gone, she unleashes all that banked vitriol on me. “What the fuck, Kenan?”

“What the fuck, Bridget? How could you think it was okay to bring a camera crew to our family counseling session?”

“They weren’t going in,” she says, shifting on her stilettos and glancing away.

“Just the sight of them here could affect Simone’s perception of things, of our life.”

“You humiliated me.”

“Oh, a taste of your own medicine then.”

“Is this payback?” she asks, hands on her hips. “Along with leaving me next to nothing to live on?”

“Next to nothing?” I huff a disbelieving breath. “You do understand I’m paying you twice what we agreed on in our pre-nup, right?”

“You wouldn’t have to be paying me anything if you had just given me a chance to explain about Cliffton.”

God, doesn’t she have the self-preservation not to bring him up? “I don’t care anymore, Bridget.”

And it’s true. I hate that this has hurt Simone, and disrupted her life so badly, but I don’t regret divorcing Bridget and only wish I’d done it sooner.

Before she can challenge that statement, the office door opens and Simone comes out, followed closely by our therapist, Dr. Packer.

“Daddy!” Simone’s face lights up and she rushes over to hug around my waist.

She’s a perfect mix of the two of us, with Bridget’s blue eyes, and my mouth and cheekbones. Her sandy hair riots all over her head, equal parts curly and coarse. Every time my mother sees Simone’s hair, she begs me to let her do it. But Simone is fourteen, too old for me to dictate who touches her hair.

“Hey, Moni.” I swipe a hand down my daughter’s face. We watched Face/Off together last year, and Simone loved how John Travolta brushed his hand down his kids’ faces to demonstrate his love. We’ve been doing it ever since.

“I can’t wait to see your new place,” Simone says. “I have a room?”

“Of course.” I bring her head to my chest and kiss her hair. “You’ll have a room anywhere I am. We can grab some food on our way home. This place called Playa Betty’s claims to have Cali-style beach food.”

“For real?” Simone’s expression brightens. Though she’s spent most of her life in Houston, she loves California as much as I do. So few things have made Simone happy lately that I notice every one.

“We’ll check it out for ourselves,” I tell her, “after we’re done here.”

“Can Mommy come, too?” She glances from me to Bridget, a mixture of caution and hope in her eyes.

A smug smile lights Bridget’s face.

“Your mom has a commitment after the session,” I tell her carefully. “Maybe next time.”

“Oh.” Simone’s expression falls.” Okay.”

I’d do almost anything to restore the spark that seems to come and go so quickly in what was once my joyful little girl, but being with her mother isn’t one of them. I’ll have to find new ways to make her happy.

“Simone, I need to talk to your parents for a few minutes, okay?” Dr. Packer asks, her kind eyes resting on my daughter.

“Okay.” Simone sits on the sleek leather couch and pulls her phone out.

The three of us enter the office and Dr. Packer closes the door behind her, gesturing for us to take the two seats across from her desk.

“Simone is in a very vulnerable place right now,” she starts off, no warm-up. “She has a lot of anxiety and is feeling unmoored.”

“I was afraid of that,” Bridget says, shaking her head. “I told Kenan we should keep trying. I knew the divorce would devastate her.”

“Is this a joke?” I demand. “Are you seriously trying to put the divorce on me?”

“I’m just saying I was willing to make certain sacrifices to keep things stable for Simone.”

“Well I’m sure uprooting her life, taking her away from her school and friends in California so you could shoot a reality show helps a lot.”

“Actually, it might,” Dr. Packer inserts. “Simone says New York feels like a fresh start where everyone at school doesn’t know about her family and . . . what happened.”

Fury and shame rage through me. Did the kids at school tease her? Taunt her with all the things TMZ reported about her parents? Welcome to the Shit Show.

“And the school has an excellent ballet program, of course,” Dr. Packer adds.

“It does?” I arch a look between Dr. Packer and Bridget.

“Yes, it does, Kenan,” Bridget says with a sigh. “If you paid attention to something other than basketball, maybe you’d know your daughter wanted to attend this school in New York because of their dance program. That’s why I chose to live on the Upper West Side, close enough for her to walk to school.”

I look to Dr. Packer for confirmation.

“Don’t look at her,” Bridget says peevishly. “I’m Simone’s mother.”

“Oh, now you remember. When did it all come rushing back? When the TV crew you brought to your daughter’s counseling session left? Was it right around then?”