. the voice i hear

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The world blurred around its edges, words starting to lose their distinction. A gala had turned into drinks with Beau had turned into dinner with Cassius, and the younger McCarthy warily eyed his older brother as he ordered another old fashioned. "How's the baby? Vegas?" Cassius asks, and Caesar breaks out into his distinctively boyish grin, beaming ear to ear. "She's great, they're great. Best thing that ever happened to me," he replies, as he does practically verbatim every time someone mentions his girls. He shovels steak into his mouth, suddenly ravenous. "You know what I hate about galas? Fucking hors d'oeuvres. What's the point of hors d'oeuvres? Do you know how much those little bits of nothing cost, too? It's like it's some kind of joke, I'd like to meet the guy who came up with hors fuckng d'oeuvres."  He doesn't notice that his dining companion is motioning for the check, the thought of his own wife and child weighing more heavily on his mind. Suddenly he's back outside his apartment building and the food is doing its job, he's sober enough to pull himself together. Straightening his bow tie and smoothing down his hair, he smiles at the doorman. "Do I look okay?" he asks him, not for the first time. He nods, and somehow the expression on his face makes Caesar feel a tinge of sadness, though he can't place why. Soon he's riding up to the penthouse, making a desperate attempt to freshen up with a spritz of cologne and several mints. The elevator pings and he takes one deep breath, fixing up a smile and letting himself into the place he called home. "Honey I'm home," he calls, his smile easing into a more natural place as he spots Charlotte on the floor, her big blue eyes welling up with seemingly ever-present tears. "C'mere beautiful," he grins, passing his briefcase over to the nanny and shrugging off his tuxedo jacket, finally leaning down to pick the baby up. "Aww, here she is, shh now, daddy's got ya."

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Vegas was over it. Over work, over parenting, over baby-sitting an adult man, over getting 3 hours or less sleep a night. Just plain over it. She'd had a that's it moment when it turned nine o'clock and Caesar still wasn't home. Charlotte was going through a bit of a phase and was throwing fits every time her mother put her in her crib. Vegas could usually stand it, but she had a massive exam tomorrow and needed her quiet. Charlotte was babbling to her stuffed dog when Vegas had her moment. Vegas scooped the baby up and brought her to the bed room, where she proceeded to pack a bag. One bag lead to another and soon Caesar's half of the closet was bare. With the bags set by the door, Vegas poured herself a glass of water (at the moment she was practising sobriety) and sat back to her studies. Charlotte was beginning to tire, her big eyes blinking slowly and her mother raised to her feet to put her to bed. Maybe she would get lucky? But the front door creaks open and Charlotte's eyes light up at the sight of her dad. The nanny Dorota - who usually stood back when Vegas was present, as Vegas refused her help while she was home - shuffles into view to tend to Caesar. Imagine, a man in his mid-twenties needing a nanny? "Dorota, could you put Charlotte down?" she asks the nanny and Charlotte begins to scream in protest. Vegas leans back in her chair and sighs.

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Holding Charlotte was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. Fatherhood had been something Caesar had yearned for his entire life, but then whenever he'd had brushes with fate, moments where it seemed imminent, suddenly it always seemed like the worst idea in the world. Like queuing for a ride at an amusement park, your excitement mounting as you get closer and closer, only to give way to a bone chilling, absolute sense of terror the second you're buckled in and can't escape. Charlotte the baby had brought so much joy to his life, she imbued everything he was doing to build his company with a sense of purpose... but the thought of Charlotte the adult, a fully grown woman who would one day stand opposite and see him for how he truly was... even bouncing her in his arms now, Caesar felt an impending sense of fear. He was a fraud and his time was running out. Though it was happening rather sooner than he thought. "It's okay, I can do it," Caesar insists, instinctively turning away from Dorota's outspread arms. He looks up at Vegas, at the face he knew better than his own. "You look tired," he says, stating the obvious. Oblivious to the packed bags by the door, he ploughs onward as he always did, refusing to acknowledge that anything was amiss until he had absolutely no other choice but to. "Long day? Want me to run you a bath, maybe fix you something to eat?" Charlotte gurgles in his arms and it fills him with warmth, the noise one he would listen to on repeat if he could. "C'mon little one, you're sleepy," he insists to the bright eyed tot. She giggles defiantly and he grins back, nestling into her soft cheek, breathing her in. "Yes you are. Yes you are! It's way past your bedtime missy, come on now, shhhh."

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While Caesar took on parenthood when it was convenient for him, Vegas had taken it like a second full time job. She was a fierce young mother, who miraculously found time for Charlotte even when there was no time to be had. She'd hardly taken time off of her studies for her daughter and had somehow managed to do both spectacularly well. Even when the nanny was hired, she shooed her away when she wasn't in class and left Dorota to watch her soap operas and make the odd meal. Unfortunately, the one thing she'd let go of was her patience for Caesar. He was gradually becoming less of an essential and more of a threat to her small clan. "Caesar." She is tired and it was his fault. "No." She folds her arms. Watching him with Charlotte is no longer endearing. How much she loves him is heartbreaking, she wishes there was a way to condition the disappointment before it hurt for her. "Dorota, can you take her? Caesar, can you give her to Dorota? You need to leave."

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There was an atmosphere as soon as he entered the apartment, though those cocktails had made him blind to it. Cuddling Charlotte close to him, he briefly thought about how much easier parenting was than he had expected it to be, especially now that she was almost sleeping through the night. He's about to say this out loud when Vegas insists on him handing the baby over to a visibly embarrassed Dorota, and what she says finally breaks through his consciousness. "What? I just got home," he says, finally relinquishing his daughter to the nanny. She hurries away. He starts to pull at his bow tie, feeling uncomfortable and yearning for bed. It's only now that he glances around and sees the bags by the door, making his heart stop dead. Shock sets in and it numbs him, holds off the pain that will inevitably come. "Vegas," he says, looking at her properly. It hasn't set in, refuses to. The enormity of those four little words is incomprehensible. "Can we talk about this?" he takes a few steps closer to her, desperate to touch her but scared of her recoiling from him. He wasn't stupid, on some level this wasn't entirely unexpected, but he couldn't believe it would be right now. He looks at her and his eyes are wide, confused etched all over his features. "I know it's hard. I have no idea how you do it," he glances at her studies, "and I know you don't like nannies, even though everyone we know was raised by them." A sore point. "Between your school and my work and us having a fucking baby, it's insanely hard. But I love you. Please don't shut down on me V, please, talk to me."

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This wasn't a one off situation. He'd come home yesterday buzzed and she went to bed. The time before that she folded her arms. A few times before that she admitted that yes she was tired and a bath would be nice. Once, she'd given him the benefit of the doubt and said it was okay. And before that, she might have even been needy enough to fuck him. As Dorota lifted a screaming Charlotte, it felt very much game over. "We have talked about it," she'd brought it up many times. She'd cried to him about it. She'd told him she felt like a single parent and she couldn't do it. Now though, it seemed like she was ready to. "You said you'd do better," she stands her ground and looks at him in the eyes, "and you didn't, so it's done." Her arms fold and it's as though she's physically locking him out. "Everything is packed for you, Beau will have you. You can call me tomorrow to figure out Charlotte, but I have an exam tomorrow morning. I have to go to bed."

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Charlotte's wailing intrudes from the other room and it's a noise that makes Caesar's already knotted insides seize up all the more. Despite all the conversations had, the voices raised, the promises made, he still somehow manages to feel blindsided by this eventuality. He keeps his eyes on Vegas', unable to accept that she could be doing this to him. The alcohol doesn't help and he wishes he had more of his wits about him. "And I will, but what can I do? I want you to finish med school, I want to build this business. I want to build a life worthy of you Veg, but how can I do that and still have free time to be at home?" All the times they'd talked about this he'd come away with this one conclusion; times were hard, but they'd get better. Clearly she had heard something different. "You've always wanted me to be more ambitious and then when I am I come home to this. You're tired, I'm tired, everyone is fucking tired." He takes a deep breath, knowing how easily he see red and make things worse. "Do you want me to put work on hold?" he asks, leaning against the back of the couch to steady himself. He glances at the bags and it makes him feel sick. Trying to keep his cool, he takes a few more deep breaths before he speaks, forcing himself to use an even tone. "I'm not going anywhere Vegas. If you want to go I can't stop you, but I live here and that's not your call to make."