Текст книги "The Girl of Sand & Fog"

Автор книги: Susan Ward

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

CHAPTER 20

Zoe pulls into the curb in front of Velvet Jones, and puts the car in neutral.

I check my texts. No answer from Bobby. My internal panic grows more severe. It’s probably nothing. I’m just being paranoid. So he didn’t text me back when I texted him two hours ago. He’s out having fun with the guys. It was all good when he called me this morning. His not rapid-fire answering now is nothing to get all butt-hurt over.

Crap, I’m probably just freaking over this because I’ve been a tight bundle of nerves since I mailed off the kinship test. Chaotic. Afraid. Regretful. And really confused. So not the reaction I expected being this close to having the proof that Alan is my dad.

But then, everything has gone into the crapper since the day I mailed the test. Alan MIA for four days. I didn’t want that; to fuck with my mom’s happiness. I know he’s staying away because of that scene in the kitchen and I don’t know what to make of that. And then there’s Mom smiling in her life is wonderful way when the entire house is radiating with her internal mess. And, fuck, even Krystal is not speaking to me.

Crap, nothing has even happened yet because of the DNA test and my entire world is crumbling and Krystal won’t even talk to me.

Zoe turns toward me. “Come on, Kaley. Let’s have fun. Dance a little. Laugh a little. You look hot. Let’s just go into the club and forget about everything for one night, OK?”

I frown. “Bobby still hasn’t texted me back.” I lift my gaze to hers. “You didn’t tell him all the junk that happened, did you?”

Zoe does a frustrated growl. “No. For the ten-thousandth time, no. I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re my best friend. I’ll always have your back. That’s how it works.”

She smiles, and I nod.

She makes a silly face. “Good, let’s have fun.”

The valet opens my door and I step out. Crap, it’s packed tonight. Loud music pours outside from the building. A long line is waiting down the block. Even paparazzi. Something must be going on in the club. Thank God Zoe got us on the VIP list.

I strut toward the front of the rope line. Instantly eyes from every direction follow me in heated stares. Tonight I hate it. I want green eyes following me in a loving stare.

I wish Bobby were here.

He’s been gone less than a week and I can’t believe how much I miss him. Thanks a lot, Chrissie, for ruining my life. But then, Mom is beyond comprehension of late. First she takes away the Tahoe trip, then my keys, grounding me from my car—thank you, Alan, for whatever you told her—and then she lets me go out with Zoe, but sets a curfew at 1 a.m., when I’ve never had a curfew before.

Way to go, Chrissie, if your goal is totally confusing parenting. I’m surprised she didn’t shove a family condom at me before I left.

Two weeks apart from Bobby is going to be torture.

The interior of the club is a crush of bodies. We are let into the upstairs lounge, the private section above the dance floor, and find two vacant spots on a dark red leather sofa against the glass viewing wall.

Zoe drops down beside me. “I love being up here. We can watch everything, and have the guys drool and not be able to get to us.”

The way she says that makes me laugh for the first time tonight. “You do look amazing.”

She beams. “Yep. I do.” Her gaze shifts to the waiter closing in on us. “And the serving guys here are freaking hot. What do you want to drink?”

My brow crinkles. “I don’t want to drink tonight. It’s no fun to drink when I’m not with Bobby.”

She wraps her arm around me and gives me a shake. “Come on, Kaley. I’m the DD and you need to lighten up.”

I order an appletini.

An hour later, I’m on my third, we’ve been laughing nonstop and done more than our share of dancing, though I’ve only danced with Zoe because it didn’t feel right to dance with a guy other than Bobby. Not that we haven’t had guys prowling after us and they definitely watch when we throw shapes on the floor, but we’ve been in our own private zone and it’s been fun just whooping it up with Zoe.

I smile at her over the rim of my glass. “Thank you for being such a good friend.” I crinkle my nose. “You were right. I needed to go out and have fun. I’ve just been so damn down lately.”

Her pretty face clouds with understanding. “Are you feeling better?”

I make a slight pout. “Not really.”

“Well, that’s because your glass is empty,” says a deep male voice and I turn in time to see a guy drop down on the sofa beside Zoe.

She arches a brow. “Excuse me. Did I say you could sit there?”

I stifle a laugh, but not a smile. It’s amazing how much more confident she is lately.

The guy drapes his arm across the back of the couch until his fingers are nearly touching my bare shoulder. “Beautiful girls shouldn’t be alone.”

Zoe tilts her head, staring at me, and we both roll our eyes.

He leans around her and points at my empty glass. “Let me order you another one. I’m Lucky, by the way.”

“Lucky?” Zoe smirks.

He shifts his gaze to me. “Lucky Richter.”

He says that as if his name should mean something, but it doesn’t to Zoe—and she’s more plugged in to the Hollywood scene than I am—and it means even less to me.

“I’m with the band,” he says in a way that conveys he realizes his name means nothing to us. He fixes his eyes on me. “I’d really like to dance with you.”

“I don’t want to dance,” I say coolly.

“Oh, you want to dance with me.”

Oh crap.

“I’m looking for a girl for a video,” he says slickly. “A music video. I think you’d be perfect, but I want to see you dance first.”

Persistent and trying to impress me. Band comment—nope, that one didn’t strike pay dirt with us the way he thought it would. Name drop—well that was a bust. Artfully cultivated pickup stare—not bad, but not interested. Music video—just plain lame.

I wonder if girls fall for any of that.

“I don’t want to dance. I don’t want to be in a video,” I say firmly.

“You’d make piles of money,” he presses. “In six months, you could be the hottest video girl in LA.”

“Really? Six months?” I say that as if I’m impressed. “Crap, and here I thought doing the college thing was smart. That takes four years.”

His eyes flash briefly before he tucks his annoyance behind a wolfish leer. “Don’t mock me. I make things happen.”

Why can’t he just go away like everyone else with a soft brush-off? Time to ditch this guy as quickly as I can.

Before I can say anything, Zoe does a wide-eyed clueless look and says, “Are you really with the band?”

His eyes shift briefly to her and he nods.

“How?” she asks in overinflated excitement.

He frowns. “How what?”

“How are you with them? Marriage or domestic partnership? Or are you their bitch?”

I laugh—rapid zinger from Zoe so unexpected.

I adjust in my seat and stare through the glass. “We’re talking and I’d appreciate it if you gave us our space.”

He grins. “You’re drinking. Have one drink with me. I’m sure if we talked I could convince you to come to the set tomorrow.”

I ignore him and make a show of checking the time on my phone. Crap. It’s after midnight. Chrissie wanted me home by one, which is so lame.

“Let’s go, Zoe. I really need to hit it.”

Zoe finishes her mineral water and nods.

“You didn’t give me your name,” Lucky says quickly.

I smile. “That’s right. I didn’t.”

He starts fishing through his pocket. “Let me give you my card.”

I don’t take it. “No. Really, not interested.”

We start making our way toward the stairs and, fudge, he’s close behind.

Zoe leans in to me. “That jerk is stalking us,” she whispers, annoyed. “I don’t want him following me out to my car and getting my plates or something. You know if he’s a creeper he can find us that way.”

I roll my eyes. “He’s not stalking us. He’s not going to get your plates. I’m sure of it. But if he follows us to the door, I’ll get a bouncer to bounce him away from us.”

Her eyes widen. “How can you be sure?”

I pause at the bottom of the stairs and jut my chin toward the landing above. “Because he’s already running his I’m with the band, let me put you in a video game on another girl.”

Zoe turns and then she crinkles her nose. “What a slimeball. And definitely not very selective. She looks like—”

“Caroline,” we finish in unison.

We laugh and turns toward the exit.

Oh crap.

We can’t even get to the doors.

A solid wall of bodies blocks the path to the exit as they crowd near a booth between me and the only way out of here. What the hell is going on? There’s a noticeable stir above the deafening noise of the band. I wonder who’s sitting there. It’s after midnight. It’s an elite rockers’ club. It must be someone with how electrified the chemistry of the room is.

Crud, they’re in my way.

Great. Freaking great.

“Oh crap, how do we get out of here?” Zoe says anxiously.

I frown. “Maybe we can get around it by going through the dance floor. You lead. I’ll follow. I’ll keep a lookout for the creeper.”

“No, you lead. I’ll follow. You’re the better dancer,” Zoe teases and then makes a face.

I start making my way through the bouncing throng of people moving in time with the thumping bassline and shifting in and out of focus in the flashing lights. I take two steps forward and then spring back to avoid getting hit. I see a narrow space to cut through. Good, nearly out of here. It’s swallowed up before I can get there.

I’m knocked several steps off my feet by a flurry of limbs, I stumble, and then turn. Crap. What happened to Zoe? I ease up on my tiptoes trying to see above the crowd. God, where’d she go? Nope, can’t see her.

I try to move toward the stairs and the bodies push me back the other way. I scan the crowd. I’ll never spot her in this.

I feel a hand on my hip…thank God…then it moves to my butt cheeks…oh no…and I whirl. Fuck, it’s the creeper. How did he get next to me on the dance floor? He grasps my hips and starts moving his body into me.

“Get your hands off me,” I scream, trying to break free, but he’s suddenly all hands, clutching and pulling and holding me against him.

I try to escape, but he’s repulsively strong and pulls me full-body against him, flattening me against his parts and giving me the feel of him with his moves. The feel of him is nauseating.

“I have a boyfriend, you asshole!”

He flattens his hands on my behind and lifts me up against him. Yuck. Enough. I lift my heel from the ground, ready to impale his foot with my Jimmy Choo, then all the bodies start to move so rapidly I can’t keep up.

“Get lost. Now. Before I decide to help you leave,” a low, raspy voice snaps, somehow heard above the thundering music. “I’m taking you home. Now.”

I’m released so abruptly the world spins and my mind can’t keep up with the shifting patterns in front of me. “Fuck off,” I scream at the creeper.

Lucky skedaddles away.

Breathing heavily to steady myself, all at once I become aware of a sudden unnatural hush surrounding me.

Then I see what everyone is staring at.

My thoughts race off in a dozen directions.

Oh fuck, that’s Alan.

Did he really just save me from the creeper?

I was doing fine on my own.

Those black eyes start burning in to me and my body covers in prickles. Damn, he’s pissed. I didn’t scream fuck off at him, but by his expression I can tell he thinks I did and he is furious.

This is freaking humiliating. Reality smacks me in the face with sudden clarity. I just created a scene in the middle of a packed club with Alan Manzone. Yep, there are already cell phones out catching this Kodak moment on video.

I want to drop through the floor.

This is going to be awful.

“Does your mother know you’re here?” he snaps.

Nervously, I babble the first words in my head. “Does my mother know you’re here? Better question.”

OK, that was a little funny. Not even a smile. Shit!

He gives me the stare. “Do you have a car?”

Why is he studying me that way? Oh great, he thinks I’m drunk. Nope, not doing this concerned friend of the family routine. You want to act like my father, admit you are my father.

“Zoe drove. I’ve had my keys taken away for two weeks. Thanks for telling my mom about me borrowing your car the other morning.”

He rudely lets amusement show in his eyes.

“Borrowing? Interesting choice of words. And I didn’t say a word to your mother. I said I wouldn’t and I didn’t.”

Another lie. My temper explodes. “Bullshit. I don’t believe anything you say.”

“We are leaving. Now. I’m taking you home.”

He tries to guide me toward the exit and I stand rooted in place. “I’m not leaving without talking to Zoe.”

“You can text her from the car,” he says coldly.

Shit. I can’t disappear and leave without her. That’s like an unwritten girl rule. She’s my best friend and she’ll hate me forever.

“Why do you have to always ruin everything?” I say dramatically, hoping he’ll relent.

His face remains impassive. Somehow he forces me out of the club without ever putting a hand on me, and we’re on the front sidewalk before I know how we got there and Zoe is in the freaking club without me.

He gives his ticket to the valet.

I whirl on him. “You don’t have any right to tell me where I can go or what I can do.”

“That’s enough, Kaley. You’re embarrassing us both.”

“Fuck, you are such an asshole. Don’t you get it? You just embarrassed me in there.”

“The only one to create a scene tonight was you, Kaley. And there is no way in hell I was going to leave you in a place like that alone. Do you even have a clue what could happen to you, drunk, in a place like that?”

“Place like what? Someplace you’d go? Zoe and I like to hit clubs. Dance. Even Mom wouldn’t freak out about that. We don’t do anything. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Then I’ll ask your mother when I get you home, and if I’m wrong, I will apologize.”

I cross my arms and turn so I’m no longer facing him. “Don’t bother. You’ve already ruined my night enough.”

His car rolls to a stop in front of us at the curb. A Porsche this time.

Alan crosses to the valet to get his key and waits outside the car until I climb in the passenger door. The attendant closes the door behind me, and Alan puts the car in gear and pulls away from the club.

I take my phone and rapidly message Zoe the 411 on my sorry state of affairs. I stare at the screen, willing her to text back. I’m going to worry until she does.

“I’ve always cared about you, Kaley. Don’t expect me to stop now. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s not what I intended. I was concerned.”

I look up to find his gaze intently on me. How does he have the nerve to say that to me after the confrontation in Ian’s kitchen?

I turn to stare out the window. “I’m surprised you’re still in LA. You haven’t been around for days. I thought you’d split California.”

He downshifts. He doesn’t look at me. “I’m here for good. Moving back to Malibu.”

I check my phone. Crap, Zoe. Let me know you’re OK.

“We’ll probably be running into each other out in the clubs more often,” he teases.

I roll my eyes.

“What’s happening with you and my mother?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when your mother tells me.”

I count to ten inside my head. Enough with the glib, charming comments, Alan. It’s not going to make this any less dreadful or awkward.

We drive the rest of the way to my house in silence. He pulls into the driveway and parks.

I open my door.

He stops me with a hand. “Before we go, is there anything you want to ask? Anything you want to say to me?”

Everything inside me starts to boil. Really, he wants to talk now? I climb from the car, intending to run into the house, but then I stop. No. No. No. He may be irrelevant to who I am, he’s proven that the last eighteen years, but he isn’t to Khloe, and if he is not going to be in her life he better stay the fuck away.

I lean into the car. “Yeah. I have some things to say. Don’t do to my sister what you did to me. Don’t come around Khloe if you don’t plan to be here. Stay the fuck out of her life if you’re only going to walk once you get bored. Don’t fuck her up the way you fucked up me.”

I slam the door in his face and hurry up the walk. Just inside the front door, Chrissie pounces on me.

“What’s going on? How did you end up with Alan? Why were you yelling at him?”

My mouth drops. Is that really the most important thing here, Chrissie? Why I am yelling at Alan?

I stare at my mom, shaking my head. “How about: is everything all right with you, Kaley? Which it isn’t. Because Alan just made me cut out on Zoe without telling her, humiliated me in front of about a gazillion people—I’m pretty sure the video’s being uploaded on the Internet as we speak—dragged me home like a little girl, and I’m pretty sure just cost me my only friend. Do you really think I want to discuss Alan at this point, Mom?”

Chrissie’s face reddens. She stares at me, confused pucker in her golden brows, and looks like she doesn’t know what to say.

Nope, not waiting for her to figure it out.

I hurry down to my bedroom.

I check my phone.

Zoe: I’m fine. On my way home. R u OK?

 

Me: I didn’t want to leave without you. I’m sorry. R u mad?

 

Zoe: No. Totally stunned. Fucking unreal. Everyone was jabbering about it at the club. I saw it all as it went down. I can’t believe the creeper snagged you on the dance floor. What a jerk. It was sort of cool how Alan went all apeshit and made him leave. Your instinct comment. Definitely get it now. Yep. Pretty fucking unbelievable. But kind of sweet. I can’t see my dad doing that. Ian is so clueless and non-confrontational. Wait. Light changed. Gotta drive. Text u when I get home.

 

Alan and Mom’s voices grow louder in the front entry—crap, what is he telling her?—and I shut my door.

I flop back on my bed and cover my face with my forearms. My door opens and I sit up to find Chrissie’s blue eyes sparkly with anger sharply on me.

“You’re grounded,” Chrissie announces, stunning me with her attack out of nowhere. “Two weeks. Not just the car. Everything. I suggest you put the time to good use to rethink a few things. I don’t care if you think Alan embarrassed you. I don’t care if you’re angry about it. You have no business being in West Hollywood at Velvet Jones and he did the right thing. He hauled you out of there. He did what I’d do. So if you’re angry at him you are angry at me. Get over it.”

Slam.

CHAPTER 21

Ding.

I roll over in bed, rubbing my eyes, and reach for my phone. I swipe it open, noting the time—it’s freaking 6 a.m., Zoe—and then see the message.

I sit up, wide awake.

Bobby: Go into your driveway.

 

Driveway?

My heart rapidly accelerates. I must have texted Bobby a dozen times last night after the Velvet Jones incident, and he ignored every text. Now he thinks he can send me a vague message like that, blow by everything I probably typed too rapidly, shouldn’t have said to him, but hit send on anyway and in honesty kind of regret.

But, damn, he was MIA for twelve hours.

What am I supposed to think?

He’s with Caroline on the slopes.

Getting pissed off seems a reasonable response to me.

Why does he want me in the driveway?

Me: Fine. Driveway. Then maybe you can tell me why you were a jerk last night and didn’t answer a single text. You have some explaining to do, Bobby.

 

I toss off my blankets and shove my feet into my Roxy slippers. Maybe something happened last night and Bobby couldn’t text me. Maybe Bobby sent me an apology present. I probably should have gone and checked before I sent that last text. Oh well, I can’t fix that now. I already hit send.

Faint wails greet me when I enter the hallway. Frowning, I go into the nursery and peek into the crib. Khloe is wide awake and crying. Jeez, why hasn’t anyone gotten her? No one in the house ever lets Khloe cry. That’s so unlike Mom. She hears everything where the baby is concerned, like a dog picking up sounds unheard by normal humans, and I’m pretty sure Lourdes has the baby monitor on and with her 24/7.

Seeing Khloe cry is so weird it bugs me. Pouting, I stare down at my sister. So freaking cute. Not even really crying. Whimper and wait. Whimper and wait. This baby is so spoiled. She knows she doesn’t have to put up a fuss to have her way.

I check her diaper. Wet. And she’s probably hungry.

“It’s OK, Khloe. You want to go find Mom?”

Her eyes widen and I smile. You get your way always, baby girl, but at least you are easy to make happy. I pick her up, cuddle her close, and the baby complaining sounds stop. I change her when I don’t want to because I know Mom expects it and it’s there again, that prick of guilt for stealing her spit for the kinship test.

I carry her to Chrissie’s room with my lips to her forehead, and I knock once. No answer, but I go in anyway.

My eyes widen.

Bed still perfectly made.

Mom didn’t go to sleep.

Oh crap, I must have really worried and upset my mom last night. This isn’t good. She must be on the patio. I don’t even need to look to know what this is.

She stayed up all night, sitting in a chair the way she does when she’s emotionally oozing, waiting for the dawn, the new day, her internal reset ritual.

It’s going to be another great fucking day around here.

Passing through the kitchen, I pause at the doors out to the patio. I quickly scan the furniture. Don’t see Chrissie. Nope. But she’s out there somewhere.

The morning air has a faint ocean mist as I step out into the yard. I’m surprised Chrissie didn’t come in from the chill. I must have really rocked her world. Another unwanted stab of guilt.

I snuggle the blanket tighter around Khloe as I continue searching for my Mom. I’m pretty sure she’s not indoors; the sunrise is just starting to spread across the sky. I take a few steps and then freeze, completely overcome by what I’m seeing.

Oh God—it’s a picture I know well and etched in my memory. A mirror image of perhaps the most famous photograph ever of my complicated parents: them sitting together on the terrace of my dad’s New York apartment, back in the day, when they were both young and first in love.

They are sitting on a double chaise just like in that famous tabloid shot, curled into each other, my dad slouched against her and my mom’s holding Alan with her cheek resting on his head. She may not be eighteen anymore, but she is as stunning now as she was then.

Fragments of memories leap in my head, forgotten moments of my own childhood revived, and the rock in my stomach grows painful. They love in such a naked and exposed way, but in their quieter moments, like this, it is leveling because it makes everything about what they’ve done to me more agonizing and less comprehensible.

They love.

They always have.

The fucked-up status of my life shouldn’t be.

My sister frets in my arms.

Oh God. I don’t want to disturb them, but I have to.

“Mom, Khloe is awake. Do you want her or should I fix a bottle and give her to Lourdes?”

Chrissie snaps up, turns and smiles. “No, give her to me.”

Crap.

I cross the grass to their chair and lean over to place Khloe in my mom’s arms, carefully avoiding my dad’s stare.

“Sit down, Kaley. I want to talk to you,” she says, adjusting my sister in her arms and pushing aside her nightgown to give Khloe a breast.

Fuck, does she have to nurse in front of me and then announce she wants to have a mother-daughter chat first thing in the morning?

With Alan here.

Tit hanging out.

Awkward.

I sink down on a chair facing them.

My mom doesn’t look at me; she’s too busy focused on Khloe.

“I know it’s been hard on you,” she says, never lifting her gaze from my sister. “Moving. All the changes. I shouldn’t have yelled last night. I probably should have listened instead…it’s not always easy to know what to do when you’re concerned…what I mean to say is, I know it’s been tough on you—”

I just wish I could disappear.

She’s rambling.

No point listening.

Hurry up, Chrissie. I want to get out of here.

And why the fuck does Alan have to be here for this, alertly listening to her very not-clear parenting moment with me as if this is going to go somewhere coherent before the next century?

“Just because I’m a mom doesn’t mean I have all the answers and do everything right,” she says, pausing to look at me. “I didn’t last night. I’m sorry. Maybe there was a little overreaction all around. But it’s because we both want what’s best for you, Kaley. That’s a good thing, right?”

Alan shifts his gaze to me.

I nod, in contradiction to my thoughts. Alan, if this makes sense to you, you’re an expert in Chrissie-speak. I’m her daughter and even I don’t know what the fuck she’s trying to say.

Time to end this.

Ready to be out of here.

“It’s OK, Mom. I’m sorry, too. We’re good.”

Chrissie’s wide doe eyes lock on me. “We’ll always be good. Remember that. I’m your mother and I’m always here for you. No matter what happens, I love you, Kaley. I know there’s been a lot of change and uncertainty, that things haven’t been clear for you. And if I could have made it any other way I would have. But change is what we do to get to where we’re going—”

Oh groovy, now she’s quoting Grandpa Jack.

Change is what we do to get to where we’re going.

Yep, that’s Grandpa Jack.

I stare at the ground, waiting for her to finish.

“And maybe I haven’t been as focused on what’s going on with you as I should be—”

Really?

You think?

“What Chrissie is trying to say—”

Thank you, Alan, for cutting her off.

“—we’re getting married on Sunday and we hope that’s something agreeable to you.”

My eyes go wide.

Did I hear Alan correctly?

My parents are getting married?

What the hell happened out here last night?

Shit, they’re both smiling and staring at me expectantly for some kind of reaction.

“What do you think?” Chrissie says in a bubbly, cute-cute way.

“I think…it’s agreeable.”

Alan laughs and Mom beats back a smile.

I stand up. “Can I leave now?”

Mom nods. “We wanted to tell you first, but don’t say anything to Krystal and the boys.”

“I won’t, Mom.”

I hurry into the house and close the door behind me. I lean against the glass. It feels like my head is about to explode. I don’t have the first clue how things got from where they were yesterday to what just went down on the patio.

My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, swipe it open, and grimace. The driveway. I forgot.

After shaking my body to rid myself of the last few minutes—Chrissie and Alan are freaking getting married—I hurry toward the front door.

I step out outside, and halt mid-step.

My breath catches in my throat.

Oh God.

“Bobby.”

I run and fling myself into his arms. In a flash, I’m surrounded by him, flattened against the car, and he’s kissing me across my face, my cheeks, and my lips. I don’t know why he’s back early, but I am so glad that he is. All I can feel inside me is him, blocking out every nightmarish minute since he left for Tahoe five days ago, and I can’t get close enough to him. It would be so nice to forget everything in my life but him.

Bobby breaks off.

We’re both breathing heavily.

“God, I missed you,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine.

I feel dizzy and euphoric.

“What are you doing back early? I thought you were staying on the slopes until the end of next week.”

His arms are quivering. “Tahoe was no fun without you, Kaley. It was nothing without you.”

My eyes widen and I study his face. As sweet as that is, nope, not buying it Bobby Rowan. Suspicion nips at my gut.

“Zoe told you everything, didn’t she?”

Those green eyes meet mine directly. “Yep, she did. Yesterday afternoon, everything you should have told me yourself, and I drove all night to get back here.”

My face burns red.

Damn it, Zoe. So not cool.

I exhale.

“What did Zoe tell you?”

He shakes his head. “She told me enough.” He runs a hand through his hair, then leans in and gives me a featherlight kiss. “That you needed me here and I’m here. And that should you tell you a few things, Kaley.”

I curl into his chest and his arms tighten around me. Crap, the tears give way and I don’t want to cry in front of him, but it’s been an emotional week, I still haven’t gotten my head around Chrissie’s bombshell of the morning, and the relief that Bobby is back is too overwhelming to contain.

He strokes my arms gently, painting light kisses across my curls. “Shush, Kaley. Whatever it is, it’s going to be all right. Let’s go somewhere we can be alone. Can you sneak away for a while?”

I nod, not caring that I’m grounded, but then Chrissie will probably not remember, her attention definitely totally claimed by Alan at present.

With his thumbs, Bobby brushes the tears from my cheeks. “Baby, why are you crying? Those don’t look like happy tears and I thought surprising you today would make you happy.”

“It does make me happy.”

His brow crinkles quizzically. “Then what’s going on?”

I lift my gaze. “My mom is marrying Alan on Sunday.”

Bobby’s eyes goes wide with surprise and comprehension. “Are you OK?”

I shrug. “Why shouldn’t I be? It only took them eighteen years, but I’ll be like one of the few people I know whose parents are freaking married. Pretty groovy, huh?”

He pulls me back against him. “It will be all right. We’ve got each other. Don’t wall me out because I want to be here for you. And it doesn’t matter what happens in your parents’ lives. It doesn’t matter if they get married. What matters is us. We’re our future, Kaley. You and me. I love you.”

* * *

One week later

 

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Grandpa Jack says.

Bobby’s arm tightens around my shoulders as his lips touch my hair. I stare at my mom, the breathtaking smile on her face, and the way her eyes light up when she looks at Alan.

“Are you going to kiss the bride?” Grandpa Jack asks, louder and amused.

“This better be legal,” Alan teases.

Everyone laughs.

“It’s legal once you kiss her,” Jack counters.

My dad runs his thumbs along my mom’s face. It’s like he can’t see anything but her. “I just want to stare at you for a little while. Let me.”

Chrissie’s face is consumed by her smile. “No, I want to be kissed. Kiss me fast since we’re not married until you kiss me.”

They laugh and they’re kissing and then the intense hush on the cliffs above the beach in my grandpa’s backyard is shattered by applause, laughter, and moving guests.

Chrissie steps back, laughing. “Holy crap. We did it, Alan.”

Bobby leans in to me. “You OK?”

I nod. I don’t know what I feel. The entire ceremony passed as sort of a slow-moving film in front of me, and still I couldn’t keep up with everything roiling through me.