Текст книги "Broken Crown"

Автор книги: Susan Ward

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

I grimace. “I need to pick up my car. It’s in your driveway.”

A startled laugh. “How the fuck did your car get to my house? What the hell did you do last night?” More laughter. “Must have been one hell of a party with Jen. Lucky bastard.”

I wait. I’m not explaining. Buzz.

I open the walk-through gate and make my way up the sharp incline of the driveway. Ian is standing on his front stoop carelessly covered in a robe, looking half asleep yet humiliatingly amused by this.

He’s staring at my Bugatti Veyron Super Sport and shaking his head. Christ, I hate that car. Gauche. Why did I buy it last year? Probably out of boredom and it was something to do.

“You must have had some crazy night, brother.”

I shove my phone into my pocket. “No crazy night. I didn’t leave my car here. It was stolen from Chrissie’s.”

His eyes widen and I can tell what he’s thinking. Hmm, Chrissie. Then Ian frowns and his expression changes to alarm.

“Oh, shit,” Ian exclaims, the muscles of his face contorting. “I thought Zoe was joking last night when the girls got home and she told me Kaley had stolen a car.”

“Technically, both girls stole my car since they both drove away in it. I suggest that you get those girls out here now.”

The look on his face grows grimmer. Thank you, Ian. Now you’re getting the picture, maybe you’ll stop being obnoxious over this and start taking the situation seriously.

“I’m sorry about this, man. It doesn’t look like they’ve done any damage. Come inside. Have some coffee. I’ll go find them.”

“I don’t want coffee. I’d like a few minutes alone to talk with Kaley. Then I’m heading out of here.”

He’s still shaking his head as he moves through the house. “What the fuck is wrong with kids? Why would they steal your car? I swear I never know what the hell to expect from Zoe anymore.”

Ian pours me a cup of coffee even though I said I didn’t want one, sets it on the breakfast bar, and makes a fast retreat from the room.

I wait. Christ, what’s taking him so long? Maybe he’s talking to the girls before he sends them out here. Probably not a bad idea. He does have more experience than I do in this.

I hear footsteps in the hallway. I stand and turn to face the doorway. Kaley ambles into the room, and fuck, Ian, I said alone. Why are you and your daughter here?

Kaley meets my gaze directly. She doesn’t look worried. Hell, she doesn’t even look contrite.

I struggle for calm. “I believe you have something that’s mine.”

Kaley’s eyes flash with anger. She locks eyes with Zoe. “What did I tell you? Nothing. Whatever I do he never gets angry at me. I swear one of these days I’m going to explode. I can’t take it anymore.”

Angry? She is angry because I am not angry? Ian’s right. There is something wrong with kids these day.

“Oh, believe me, Kaley, I am very angry. I just prefer not to yell in Ian’s kitchen. Go grab your things. Get in the car. We’ll go somewhere where we can both yell until you can explain to me what stealing my car is about.”

No change in her demeanor. Her answering expression is insulting. “Did you have a nice night with my mother?”

I’m startled to feel my cheeks warm. “That’s what this is about? You stole my car because you’re angry that I spent the night with your mother?”

She shifts her gaze from me and scans the kitchen. When she finally looks back at me, her eyes are wide open and furious.

“Why should I be angry about that? You’ve used my mom as an emotional crash pad my entire life. I’ve watched this movie before. I know how it ends. So why don’t you leave before you fuck up my family even more than it is already?”

I stare at her and some of my anger wanes. I get it, Kaley, what’s happening here, and a part of me respects her for saying that. For being concerned about Chrissie. For being concerned about her siblings. Every word accurate; none of it right. Still, I admire Kaley’s honesty and directness.

“I’m not doing anything of the sort, Kaley.”

Her mouth scrunches. She starts shaking her head. She flips her hair, and then again, over and over, a tense series of silence and gestures. The little gestures remind me of Chrissie. Just like her mother, even in anger there is something vulnerable about Kaley that tugs at the heart. In part Chrissie and yet entirely herself.

I think of Khloe. An inconvenient thought at present. I wonder if my girl is going to grow up as miraculous as this girl trying her best to infuriate me.

OK, there’s a lot going on here. I should leave Chrissie to handle it. I don’t want to cross the line and do more than I should. The limit of my participation should be retrieving my car.

I decide to blow past her last comment. “Go get your stuff. I’ll drive you home.”

Kaley looks away. “I don’t have to go anywhere with you. You’re not my father.”

The way she says that hits me like a blast of chilled air—her voice and expression disturbing—and she looks, for the first time, almost like she’s going to cry.

“I suggest you get moving. Now, Kaley.”

Kaley’s fingers curl around the counter until her knuckles turn white. “I should have wrecked the fucking car!”

Why does she keep pushing at me and upping the ante?

What am I doing wrong here?

She’s already playing Grand Theft Auto real life.

Doesn’t she get that?

“I don’t give a damn about the car, Kaley.” It’s a lame gesture, but I’m fucking running out of options, and maybe she’ll get it. I remove a rolling pin from a kitchen countertop utensil set and hold it out to her. “Wreck away. Destroy the car if you think it will help you. Then maybe you’ll be ready to talk to me and you can explain to me why you’re angry.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. It’s pointless. It always has been. I’m not leaving here with you. Call the cops if you want to. I don’t care.”

Rigid. Intractable.

“I’m trying to cut you a break here, Kaley.”

Her eyes meet mine again, challenging. Insulting.

“You’re not cutting me a break. That’s not what you’re doing here. Denial may be a terminal addiction for you, but even you should be able to figure out that I’m not a child anymore and I’m not stupid.”

What the hell does that mean?

“I know you’re not a child. I’ve never thought you were stupid. I know you’ve been through a lot lately. It’s why I’m willing to let this go and take you home.”

She takes in several, rapid, ragged breaths. “Now you’re just being patronizing and stupid.”

She pushes away from the counter and runs from the room. A few minutes later she returns and slaps something down on the counter in front of me, a look of pure venom and challenge in her eyes.

She lifts her hand so I can see the box.

GeneSys Home Paternity Test.

Oh fuck.

She stole my car to get me here, away from Chrissie, to do this.

“Where did you get that?” I ask in disbelief.

“You can buy more than condoms at the drug store.”

I have to work not to visibly flinch at that remark. Reference to condoms. Shoving that box in my face. That’s a twofer. Double direct hit.

“I’m not going to take that. You’re being ridiculous. You’ve embarrassed me. Are you happy?”

She calmly removes and then unwraps one giant, long Q-tip looking instrument. God, she has nerve. She holds it out to me. “Touch it inside your cheek and give it back to me. I can do the rest myself.”

I study her face. It feels like I don’t even know her anymore. How could she think I would need a DNA test with her mother?

I meet her hostile gaze, hoping my eyes are calm, but direct. “This is about Khloe. Your constant anger at me, everything you’ve done this morning, it is about your sister. Yes, she’s my daughter, you are going to have to figure out a way to be OK with that, and I don’t need to take a DNA test, Kaley. There is no doubt in my mind and I won’t do it. I would never hurt your mother that way. Your mother’s word is enough for me. It should be enough for you, too.”

Every muscle of her face sharply adjusts and then tightens. “God, you’re an idiot,” she screams into my face.

She snatches the box off the counter and rushes out of the kitchen. Zoe follows quickly behind. A door slams.

I exhale loudly.

That was a fucking nightmare.

I turn to find Ian leaning against the wall beside the refrigerator, stunned into silence, his eyes locked on me, openly speculating. Fuck. I’d forgotten Ian was here. How much of that did he understand?

“It’s been a banner fucking year, Ian. I’d appreciate it if you forgot everything you heard.”

Ian bites back a smile. “Consider it forgotten.”

He studies me, frowns, and I tense. It looks like he’s working up to ask something.

I wait.

Nothing.

He’s a good friend.

I don’t have to worry about him in this. He’d never run to the tabloids or the gossip mill. He’ll stay silent about this ghastly scene in his kitchen. I’m certain of it, and thank God, I sure as hell don’t want Chrissie ever hearing about this.

He pulls a bottle from a cabinet. “Do you want a scotch? I’m going to have one. That was fucking intense.”

“Christ, Ian. It’s seven thirty.”

His brows shoot up. “A beer?”

I laugh.

Ian is a very good friend. However, fucking intense doesn’t quite cover it. A gross understatement, since I’m more than a little floored that Kaley shoved a DNA test in my face and thought that I needed it with Chrissie.

I rake a hand through my hair. I’m not certain if I should let it go and leave here with it this way. Christ, the girl is walking around with a DNA test in her pack. This whole situation has been harder on her than I thought it would be. It reminds me of Chrissie’s words over coffee. I feel like an ass on both accounts now.

Ian takes a sip of his drink. He looks at me. “It’s better to let them calm down before you start up at it again.”

“I’m going to head out. Make sure you direct her back to Chrissie’s.”

Ian nods. I reach into my pocket. Oh fuck, I still don’t have my keys. Kaley kept them when she left the kitchen. I’ll just use the app to unlock and start the car now that I have it back again.

I need to get out of here.

A lot has happened this morning.

I need some time alone to work it through.

“Since when are you and Chrissie back together again?” Ian asks.

No, not answering that one, Ian.

I don’t even know if we are together.

I go for the door.

 

 

Chapter 14

Four days. No text. No call. I’m back in purgatory, and all I did was ask Chrissie to marry me.

Frozen out.

What does it mean?

I wonder if she’s considering my proposal, or if she’s busy doing other things. Is she thinking about me? Does she miss me as much as I miss her?

Over and over again. Same thoughts. It’s pointless. I won’t know what’s going on with Chrissie until she tells me. That’s how it works. Some things never change.

I’m tired of bouncing off the walls. I go for a run on the beach, take a fast shower and dress. Before heading out, I check my phone one last time. I scroll through the messages.

No, nothing from Chrissie.

With my thumb I go through the list again—same old shit. My thumb lifts from the phone.

Ah, Kenny.

Asshole.

None of the guys have called me since Len broke the news that the band would be going on permanent hiatus after the final leg of the tour. Kenny must have decided enough time has passed for me to cool off so that it would safe to talk to me.

I hit the callback button anyway.

Ring. Ring.

“What the fuck are you doing in LA?” Kenny says into the phone by way of greeting, in a manner that leaves little doubt he knows the unabridged 411 about the sorry state of my life.

I grimace. Fuck you, Len. You’re such an old woman. Why can’t you keep your big mouth shut?

I lean back into the cushions on the couch. “Sitting around in Malibu with my cock in my hand doing nothing. I was about to head out.”

Kenny laughs. “You want to lay down some drum tracks today? I’m in Encino. My usual LA gang. Just messing around in the studio. Seeing what the fuck we can do. We need a drummer. You free?”

Free? Fucking understatement of the century.

I sigh. “Same studio as last time?”

“Yep, same one.”

“I can pop over there for a while.”

I click off the phone. The thought of spending the afternoon in that hot, poorly ventilated recording space Kenny books isn’t uplifting. But why the fuck shouldn’t I do it? I’ve got nothing better on the calendar for the afternoon.

My choices for diversion are limited now that I’m back with Chrissie. No parties. No sex—unless with her, and our status is no sex at present—and I put on the list this time without being asked by her no synthetic recreation or excess booze. Time to clean up my act now that I’m a father. But I’ve wiped from the possibilities list everything I do to keep busy when I’m not touring.

I do feel better physically with all the healthy living shit, though. And hell, it’s only been a week. Not so bad. Except the no sex part. That’s a fucking misery.

The recording studio in Encino is intolerably stuffy when I arrive. Kenny’s mob consists of three other musicians, marquee members of other bands. They’re OK guys.

I’m bombarded with fast greetings, spiced with the usual shit—short versions of what everyone’s been up to and questions about what I’m doing—then we get down to it and start jamming.

Doing drums—instead of guitar, which is what everyone except Kenny pulls me into studios to do—feels good. I should do it more often. A great way to work the tension out of my body and some of the sexual frustration until Chrissie decides she wants to see me again.

Ten hours later, I’m loose, sweaty, drained and lying on a couch listening to the playback of the tape we rolled today. We haven’t done a damn thing worth recording, not in my opinion, but this is Kenny’s gig so what the fuck do I care if it’s not brilliant?

Kenny shoves a bottle across the floor. I open my eyes. He’s still sitting there across the room from me, even though everyone else has cut out for the night, and not so subtly studying me, wondering if we’re OK.

I guess it’s time for us to clear the air but, fuck, I’m not giving him an easy way to feel good about what they did behind my back since the band didn’t even fucking tell me to my face together. I deserve better than that from each of those pricks.

“So you’re not even going to fucking drink with me?” Kenny asks, staring at the bottle of JD he slid over to me on the floor. He shakes his head. “We’ve been friends since we were teenagers, man. Don’t make the band an issue between us. It’s the right move, Manny. We’re still a band. Just not going to be a working band.”

“Fuck you, Kenny. Don’t patronize me. I don’t give a fuck about the band. All you fucking wankers can do what you want.”

“Then have a drink with me so I know we’re cool.”

I lift up my bottle of chilled water. “I’m sticking with aqua these days. Cutting down on the bad living, the cigarettes and the booze.”

He rolls his eyes, frustrated, and runs his fingers through his hair. “If you fucking give up bad living, cigarettes and booze all in the same week your body will drop dead from detox.”

“Fuck you, Kenny.”

He laughs. “Remmy is out of town. I’m flying solo. Want to do dinner? Hit a party? Some clubs or something? It’s too early to fucking go home.”

Remmy. Kenny’s wife. Never could stand the woman. Linda is right. Kenny did remarry too soon after his last divorce.

I exhale. “No. It’s late. I think I’m just going to go back to Malibu.”

“It’s fucking ten thirty, you wanker. What’s the matter? Been having some rough nights lately, have you?”

“Something like that,” I answer ambiguously.

“Chrissie,” he says, laying his head back against the wall and laughing. “Someday you’re going to have to explain to me how an asshole like you managed to stay in the game with her this long. She’s a fucking incredible woman.”

My temper spikes. Thanks a lot, Len, for running your mouth to no doubt everyone we know.

Kenny’s eyes open. “By the way, congratulations. After all this fucking time you and Chrissie back together again and you’ve got a kid. It’s the way it should be. The two of you together. Finally. There’s still time, mate. Enough time to have some of the things in life worth doing. I’m glad you both decided to stop wasting time.”

Oh Christ, Kenny being philosophical in his uniquely moronic way. Still time…blow me. He’s on his way to divorce court again. Nope, not staying and drinking with him and listening to him ramble on about Remmy. Time to cut out.

I move to sit up on the couch and finish my water. I toss the bottle into the trash and stand. “Well, you know what cowboys say. You ride the horse until it bucks you off then you ride it again.”

Fuck, that was idiotic, but it makes Kenny laugh.

“One would think you’d figured out how to ride that horse by now,” he jeers. “Hey, it’s a little girl, right?”

“Yes. Khloe. She’s five months.” I try to sound casual over it, but it still sends a current across my nerves every time I think of her.

Kenny laughs again. “Fuck, you guys didn’t waste any time after Jesse’s death. Better marry Chrissie soon. Not take any chances this go around or you’ll lose her, mate.”

I ignore that comment. “Good night.”

“Do you have a picture of your daughter?”

I’m shocked that he asked, then shocked when I realize that I don’t.

I change the subject. “Come on. I am hungry. Let’s go grab something to eat.”

We leave the studio and meet up again at an elite rockers’ club in West Hollywood a few blocks from the Whiskey. I make it to the front door, powering through the standard array of bullshit to get into the damn place—fans, press—and blow past the interference inside—ex-lovers and women hoping to fill that slot tonight—and find Kenny already seated in a red leather booth in the back of the joint.

Fuck, why did Kenny pick here to eat? It’s packed, there’s live music, and I just wanted something quiet, fast and no hassle. But Kenny can’t spend one minute out of the mix. It’s like a drug for him. No wonder his life has turned to shit again.

By the time we’ve finished, Kenny’s drunk and I’m still nursing my first glass of wine, ready to take off, but he won’t fucking stop rambling. Yep, his marriage is falling apart. It doesn’t seem right not to listen.

Kenny stands up. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to hit the head.”

I watch him disappear into the crowd. I reach for my phone. It’s bugged me since Kenny asked. Fuck, it’s midnight. Too late to call. I decide to text.

Me: Can I have a picture?

I set my phone on the table, finish my wine, and my cell dings just as I’m about to slip quietly away from the table before Kenny returns.

Chrissie: A picture, huh? At this hour? Someone is missing me and having nasty thoughts. It’s nice to know.

I smile. I didn’t expect her to be awake. I didn’t expect her to answer so promptly after staying out of contact for days. And I didn’t expect the answer to be that.

Me: Always missing you. Always having nasty thoughts. What are you doing?

Chrissie: Linda stopped by. Just talking. What did you do today? Where are you?

Me: Spent the day in Encino. Recording drum tracks. Having dinner with Kenny.

Chrissie: What kind of picture do you want? I’m limited on what I can send you right now.

I laugh. Oh, definitely a better answer than I hoped for.

Me: I still have the Polaroids we did in New York. Very useful the last few days. We need to find some time alone together soon, baby.

I wait. Maybe she’ll get rid of Linda and invite me over.

Chrissie: What kind of picture do you want?

Fuck, not the response I wanted.

Me: Send me that beautiful part of you that is mine.

I wait, wondering if she’ll get that. It’s a win either way. I’m definitely missing her.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Oh, lots of pictures. I thumb through them. Oh, Jesus Christ, she’s beautiful. Just looking at Khloe gets me all choked up.

Me: How long is Linda hanging around?

Chrissie: Maybe another hour.

Me: Can I stop by? Say good night to Khloe? Say good night to you both?

Chrissie: Alan, you can come here any time you want. You’re Khloe’s father. No call necessary. You don’t have to ask. See you at my place in an hour.

I stare at the phone.

She’s not angry with me.

And she just invited me to drop by at midnight.

I click off the phone.

“What’s the matter?”

I look up to find Kenny slipping back into the booth across the table from me.

“Why does it always feel like all women have a set of rules they live by and expect you to know, but the rules are never fucking logical.”

Kenny laughs uproariously, a little louder than that comment deserves.

“Because they all do,” Kenny says, leaning forward against the table. “And they are pretty simple rules. We just don’t follow them. They expect you to show. They expect you to really be there. They’ll never ask, but that’s what they want. And they’ll fucking go find someone who will if you don’t play by their rules.”

I stand up. “I’m out of here.”

Kenny’s eyes fix on me. “You want some advice? Really show up for Chrissie this time. You don’t want to blow it. And you certainly don’t want to fuck it up with your daughter. I’ve got three kids that won’t talk to me. You want to make this work with Chrissie? There’s only one way. Doing right by your daughter. That’s how you don’t fuck it up with Chrissie this go around.”

“That’s great fucking advice, Kenny,” I jeer, pulling the keys from my pocket.

“Yeah, that’s what I said to Len when he told it to me. But it’s the fucking truth.”

I pat him on the shoulder. “Catch you later.”

I start weaving my way through the crowd. I stop. I stare. Oh no, it’s can’t be.

What the hell is Kaley doing in a place like this, dressed like that? Tight pencil skirt up to her ass. Bare midriff. And definitely too much showing in front—Jesus Christ, look at the way she’s dancing. Fuck, it makes me uncomfortable just to see it.

I start pushing past the jostling bodies on the dance floor, ignoring the people staring at me in surprise and trying to get in my way.

I put a hand on her arm to stop the motion of her body. I glare at the guy who was grinding on her a minute ago. “Get lost. Now. Before I decide to help you leave.”

I don’t know what startles the guy more, what I said or that it was me who said it, but he cuts out quickly, no questions asked.

My gaze shifts back to Kaley. “I’m taking you home. Now.”

She jerks free of my hold. “Fuck off.”

The sharpness of her voice startles me.

I can feel heavy stares from every direction.

I ignore her outburst. “Does your mother know you’re here?”

She laughs. “Does my mother know you’re here? Better question.”

I stare at her. Is she drunk? “Do you have a car?”

She jerks her chin and looks away. “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.”

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

“Bullshit. I don’t believe anything you say.”

I rake a hand through my hair. Why is she being so combative? What did I ever do to her to deserve this?

I struggle to maintain my composure. “We are leaving. Now. I’m taking you home.”

I motion her toward the exit, and she shakes her head. “I’m not leaving without talking to Zoe.”

I scan the room. I don’t see the girl anywhere.

“You can text her from the car,” I say firmly.

My eyes stare into hers, unblinking.

She breaks off first and starts rushing through the crowd. “Why do you have to always ruin everything?” she hisses over her shoulder.

I go out of the club and give my ticket to the valet.

Kaley whirls on me. “You don’t have any right to tell me where I can go or what I can do,” she exclaims in a voice that could puncture the sound barrier.

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

She rolls her eyes. “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?”

She makes a face at me. “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.”

She crosses her arms, staring stonily ahead. “Don’t bother. You’ve already ruined my night enough.”

Just like I thought. Chrissie would not have approved. I’m feeling better about this, even as horrid as it’s been.

My car rolls to a stop in front of me. I go to the valet to take my key and watch him run around to the other side to open Kaley’s door. I wait until she climbs in.

I sink down onto the driver’s seat. I put the car into gear and pull away from the curb.

“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.”

The answering look in her eyes is pure venom. She turns 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.”

I tense, surprised she’s noticed that I haven’t been at Chrissie’s. And more surprised that it bothers her.

“I’m here for good. Moving back to Malibu.”

Nothing. No reaction.

It’s an asinine comment but maybe it will make her laugh or thaw a little.

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

She rolls her eyes. “What’s happening with you and my mother?”

Oh, so that’s what’s got her all anxious and worried and angry. The possibility that I’m doing a fuck and run? Or is it the possibility of me in her universe? Christ, she used to love me. How did everything get so fucked up with her?

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

I hear a sound like a croak. OK, girl not softening. Not budging an inch. She is her mother’s daughter at times.

Forty minutes later, I pull into Chrissie’s driveway. I park the car, remove the keys, and turn to look at Kaley.

“Before we go, is there anything you want to ask? Anything you want to say to me?”

Stoic, she climbs quickly from the car, but then turns back and leans in enough to stare into my face. Her brown eyes are leveling even in the darkness.

“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.”

The car door slams in my face. My stomach knots. Oh shit. That she’s got the history wrong—it was Chrissie who walked out on me—doesn’t make that any less harsh to hear. Fuck, no wonder the girl hates me. She’s got everything wrong.

I look through the windshield.

Kaley is already inside the house.

But, fuck, Chrissie is standing on the stoop, looking worried and confused. When I reach her, she steps into me, her face against my chest, and I place my arms around her.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” she asks anxiously. “Kaley just ripped off my head when I asked how she ended up with you. How did you end up with Kaley? I thought you were out having dinner with Kenny.”

I place a light kiss on the top of Chrissie’s head. “It’s no big deal. I ran into her after dinner. She needed a ride. I brought her home.”

Chrissie steps back. She stares up at me. “Why is she crying?”

My insides knot. Crying? When did that start?

I shrug. “She wasn’t happy that I insisted she come home.”

Chrissie studies my face and I keep my expression deliberately blank.

“Well, thank you for bringing her home from wherever it was she wasn’t supposed to be that you won’t tell me about, Alan.”

I wrap an arm around her.

We walk into the house.

“We ran into each other at Velvet Jones.”

“Velvet Jones? My Kaley? She doesn’t go clubbing. She’s not into that sort of thing.”

“I was just cutting out as she got there with Zoe Kennedy. It was a fast crowd tonight. I didn’t think you’d want me to leave her there.”

She molds closer into my chest. Her body is shaking with her worry and concern over Kaley.

“I’ll stay a while if you want me to,” I whisper. “Make sure everything is all right with Kaley before I cut out.”

Chrissie nods. “I don’t know what’s happening to her lately. Every day it’s a new battle. And it’s getting worse.”

I remember Kaley’s comments in the car. She’s got a lot bottled up inside her.

I change the subject. “Thank you for sending the pictures of Khloe. It made my night.”

Chrissie flushes. “I didn’t even realize that I hadn’t given you any until you asked.”

I place a kiss on her lips. “Highlight of my night.”

Her smile grows larger.

“Do you think it would wake Khloe if I make a quick stop in her room?” I ask.

“No. Soundest sleeper in the house. Go on. I was about to pour myself a glass of wine. Do you want one, too?”

“Wine would be nice.”

I lean in and give her another light kiss, and then cross the tile toward the hallway with Chrissie’s bedroom and the nursery. A door slams at the far end of the house from the kids’ wing.

Chrissie jumps and her cheeks redden. “I’ll be right back. Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done.”

I frown. “Is everything OK?”

Chrissie’s eyes widen. “Kaley can be dramatic at times.”

Oh fuck. Was Kaley in the hallway listening to us? It seems a bizarre, immature reaction for a girl nearly eighteen to eavesdrop on her mother, and definitely to get upset over me staying for a glass of wine.

I step down the hallway to the nursery and peek over the rail of the crib. She’s wide awake. Our sound sleeper must have been startled by the slammed door.

I pick Khloe up. I’m glad she’s awake. Seeing her brings home how much I want to be here with her. It also brings home Kaley’s parting jibe to me at the car.

I adjust Khloe in my arms. She’s not crying. Probably not hungry. I lift her above me and then lower her face to mine. I kiss her and hold her against my chest. Nothing. No tears. She doesn’t want anything but to go back to sleep.

I settle in the rocker, my lips against her hair. I didn’t think it would feel like this, being a father again, and I never expected to want it as much as I do.

I jerk when I hear a ding. Oh shit. I must have fallen asleep. I take my cell from my pocket.