Star Promise
Page 6
“Do you still think Treasure is frightening?” Mom asked curiously.
“No.” Bridget wildly shook her head. “I told you, Mamie. She’s lovely now.”
Mom stuffed Treasure back into the pillowcase, just as roughly as Bridget had pulled her out. “Well, darling, that’s the main thing I suppose,” she told her. “As long as you think she’s lovely.”
“That’s it?” I asked incredulously.
“What am I supposed to say, Adam?” she snapped. “Charli warned me that she wasn’t old enough to appreciate such a gift. It was my mistake.”
Treasure looked like road kill and Bridget had gotten away with it. “I told her that she’d end up in juvie if she carried on like this.” I stared at Bridget as I said it. “Jail for little girls.”
Mom surprised me by backing me up. “It’s true.”
“And it’s not nice to ruin toys.”
“No, it’s not,” agreed Mom.
Bridget’s bottom lip fell, which was magnificent. It gave me hope that I was back in control.
“I won’t do it again,” she promised.
Mom reached across and pulled her in close. “That’s a good girl,” she murmured, kissing the top of her head. “No more drawing on faces.”
9. SEA DOGS
Charli
I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure that the apartment was empty when I arrived home. It seemed perfectly plausible that Adam and Bridget might’ve perished in the toy explosion that had happened in the living room. I was just about to sift through it for bodies when they walked in the door.
Bridget ran to me and I scooped her up, kissing her. Adam moved slower. “Hey.” He kissed my cheek.
I lowered Bridget and she took off to explore the mess. “We need a bigger apartment,” I muttered.
Adam’s arms slipped around me. “No, junior needs less toys.” He rested his head on my shoulder. “But for now, we’ll make her clean these up.”
***
When Adam lays down the law, he sticks to his guns. He made Bridget cart every single one of her toys back to her room and put them away neatly. The only break she had was for dinner, which she dragged out for an hour before heading back to the rough conditions of the toy mine. She finished a little after eight.
“That was too much work,” she complained. “I’m a very tired girl now.”
“That’s good news, princess,” Adam replied, scooping her off her feet. “Because you’re going to bed.”
She wriggled in his hold to lean down and kiss me goodnight. “Love you so much, baby,” I whispered.
“I’m not working tomorrow, okay?” she demanded.
“No,” I agreed. “The day is yours.”
They disappeared down the hall and the small room fell silent. I sat on the couch feeling slightly less agitated now that things were back in order. At that moment, Jean-Luc’s concept of a private office didn’t seem so arrogant. Small children infiltrate every part of a household. If we had a bigger home, I’d probably push for a room of my own too.
Staying in Gabi’s apartment had originally been a temporary measure. We had planned to find something bigger once we arrived in New York, but life had got in the way and neither of us had time to find anything new.
If our plan of having another baby panned out, we were going to have to make some quick arrangements, but nothing about that worried me. That’s how we worked best: our plans changed when our circumstances did.
Adam was gone for ages. I was just about to check why when he ambled back and flopped down beside me.
I shuffled closer, finding my way into his arms. “Is she asleep?” I whispered.
“Out for the count,” he replied wearily. “Today was hard.”
His rundown of the afternoon’s events wasn’t an explanation; it was more of a debriefing. Bridget had taken arts and crafts to a new level by giving Treasure a makeover.
“I warned Fiona not to give it to her,” I grumbled. “I knew she’d maim her somehow.”
Adam shifted slightly, sinking us further into the cushions. “I took her to Mom’s and made her confess,” he explained. “But it fell short.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear that Fiona forgave Bridget without question. She could do no wrong in either of her grandparents’ eyes. It was a dangerous attitude that we constantly battled.
“So where is Treasure now?”
“She relinquished custody to Mom.”
I patted his leg, laughing at his choice of words. “It’s for the best.”
Adam’s head lolled back and he let out a sigh. “It’s not funny, Charlotte,” he chided. “She played Mom like a fiddle. The only time she looked remotely remorseful was when I threatened her with juvie.”
My laugh got louder, which earned me the nicest kind of punishment. He stood and threw me over his shoulder. I gripped the back of his shirt as he marched down the hall. “Where are we going?” I asked, pretending not to know.
“To bed,” he replied unapologetically. “I’m a glutton for punishment. I want to make another smart-mouthed, quick-witted little criminal.”
He nudged the bedroom door open with his foot and abandoned the caveman act by lowering me to my feet.
“Damn,” I grumbled, tugging the hem of my blouse. “I was just getting into it.”
A smile crept across his face. “I haven’t finished yet.” His hand found my hip and pulled me forward. Even as it deepened, the kiss remained soft and tender. But I knew he wasn’t completely with me. I broke away and leaned back. “What’s the matter?” I asked, studying his sapphire eyes.
Adam shook his head infinitesimally. “You know those parents who say ‘my child wouldn’t do that’ when their kid gets into trouble?”
“Yes.” Meredith Tate and Carol Lawson came to mind.
“Let’s not be those parents,” he said. “We can’t put anything past our kid. She’s too smart.”
Adam had a tendency to over-think things, especially where Bridget was concerned. Determined that her childhood would be different from his own, he encouraged her to make decisions without influence. The problem was that Bridget didn’t always decide well, and it bugged the hell out of him.
The best way around it was to put things into perspective.
“You know those parents who wear matching sweat pants and sensible shoes?” I asked in return.
The dimple in his right cheek deepened. “Yeah.”
I held his hands to steady myself as I stretched up and murmured against his mouth, “Let’s not be those parents either.”
He kissed me again. It wasn’t slow and soft like before. It was hard and fast and over much too quickly.
“I love the way your mind works.” He breathed the words against my neck, sending a hot rush of desire right through me.
“Forget my mind,” I urged, tugging at the buttons on his shirt. “Concentrate on my body.”
***
Our house was usually mayhem in the mornings, but for some reason I seemed to be the only one in a rush that day. When Adam’s alarm went off, he hit the snooze button and turned over.
I took it as a win. I managed to get the first shower and dry my hair without interruption. Not even Bridget made an appearance.
I quickly worked out why when I returned to the bedroom. She was tucked up beside her dad having a very one-sided conversation about dogs that swim in the ocean. “They’re called sea dogs,” she explained. Adam grunted in reply, which wasn’t good enough. “You have to listen, Dad.”
“I am listening,” he mumbled. “Sea dogs.”
“That’s right,” she praised, patting his head.
“Bridge, please go and get dressed.” He threw back her side of the covers. “We’ll go and see Ryan.”
The promise of visiting Ryan was as powerful as the cake box. She disappeared in a flash.
Adam’s alarm started blaring again. I walked around the bed and thumped the off button. “Why are you going to Ryan’s?” I asked. “Mrs Brown will be here
shortly.”
I took his hand when he reached out to me. “No she won’t. I gave her a week off.”
A hundred thoughts spun through my mind, namely how we were going to manage full time jobs with no childcare. “And you didn’t think to tell me last night?”
His hand moved to my stomach. “I had other things on my mind.”
I brushed him away and moved out of reach. “I can’t take any more days off, Adam.”
Bronson was very generous when it came to giving me time off when I needed it, but it didn’t look good. I hated that I’d become so unreliable.
“I’ve got today covered,” he insisted. “I’m going to see if Ryan can watch Bridget this morning. I have a meeting at eleven and that’s it. I’ll take the rest of the day off.”
“And tomorrow?”
He leaned over and grabbed me. I stumbled as he pulled me forward and he took full advantage by pulling me down on top of him. “Tomorrow is a new day.” He gently kissed my lips. “We’ll figure it out.”
“I hope you come up with a plan, Boy Wonder.”
“Nope.” He grinned at me. “I’m winging it.”
10. FLYING STRAIGHT
Adam
The morning was bright and sunny. We weren’t in any hurry so I decided that we’d walk to Ryan’s. Bridget didn’t complain. It gave her more talking time, and her topic of choice was still sea dogs.
“Why are they called sea dogs?” I asked. “Why aren’t they just dogs who like to swim in the sea?”
Bridget tugged on my hand as she jumped over a crack in the sidewalk. “Because they make different noises,” she explained. “They go ‘squeep, squeep, squeep.”
Even over the sound of the passing traffic, she sounded like a wounded cat. I laughed, which didn’t impress her.
“It’s true, Daddy,” she huffed.
“I’m sure it is,” I replied. “When we get back to the ocean, I’ll be sure to check out the squeeping sea dogs.”
Bridget looked up at me. “Are we going back to the ocean soon?”
I wanted to tell her yes, but that would’ve been a lie. For now, we were New Yorkers – but that felt like a lie too. We just didn’t belong here any more.
“We’re going to go back and visit at Christmas,” I told her. “To hang out with Alex and Gabi and Jack.”
“I have lots of big things to tell Jack,” she crowed. “I hope he has nice ears for hearing.”
I adored conversations with my daughter, even the confusing ones. It was the biggest reminder of all that it didn’t matter where in the world we lived. Happiness wasn’t geographical.
Before I knew it we were outside Ryan’s building. I punched in the access code and held the door open for Bridget.
“I want to turn the key in Ry’s door,” she insisted.
It would’ve been good manners to knock, but I let her have her way – then wished I hadn’t.
My brother wasn’t expecting us – or anyone else, by the look of it. He stuffed something under a cushion and punched the remote, trying to turn the TV off. “Can’t you people knock?” he snapped.
“I put the key in and turned it,” chimed Bridget. “It’s easy.”
I wasn’t listening to her. I was too busy being disgusted and horrified. “What did we just walk in on?”
“Nothing.”
I didn’t buy it. I grabbed the nearest cushion and whacked him with it. “What are you watching?”
Ryan looked utterly confused but I wasn’t going to spell it out for him. There was no need to give him a reason why I’d just changed my mind about leaving Bridget in his care.
He eventually figured it out. “Oh my God,” he growled, hurling the remote on the couch. “You think I’m watching porn?”
I shushed him but it was too late. He’d just increased his niece’s vocabulary.
“What’s porn?” asked Bridget.
I glared at my brother, furious. “Nothing, baby,” I told her.
Ryan had the nerve to smirk. “Good parenting, idiot.”
“Good uncl-ing, freak.”
The juvenile exchange was cut short when the only grownup in the room ordered us to stop. “I’ll tell Mamie and you’ll both be in trouble,” Bridget threatened.
I wasn’t prepared to let it go. I reached under the cushion and grabbed the evidence. The Dirty Dancing DVD cover in my hand was not what I was expecting. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Ryan whipped it out of my hand. “It’s not mine.”
“If you say so, princess.”
Ryan couldn’t even muster a reply. More proof that he’d been bashed over the head with the love stick. The career bachelor had been reduced to watching chick flicks in his spare time. Whether he’d admit it or not, he was whipped. And whether I’d admit it or not, I was happy for him.
***
My office was far nicer than I deserved, considering the lack of aptitude I showed when it came to working there. Sitting at the massive oak desk reminded me of a king holding court, but the moment was always fleeting. I was merely a prince. The real king’s court was much more impressive.
My father insisted on monthly staff meetings. Everyone would file into the boardroom at eleven and spend twenty minutes waiting for him to arrive. Being purposefully late was tactical and obnoxious, but no one said so out loud. They were too busy making sure they had their game faces on in case he called on them to speak.
I wasn’t quite so diligent. I used the spare time to text my wife or check my emails, which is exactly what I was doing when Ryan called me.
My phone sounded embarrassingly loud in the quiet room, and all twenty people sitting around the table stared at me. Fearing that their glares might burn a hole in my skull, I left the room to answer it.
“Please tell me you’re not calling me to pick Bridget up,” I said, wandering toward the viewing window at the end of the corridor. “I can’t leave the office yet.”
Ryan didn’t need me to collect her. He needed cleaning instructions. My errant child had made the most of the few minutes Ryan spent in the shower by giving herself a makeover – less than twenty-four hours after promising me that her face painting career was over.
“She’s covered in Bente’s lipstick,” he told me.
I should’ve been angry, or at the very least annoyed, but the panic in Ryan’s voice amused me. “Lipstick?” I asked. “Did she steal it from your purse while you were watching Dirty Dancing?”
“She’s your kid, Adam. I’m perfectly happy to leave it on her.”
I didn’t doubt him for a second. “Well, how bad is it?”
He likened her appearance to Sebastian from The Little Mermaid. We both knew Sebastian the crab well. The Little Mermaid was Bridget’s favourite film, and we’d been forced to sit through it a million times. “She could now get a job as his stunt double.”
It must’ve been bad. I thought back to the day before when I’d tried smudging the red ink off Treasure, and then imagined Ryan doing the same thing to Bridget. “What goes on must come off right?” I asked encouragingly. I wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to makeup removal, and red lipstick seemed pretty heavy duty. “Look for anything that says ‘remover’ or ‘antidote’ or ‘face cleaner’,” I suggested. “It’ll be there somewhere.”
After complaining about the amount of crap now residing in his bathroom cabinet, he made the mistake of asking Bridget to look. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that she’d use the opportunity to scope out her next arts and crafts project. I absently gazed out the window at the bustling city below while I waited for him to speak again.
“Eye makeup remover,” he said finally.
“Good enough,” I replied.
Ryan vowed to give it a shot and ended the call. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and continued the mindless window gazing as if I had nowhere else to be.
It didn’t last long. My father called out from the boardroom. “When you’re ready, Adam. We don’t have all day.”
***
Bridget wasn’t up to the half-hour walk home from Ryan’s apartment, which was a shame because we had a lot to talk about.
“We went to the park and my legs are tired,” she complained. “I did lots of flying.”
It took forever for her to pull the huge scarf out of the front pocket of her dress. It looked like a magic trick gone wrong. I took it from her, bundled it up and stuffed it into her backpack. “How about we walk some of the way and then pick up a cab?” I suggested.
Bridget wasn’t happy, but kept walking. The heavy pedestrian traffic made it slow going. I asked her what she’d been up to and she gave me the complete rundown of her time at the park, including a longwinded story about a squirrel that yelled at her. The lipstick saga never rated a mention, so it was left to me to bring it up.
“You promised me you wouldn’t draw on faces any more,” I reminded her.
“It was just my face,” she explained. “Nobody else’s.”
To Bridget, it was no big deal. I held her hand a little bit firmer as I prepared to inform her otherwise. “It was a really naughty thing to do,” I chided.
“I know,” she mumbled. “That’s what Ry said.”
I wasn’t particularly upset with her. I was frustrated because I had no idea how to deal with her, and it was happening more and more often. My way wasn’t working, so I changed tack and went the La La route.
“Crooked girls can’t fly straight,” I said casually. “You might want to think about that before you do something naughty again.”
Even without looking, I could feel the stare of her bright blue eyes. “Am I crooked, Daddy?”
“You tell me, Bridge,” I replied.
We walked in silence for a minute or two, but didn’t cover much ground. Bridget’s walk slowed to a crawl while she deliberated. She never did answer me. The only time she spoke was when she asked me to pick her up. Her arms linked around my neck, she buried her head in the curve of my shoulder and promptly fell asleep.