Star Promise

by G. J. Walker-Smith

“I’m not listening to this any more,” he snapped.

  “Don’t cut her off,” I chided. “Don’t ever do that.”

  Dad glared at me. “The minute your wife contributes something worth listening to, I will hear her out.”

  I knew the only option I had was to get us out of there. If we stayed, there was no telling how much further civility would slide. I grabbed Charli’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “That’s it,” I declared. “We’re done.”

  Bridget came running into the room, waving a boot in each hand. “Help me please, Daddy.”

  I crouched and helped her pull them on.

  “Stay,” my mother pleaded. “This is supposed to be Ryan and Bente’s evening.”

  “It still is, Mom,” I assured her.

  “Yes,” said Charli, turning her attention to Bente and Ryan. “Congratulations again. I’m really happy for both of you.”

  “So am I,” I agreed. “Just make sure you get that pre-nup wrapped up nice and tight, Ryan.” It was an unnecessary jibe that felt remarkably good, especially when I noticed the pissed off look on Dad’s face. “Bente will have half a chance of being accepted into the fold if there’s no danger of her ripping you off in the divorce.” Even my mother’s gasp of horror wasn’t enough to shut me up. “And if you can make sure she keeps her opinions to herself, that’ll score points too,” I added.

  Ryan let me have my moment and said nothing, but my father accused me of being ridiculous. By that point he was probably right, but I ignored his demand to sit back down. Instead, I made my point louder by sticking to my guns and leaving.

  ***

  Bridget and I milled on the sidewalk like a couple of lost puppies while we waited for Charli to walk out. I was dreading having to go back in there and get her. But like a true team player, she eventually appeared.

  “Your father would like me to let you know that he doesn’t appreciate your attitude, monsieur,” she stated, slowly making her way down the front steps.

  “I’ll take it under advisement,” I replied, smiling at her.

  She stepped off the stoop and linked her arms around my neck. “I kind of like it when you’re naughty,” she teased.

  “I can be naughty,” offered Bridget, wedging herself between us. “It’s easy.”

  “No one doubts your talent, Bridge.” I put my hand on her head. “Just stick with being nice for now.”

  “Let’s go home.” Charli grabbed my hand. “We could walk. It’s a nice night.”

  I reached for Bridget with my free hand and looked up at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud in it and the stars were bright. For a short minute I managed to pretend we were somewhere else.

  “It’s the same sky, wherever you’re watching from, Adam,” Charli murmured.

  I gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “It’s what underneath that counts.” When I cut in front of her path by stepping in front of her, Bridget skipped forward to keep up. “Let’s not go home,” I suggested. “Where do you want to go?”

  At that moment, she looked so beautiful that I would’ve taken her to the moon if she’d asked.

  “Can we go swimming?” asked Bridget tugging on my hand. “That would be a lovely adventure at night time.”

  It was an impossible suggestion at eight o’clock on a Tuesday night, but I was a long time supporter of all things La La. I picked Bridget up and made a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep. “Yes,” I said, tickling her belly. “Let’s do it. A swimming adventure sounds perfect.”

  My daughter’s witchy little cackle was the best sound I’d heard all day.

  Charli hooked her arm through mine. “How are you going to pull this one off, Boy Wonder?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Winging it again?” she asked.

  I wiggled my eyebrows at her. “You can’t fly without wings, Coccinelle.”

  ***

  Fortunately, a plan came together quickly. Bridget wasn’t happy about heading home, or the notion of waiting in the cab while I ran up to the apartment to get what we needed.

  “Just wait with Mommy,” I told her. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Bring Treasure too, please,” she demanded.

  I closed the door before she could add anything else to her list of requests and hurried inside. I packed a bag of clothes, threw in the ghastly Treasure and made a few necessary phone calls. I returned to the waiting cab feeling slightly more confident of pulling off the adventure Bridget was seeking.

  “The Castlereagh Hotel, please,” I instructed the driver.

  “A hotel pool?” asked Charli.

  Bridget clambered onto my lap. I sat her back down on her seat and buckled her seat belt. “Wait and see,” I said vaguely.

  Charli turned her head, smiling out the window. “Far from what we once were, but not yet who we’re going to be,” she mumbled.

  I slipped my arm behind Bridget to run my hand through her mama’s hair. “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means we’re going swimming!” Bridget’s shrill squeal made the driver wince. “For all of the night time.”

  I was hopeful that she wouldn’t last that long. I had big plans for her mother.

  The Castlereagh Hotel wasn’t somewhere any of us had visited before. Considering it was barely six blocks from our apartment, we had no need to. It wasn’t a random choice of hotel, which became clear to Charli when my co-conspirator met us in the lobby. She let out a small groan of disapproval and dropped her hold on my hand. “Still winging it, Adam?” she whispered as we approached.

  “No, Charlotte,” I murmured in reply. “All part of my plan.”

  41. ADVENTURES

  Charli

  I’d stumbled across Whitney Vaughn only once since being back in New York – at a bakery, of all places. It was strange and uncomfortable. I complimented her dress, and she complimented the cannoli I’d just bought.

  Our second meeting was likely to be just as tiresome once the fake compliments started flowing, so I kept my mouth shut and let Adam do the talking. “I really appreciate this, Whit,” he said, kissing both her cheeks.

  “No problem. Just make sure you leave these at reception,” she replied, dropping a small bunch of keys into his palm.

  I was keen to know what was going on, and was pretty sure I looked odd because of it. Luckily, Bridget stole Whitney’s attention away from my puzzled expression. “Hi, girl,” she beamed. “I’m going swimming.”

  Whitney smiled down at her. “That’s lovely.”

  “A lovely adventure at night time,” Bridget elaborated.

  I pulled her back toward me. “How are you, Whitney?” I asked politely.

  “Fine, thank you.” I couldn’t find any hint of strain in her smile.

  The scandalous crime of stealing her boyfriend seemed to have reduced to a misdemeanour over time, but we were never going to be friends. Whitney clearly felt the same way. She didn’t try making small talk. After giving Adam a few instructions that I couldn’t quite catch, she left.

  ***

  After checking in and declining the offer of being escorted to our room, we made our way over to the elevator.

  Adam’s plan for the evening must’ve been a good one. I studied him closely in the black reflective door as we took the ride to the twelfth floor. He looked too smug for a man who claimed to be winging it.

  I opened the brochure I’d picked up at the reception desk. “It says they have no pool, Adam.”

  “No pool?” asked Bridget, yanking on his shirt.

  Adam hitched her higher on his hip. “Really?” His surprised tone wasn’t the least bit believable. “Maybe it’s a secret pool.”

  Bridget turned her head, granting me the widest dimpled grin her little face could make. “I just love secret pools.” She’d tried to whisper but excitement got the better of her. “There might be magic in it.”

  No matter how big the dramas in our life became, we could always whittle our world back down to being no bigger
than the three of us. That in itself was a piece of pure magic.

  The door slid open. Adam carried our overnight bag and our kid. I carried nothing more than the hotel brochure and the card to get us into the room.

  Before I even opened the door I knew it would be grand. What I wasn’t expecting was a massive two-bedroom suite. As soon as Adam lowered Bridget to her feet, she made a beeline for the bed. I didn’t scold her for bouncing. I was too preoccupied with checking out the view of Times Square from the window.

  Adam unzipped the bag he’d packed and unceremoniously dumped everything onto the bed. Our kid was now dodging toothbrushes, underwear and Treasure, but still bouncing. He slowed her down by demanding that she put her swimsuit on. Mine was draped over my shoulder a few seconds later with the same order.

  “I thought I’d swim naked,” I teased, turning back to face him.

  His dimpled smile was wide. “I won’t stop you.”

  ***

  The cloak-and-dagger performance that Adam put on as we made our way to the ground floor was a perfect reminder that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for us. I could practically hear Bridget’s heart thumping as he held her back and pretended to check around doorways. “The coast is clear,” he announced. “Just play it cool, baby.”

  “I’m cool,” replied Bridget in a loud whisper. “So is Treasure.”

  I lagged behind, mainly so she wouldn’t hear me giggle. When I caught up to them, they were standing at the entrance to the hotel spa.

  “We’re going in here?” I asked, peering through the blackened window of the door.

  “The most secret pool in New York,” Adam proclaimed, putting his finger to his lips. “Nobody knows it’s here.”

  According to the small plaque mounted on the wall beside the door, everybody knew it was there between the hours of nine and six – when it was open for business.

  “We have secret keys to get in,” he continued, jingling them in front of his wide-eyed daughter.

  “Whitney works here?” I murmured.

  He shook his head but kept jingling the keys. “Owns it,” he corrected. “Three of them, I think.”

  Letting us gatecrash after hours was a remarkable gesture, all things considered. Whitney Vaughn didn’t trust me as far as she could throw me, but her respect for Adam ran deep.

  “Can we go in now?” asked Bridget, bouncing on the spot. Treasure bounced too, at painful-looking angles as her head flopped around.

  Before he could answer, an elderly couple rounded the corner and began making their way up the corridor.

  Adam straightened up and Bridget followed suit as if it was the most important mission of her life. Her little body was so rigid that her shoulders almost touched her ears. “Play it cool, Daddy,” she whispered.

  It took an eternity for the couple to reach us, and when they finally did, Adam nodded his head and said good evening.

  As anticlimactic as it was, Bridget waited until they passed and let out a hugely exaggerated sigh of relief. “That was close,” she said seriously.

  “Too close,” agreed Adam, winking at me. “Let’s hurry up and get inside.”

  ***

  The spa was in darkness, and judging by the way Adam went about fixing that problem, the parting instructions Whitney gave him were all lighting related. After working the necessary switches, he led us past the small reception area and down a short corridor. There was a salon to our left and a few private rooms on the right. I paid little attention to them. My focus was on the enchanted child in her rock star father’s arms.

  When we reached the door at the end, Adam lowered Bridget to the floor and told her to wait. “I need to make sure the coast is clear. If anyone comes, whistle.”

  Bridget nodded wildly and grabbed my hand. “I will,” she promised, clutching Treasure tighter.

  Adam disappeared. Bridget stepped so close to me that one of her feet was on mine. “Mummy,” she murmured. “I don’t know how to whistle.”

  “No worries, Bridge,” I replied, trying not to laugh. “I do.”

  ***

  The few minutes of waiting while Adam set the scene were well worth it. When the door opened, he ushered us through to a setting I didn’t even imagine existed in Manhattan.

  The pool area was modern, but Roman in design. Faux limestone columns lined the long narrow pool and old-fashioned coach lights were expertly dimmed to set the scene. The brightest light in the room came from the bluer than blue water.

  Bridget dumped Treasure on a chair and made a beeline for it. “I just love it in here.” Her tiny voice carried, thanks to the acoustics of the room.

  “We should stay a while then,” replied her father from the other side of the pool.

  I looked across at him. Every now and then I’d catch a glimpse of the Adam who’d lived on the beach. That bloke was free and never stressed. New York Adam was nothing like that man. He was constantly tired and battling hard to keep everyone happy. I wondered if he knew he was doing a stellar job.

  “You make me happy,” I called impulsively.

  Adam threw his arms wide. “Then I have the whole world,” he beamed.

  42. PLAYING IT COOL

  Adam

  Bridget was a competent swimmer by the age of two, and the skill of being a fish isn’t one that diminishes after time on dry land. She jumped into the water and flapped around as if she was drowning. Neither of us moved to save her because we knew differently.

  My attention was only half reserved for the girl-fish. The other half was for her mother, the original girl-fish. As soon as Charli swam within reach, I grabbed her, pulling her close. The water was cool, but her back felt warm against me. “You’re beautiful,” I murmured against her neck.

  “Thank you.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “So are you.”

  I pushed off the edge of the pool with my foot, propelling us closer to Bridget. “Not such a bad night after all,” I told her.

  Charli twisted to look at me. “It’s perfect,” she replied. “I’m glad you thought of it.”

  “It was Bridge’s idea.”

  “Not really.” She lightly kissed me. “You brought the magic tonight.”

  Charli had magic running through her veins. She was brilliant storyteller with an imagination to match. My thoughts turned to Bridget’s compass. I’d given it to her, but the magic she associated with it had come from her own mind. She’d been putting Ryan through the wringer for weeks looking for his so-called secret place. He hung in there with her because he was hopeful she’d find it. If it had the power to make a believer out of him, anything was possible. Bringing Bridget to a deserted swimming pool late at night was mysterious and sneaky and fun, but the magic had again come from her. It’s fair to say that the bright blue water wasn’t caused by an infusion of butterfly juice, but that was her take on it.

  I was sure my mind had never been that free, and I told Charli so.

  “Of course it was,” she insisted. “You just don’t remember it any more.”

  “You think so?”

  Her brown eyes lit up – a telltale sign that I was going to enjoy her answer. “On these magic shores children are forever beaching their coracles,” she recited. “We too have been there; we can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more.”

  “Charlotte,” I moaned. “You know all the pretty words.”

  Her laugh touched my lips, which threatened the possibility of a total loss of control. Perhaps sensing the line of decency was blurring, she held me back. “You think Peter Pan is pretty?” she teased.

  “I think you’re pretty,” I clarified, making her smile.

  I pulled my arms through the water, putting me in a better position to see Bridget, who was up the other end chatting with the princess fish she was diving for.

  “What are princess fish anyway?” I asked.

  “I’m not exactly sure.”

  “Do you think they’re any relation to sea dogs?”

&
nbsp; “Totally different, Adam,” she laughed. “Don’t you know anything?”

  “No,” I replied, focusing on her mouth. “I land there no more.”

  Charli wrapped her legs around my waist, which was more dangerous than the pout she gave me. “I still land there.”

  “I know. It’s who you are.” Reminding her of it felt like the biggest coup of the evening.

  I had no idea what had gone on that morning at Bridget’s dance class, but it didn’t take a genius to work out that Olivia had upset her again. The war that raged within Charli wasn’t complex. She didn’t like the woman, and was struggling with the notion of being her daughter. But no matter how hard Olivia tried, she would never overcome the fact that Charli was a hundred per cent Blake.

  “I know who I am, Adam,” she said quietly. “How about you? Any idea who you are?”

  My hands settled on her hips. “I know who I am.”

  “You should be him, then,” she whispered, “and stop pretending to be a hard-arse lawyer.”

  I might’ve agreed if I’d had a chance. A squeal from the other end of the pool put a stop to the conversation. “Treasure can’t swim!” yelled Bridget.

  It was worse than that. Treasure couldn’t even float. Bridget stood at the edge of the pool, pointing into the water. “Get her, Daddy. Quick!”

  I had no choice but to save the thing on the bottom of the pool. I dragged the waterlogged doll up and dumped it on the edge. “Is she dead?” asked Bridget.

  I had no freaking clue. I looked back at Charli for an answer, which was pointless. She shrugged.

  I was contemplating calling the time of death and sending Bridget flowers when out of the blue, she picked Treasure up and gave her a shake. “Oh, she’s not dead,” she said casually. “She’s just playing it cool.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” I muttered.

  Charli could barely speak for laughing. “I think we need to go now,” she suggested. “Dad can’t handle any more drama and I can’t carry him if he passes out.”

  ***

  My plans for a quiet night differed a little from Bridget’s. There was a reason I booked a two-room suite, and it wasn’t so Treasure could have her own bed.