Siena stiffened in the doorway.
“It’s all right, sweetie,” Erica said softly. “It’s only your dad. Remember? And it seems he brought a friend.” She tried to lighten her voice on the latter part.
“You didn’t say he had a friend,” Siena said sulkily. She was tired. It was late, way past her bedtime, and it’d been a long day. And she didn’t do well with surprises like strange people in the house.
“I didn’t know,” Erica said, more to herself than to Siena. She sighed. She was exhausted, too. “Let’s just get through this, okay?” She started to slip her keys into the front pocket of her purse, then realized she didn’t have her purse. Great. She’d left it in the car. She set the keys on the counter as she walked into the kitchen just as Trent entered through the other doorway.
A broad smile shaped his mouth and lit his eyes.
Erica would always remember the first time she’d seen that smile. She’d been at a little dive of a diner where she liked to have breakfast in the wee hours of the morning, either having just landed on a return flight from an assignment or after finishing a particularly difficult article and being too wound up to sleep. She’d been alone in a corner booth, buttering an English muffin, when he’d appeared beside her table. She hadn’t noticed him come in, and there were only three other people there, the waitress and a couple at the counter. To this day, she didn’t know where he’d come from. His smile had captivated her, that smile that, in this moment, irritated her.
“Hey, you’re home,” he said in place of a greeting. Something about his demeanor was entirely different. “I made some coffee.” He waved one of the cups he held toward the carafe on the hot plate of the machine. “I didn’t think you’d mind. You want some?”
Erica stared at him, trying to process. Yes, he’d made coffee. She could see that. Of course she didn’t mind, because seriously, who would? And no, she didn’t want any, because caffeine did keep her awake if she had it past two in the afternoon—something one might think he’d be aware of, having known her for seventeen years. None of this explained why he was here without any advanced notice or who he’d brought with him. “No, thank you,” she said.
“And there’s my girl,” he said to Siena, more loudly than necessary. He’d never called her that in her life. “Did you have fun at the carnival?”
Siena eyed him curiously, as though trying to figure out who he was.
Erica was attempting the same thing.
Siena turned to her. “I want to go say good night to Gus,” she said without acknowledgement of his question.
“You already did, sweetie,” Erica said. “Before we left the center. It’s time for you to get to bed.”
“I have a surprise for her first,” Trent said, his attention back on Erica. “I want her to meet someone. And you, too.”
“I don’t want a surprise. I want Gus.” Siena’s gaze flitted around the kitchen.
“It’ll only take a minute, and then your mother says it’s time for bed. Whoever this Gus is can wait until tomorrow.” Trent’s voice grew a little louder again.
Suddenly, Erica understood. This show wasn’t for her or Siena. It was for whoever was in the next room. Her temper flamed hot. Who the hell did he think he was, coming in here, acting like a parent when he’d never had the slightest interest in that role before? And with no clue as to how to do that with Siena’s special needs. Before she could let loose on him, though, the sprightly face of a young thirty-something woman appeared around the edge of the doorjamb.
Her green eyes flashed luminously above high cheekbones, and her russet colored skin set off perfect white teeth. She smiled apologetically. “Am I interrupting?”
“No, honey,” Trent said, leaving Erica speechless.
Honey? But of course. Why else would Trent bring a woman with him? Why had he never mentioned her, though? Is this what he’d been so uncomfortable about the last time he visited and why he’d been so weird on the phone?
“Erica,” Trent said, slipping his arm around the woman’s waist. “This is Cynthia…my fiancé.”
Fiancé? First honey, and now fiancé? Erica blinked in astonishment. In the four and a half years since their divorce, Trent had never spoken a single woman’s name. He’d never mentioned a date. He’d never uttered a sound about any kind of social life. And here he was out of the blue with a fiancé. Erica had nothing, but that didn’t matter, because he was on a roll.
“Cynthia, this is Siena’s mother, Erica.”
Siena’s mother. As though he’d picked out her file at a surrogate agency, because he’d always dreamed of being a single dad. Erica’s blood was pounding in her ears.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Erica,” Cynthia said. “I’ve heard so much about you both.”
And yet, we’ve heard nothing about you. Erica managed a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” she said. None of this was Cynthia’s fault. She shot a glare at Trent, then felt a movement beside her.
Siena had begun to rock, her arms clamped around her torso.
“And this is Siena,” Trent said to Cynthia. Amazingly, he was still talking. His words indicated he hadn’t noticed Siena’s behavior, but at least there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “Siena, say hello to my friend Cynthia.” He reached for her in an obvious attempt to stop her motion.
Erica made a grab for his wrist but missed.
Siena let out a high-pitched keen and spun away.
Erica dropped to her knees in front of her. “Sweetie…Siena…it’s all right.” She watched for the signs of full meltdown, the walking in circles, the pulling of her hair. “Can you think about Winnie the Pooh? And Piglet? And—”
“What’s happening?” Cynthia asked, her voice shrill. “Is she okay? Is something wrong with her?”
“She’s fine,” Trent said. “She just gets upset sometimes. She’ll be fine.”
“Shut up, both of you,” Erica said, keeping her tone low. She needed to focus on Siena. She couldn’t deal with all three of them at once.
A loud rap sounded at the patio door.
Leslie! Erica squeezed her eyes shut. Thank you. “Come in,” she called over Siena’s whimpering and Trent’s and Cynthia’s murmurings to each other.
In an instant, Gus was there.
Siena immediately squatted and clutched him. She buried her face in his fur. “Winnie the Pooh. Piglet…”
Gus looked at Erica over Siena’s shoulder. He appeared a little frantic, maybe at the tightness of Siena’s hold, but he didn’t struggle or squirm. He simply let her hold on for dear life.
You sweet, amazing dog. Gratitude overtook Erica. She drew in a breath and scanned the room.
Leslie stood in the doorway. She took in the scene in one long sweep, her eyes coming to rest on Siena, then Erica. “What do you need me to do?”
Erica bit her lower lip. She had to deal with Trent and Cynthia—at least to put an end to this night, since they could hash things out in the morning—and she knew Leslie and Gus could handle Siena. If Siena did go into a full meltdown, Erica would hear her. “Could you and Gus take Siena upstairs and help her get calm and ready for bed?”
“No problem.” Leslie pushed between Cynthia and Trent and made her way to Siena. She leaned down and spoke softly in Siena’s ear.
Erica rose and faced Trent and Cynthia. “Let’s go in the other room.” She followed them out of the kitchen and all the way to the living room, Trent in the lead, as though he were trying to get as far away from the scene as possible. She thought of Siena’s opinion of the room, the one where people who didn’t belong sat. She’d tried her best to ensure that Trent had a way to belong there, for Siena, if he chose. He had, for the most part, his own bedroom—very few other people had ever used the guest room. He had a key to the house. He even kept a few things there—some toiletries, a few changes of clothes, an extra charger and a pair of reading glasses. And yet, here they were, in the room for people who don’t belong, on furniture far less comf
ortable than that for the people who do belong. She flashed on getting a cushy blue couch for in here, then sighed and pressed her forehead into her hand, trying to settle on an emotion. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“Don’t feel you need to apologize, Erica,” Trent said, sounding oh-so-soothing. “We understand.”
His comment brought forth a dominant feeling—anger. “You understand? No, Trent, you don’t understand. You’ve never understood because you’ve never taken the time or made the effort to. You’ve never had the slightest inclination to. You’ve never been around enough to.” She pushed up from the couch and began to pace. “If you understood you would have done everything differently tonight. First, you would have called several days ago to let me know you were coming; you would have remembered what I’ve said—oh, I don’t know—a thousand times about Siena being susceptible to changes in her routine environment. Hell, last week when we had an unseasonable rainy day and she had to close her window, she ran circles around the house for three hours, repeating the line from The Wizard of Oz about things beginning to twitch and pitch.” She was rambling, and Trent and Cynthia were staring. She stopped in front of them. “If you understood,” she said to Trent, “when you called from the airport, you would have told me you had someone new with you, so I could have prepared her. If you understood, you would have known to back the hell off when her eyes went unfocused or when she started rocking.” Her voice rose on the last sentence and tears of rage stung her eyes. Why does her father not know these things?
“Erica, we’re so sorry,” Cynthia said softly.
Erica ran her hand over her face, catching the moisture that threatened to wet her cheeks. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Cynthia. I’m sure you’re a perfectly lovely person, and I’m equally certain Trent hasn’t told you that his daughter has autism.”
Cynthia’s eyes widened slightly, and she looked at Trent questioningly.
He appeared adequately ashamed as he stared at the floor.
Erica blew out an exasperated breath. “Trent, what were you thinking?”
He shrugged like a child. “I thought it would be okay. She was fine the last two times I was here. There wasn’t any of that.” He waved his hand in the direction of the kitchen.
“No, there wasn’t, because the last two times you were here were close enough together that you weren’t almost a brand new person to her again, and because it didn’t disrupt her routine.” Because even when you’re here, you’re not really. She wondered how long he and Cynthia had been together and if she was the reason he’d been coming more often, but now wasn’t the time to ask. “We knew you were coming, so it wasn’t a surprise. She had time to adjust to the idea.”
“You didn’t tell Erica we were coming?” Cynthia asked, watching Trent closely.
He looked sick.
Erica almost felt sorry for him. Almost. She dropped back into her seat, exhausted. “I’m so mad at you tonight, Trent, I can’t be sure I can even remain civil. I’m tired. I need to see to Siena. Just go to bed, and we’ll talk in the morning. We can start over.”
“Maybe it would be better if Trent and I found a hotel,” Cynthia said hesitantly.
“There’s no need for that,” Erica said, feeling a bit chagrinned. “I mean, unless you’d be more comfortable after my outburst.” She smiled apologetically. “I’ll talk to Siena in the morning before she comes downstairs and make sure she’s prepared. She’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Cynthia asked. “Because we wouldn’t mind, if it would make things easier.” She took Trent’s hand.
“I’m sure.” Erica glanced at Trent. “You’re both welcome here. Trent’s Siena’s father, and it’s good for her to see him. And with the two of you getting married, she’ll need to get to know you. I promise, it isn’t usually like this, although it would be good for both of you to learn how to deal with her ASD. Please, feel free to stay, and we’ll start fresh in the morning.”
In Siena’s room, Erica found almost exactly what she expected—Siena in her bed asleep, her elfin face scrubbed clean, with hands to match no doubt; Gus snuggled in beside her, on guard with slitted eyelids; and Leslie in the rocker with a book. The only thing out of the ordinary was that Leslie was also sound asleep, her head tipped back, and the book she’d been reading, But No Elephants, draped open over her chest.
Gus rolled onto his back for a tummy rub when he saw Erica.
She was happy to oblige. “You’re such a good boy,” she whispered as she leaned over and scratched his belly. “I think I owe you another big soup bone.” She’d gotten him one from the butcher’s counter for their secret deal the night she’d watched Leslie in the pool, and he’d loved it. He chewed on it for days. Then it’d vanished, reappearing occasionally, covered in dirt, for another round.
Gus made a soft growly noise in his throat and pawed the air.
Erica laughed. She pulled Siena’s covers up and tucked them in around her, then kissed her on the cheek. “Sweet dreams, sweet baby.”
When she turned back to Leslie, she expected to find her awake and watching her, like she did sometimes, but Leslie’s eyelids remained gently closed, her breathing soft and even. She studied the lines of her face, smooth and relaxed in sleep, and she lingered on Leslie’s lips. What would it be like if they were together—a couple—if she could kiss Leslie awake? Yeah, yeah, she said to that naggy little voice in her head. I know. We’re friends. What had that been in the kitchen that afternoon, though, with the frosting? A wave of fatigue hit her at the mere idea of having to figure it out. She eased a lock of hair that had fallen across Leslie’s forehead to the side, then ever so lightly, trailed her fingertips through the layers.
Leslie’s eyelids fluttered.
Erica withdrew her hand. “Hey,” she whispered.
Leslie opened her eyes and gazed up at her. She blinked, then cleared her throat. “Is everything okay?”
“Well,” Erica said contemplatively. “Everyone’s still alive. That’s a good thing, I guess.”
Leslie laughed quietly. “I’m glad to hear it. I’d hate to have to bail you out of jail.”
“Awww.” Erica tilted her head to one side. “But you would?”
“It depends on how much blood you left for me to clean up.” Leslie chuckled, then sat up. “What was going on?”
Erica nodded toward the door. “Come on. I’ll fill you in.” She grabbed the monitor on the way out.
In the hall, she turned toward her bedroom rather than the stairs. “I need to change clothes,” she said as explanation. Leslie had already exchanged the jeans and T-shirt she’d worn beneath her Pooh costume for a pair of swirly purple lounge pants and a soft lavender tank. She looked cuter than cute, but Erica tried not to dwell. “If you don’t mind.” It wasn’t as though Leslie hadn’t ever seen her bedroom.
“So what was that all about,” Leslie asked as Erica stepped from her bathroom in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts.
“I’m still not actually sure.” Erica cleared a few things from the bed, then sat on the side she slept on. She propped a pillow against the headboard and leaned back on it. “Cynthia, the woman, is Trent’s fiancé, whom he’s never said a word about.”
Leslie’s eyebrows shot up.
“I know,” Erica said, still perplexed. “She said she’d heard all about me and Siena, but Trent’s never mentioned a word about her. I’m wondering if she wasn’t pushing him to see Siena more often, or maybe to introduce her to us…or something…and if that isn’t what’s behind his increased visits. But he hadn’t told her that Siena has ASD.”
Leslie lowered herself to the foot of the bed as she listened.
“And you should have seen him,” Erica went on. “I mean, I know you haven’t seen much of what he’s usually like.”
“I’ve seen enough, if that first day was any indication.” Leslie’s mouth quirked in a less-than-impressed smirk.
“It is. But tonight…He was acting
like his involvement as Siena’s father was crucial to her future success as the heir to his throne. And since he’s never paid any attention to how to interact with her or understand any of her triggers, or that she even has some…Well, you saw what happened. It didn’t even occur to him it was his doing, didn’t remember Siena needs to know when someone brand new is going to be in the house.”
“She didn’t have trouble the first time I came over,” Leslie said. “At least, not because I was here.”
“No, but she’d already met you in your yard and had a positive experience with you.” Erica tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling. “And when you did come over later, you brought a clean dog and toys. You were more like a visit from Santa. Cynthia’s a complete stranger whose name Siena has never heard before, and she was introduced by Trent, who wasn’t acting at all like the father Siena’s used to. Granted, she was really tired and had already probably pushed her limits being at the carnival for so long…”
“She did great there, didn’t she?” Leslie sounded so proud, it touched Erica’s heart.
She smiled. It felt so good to be able to share that pride in Siena’s success with someone. “She really did.” She looked at Leslie again. “And see, you know that, because you’re around her and have cared enough to get to know her with all her idiosyncrasies. Trent, on the other hand, doesn’t have a clue how to interact with her.” She kept her voice low, since she wasn’t sure if Trent and Cynthia had come upstairs. Wherever they were, she was sure he was getting an earful from Cynthia.
“Siena’s amazing, Erica,” Leslie said, drawing up her knee and leaning back on one elbow. “It’s his loss.”
Erica considered Leslie’s words—and Leslie, with her strong shoulders and toned arms set off by the lines of the tank top. Something scratchy and distracting at the back of her mind kept her from fully appreciating what she was seeing, though. “What are they doing here now, after all this time? What does he want?” She focused on Leslie as if she might have the answer.
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