by Ward, Susan
I peek up at him. “Are you really asking me to run away with you, Bobby?”
He flushes at my wording, but his smile grows larger. “I guess I am. Will you run away with me, Kaley Stanton?”
Shaking my head, I sink back against his chest.
This is crazy.
But it makes sense.
Definitely better sense than how I resolved my issues with my father.
“This is nuts. Do you know that? And I shouldn’t even consider it—I’m enrolled in USC film school for this fall and I’ve worked damn hard to get there—but I’m seriously thinking about it. Do you want to know why? It’s not just because I love you. It’s exactly something my Grandpa Jack would say or do or encourage. He always says the best thing a person can do is get lost for a while. Let it all go. That sometimes it’s the only way you can find yourself.”
When Bobby pulls back there’s a sheepish grin on his face. “Who do you think I’ve been hanging out with and talking to the last four months while you were away? Working through things with? Getting advice from?”
Oh no.
It can’t be.
“Grandpa Jack?”
“I spent a lot of time surfing in Santa Barbara while you were away, Kaley. Had a lot of long chats sitting on a board out in the ocean with Jack.”
My eyes grow large. “You have?”
With his thumbs he brushes the corners of my lips. “I missed you so much, baby. Spending time with your grandfather was the closest thing I could get to spending time with you. You may look like your dad, but in here”—he taps the spot above my heart—“you are your grandfather.”
That was kind of sweet.
Still—
He did dump me four months ago.
Shit, am I really considering taking off with him on our first day back together?
I need to slow this down.
Think.
I crinkle my nose. “Grandpa Jack is the closest you could find to me?”
Bobby’s eyes shimmer. “You’re pretty much all we talked about. I needed to talk to someone. So much had happened. I love you so much. It was my mom’s idea. Jack is a good listener.”
My brow crinkles. “You know, you could have just choked down your pride, hopped a plane, and joined the tour if you missed me.”
“No. I couldn’t.”
My temper flares. “Why not? Was being right more important than being with me?”
He rolls his eyes, exasperated.
“You could have come to me, Bobby,” I repeat stubbornly.
He leans in until his forehead is resting against mine. “No. I couldn’t. And it didn’t have a thing to do with pride or being right. Your dad threatened to kick the shit out of me if I didn’t stay away for the entire four months. I’m almost positive I can take him, but to be honest I didn’t want to because I knew he was right when he asked me to do that.”
What the fuck?
I pull back from him, staring in disbelief. “What are you talking about? You stayed behind because my dad asked you to?”
He nods. “Yep. He showed up at my house the night before he left California with you. He asked that I stay behind, not go on tour with my family, and I respected him for it and so should you. He wanted some time alone with his girl without interference to work on his relationship with you. I had to respect that. Give it to him. Even if you were pissed, didn’t understand, and mistakenly thought I’d broken up with you.”
What?
My emotions explode in a leveling array.
“Mistakenly?” I counter heatedly. “You did break up with me. I remember every word you said the night before I left. You broke my heart. Do you think a girl gets something like that wrong?”
He gives me a contrite expression. “I pretended to break up with you. I didn’t want you skipping out on your dad and coming home to be with me—”
My cheeks burn red. Jeez, why are all guys, even the good ones, totally conceited jerks at times? “As if,” I taunt, grimacing.
“You needed to work through things with your dad. And you have. Now it’s time to work on us.”
“I should be pissed at you. That was a mean thing to do, Bobby. Not to explain. To let me think we’d broken up four months ago.”
His lips make a slight curl downward. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Letting go, not telling you why so you wouldn’t get more pissed at your dad, and letting you be where you needed to be without me. I love you, Kaley. If that doesn’t prove it, nothing ever will.”
We stare into each other’s eyes.
“This is crazy, Bobby. One minute you’re dumping me; the next asking me to run away from home with you.”
“Not crazy at all. And I’m not asking you to run away with me. I’m asking you to get lost with me.” His hands close on my cheeks, holding my face with his palms as his intense green eyes claim me lovingly. “Get lost with me, Kaley Stanton. I want to spend the rest of my life lost with you.”
CHAPTER 33
Two years later
I drive down the bumpy gravel road in the center of a dust cloud that moves with Bobby’s Aston Martin and makes it damn near impossible to see through the windshield.
After wandering from state to state by car, stopping where we want, doing what we want—Bobby usually just getting to know people and locales, and me filming whatever catches my eye—we’re finally back in California.
Three months ago we started working our way down the coast from Seattle back to Pacific Palisades and our families. Our home state has changed a lot in the two years we’ve been gone. There’s been a lot to film and experience.
I crank up the air conditioner in the car. Fuck, it’s dry in the Central Valley of California. Hot. Dusty. No rain. Maybe people would start taking the drought seriously if more people could see this or at least watch my vlog and films.
I roll to a stop in front of a small adobe ranch-style house in the middle of a clump of barren earth in the middle of nowhere.
That’s what the center of the Golden State feels like. The middle of nowhere. The land before time. Or maybe I should say the land before urbanization. A strange, brown, uninhabited piece of earth completely unlike the trendy, elite coastal towns I was raised in.
I grab my notepad from the passenger seat beside me and jot that down. I might need it for the next installment of ‘Forgotten California’, my hard-hitting documentary series I upload each week on my rehabilitated serious-news-only Kaley’s World website.
Yep, that’s what I do now. I make serious films with serious subject matter, but I post them on Kaley’s World because, what the heck, after I destroyed my dad’s house in a streaming live video it still gets a shitload of traffic. I cringe, even more embarrassed today about that stunt than I was immediately after I did it, trapped in the shitstorm of being an Internet sensation. Why shouldn’t I put the continued traffic on the site to good use? And raising people’s awareness of the tragedy happening in my state because there is no water is good use.
I lean over the steering wheel, looking up through the windshield. Bobby is sitting on the roof of the house, shirtless, drinking a beer with the old man we met in town last night.
My features soften from my fast-rising emotions. I never know what Bobby is going to do on this strange journey we’ve been on.
Last week, we made an impromptu stop at a water distribution station in a tiny town thirty miles out from Fresno and Bobby spent the day working at a relief center, handing out water. I got some great footage there, but it blows my mind that there are people in California without running water now who have to go to relief centers to fill buckets and get bottled water.
In the richest country in the world there are people—usually the poor. The poor are always first to be hit—without water.
Shameful.
I jot down a few more notes and slap my journal closed.
I patiently wait for Bobby to climb down from the top of the house. The vision he makes causes a smile to
claim my lips.
Bobby can’t drive by a person in need without spending time with them. Trying to help. Trying to understand their life. Or just working his tail off, like it looks like he did today given what a hot, sweaty mess he is.
I’m not sure how the random acts of kindness fit into this journey for him. But then, I don’t need to understand it. I love him. That makes everything OK and something we just do.
Today he’s helping an old, weather-worn man fix his roof.
Tomorrow—who knows?
The only thing I know for sure is that I am and always will be in love with Bobby Rowan. That’s the most important thing this two-year journey has taught me.
My phone rings. I rummage through my tote, check the caller ID and then swipe answer.
“Hey, Pop.”
My dad’s laughter floats through the receiver. “You sound cheery. How’s my girl? Where are you?”
“In California. Just north of Fresno. Everything good at home?”
“Good. We all miss you. You coming home anytime soon?”
I smile. “Bobby and I discussed that last night. We are. We’re heading back to Pacific Palisades tomorrow. We should be home in a few days.”
“It’s only—what?—a five-hour drive from Fresno. Why a few days?”
I laugh. “I film things along the way. Haven’t you seen my documentaries on my website? I can’t believe that Mom hasn’t been showing you the installments of my California drought coverage.”
My dad laughs, amused. “Yes, I’ve watched your vlog. I’ve read your online articles. I’ve seen your films. And, no, your mother didn’t have to show me. I can spy on you kids as well as Chrissie can without her help.”
“Oh really. Since when?”
My dad’s laughter grows stronger. “Since you took off with your boyfriend and it’s the only way I can keep tabs on my girl.”
My smile spreads across my entire face.
“I really do miss you, Dad.”
“I miss you, too, Princess. So why don’t you come home?”
I make a playful groan. “I am. Jeez, you’re starting to get as bad as Mom with the guilt and pressure thing.”
“Ah, speaking of your mother, Chrissie told me to tell you that she got that letter you were expecting, scanned it and e-mailed it to you.”
My heart stills. “She did? I haven’t seen it yet. Wait, Pop, I want to open my e-mail and make sure Mom didn’t foul up and that it’s there.”
“What’s going on, Kaley?”
I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Nothing. It’s just some research I wanted that I couldn’t get online. Hold on.”
I grab my tablet, connect to the car mobile hot spot—oh please, let it work here in the middle of nowhere—and then log on to my e-mail. Relief shoots through me as it starts to load.
I scan my loading e-mails.
There it is.
I click open the attachment.
I quickly read it.
My heart stops.
“Oh God.”
“Sweetheart, are you all right?” my dad asks, suddenly sounding concerned.
“I’m OK,” I mumble as I continue to read.
Holy shit.
Right there.
Names of parents.
Their dates of birth.
Location of birth.
Even a last known address.
My heart is racing so fast I can hardly breathe. I turn off my Surface and set it aside. I wonder what Bobby is going to think of this. Maybe I should have asked him, instead of filling out the forms myself pretending to be him and submitting them to the Los Angeles Department of Social Services for his adoption file.
Too late now.
“Kaley, what’s going on?”
Fuck, I just left my dad hanging. “Nothing. Everything is good. I think we’ll be home no later than Friday. Filled with news and definitely ready to see you.”
“News, huh? What’s going on, Kaley?”
He sounds super concerned now.
Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that last part.
When did my dad get so suspicious?
My cheeks warm. “Nothing. It’s just an expression.”
A long pause. “Not buying it. You can explain when you get here. See you soon?”
“Soon, Dad. I promise.”
Click.
I set my phone back into my tote just as Bobby starts crossing the driveway toward me. I grab my camera, pop from the car and quickly snap some pictures of him.
He gives me a pained look.
I smile as I watch him open the passenger door. “That one I’m sending to Linda,” I taunt across the roof. “That picture she’ll love. You looking like a construction worker. I bet she uses it for the Christmas card.”
He leans, arms on the car, shaking his head at me. “Very funny. Why don’t we use it for our Christmas card? Our first one as Mr. and Mrs. Rowan.”
I copy his posture with my arms on top of the car. “Say that again.”
He smiles. “Which part?”
My eyes widen. “The good part.”
“Mrs. Rowan,” he says in a husky, exaggerated way.
I bite my lower lip. “I love hearing that. I wish people still called each other Mr. and Mrs. I could hear that all day and never get tired of it.”
He arches a brow. “Then why haven’t you wanted to tell our parents we got married last month?”
“Because I want to tell them in person. Especially since we got married without them.”
“Who should we tell first? My mom? Your mom? The moms together? Or all our parents together?”
I gnaw my lower lip as if trying to decide, but I already know. “My dad. I want to tell my dad first and I want to be alone with him when I tell him.”
The expression softens in his eyes, a tender look of understanding and approval. “OK. Your dad. Alone. First.”
I love that he gets that without asking me to explain.
“Thank you. My dad, then you have to tell everyone else all on your own.”
“Kaley—”
I climb into the car before he can finish and Bobby settles in the passenger seat. I turn on the ignition and head down the road.
He grabs from a cooler a chilled bottle of Gatorade, twists off the top and downs nearly half of it. He leans back against the headrest.
“God, I’m exhausted. That man was over seventy and I could barely keep up with him. We started at 8 a.m. and just finished now without a break. I don’t know how he does it.”
I laugh. “You probably do more during your nights than he does. He’s more rested in the morning.”
His lids lift and the look in his eyes sends a current through my veins. “I definitely have a hotter wife.”
I lapse into silence and debate whether I should tell him the major news I’ve been keeping from him for weeks.
I park at the motel we’ve been staying at, the only one in the gas and food stop exit near the 99 Freeway that pretends to be a town. I stare at the run-down building. Maybe I should wait. This is not a romantic, marital kind of setting, and I want this to be a perfect memory for us.
This is not perfect. The motel is clean, but that’s about all I can say for where we’re staying tonight. Yep, I should wait and not do it here.
Bobby opens his door and sighs. “I’m so tired I don’t know if I can make it to the room.”
I laugh. “You better. I don’t think I can carry you.”
He shakes his head. “Do you know that old man offered to pay me today? He got all emotional when I wouldn’t take his money.”
My brows hitch up. “Really, how much?”
Bobby grins. “Forty bucks.” He laughs. “I’m driving an Aston Martin—we really need to unload this car and get something else—and he offers to pay me because I helped him today with his roof. I hope that isn’t the way our country has become and I just don’t know it. That people don’t help people unless they’re paid to.”
�
�Most people aren’t as good as you, Bobby.” I slip my hand around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. I ease back enough to smile in his eyes. “I love you.”
He sort of droops into me. “I love you, too, baby. But don’t think you’re getting any tonight.”
I laugh. “Wasn’t planning on it. And I think I’ve already gotten more of you than I should.”
He frowns, lifting his head to study my face.
Shoot, why did I make that last joke?
I climb quickly from the car, hurrying toward our door, and then slip the key into the lock. Keys. A definite indication we are somewhere not pricy and stylish.
I flip on the light, enter our room, and drop my stuff on the desk.
I turn toward Bobby as he closes and bolts the door.
I lie on my side on a bed and watch him start to undress.
“There are two beds,” I say. “Since you don’t want to give me any, maybe we should each sleep in separate beds tonight. You really do look worn out. But you really do look hot when you’re a sweaty mess. I may not be able to resist myself and jump you even though you are exhausted.”
Laughing, he puts a kiss on my head. “Just let me take a shower. I might get a second wind.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not counting on it with the way you look.” I crinkle my nose. “Or the way you smell. Nope, you’re the one not getting any tonight.”
“You’ll change your tune once I’m clean,” he says in a sexy, half whispering voice.
“You are so conceited, Bobby.”
He grins. “Nope. I just know my wife.”
I keep my face carefully blank. Not as well as you think, Bobby. I wait until he’s out of view in the bathroom and I hear the water turn on before I lie back on the bed, turning my decisions over and over again inside my head. My first impulse is always to run and tell Bobby everything. It’s so freaking hard not to, to wait and try to do it at the right time, in the right way.
But Bobby is not just my husband. He’s my best friend and I want to share everything with him.
I want to tell him so badly…
I cross the room, take my Surface from my tote, sit back on the bed, and log on to my e-mail. I’ll let the e-mail decide. If the last known locations of either of his parents are a reasonable drive from where we are, I’m telling Bobby everything tonight.