“Yes. I can.”
“For now, but a court may have something to say about it.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m just stating a fact.”
“Take me to court then, because that’s the only way you’re going to see my daughter.”
A car drove past Molly playing loud Latin music. The young man on the passenger side leaned out the window and complimented her ass. She raised her glass to him in thanks before she knocked back the rest of the whisky.
“You haven’t lived the most steady, respectable life, Molly. It would be easy to make you look like a bad mother.”
Her grip tightened on the phone. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Look,” Trevor said with a long-suffering sigh. “I was really hoping we could leave the courts out of this and come to a cordial agreement ourselves. It would be in the best interest for Cheyenne—”
“Don’t you dare tell me what’s best for my daughter. You turn up in her life when she’s at a vulnerable, easily influenced age. You’re confusing her. And we both know the moment she becomes an inconvenience, or you grow bored playing daddy, you’ll disappear from her life faster than a fart in a windstorm.”
Trevor was silent. Molly lifted the glass to take another drink, realized it was empty, and set it on the window ledge.
“You have every right to be upset with me,” Trevor said quietly. “I made a terrible mistake, but what’s done is done. I can only try to make amends now. I want to know Cheyenne. I want to be in her life and she wants to know me too. She’s invited me to her birthday party. Michelle can’t make it, but I’m coming. I’ve already booked my flight to Key West.”
“What? No! You… No, you are not going to Cheyenne’s birthday party.”
“I’m arriving Friday afternoon and staying through Monday. I intend to spend some time with our daughter. Don’t make me get a court order to make that happen because I will.”
Molly tried to hurl a word at him that summed up her monumental dislike for the man, but instead, let out a frustrated grunt.
She hung up the phone because she needed to think. She absolutely couldn’t afford a lawyer right now, but maybe she could take out a loan against the bookstore. Or maybe she could ask Sophie for a personal loan. Molly hated the idea of asking her friend for money, but this was for Cheyenne, and Molly would pay her back with interest. The fear and booze making her feel slightly dizzy, she turned toward the door and stopped short when it opened and Cheyenne and April stepped outside.
Molly frowned at them. “Where are you going?”
“They’re having lobster.” Cheyenne wrinkled her nose in disgust as she met Molly on the sidewalk. “You know how I feel about it.” She hated how restaurants tortured the crustaceans by taping their claws together and putting them in cramped prisons before they boiled them alive.
Molly hadn’t been planning to bring up Trevor, but she was still stewing like a tomato over her ex-husband and Cheyenne was ignoring her request to stay until dessert. “That was your father on the phone.”
Cheyenne and April exchanged looks.
Molly shouldn’t be surprised April knew about Cheyenne’s father. Despite their four-year age difference, the girls had become very close friends over the past months which had led to their idea of sharing a birthday party. A thought suddenly occurred to Molly. “Can you give us a minute, April?”
April nodded and gestured with her jewel-bedazzled phone. “I’m parked around the corner. I’ll go get the car.”
Cheyenne watched her leave while Molly stared at the sidewalk listening to the click, click, click of April’s backless high heels. When the girl finally disappeared around the corner, Molly looked at Cheyenne. “You and April cooked up this birthday party at her house just so you could invite your father.”
“No! Ma…”
“I don’t know what this is, Chey. Help me understand. Do you want to live with Trevor?”
“No!” She was quick with her answer, but she avoided Molly’s gaze.
“Then what’s all of this about?”
“I just… I just want to get to know him. He’s my father. He went to Stanford. He’s a lawyer. He’s really smart like me and—”
“And I’m not?”
Cheyenne’s eyes widened. Her gaze darted to Molly’s face and then skirted away.
Molly crossed her arms and waited for her daughter to wipe the cow pie off her shoes.
“That’s not what I meant. You’re smart, Ma. Street smart. You always say that.”
“Uh-huh. And?”
“I'm sorry.”
Molly looked toward the street where a 57’ Chevy in mint condition was cruising past, heading toward Duval. It was aqua and cream, just like the one her daddy used to own. Taking a deep breath, Molly decided to let her daughter off the hook. “It’s all right. I know what you mean. I’m not a bookworm like you. You’re at the top in your class and, yes, you got your book smarts from your father. But, Cheyenne, he has a lot of bad qualities too. He walked out on us.”
“You, Ma. He walked out on you.”
Molly drew back sharply and stared at her daughter, stung by the truth in her words. “You were just a baby.”
“That’s right. He didn’t know me. Now he has the chance to. April and I didn’t plan the party just so I could invite him, but he accepted my invitation, and you can’t stop him from coming.”
More truths Molly didn't want to hear. Heat climbed up her neck and flushed her face. She wanted to scold Cheyenne and send her straight to room. But what purpose would that serve? Apart from forbidding her to attend her own birthday party, there wasn’t much Molly could do and that was the most frustrating part about the situation.
A silver Porsche turned the corner and rolled to a stop in front of the fire hydrant, the only open space on the busy street. April waited in the idling car.
Molly shook her head. “So that’s how it’s gonna be?”
Cheyenne’s jaw tightened and she crossed her arms, unintentionally mimicking Molly’s body language. They were alike in a lot of ways, but they were very different too. Cheyenne was right about that.
“Fine. You win.” Molly waved her away. “But don’t expect me to be at the party.”
“That’s fine because I don’t want you there anyway!” Cheyenne stormed off, climbed into the passenger seat of April’s car, and slammed the door shut.
Molly stood on the sidewalk watching the car drive away as doubt filled the empty hole her sinking heart left behind. She shouldn’t have let their argument escalate like this. “I’m a terrible mother.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
She whipped around in surprise.
Anders stood just outside the door to the bar. “Sue asked me to come get you. The meal’s being served.”
“Thanks.” She shook her head. “I really screwed things up royally this time.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Molly’s throat tightened and tears stung the back of her eyes. She took in the width of Anders’ shoulders, and the bit of bronze skin bared by the deep V of his linen shirt, and smiled ruefully. What she really wanted was a hug. She wanted to step into the shelter of his arms and let go of all her anger and frustration with a good cry. But since that fantasy was about as likely as tits on an alligator, Molly settled for talking.
She glanced in the direction her daughter had gone. “My ex. Cheyenne’s dad turned up after being MIA for fourteen years. He suddenly wants to have a relationship with his daughter and it looks like Cheyenne wants that too.”
Anders stuck his hands in his pockets. His brow crinkled over squinty, contemplative blue eyes. “But you aren’t keen on the idea because he ran out on you once before.”
“Yes.”
“Is he still a loser?” Anders’ left eyebrow lifted inquisitively.
“Trevor is an entertainment attorney. And he’s married. His wife is a family attorney. They don’t have any children of their
own.”
Anders nodded as if he understood everything. “And now they want yours.”
Molly’s head snapped up. “Do you think that’s it? Do you think they want Cheyenne as a substitute for the children they didn’t have?”
He shrugged. “It’s possible.”
It was one thing for Trevor to want visitation, but would he take Cheyenne from her? Would she want to go? Was that why Cheyenne was being so secretive about this. Oh, God! She couldn't lose her baby girl.
Seeing her obvious distress, Anders moved closer and put hands on her shoulders. She tilted her head back to look up at him.
“Look.” He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “The best thing to do is tell your daughter how you feel and the reasons you feel that way and then trust her to make the right decision.”
“But what if she doesn’t?”
“You raised her, didn’t you? She’ll make her decision based on everything you’ve taught her. If you push and tell her the way it’s gonna be, she’s only gonna push back and that won’t turn out well for anybody.”
Molly nodded. A tear escaped her eyes and she reached up to brush it away. “You’re right. I have to trust Cheyenne to make the right decision. I just hope I can.” She took a deep breath and tried to smile. “You’re a good father.”
Anders’ hands dropped away and he shifted uncomfortably. He looked off into the distance before meeting her gaze again. “Hardly. Do you know my son hasn’t spoken to me or his mother in two years?”
“But he talks. Not much, but he’s able to speak.”
Anders shook his head and for a brief moment, raw pain flashed in his eyes. “Not to me.”
“I’m sorry.” Without realizing what she was doing, she flattened her hand on his chest. “I think you’re making progress though. Just the other day, he thanked you for the comic books.”
Anders looked down at her hand.
“Sorry.” Feeling sheepish, she started to move it away, but he stopped her.
Their eyes met. He covered her hand with his and held it in place against his heart. The strong beat pulsed against her palm, the hard flesh and heat making her fully aware of the fact that he was flesh and blood and not just some fangirl fantasy.
“That’s because you made him talk to me.” The vibration of his voice added another texture to the experience of touching him. “He likes you. But, I don't know, on his own, he—”
Across the street a car, a dark-colored four-door sedan with tinted windows suddenly pulled away from the curb, tires screeching. Belatedly turning on the headlights, the driver took the next corner too quickly. The back end of the car started to spin out, but the driver regained control sloppily and zoomed out of view.
“Come on,” Anders said distractedly, staring after the car. “Let’s get inside.”
“Was that the paparazzi?”
“I sure as hell hope not.”
An odd feeling crept over Molly. What if whoever was in that parked car had been watching her and snapping photos the entire time? She shivered, though the night was warm. The invasion of privacy was unsettling. How did celebrities ever get used to it?
Anders was still holding her hand. “Don’t let it bother you. Nothing we can do about it now.” He tugged her toward the door. “How about we continue our conversation over a drink?”
“Sure. I could use another whisky. Or three.”
Anders chuckled as he opened the door and held it for her. He glanced back over his shoulder, scanning the street before he followed her inside.
Chapter Fourteen
Molly grabbed a couple glasses from behind the bar while Anders pilfered a fresh bottle of Glenlivet. They headed up to the roof to chat somewhere away from the noise of the party. They sat side by side on the low platform beneath the bamboo altar, their feet outstretched and the open bottle between them. The band was playing live again and the music drifted up to them. The white linens draped over the altar danced languidly in the warm evening breeze.
It didn’t take them long to put a dent in the fifth of whisky. Molly sipped her second glass while she watched Anders pour his third. As she admired his profile, she paused to acknowledge the surreal situation. She’d daydreamed about this moment before. She and Anders alone on a rooftop or a beach or the top of a mountain. She didn’t climb, but she knew he enjoyed it, so in her fantasy, she was athletic and wasn’t afraid of heights. She’d imagined even minute details like what the buttons on his shirt looked like or what they were drinking. Funny, she’d always imagined bourbon instead of Scotch.
But her mind couldn’t color in all the details, like the sensation of being in the moment. How it would feel to sit close to him, exchanging intimate details about their lives.
“How did you meet your ex?” Anders sat the bottle aside and turned back to Molly.
His avid interest was a bit unnerving, so she looked down at her glass. “A mutual friend introduced us. Trevor was four years older. I admired how ambitious he was and liked the idea of becoming his wife and moving to the big city.”
“Where are you from?”
“Deerland, Oklahoma. It’s a tiny town in Osage County.”
“Near Tulsa?”
Molly looked at him, surprised. “Yeah. How'd you know?”
“I've heard of it.”
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with slightly trembling fingers and focused on not spilling her glass. “Trevor promised to take me to Nashville. In the beginning, he supported my dream of pursuing a career in country music, but we never made it there. A week after we were married, he was accepted into UCLA Law School for his master’s and decided to move there instead. I was disappointed about Nashville but still excited to get out of Deerland. And we were happy for a time.”
“You put your dreams on hold for his. That says a lot about you.”
“Does it?” Molly snorted softly. “It says I abandoned who I was and sold myself out for a man.”
“No.” He reached for a long red curl that had escaped from her up-do and toyed with it. “It says you’re a selfless person who puts the people you care about first. That’s a rare quality and one I greatly admire.”
Molly met his slanted gaze and her insides turned to goo. Boneless and barely breathing, she couldn't move. Couldn't think of anything but a particular shade of blue that was as clear and pure as a tropical sky.
He tugged gently on the strand of hair. “What went wrong?”
Somehow, she managed to bring the glass of whisky to her lips and sip without choking. Moistening her dry mouth, she pulled her scattered brain together. “He was excited about becoming a father, but he wasn’t prepared for the reality of it.”
Anders’ hand dropped away. She was close enough to smell him, his cologne mixed with his natural scent, and feel the heat pulsating off his big body. He was a truly beautiful man. All hard, flat planes and sharp angles. Tanned skin with the slightest hint of stubble. He’d shaved for the wedding, but his beard was already growing back.
She swallowed hard before continuing. “He started staying out later. Next thing I knew, he was renting a private dorm on campus so he could have a quiet place to study.”
Anders’ gaze narrowed. “You weren’t worried he was cheating on you?”
“No. School came first for him. He barely had time for me let alone another woman.”
As if suddenly noticing how close he’d drifted toward her, Anders’ eyes flared slightly and he withdrew. Settling back against the low concrete wall, he took another sip from his glass. “Greer was a cheater.”
“Really?” That was absurd. Who would cheat on him?
“Yeah.” He took another sip. “She cheated every damn chance she got. Even before we were married. I knew it too, but I looked the other way.” This time, he tilted the glass back and finished what was left of the whisky. Setting the glass aside, he looked over at Molly. “That’s how I knew for certain I wasn’t in love with her because I didn’t care. Not really.”
“Nope.”
There was a bleakness behind his eyes that hadn’t been there before. It made her sad for him. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she stayed where she was and asked the question she was most afraid to ask because the answer might change her opinion of him. “Was that because you were cheating on her too?”
“No, ma’am.” He was reaching for the bottle of whisky, but he stopped and turned toward her suddenly. Leaning closer, he looked into her eyes as if it was important she knew this about him. “I may be a lot of things, but I swear on my mama’s grave, I’m not a cheater.”
When Molly nodded, he turned away and finished refilling his glass. “I dealt with the bad marriage the best way I knew how. I threw myself into my work and went out on tour. It was a lot easier to feign ignorance that way. She was discreet. I’ll give her that.”
“We were very understanding spouses, weren’t we?” Molly offered him a weak smile.
“Hell, we were saints.” He reached over and tapped her glass with his in a toast. “To sainted spouses. May we both find someone who appreciates us.”
“And isn’t as worthless as a screen door on a submarine.”
Anders laughed. “I’ll drink to that.” And he did. Wiping a dribble of whisky off his bottom lip with the back of his finger, Anders grinned at her. “You’ve got a way with words, Molly MacBain.”
“I get it from my grandma. She’s got an expression for everything. It’s hard to keep up with her sometimes.”
They both chuckled and then grew quiet. She felt him watching her and she gave him a sideways smile. He touched her cheek and gently turned her face toward him. Her senses were heightened by the booze and the magic of the night. She swayed closer to him and he bent his head.
And kissed her.
Her stomach dipped as warm, firm lips pressed against hers. Her nerve endings sizzled like sparklers at a Fourth of July picnic and she saw a full firework display behind her eyelids. When he changed the angle of the kiss, pushing his velvety tongue inside her mouth, Molly groaned and came up on her knees. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she plastered herself against his body and kissed him back with enthusiasm.
Bahama Mama Page 13