Lyssa shuffles one foot forward.
“Alyssa, no! Stay right there, young lady, or you’re in for no electronics.”
Her eyes widen as she shuffles away from the porcelain and my heart sinks an inch at the fear in them, but again, I don’t waver.
Mess first, hugs later.
After cleaning up the oatmeal and locating the broom to sweep up the larger pieces of porcelain, I hold Lyssa at arm’s length to inspect her for injury. There are none, thank God. Who knows what Catie would do if she came home to that. Then I vacuum up the smaller shards and mop up the disasters from her two previous tantrums. She doesn’t fight me when I demand another bath, and puts up no fuss when I wash her hair. As I dry her off, her arms wrap around my waist.
“I’m sorry, Addie,” she whimpers. Any twinge of annoyance I may have had at her melts and I reciprocate the embrace.
“It’s okay, kiddo.” On impulse, I cup her cheeks in and touch my lips to her forehead. She leans into the kiss and I smile before pulling back. “You scared me.”
She hangs her head. “Are you mad?”
I raise one eyebrow and tuck some hair behind her ear. “No. But next time, you’ll do as you’re told?”
Lyssa nods. “I promise.” She hugs me again and I smooth her hair with a light laugh.
“Good.” After helping her with some clothes, I hold out my hand. “Your mom should be home soon. What do you say we make her some cereal?” At least she can’t do too much damage with that.
Lyssa’s eyes light up as she entwines her small fingers with mine. “I’ll do it.”
I nod. “All right. Right after you bring me your phone.”
“Aww!”
As we head toward the kitchen, I check the time on the wall. Seven fifty. It can’t get any worse in ten minutes, right?
Lyssa finds Catie’s favorite cereal and, after promising me she’ll eat it, asks me to fix a bowl of her own. I’m on my second sip of newly warmed coffee when the buzzer sounds through the apartment.
I wait a beat. If it’s a salesman, they’ll leave. No solicitor wants to deal with me before a full cup of caffeine. But a minute later . . .
Buzz. Buzz.
Ugh. Seriously? I toss Lyssa an eye roll, and her giggle causes milk to dribble down her chin. I wipe it with a napkin and then call, “Coming!”
At the door, it takes me a minute to undo the dead bolts, and as it swings open, the face on the other side makes my blood run cold.
“Adaline?”
“Grayson?” I stumble a few steps back. “What are you doing here?” Is the room spinning? It is. Gravity seems to be fucking with me.
I’ve always thought that business about your life flashing before your eyes when your world gets thrown off course was complete bullshit. Not anymore. One look at the man standing dumbfounded in the hallway and BAM. I’m in college, still reeling from Catie declaring it’s over between us when I see her hanging on his arm for the first time.
Grayson Thomas. Transfer from RALA, once budding engineer, now production grad with the work ethic of a horse and rich parents. His looks don’t hurt, either. It’s like he’s the melting pot of those foreign leads in Meg Ryan rom-coms. Sexy Irish accent, chiseled features, intense brown eyes, sun-kissed complexion, and a mess of mussed, thick curls a few shades darker than Lyssa’s. I’m pretty sure everyone on campus wanted a chance with him. Except, of course, me. I knew I was attracted to girls, and only girls, by age twelve, and not even the most gorgeous boy on campus could’ve changed that. Catie had always been open about her bisexuality, ever since she’d first realized what it meant when we were freshmen in high school. But that day . . .even now, my stomach twists.
I’d seen her with plenty of boys, and girls, before; hell, they’d started flocking the minute we hit puberty. Grayson though, he was different. Not in the swoony, sickening sweet cliché way all the movies lead people to believe. No. Different because he was the first person she’d dated since we’d started going out at the end of senior year. Different because, unlike every other time, where she’d play coy for three solid weeks before she’d “work up the courage” and ask them out if they didn’t move first, Grayson appeared like some fucking Fairy Godfather. He’d had her wrapped around his finger in a matter of days. Different because, well . . .the day they conceived Lyssa was the day he built the stairway straight to our own personal relationship hell.
So yeah, seeing him on my doorstep? I’m glad I don’t own a shotgun.
“Adaline?” he asks. “Are you all right?”
I clench my jaw and glare at him, letting the door swing closed a few inches.
“Fine.” He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s got sixty seconds before it slams in his face. “What do you want, Thomas? How did you even get the address to my apartment?”
He opens his mouth, pauses. Odd. Maybe the lack of sleep is making me hallucinate, but I swear pain flickers in his gaze.
“Well?” I snap.
“Sorry.” He smiles in his charming, smarmy way that once made every member of his pathetic fan club dissolve into puddles of goo. “Megan, Catie’s roommate? Told me she would be here.”
He cranes his neck and I sidestep to block his view of the kitchen and Lyssa. A sweep of the living room, not toward the floor, which is covered in Lyssa’s stuffed animals and his eyes meet mine, brimming with skepticism. “She’s not here, is she?”
“Actually, we—” Wait, why should I tell him anything? What the fuck is he even doing here? How does he know where Catie lives? I contemplate dialing the cops. If he’s been stalking her. . .
“Let me call her.” I pull my phone from my robe pocket, but there’s no answer. I shoot off a quick text, and drop the phone back in my pocket.
“Grayson.” The shortness in my voice stops him. “What do you want?”
He drags a hand down his face. “I came to pick up Lyssa.”
What the fuck? Lyssa’s on his radar too?
“I’m supposed to take her home, but Megan said something about her having strep, so. . .” His laugh is strained. My thoughts speed like bullets. “Though, for all I know, that could be a lie to keep me away from her with my mother acting the way she’s been.”
His eyes search mine. What has Evelyn Thomas done now?
“I’m not trying to take her, you know? I’d never do that. Cate’s her mother and I want to make sure I’m doing right by my daughter.” He snorts and throws up his hands. “But try telling her.”
Hold up. Take her? What is even—fuck it. I’m calling the cops. I haven’t talked to this man in ten years. He’s trespassing on my property and wants to take Catie’s kid. Hell no.
Before I so much as pull my phone out though, Lyssa’s voice echoes through the house.
“Daddy?” Pounding of little feet across the floor and her eyes light up as she races toward Grayson’s open arms. “Daddy!”
“Hey, princess!” He squats down and scoops her up in a bear hug. “How are you feeling?” He puts a hand to her forehead. “Aunt Megan said you were sick.”
Lyssa nods. “I’m better now, so you can tell Addie I don’t need to skip school or ballet anymore!”
“Oh, don’t you?” He kisses her cheeks. “Well, that’s up to the doctor. When he says you can go back, I’ll tell Addie for you, deal?” Lyssa laughs and shakes his outstretched hand with her own tiny one.
“Deal!” Then she squirms and Grayson sets her on the floor. She tugs on her father’s hand. “Come on, Daddy! Let me show you my new room!”
Grayson’s eyes flick to me. When a stiff shrug rolls off my shoulders, he lumbers after his energetic daughter. I follow. If it were up to me, he wouldn’t have made it across the threshold without a background check, but now that he’s caught Lyssa’s attention. . .one thing’s for sure, Catherine Klarken has a lot of explaining to do.
He stands next to the guest bed, inspecting one of her drawings mounted on the wall. “Did you make this, too?”
Lyssa nods. “Uh-h
uh. See? There’s you, me, Mom, oh, and Addie’s here.” She points to a Picasso-like drawing, grinning.
“Oh, I see!” Grayson says. “And speaking of Mom, do you know where she is?”
No sooner do the words leave his mouth than, “Grayson?”
“Catherine?”
“Cate?”
“Mom!”
We face the door. Catie’s a mess, and her eyes dart back and forth before settling on the man with her daughter. “What are you doing here?”
Grayson shrugs and gestures around the apartment. “I could ask you the same thing.”
The color drains from Catie’s face and she gnaws on her bottom lip as his gaze returns to me and flashes with a twinge of something like jealousy before boring into her. “When were you going to tell me you moved in together?”
I open my mouth to tell him to get his lying, manipulative ass off my property. Catie shakes her head. My focus shifts. We have a silent conversation.
Lyn, please, I got this.
I almost laugh. She doesn’t have this, but one pleading glance and I sigh. This is the bed she made, she should be the one to lie in it. Not to mention I’d end up punching this dick in the face.
Fine. But this doesn’t mean I won’t be asking for answers later.
She nods. Of course.
I cross the room and take Lyssa’s hand, gnashing my teeth. Thank God, she follows quietly as we leave. I can’t handle another tantrum today. One last look between them and I march for the living room. The withering scowls say it all. In the midst of distracting Lyssa, I catch bits and pieces of the feud.
“What are you doing here, Grayson? How could you show up out of the blue like this?” Catie fumes.
“Gee,” Grayson spits. “I don’t know. I guess for the same reason you moved across town with no warning!”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, it wasn’t a secret! I was going to tell you.”
“Really?” I wince at his sarcasm. “When? After she kicked you out?”
“What?” Catie cries.
It’s a damn good thing Lyssa has plopped herself and her stuffed animals right in front of my feet. Otherwise that man would see nothing but stars and broken bones for the next three days. As it is, I stare daggers at the doorway while Lyssa prattles away to her favorite stuffed giraffe.
“Addie would never do that!”
Grayson snorts. “It’s not like she hasn’t before!”
I’m on my feet and shaking, but stay put as Catie comes to my defense.
“Don’t drag the past into this! What’s important is the welfare of our daughter.”
“Whom you neglected to inform me has been ill for the better part of two weeks!”
The whir of the radiator echoes through the apartment. When Catie does speak, it’s barely above a hoarse whisper.
“I, I didn’t want you to have anything to use against me.”
“Use against you?” Grayson echoes. There’s some shuffling of feet before either of them say anything else. His gruff baritone is much more gentle and soft. He must have moved closer to her, though I don’t have the bravado, or the opportunity, to go and see.
She scoffs. “Oh please! It’s all you’ve ever done.”
“What?”
“Since the day we met, I’ve always been some kind of, of. . . floozy to you!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Does the record still stand up among your old classmates?” Wait, what? What the hell is she talking about? “I’ll bet it does. You always were one to never let those dumb jock friends of yours outdo you.”
“Catherine.”
“You swore you had protection! You swore nothing would happen and then. . . I just got my life back, and now you’re gonna let your mother throw it up in flames again by outing my relationship with Addie to her publicist?” Her breaths are heavy and her voice cracks, the words laced with tears. “What did I do to deserve any of this, huh?”
My thoughts spin.
“I tried to help you!” Grayson’s bellow echoes through the house and I cringe as he slams his fist against the dresser. “Since the second I found out about her, I—”
“I need a minute,” Catie cuts in.
Grayson snorts. “Oh, that’s great. Run away from your problems, like you always do. A great example you’re setting for our daughter!”
Her feet pound over the tile and I cut her off at the entrance, pulling her down the hall and out of Lyssa’s earshot. Her cheeks are stained with sticky tear trails and her eyes are rimmed red. I clasp her hands.
“Are you okay? What the fuck is going on in there?”
She slides a hand from mine to swipe it across her face. “I’m fine, Lyn.”
“The hell you are.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t refute. “Look, I need you to take Lyssa somewhere.”
“Huh? But I want—”
“No,” she says, a small smile slipping onto her quivering lips. She puts a hand on my cheek. “I appreciate you wanting to be here, I do. But this is between Grayson and me. The last thing Lyssa needs is to hear us fighting.”
I look down. Valid point. “Where should I take her?”
Catie shrugs. “The park. Out to lunch? I don’t care. Just. . . please, get her away from here?”
I nod and squeeze her hands. “Okay, but call if you need me.”
Catie smiles. “I will.”
We go our separate ways and when I sit back on the couch, a tug on my pajama bottoms pulls my gaze downward where it’s met with a pair of wide, curious eyes. “Addie? Why are they mad? Is Grandma being a bi—”
I glare at her and she blushes.
“I mean, witch, again?”
Blowing out a long breath. “I don’t know, squirt,” I confess, pursing my lips. “But what do you say we go play in the kitchen huh? You don’t need to hear this.” And I need five seconds to get my head on straight.
“Do I have to?”
I nod and point down the hall. “March, young lady.”
No sooner is she distracted enough by her iPad for me to make a quick trip to the loo than my phone rings as I’m headed back down the hall. I take a detour to my bedroom before accepting. “Hello?”
“Addie?”
“Franklin?” My eyes widen. Why would he call me?
“Thank God. Listen, you have to get down here and help me!”
“What?” I laugh and start back toward the kitchen. “Dude, I’m still on leave, remember? I come back tomorrow.”
“I know, I know,” He stops and even his breaths sound overworked. Poor guy. Hellsworth is a trip and a half. “Addie, come on, I’m drowning. Emily’s voice blew out, so Donna’s been moved to principle. The costume department is running behind because they keep having to refit everyone. The bed went off the track during a “Popular” run-through and Gabby broke her leg. Our standby count is nonexistent, the understudies aren’t up to Helmsworth’s standards.”
“Shit. Are you sure somebody didn’t curse you guys with the luck of Macbeth?”
“Shh!” he hisses. “You might be safe at home, but I’m being eaten alive over here. The last thing I need is more bad karma.”
I snicker and plop down in the chaise longue. “Look, Frank, I’d love to help, but—”
“I need you back here, or the show is sunk.”
I sigh and twirl a strand of hair between my fingers. He has a point. If things are as bad as he says. . . “I would, but I’m kind of babysitting.”
“Bring the kid, too.”
“Excuse me?”
“Bring the kid. I don’t care what I have to tell Helmsworth, please get your ass down to this theater. I can’t take it anymore on my own.”
I stand. “Ugh. Fine. Give me thirty.”
“Hallelujah! Praise Euterpe.”
“What?”
“The Greek muse of music.”
Chuckling, I map out a change of clothes in my mind. “Whatever, nerd. See you soon.” I hang up and grin at Lyssa.
“What do you say to a field trip?”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Grayson’s footfalls ricochet through the foyer and I mask a wince when he scowls at Addie’s parade toward the door as I lead him to the entryway. “Where are you going? We aren’t done discussing this.”
Addie balls her fists and her nostrils flare like a stampeding bull. She takes two steps forward and opens her mouth, but I clasp my wrist around her forearm. Expert animal tamer I am not, but at least I know how to corral my girlfriend before she flies off the handle.
Lyssa pipes up. “We’re going to lunch, Daddy!” Her eyes shine with excitement as she rocks back and forth on her tiptoes.
My gaze flicks toward Grayson. His frown deepens for an instant as he glares between the two of us before bending down to our daughter’s level.
“Is that so?”
Lyssa’s soft curls bounce like springs along her shoulders as she nods. “Yup. She said we can get burgers!”
Grayson laughs tightly. “Well, eat some extra French fries for me, okay, princess?” He bops her nose.
Lyssa giggles, but I’m too preoccupied with the silent What the fuck? his eyes are burning into my subconscious.
“You guys want to come too?” Lyssa asks
I kneel down to place a hand on her shoulder. “We need to talk. Let Miss Addie take you. We’ll be here when you get back.”
“But.” Lyssa whimpers.
I give her a look and her shoulders deflate as she nods.
“Okay. Bye, Daddy!”
Addie steps around us with one final squeeze of my hand and a pointed snarl at Grayson. Then the door clicks shut and we’re alone.
I march back toward the kitchen, marveling over how fast this blew up. Grayson grunts, but follows.
“What the hell, Catie?” he demands, glowering and leaning against the corner of the counter. “Why did you let her leave? It’s my weekend.”
I match his glare and plop down on a stool. “I gave them some money for food. Didn’t think it would be appropriate for your nine-year-old daughter to hear her father chew me out.”
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