by J. A. Huss
“Yeah, well.” I huff out some air, then look at Kate. “Rook says Starling is…” I have to stop talking because I don’t know enough to even ask the right question.
“Kicking ass on the slopes?” Ford fills in. “You bet. You miss every competition. Did you realize that?”
“What? How did I not know she was competing?”
“I guess you take Sparrow to ballet on Saturdays?” Ford shrugs. “But she’s been in three so far this year. You didn’t miss much last year.”
“Wait, she competed last year?” No. That’s not possible.
“Just little shit. I took her with me because even Rook was busy last winter. But this year, she’s hardcore, Ronin. A little phenom. Anyway, my kids are back from their break. Starling is just hanging out with us for another two hours, then I’m going to take her down the terrain run and time her.”
And then Ford skis off to ‘his kids.’
I look down at Kate, but she’s busy with her clipboard. So what can I do? I watch my daughter ski her little heart out while Ford barks orders at kids who eat up every word.
“He’s a coach?”
“He is now,” Kate says. “I knew he’d love it. But he’d never agree to it if I asked. He’s too modest.”
I almost choke.
“Every parent here has asked for private lessons. But we don’t have time for that. We’ll do groups, just like this. Oh,” she says, looking down at her clipboard. “It’s three-fifty an hour for Starling, but I’ll give you a twenty percent family discount. That cool?”
I’m silent as I take all this in. And then I turn to look at Kate again. “Do you think I work too much?”
“Um…” She laughs. “Well, do you want the truth? Or do you want me to make you feel better?”
“The truth, Kate. Do you think I work too much?”
“Well, you never come to the slopes, but Rook doesn’t come either. And you do go to the horse shows. So that’s a tick mark in your plus column.”
“Are you doing that photoshoot for the equestrian catalog?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Ford’s OK with that?”
“Why wouldn’t he be?” she says absently, making a notation on her clipboard about a kid who goes flying by us.
“Well, it’s modeling.”
She shrugs. “We only want to do it for the horses, Ronin. Sparrow knew you’d hate it, that’s why she only asked Rook.”
“Rook told her yes.”
“I know.” Kate smiles up at me. God, when did she get so big? And she’s only a few years older than Sparrow. Rook was right. I’m missing this shit. I’m missing out on their childhood. And we’re not having any more kids, so this is it. Starling is six now, so it feels like I have such a long time to enjoy them later. But it feels like Sparrow was just turning six and now she’s dancing in The Nutcracker and getting modeling offers, and talking about becoming a veterinarian.
How does the time fly by so fast?
I ponder that in mostly silence as I watch Kate watch the kids. I watch Starling too, but she’s just messing around, waiting for Ford to be done so he can take her down that terrain run. I can ski, but I’m not great at it like Ford is. I manage, and really, I only come to the slopes to drink in the bar or hit the hot springs with Rook after we’re done.
But fuck it. When all those kids are done and Starling is looking at Ford like he’s the god of skiing, I suck it up and join them.
I fall on my ass, my face, twist an ankle going over the bars, try a three-sixty and eat snow, then a one-eighty and decide I should be wearing a helmet if I want to live through this little experiment.
But I realize something as we go down that hill over and over again, until the lights come on and I remember I have another daughter who wants my attention tonight.
I realize I’ve fucked up. I’m missing it. I work too much and play too little.
And I’m going to change that this year. I’m going to partake. I’m going to be invested. I’m going to enjoy it.
Chapter Eleven
“Well?” Kate asks, as all the girls jump out of the car and run up to the house. “Did you have fun today, Daddy?”
I give her a sly look, but she shoots me one back. “You don’t need to Daddy me, Duchess. I had fun.”
“I knew it.” She laughs. “I knew you’d enjoy it. So you’re gonna give a few of them a spot in the regular class, right?”
“Hey, don’t get ahead of yourself. I told them I’d consider it. And I will. But I need to talk it over with your mom. See what she thinks about this.”
“Well, I think,” Kate says as she opens her door and starts to get out of the car, “that you stopped producing shows last year because you’re bored. So why not do this, Dad? These kids are good. You should make a documentary about them. About skiing. Do something artsy for a while, you know? Just relax a little and have fun.”
She pauses after her little daughter speech and gives me a warm smile.
“Maybe, Katie. Maybe I will.”
And then she nods and gets out, closing her door behind her.
But the door opens again and Ronin gets in. “Hey, man,” Ronin says, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. “Do you think I work too much?”
“What?”
“Work too much. Rook thinks I work too much, and I have to admit, I never thought I did until she brought it up this morning. And then when I realized Starling was doing all this ski stuff, and I had no idea about any of it, it dawned on me that she might be right. Do you think I work too much?”
“We all work too much, Ronin. That’s the kind of guys we are. Spencer would be at his shop seven days a week if he didn’t have the garage at home to keep him busy. Your film festival is just starting to really gain international attention. And I took my family to New Zealand to film every January for almost a decade. We love our jobs, what can we say?”
“Yeah, but we live in town. I live four blocks from my work. And I had no idea Starling was so interested in skiing, let alone so good at it.”
I shrug. “Do you want me to help you feel guilty, Ronin? Because I’d be more than happy to do that for you.”
He ignores my dig. “And do you think I’m unreasonable about not wanting Sparrow to model? I mean, you saw my life. You saw what happened to Rook. What if Sparrow’s good at it? What if they like her? What if she gets more jobs? She says she wants to be a veterinarian now, but what if those offers come in and she sees the fame, and the money, and the travel?”
“Hmm.” I can see his point. In fact, I’m on his side on this. I don’t mind Kate doing the shoot with Rory and Sparrow, but I know for certain Kate has no interest beyond the horses. She’s so much like me, it’s hard to remember I adopted her. She has a life plan. She’s got her college all picked out. We’ve had interviews with them. Hell, she’s been working for Ronin in the marketing department for the FoCo Film Festival for two years now. This modeling gig is what cheering at a football game is to Rory. It’s what app development is to Five. It’s the T-ball Starling does, and the riding lessons for Belle and Jasmine. Hobbies.
But Sparrow is strikingly beautiful. She is practically Rook’s twin. If I were Ronin, I’d be worried too. She will be noticed the moment her headshot hits the agencies, if only for who she is. The niece of Antoine Chaput. The daughter of Ronin Flynn.
“Ford?” Ronin asks when I don’t continue. “How do I handle it?”
“I think Rook wants to believe in Sparrow, Ronin. I think Rook knows the two of you started your adult lives the wrong way. You had a rough beginning and then Antoine was not exactly the typical American Dream, right? Erotic modeling? And Rook was married young and had all that drama she needed to get away from. Hell, all of us had unusual opportunities when we were teenagers and we made some bad decisions. So I think Rook looks at Sparrow as an opportunity to do it right. Let her have that. Maybe Sparrow becomes a model, but maybe all she wants is a chance to sit on a horse in thousand-dollar boots and get her
picture in a catalog? You won’t have a say in any of it in a few more years. Better to let her figure it out now than take a job when she’s eighteen and unprepared.”
He sighs again. “How did they grow up so fast?”
“God, I have no idea. But I’ve been thinking about it all day. Do you think Ashleigh wants another baby?”
Ronin laughs. “Only for like the past ten years.”
“What?”
“You didn’t notice?” He’s grinning like the old Ronin, the one who has life by the horns and misses nothing. “Didn’t you see the way she looked at Starling when she was born? And the way she looked at Oliver and Ariel. But you guys were the perfect family, right? One boy, one girl, that pack of dogs. What more could you ask for? I mean, Spencer was trying for a boy, but he just had one Princess Shrike after another.”
We both laugh as we picture Spencer with all his little girls. Dressing them up in biker jackets and boots. Making them little Shrike Trikes for Christmas and birthdays. Teaching them how to change the oil while the cameras rolled for the TV show, or choose the right tailpipe for the design he was working on.
“I guess I should give Ash what she needs, right?” I look at Ronin.
He lets out a long breath and looks out the window. “I guess I need to do the same for Rook,” he says back.
We get out of my car and walk up to the massive double front doors to the mansion. “Good talk, man,” Ronin says as I pull one door open.
“Right, good talk.”
We are accosted with the smell of food the second we enter, and then the noise, and my pack of face-eater dogs. Maybe I have so many dogs to take my mind off the children I was afraid to have?
The bustle of the families we’ve created over the years brings me out of my funk and I look around and enjoy it. Spencer is slow-dancing with Ronnie in front of the fireplace. Rook is lining cookies up on the long dining room table so the kids can decorate them like we do every Christmas Eve. And Ashleigh is standing in front of the fifteen-foot-tall Christmas tree, backlit by bright lights, watching me come into the fray.
I smile at her as I take off my coat and hang it over a chair in the foyer.
She shrugs, like she’s apologizing for wanting something she shouldn’t.
I walk over and take her hand, give it a kiss. “I missed you today, Mrs. Aston.”
Her face crumples a little and she looks like she might cry. But she doesn’t. She holds it together and leans up on her tiptoes in a way that reminds me of another mountain house, in what seems like another lifetime. “I have something to tell you,” she whispers as she kisses my cheek.
I pull her into a hug, knowing full well what she wants to tell me. She’s not done mothering. She’s not ready for kids in college. She needs another baby. And she’s afraid to tell me that because I was so worried about me, so worried about what sort of genetic contribution another child of mine might get, that I never once thought about what she was giving up to ease my concerns.
But we both stay silent and enjoy the peace we have. We just dance alongside Ronnie and Spence to Silent Night, our feet slow and our hearts full.
And then I glance up at Spencer and find a confused look on his face. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Where the hell are Rory and Oliver?”
“Shit,” Ashleigh says. “Fucking Five.”
Chapter Twelve
I hold Rory’s hand as Oliver finally gets his turn at Santa Claus. He’s rattling off gifts like he’s got a catalog in front of him.
“And I want a bike, just like my dad’s,” he says.
The Santa here in downtown FoCo is pretty realistic. Genuine white beard and everything. “Ho, ho, ho,” Santa says. “What kind of bicycle does your daddy have, son?”
Oliver screws up his face. “Bicycle? My dad makes Shrike Bikes. I don’t want a bicycle, I want a motorcycle! I want one with white skulls and black ravens. I want the tank to be scarlet red, just like the one my dad rides to work in the summer. I want leather seats and cool pegs. And I want a jacket to go with it. And tattoos, just like the ones my mommy drew on my dad. And I want—”
“Little boy, you can’t have a motorcycle for Christmas! Ho, ho, ho!”
“What?” Oliver squeaks, like his dream is being crushed. “Yes, I can. My dad made all the girls a Shrike Bike. Ask my sister!” He points to Rory and we get a stern look from Santa.
“Trikes,” I correct Oliver. “He gives the kids Shrike Trikes. Not bikes.”
“Yeah.” Rory laughs. “Are you kidding? My dad wouldn’t give us motorcycles!”
“Ho, ho, ho,” Santa says again, setting Oliver down and shaking his head a little. “Well, a trike I might be able to manage. Now hurry along and don’t forget to put out cookies for me tonight! Ho, ho, ho!”
Oliver shoots Santa a look, but reluctantly walks over to Rory and me. He lets off a huge sigh. “He wasn’t even listening to me.”
“Don’t worry about it, Ollie,” Rory says, taking his hand in her free one. “Santa can’t afford a Shrike Bike. Only Daddy can give us Shrike presents. And I’m sure he’s got something special for you under the tree.”
“If it fits under the tree, then it’s not a real Shrike Bike.”
“Come on,” I say. “It’s almost dark. Let’s go look at the lights before we have to get home.”
“Yeah, what time is it? We need to go grab the present and Uber back to Vail soon,” Rory says.
“Plenty of time,” I tell her. It’s already four thirty, so we’re going to be late, but I don’t care. I’m not ending our date until we have that perfect moment.
Now it’s Rory’s turn to sigh. She stops walking just as we reach the huge community Christmas tree and looks up at me with a smile. “This was the best day ever, Five.”
It really was. Fantastic lunch at Anna Ameci’s, ice skating—even though Oliver ate shit like six times and then wanted to stop. The carriage ride, window-shopping, and then the art gallery. We had to sneak by Sick Boyz, which was open until one today, to avoid all Rory’s uncles. But they’re closed down now, and we can enjoy the walk back over to the Shrike showroom where she insists she has the perfect present for her mom stashed away in the back of Spencer’s office.
I look down at Rory. Her sapphire-blue eyes and her sweet, sweet face. She’s the perfect girl for me. She’s been the perfect girl for me since I laid eyes on her. And even though most of my thoughts growing up were about how to get her to join me in my delusional dreams of science fair domination at Saint Joseph’s, the past year or so I’ve been starting to think of what we might become instead of what we already are.
We’re friends now, but somewhere in the back of my head, I’ve always wanted to marry her. Even if it was just the little-kid version of marriage. And now I’m leaving. Just as we get to the age where we might start imagining about the more adult version of our relationship.
I’m going to lose her. I realize this. There is no way to make time stand still. There is no reasonable way to ask her to wait for me. There is no possibility of me not going to Oxford. And I don’t even want to stay, either. I want her, but I want to start moving forward too. I’ve been holding myself back just to stick around. But I can’t do it anymore.
We have to grow up some time.
“This was the best day of my life as well, Rory.” I mean it too. And she knows I mean it.
She frowns a little, her face lit up by the brightly colored lights of the tree. “I’m gonna miss you so much, you know.”
I nod. “I’m gonna miss you too.”
“I know I play girl games with you. Pretending not to notice you looking at me. Or pretending not to look at you back. But Five, I’ve counted on you to be there for me my whole life. I cannot even imagine you leaving.”
I feel a little sad all of a sudden. “I go away to school all the time, but I always come back, Rory.”
She nods. “I know. But this is different. You were a kid. And you might only be fifteen, but you’re n
ot a kid anymore, Five. You’re going to be thousands of miles away this time. There will be an ocean and so many time zones between us, we’ll never even chat on the phone. We can’t even text unless we figure out the time difference beforehand. It’s going to be different. Everything is going to change.”
“We can just…” I sigh now too. “We can just make a pact, you know? Like, we’ll promise each other that we’ll talk all the time. Make an effort.”
“I don’t want our friendship to be an effort. It’s never been an effort before. You were just there. You were always just there. And now you won’t be anymore. I’m going to be all alone.”
“You have Sparrow. And Kate.”
“I know.” She looks up at me, her sapphire eyes watering like she might cry. “But I want you.”
I pull her into a hug, wrapping my arms around her tightly. “Don’t be sad, OK? I promise I’ll be back for Spring Break. And all summer too.”
She shakes her head as she buries her face in my coat. “You always do geeky stuff in the summer. You go to special places for geniuses and think about things that will change the world. You’re going to meet people over there who are just like you, and you might even come back a few times, but then…” She looks up at me. “But then one day, you’ll be like, I’m too busy to go home this time. I’m just going to stay. And that will be it for us, Five. We’ll never recover from that. Because we’re still kids right now, but we won’t be kids forever. We’re going to grow up.”
God, she’s so right. Everything she just said is right. And I’m not even sure there’s a way to stop it. Life just… goes on. I want to make it better. Make her stop being sad and be happy. Make her smile again. I don’t want her last memory of this day to be all the things we will regret in the future.
So I lean down. My heart beats faster. I lean down and she leans up, and we are so close. Our lips are so close.
“Rory?” A deep voice makes us pull apart unexpectedly. “Five? Oliver?” Vic Vaughn—Veronica’s older, massive, built-like-a-monster, and tatted-up-in-scary-ways brother—is looming over us with a scowl on his face. “I thought you guys were in Vail for Christmas? What the hell are you doing down here in Fort Collins?”