by Lelly Hughes
It was the word home that really made me smile. Ever since I arrived there has only been one instance where I felt out of place, and Levi apologized for that. I was too forward and scared him. Truthfully, I scared myself too. Kissing him was not part of the plan, but I’m so thankful that I did and that he reciprocated because it’s been the most amazing feeling, being wrapped in his arms.
Darian’s face pops up, taking over the images of Levi and me together. I contemplate letting him go to voicemail but know that this conversation has to happen regardless of it being now or not. Putting it off isn’t going to change the fact that everyone knows that Zara Phillips was caught making out with Levi Austin.
“Hello, Darian.”
“Ah, my sister is alive and well… oh, wait. I know she’s alive because she’s sucking face with some country music star.” Darian says the last part with some bite. I honestly don’t care if he has a problem with Levi’s profession.
“I wasn’t aware that there were rumors about my death. I must’ve missed those.”
“Surely you saw where you were caught kissing another man?”
I roll my eyes. I thought for sure Darian would stay on my side with this divorce, but maybe that isn’t the case right now. “I was kissing a man, not another. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m single.”
“And ready to mingle, I take it. Who is this guy?” he asks before I can respond to his stupid pun.
“Levi Austin. You should look him up.”
“I did, Z, and seriously, a country star? What on earth could you have in common?”
Nothing and that’s the beauty of it all. I like that we have to ask each other questions because we don’t run in the same circles, that we have to take the time to communicate and not already know everything about each other because we have the same background. Sitting with Levi and asking him about his town, his music, and career, learning about the girls, the horses and being immersed in his life has proven that two people can connect when they’re opposites.
“It’s not all about what you have in common with someone, Darian. You can’t honestly tell me that each time you hook up with someone, you stop and think about stuff like that.”
“That’s different. That’s just sex. Are you saying this is just sex between the two of you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Right. And from what Laura says, you’re shacking up with him?”
I look behind me at the house and smile. If this is a shack, sign me up. “I like him, D.”
“This is nothing more than a rebound fuck, Zara. The band, hell even Van, we don’t understand what’s going on here.”
My throat tightens, and I close my eyes to ward off the tears, but it’s too late. Everything around me turns blurry. He’s my brother. He’s supposed to be on my side through everything. “Van cheated on me, Darian. He took the trust I had in him, the vows that he promised to me, and violated them in the worst possible way.”
“He’s sick, Z.”
“So he says. It’s a likely excuse to claim you’re a sex addict when your wife catches you in the act. Do you grasp that, Darian? Do you realize that I walked in on my husband fucking another woman and he didn’t stop right away? He continued while I watched him and acted as if I was inconveniencing him. Not to mention that after I left, he went and finished the deed. He came home smelling like her. Who the hell does that?”
“A man who is sick and suffering.”
I balk at his comment and dig deep within me to keep him on the line. “I have to know, what changed? Because a month ago when I told you, you were team Zara and now you’re team Van.”
“I’m team Reverend Sister, and right now we’re falling apart because you’re off sucking tongue with some Podunk dude who isn’t your husband. I’m trying to look out for us, the band that is your family and you seem content to throw it all away because Van made a mistake.”
“I have to go, Darian,” I tell him before I hang up. He calls me right back, but I send him to voicemail. If he can’t understand where I’m coming from, then there is no need for us to talk.
I think about sulking or drowning myself in a bottle of booze to numb the nagging voice in the back of my head, but realize that doing so will only increase the pain when I’m sober. I’m here at Levi’s and happy. He’s given me a safe haven, away from the media spectacle that was my life in Los Angeles and offered me peace and quiet in his home.
Staring at my phone, I realize that holding it in my hand is only making me edgy. I shoot off a text to Levi, telling him that I’m powering down but that I’m making breakfast for him and the girls for when they arrive in the morning. I have no preconceived notions about what happens when the girls get here. For all I know, they’re not happy. Not that I can blame them. I know what it’s like to be replaced by another woman, except my father took it one step further and created a whole new family, forgetting about Darian and me.
That’s the last thing I want to do to his girls. I never want to come between him and his daughters especially with the recent passing of their mother. I can’t imagine what they’re going through. My mom is my best friend and aside from Levi, the only one on my side. She deserves a call though, to let her know what’s going on with Levi, but I know I’ll unload my conversation with Darian onto her shoulders and that is something I don’t want to do. This is my battle and one that I need to figure out. I have a feeling the band is going to give me an ultimatum. It’s going to come down to whether or not I can forgive Van enough to continue performing together or if I call it quits. There’s no doubt in my mind that the band is going to side with him.
Instead of burying myself in a bottle of Jack, I decide that a few laps would be better for me except by the time I have my suit on, I can hear someone turning off the alarm system.
“Hello?” I call out as I try to cover myself up. As luck would have it, Barbara is standing in the hallway, looking over my shoulder and through the door, almost as if she suspects someone is in Levi’s room. “Hi, Barbara.” I’m trying to be sweet, but the look she’s giving me makes me feel uncomfortable.
“I brought lunch,” she says, holding up a couple of white bags. As if on cue, my stomach growls, and she cracks a smile. “I told Levi that I would stop by and make sure you didn’t need anything.”
“And to prove that I’m using him?” I hedge.
Barbara shrugs. “I may not like that you’re here, but Levi does, and he’s important to me,” she says, opening the bags. “I’m paid to protect him… even from himself.”
I sit on one of the stools across from her and wait for her to push a plate toward me, contemplating what she means about Levi. I wish Laura was more like Barbara and looked after me as a person and not just my checkbook.
“Levi likes you, Zara, and because of that, it’s why I’m here. He asked me to look after you, even though he’ll be back this evening and I’m sure you’re capable of caring for yourself.”
“I am,” I tell her. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
“Why’s that, exactly?” she asks.
“For one, I want to know if you’ll take me on as a client--”
“And the other?” she asks, interrupting me.
“I told Levi that I would make breakfast for him and the girls. I know they’ll be home early, but wanted something ready for when they got here.”
“And you need my help?”
“Or thoughts on what the girls like to eat,” I say with a shrug.
“Their mama wasn’t much of a cook so I can’t imagine they’ve been eating very well…” she trails off, almost as if she remembers a different time. She clears her throat and gives me a curt smile. “It’ll be early, so I imagine they’ll appreciate French toast. It’s Stormy’s favorite, and from what I can gather she’s not very thrilled that you’re here.”
“It’s my favorite too.” I ignore the jab about Stormy not liking the idea that I’m here.
Barbara nods. “As far as me working for you�
�� Levi told me about your publicist. That’s not how I work and would gladly take you on as a client.”
“Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Just don’t hurt my boy,” she says, her demeanor’s back in place. I nod and turn my attention toward my lunch without saying another thing.
Chapter 26
Levi
It’s after we land that I bring up the text from Zara telling me that she’ll have breakfast ready for us as a simple reminder of what’s waiting for us when we get home. The fact that she’s concerned about my girls and me, at this early hour, really hits home for me. Normally, I’d feel bad about not texting her right back, but I was busy with the girls and my mom, plus she indicated she was shutting her phone down, and I feel like she would’ve let me know that it was back on. I’m fairly new at this dating thing and could be completely wrong on the whole subject matter.
The girls are tired, yet oddly hyper for it being this early in the morning. I want to say it’s because they’re back where they belong, but I know that’s not true. I have a feeling that while I was sleeping, they were ingesting copious amounts of caffeine. Flying the red-eye is great in some cases, except right now all I want to do is go home and sleep. Actually, I want to crawl into bed and hold Zara. I know it’s ridiculous to think that I’ve missed her after one day, but it’s true.
All throughout the day while I was helping the girls pack and settling everything up at their schools, Zara was never far from my mind. I felt like a giddy schoolboy with his first crush, wondering when I was going to run into her again “by chance.” Knowing that she was in my house, treating it as her own only sent my feelings into overdrive.
I can’t tell if we’re moving too fast or not. We’ve both had limited love lives, both having married high school sweethearts, and both have suffered because of them. Granted, I casually dated—if you can call dinner out—dating, but stayed away from the hook-up game. That wasn’t a road I wanted to travel down, especially having two daughters. I didn’t want to set a bad example, even though I have no doubt that Iris did.
Which makes me think that I need to ask Zara to sleep in the guest bedroom. As much as I don’t want her to, I don’t want the girls to see the same lifestyle that they saw with their mother. Something tells me that Zara will understand.
With some of our luggage in hand and the rest being pushed on a trolley by a porter, the two chatty Kathys trail behind me as we make our way out of the terminal and into the parking garage where my truck is waiting. The girls haven’t stopped yammering since the plane landed, both going on about all the things they want to do.
“What about taking the horses out sometime today?” I suggest as I load their luggage into the back of the truck. I don’t bother looking at them to see their expression, but their quick silence has me wondering what they’re thinking. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve ridden, but I can tell you that Abby and Blaze will love it if you take them out.”
“What about you, Dad? Will you take Night out?” Stormy asks. I can’t say I much like her tone though. I brought up Stormy’s attitude with my mother, and while she didn’t experience anything teenagerish with her while I was gone, she did say that Stormy’s demeanor changed about an hour before I arrived at the house.
It’s unsettling to know or even think that your daughter has an issue with you or maybe it’s not with me, but with parental guidance. The more I think about her life, the more I realize that Iris let Stormy do whatever the hell she wanted, and Stormy has to know that she’ll have rules that must be followed.
“Of course.” My back is still to them as I continue to load the suitcases.
“And Zara? What will she ride?” This time I look at Stormy and shrug.
“I’m sure Zara is busy doing her own thing, Stormy. It’s not like she’s attached at my hip.”
Stormy scoffs and finally opens the truck door and climbs inside. I try not to let her attitude rub me the wrong way, but it pisses me off. I take a deep breath and climb out of the back of the truck, tip the porter, and make my way to the driver side where Willow is standing.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. Her face is pensive. Sad.
“I don’t want you and Stormy to fight.”
I crouch down so that I’m looking up at her. “Stormy and I are just butting heads right now. She’s mad because she’s here. Her life in California is important to her, but she can do that here too. Everything will be fine, Willow.”
“Okay,” she says, quietly.
I help her climb in and send Stormy a glare that should tell her that I’m not happy with her attitude. I get being angry and hurt because of the situation, but taking it out on me, Zara, or her sister won’t fly.
The drive home is fairly quiet with only Willow asking questions about new buildings that have been constructed since the last time she was here. She asked about going to her grandparents, which I thought was a bit odd considering she just left my mother until she told me that Pop told her they were going to go shooting. Hearing her say that solidified my decision to bring them both back to Tennessee. They need a place where they can grow up with their family around them.
As soon as we pull in, I half expect the front door to open. When it doesn’t, I don’t let it bother me too much, but damn if I didn’t want to see Zara there, looking domestic. Willow rushes to the front door and pushes it open. I’m hot on her heels with Stormy dragging feet behind me.
It’s Willow’s gasp that has my eyes opening wide. The living room is completely decorated with balloons, streamers, and a giant sign welcoming home Stormy & Willow that is strung over the hearth, along with the smell of cinnamon wafting through the air.
“What’s all this?” Stormy asks.
I shrug and look from her to Willow, who has a beaming smile on her face. “I don’t know.” Out of the corner of my eye, Zara appears. She looks shy and reserved as if she’s testing the waters.
“Zara,” Willow screeches as she runs toward her, only stopping when the two have collided with their arms wrapped around each other. If there was any hesitation in Willow’s acceptance of Zara being here, it’s definitely gone now.
“You remember Willow?” I ask, directing my question at Zara.
“I do. Did you have a nice flight? Are you hungry? I made French toast.”
“I’m not hungry,” Stormy says before she turns toward the hall that will lead to her bedroom. The three of us watch her go and all jump when the door slams shut.
“She’s pmsing,” Willow says. Zara and I both snicker at Willow’s assumption. “I’m starving.”
“Come on, let’s eat.” I motion for them both to follow me into the kitchen, where it’s decorated almost the same. I look quickly at Zara, who shrugs. I didn’t leave her a car, not that she couldn’t have one delivered to her, so I’m curious as to how she had all of this done. Barbara could’ve helped, but she still has reservations about Zara and me, and I can’t imagine she would extend services too much.
Zara takes over in the kitchen, plating up food for all of us. I half expect her to sit down at the table, but she disappears down the hall with a plate of food. I sit quietly and listen as she knocks on Stormy’s door. Surprisingly it opens, and a few words are exchanged, but I’m unable to decipher them.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell her as she returns to the kitchen and sits down.
“I did,” she says. “Barb and I had a long talk about everything: you, the girls, and business. The last thing I want to do is upset Stormy.”
“Stormy’s attitude is mine to deal with, Zara.”
She shakes her head. I catch her smiling at Willow, who is sharing the same sentiment. “If I’m going to be here, they both need to know that I’m here for them as well.”
My eyes pin to her eyes, but only briefly. I have to look away, afraid that I might shed a tear. Days… that is how long I’ve known this woman, and I’m already falling head over heels in love with her.
Since Zara prepared breakfast, I man the cleanup duties in the kitchen while Willow cleans off the table. I turn on some music, making it loud enough to carry throughout the house and start a dance party with Willow once she’s completed her chore. In the corner, Zara is snickering, commenting on my moves, but Willow is laughing. She’s giggling so hard that she has tears rolling down her face.
And when Stormy comes out to see what all the fuss is about, I take her by her hands and pull her into the kitchen and dance with her. She balks at first, but gives in soon enough and starts shaking her hips right along to the music. When I look at Zara, she’s videotaping us and if I’m not mistaken, bobbing her head up and down to the beat of the song.
When it’s over, I collapse in a heap, onto the counter, panting as if I’ve just run a marathon.
“Daddy, how do you expect to go on tour if you’re an old man?” Stormy says in between fits of laughter.
“Daddy’s not old, Stormy.”
“Thanks, Willow,” I say, half out of breath.
“He’s ancient,” Willow says, giggling even louder.
“You guys are very funny.” I try to concentrate on loading the dishwasher, but the disc jockeys on the local country station are mentioning my name. I go to turn it off, but Zara tells me that she wants to hear what they’re saying.
“Are the rumors true regarding Levi Austin and Reverend Sister’s lead singer, Zara Phillips?”
“Could be. He spent a month out in Los Angeles, right about the time she filed for divorce, and now she’s here. I’d say it’s pretty serious.”
I scoff at the radio, but Zara laughs. “We’ve known each other for a week,” she points out as I nod.