All I Ever Wanted: Of Love and Madness, Book Three

by Cimms, Karen

  “How many people are coming for Thanksgiving?” he asked.

  “Just us.”

  That’s what he thought. Without asking, he knew she was stressing over facing Rhiannon, and that was still several weeks away.

  “Does everyone get their own pie?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then what’re you doing?”

  She blinked.

  “You’re making yourself crazy, aren’t you?” He winced as soon as the word left his mouth. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  Kate dragged her hands across the front of her apron, looking sheepish. “No. You’re right. I already called Liz. We’re seeing her Friday afternoon.”

  Relieved, he folded her into his arms. “Good idea. I think we should be going regularly—together.”

  She clung to him. “Thank you. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want you to take it the wrong way.”

  “Nope. I want to be sure we keep heading in the right direction together.”

  It was good to feel the tension draining from her body.

  “I missed you,” she said. “I know it was only a couple of days, and I’ve been on my own for so long now, but the house seemed empty without you.”

  He grabbed her ass and squeezed, then gave it a little pat before climbing onto a stool at the counter. Between the scent of all those pies and whatever was simmering on top of the stove, he was practically drooling. “I missed you too—and I missed your cooking. I’m starving.”

  Kate filled his plate with thick slices of pot roast, a mountain of mashed potatoes, and a heaping spoonful of carrots. His eyes rolled back in his head as he dug into the first decent meal he’d had since before he’d left.

  “How’d it go last night?” she asked as she sponged flour off the counter.

  “Good.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. Dinner had been awful, meat loaf with no meat, as if there could be such a thing. It had been made from beans, and he’d had a stomach ache all night afterwards. Eating healthy was important, but damn. He had to wonder if Rhiannon created these monstrosities as a way to get out of cooking.

  The other thing, which had been even harder to sit through, was their daughter’s increasingly negative attitude about her mother. Rhiannon was hurt at her mother’s abrupt disappearance. They all were. But he couldn’t put all the blame on Kate. In fact, he put very little on her. She’d done what she needed to do, and it was the first time since he’d known her that she’d ever put herself first. Rhiannon had gone to family therapy to deal with some of her issues as well as the guilt of having her mother committed, but it seemed that the longer Kate remained gone, the angrier Rhiannon became.

  Thanksgiving couldn’t come soon enough.

  “How was the meal?”

  He chewed thoughtfully. “All I can say is Doug must really love her. I grabbed a burger afterward.” He scooped up a forkful of potatoes and dragged it through gravy so thick and rich it could’ve made even Rhiannon’s meat loaf palatable. “You have to wonder how those boys keep growing, not to mention why Doug isn’t wasting away. I bet he stops at some fast food place on his way home from work every night.”

  He glanced up to see Kate staring into the sink at the pile of dirty dishes.

  “Babe? What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t look at him. “The twins probably have no idea who I am.”

  “That’s not true.” He knew this because he always showed them pictures of her on his phone. They might not recognize her with her shorter hair, but they knew who their Nonna was. “They’ll know you, and they’re going to be happy to see you.”

  A silent moment passed. “And Rhiannon?”

  “It’ll be fine.” And it would. He would fix his family—whatever it took.

  * * *

  After Kate wrapped her pies and cookies and stashed them in the freezer, she curled up next to Billy on the sofa downstairs and watched the fire while he sipped his coffee. Orange light flickered over his face, and the messy strands of hair that had escaped from his ponytail glowed almost red in the firelight. The tension that had filled her earlier, thinking about Thanksgiving, had faded. She was glad he was home.

  “Do you have any idea how truly beautiful you are?” he said.

  She pressed her fingers into his ribs and laughed. “I’m not even wearing makeup.”

  “You don’t need makeup. You never did.”

  “Are you angling for something, Mr. Donaldson? Because if so, chances are you might be in luck.”

  He brushed his lips across her forehead. “I’m not, actually. But now that you mention it, there is something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

  She tucked her legs under her and gave him her full attention.

  “I want you to know I have some selfish reasons behind what I’m going to suggest. I just want to be up front about my intentions.”

  Her heart sank. “You don’t want to live here.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “What’s wrong, then?”

  “Nothing. I’m just saying part of my suggestion is selfish, or at least a little selfish.”

  She waited.

  “I know how important volunteering is to you, how you’ve always loved helping people. It’s what makes you you. As for me, all this altruism is new, but I get it now. Helping kids, especially the ones with fucked up parents like ours—that’s important. You want to help out by volunteering at the resource center, and that’s great, but together, I think we can do more, especially where these kids are concerned.”

  She cupped his cheek. “I know about the guitars. Amy said the kids can’t wait for you to come back. And I agree, we can do more. But with you on the road, that’s going to be difficult.”

  “True, at least for the next few months. But that’s my life. We both know that, right?”

  A worm of apprehension began to grow inside her. He’d said nothing to cause it, but she was so attuned to things going wrong, to disappointment, she couldn’t stop it.

  “I can teach a few lessons, even on the road. That’s why I sent them the laptop, so we can Skype. But we can do more than that. You said there aren’t enough programs for these kids or safe places for them to live if they need them, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Why don’t we focus on that?”

  Now he’d lost her. Joey had left her a lot of money, but she felt guilty taking any more than she’d needed to survive. And of course, Billy wouldn’t have a clue how much she had. Just like she still had no idea how much money they, as a couple, had.

  “Can we really afford that?”

  “No, not by ourselves, but we can get the ball rolling—in a big way.”

  “How?”

  “I was talking with C.J. on the ride up. I have two concerts here in Portland. Both sold out almost immediately. It’s a small venue, just under two thousand seats, but he thinks we could’ve easily sold out a third night or a much larger venue. So I asked him to find someplace where we can do another concert—Thanksgiving weekend. Something small. We’ll charge more for the tickets, make it a little more personal to justify that, and we’ll donate all the proceeds.”

  “I don’t understand how any of this is selfish.”

  “It’s selfish because I want you to come with me as much as possible.”

  “I said I’d come for the first few concerts.”

  He touched his forehead to hers. “I know, but I want more.”

  She pulled back, not liking the feeling that he was trying to manipulate her. “So you’ll do this one concert if I give up volunteering?”

  “No. Not exactly. I could do one or two concerts here a year easily, but no one wants a steady diet of me. What C.J. suggested is that he and I use our connections to get other artists to do the same thing. We could find a regular venue, rent it out, do it up right, and donate the proceeds.”

  “It sounds like a great idea, but I don’t know what it has to do with me. How am I doing anythin
g other than following you?”

  “Like I said, C.J. and I would find the talent, but you’d be coordinating the rest of it. Find the venue, arrange for the tickets and sales, public relations, promotion, licenses, even food, if we decide to include that in the evening. It’s a lot of work, but most of it can be done on the phone and by email once we have a location and vendors we can depend on. Plus C.J. will help us get it up and running.”

  That little worm or apprehension was threatening to grow into a full-blown panic attack. “You have an awful lot of faith in me. I’m still not even sure what I’m supposed to do with Joey’s business. Tom’s not going to want to run it forever.”

  Billy wrapped his hand around hers. “Be honest. Do you want to run Joey’s business? If so, I’m behind you one hundred percent. Whatever you need, you’ll have my support. But I want you to do what makes you happy. If that’s it, great.”

  It was a hard question to answer. Not because she didn’t know the answer, but because the answer wouldn’t be what was expected of her. She shifted uncomfortably, chewed on lip, then let out a great sigh.

  “No,” she said, feeling relieved to say it out loud, especially when she’d barely acknowledged it to herself. “I don’t have a clue what to do, and the thought terrifies me. But I can’t let Joey down.”

  “Babe, do you think he really expected you to take over? Did he ever talk to you at any time over the years and tell you this was what he wanted if he was no longer here? Did he talk about grooming you to manage a stable of stylists, hire designers, operate boutiques? I believe you can do anything you put your mind to, Katie, and if this is what you want, and your heart’s in it, there’ll be no stopping you. But if it isn’t, then you should do your best to find the right people to run it for you and find what makes you happy.”

  He locked his eyes on hers. “And that includes what I just proposed. If the thought stresses you out too much, or if it isn’t something that will make you happy, then just say no. I can still do one or two concerts here for the kids. C.J. can manage. And as far as coming on the road with me? Yeah, I want you there, but if you don’t want to go, that’s fine. Just as long as I know where to find you when I come home, I’m good.”

  This was a different Billy. Selfless, but sincere. The look on his face was intense, and she knew he meant every word. She didn’t feel manipulated. She felt relief.

  “You really think we can pull this off?” she asked, still concerned about what she’d have to do on her end.

  “I do. The first concert we’ll do by the seat of our pants, but we’ve already got a venue, some little art center that can seat up to two hundred people. We’ll have a VIP reception after the concert. The record company’s already agreed to pick up any costs not donated, and my band has offered to play for nothing. As for the cost of getting them here and putting them up, like I said, my label will cover that. We figure we can make at least twenty grand—and that’s just one concert. If we do only five a year, that’s a hundred grand, Katie. Think how many kids we could help with that kind of money.”

  The light in his eyes might have just been a reflection of the flames flickering in the fireplace, but she was pretty sure it was more. Excitement. Maybe even passion. And it was contagious.

  “You sure you and C.J. just came up with this today?”

  “You’d be amazed what you can accomplish on a nine-hour car ride when you put your mind to it.” His thumb grazed her cheek. “Well? What do you think?”

  She no longer felt panicked, but she was still a long way from confident. “I’ve never done anything like this. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

  “Think about it. How many PTA fundraisers have you thrown over the years? School dances? Class trips? Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, not to mention dealing with one hell of a temperamental pain in the ass for twenty-five years. You’ve been preparing all your life for something like this.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “And if you still want to volunteer at the resource center, that’s your decision. I just don’t want to overburden you. Maybe we start out with this one, see how it goes, and plan another for next summer. It’s totally up to you.”

  This was it—a chance to make a real difference. She had no idea if she could pull it off, but if she could—if they could—the end result could be phenomenal.

  “Okay. Let’s start with this one and then we can decide where we can go from here.”

  He pulled her onto his lap and nuzzled her neck. “And I mean it, Katie, if it’s too much for you, or if you just don’t want to go traipsing around the country with me, it’s okay. It’s been about me for far too long.”

  “Yeah, but you’re due. Your time has finally come.”

  “No, babe. Our time has finally come.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  There was one condition tied to Kate agreeing to go on the road with Billy for the first couple of weeks: no one other than C.J. could know who she was. Even that made her uncomfortable, but there was no getting around it. The last thing they needed was for Rhiannon to find out she had resurfaced before she and Billy could speak to her face to face.

  To keep her identity under wraps, she bought a red wig with a shaggy, layered cut and applied her makeup with a heavy hand. No one would recognize her. She hardly recognized herself.

  “C’mon, Katie,” Billy called from the front hall. “The limo just pulled up.”

  “I’m ready,” she called, giving her wig one last tug to make sure it was secure before heading toward the foyer.

  He groaned when he saw her.

  “What? No good?”

  “You look beautiful. You just don’t look like you.”

  She poked him in the ribs. “That was the plan.”

  “That was your plan. I just wish I was going with you.”

  “You are going with me.”

  He held up her new fake leopard-print coat so she could slip her arms inside. “It’s not the same.”

  He opened the front door just as C.J. was about to knock.

  “Billy!” C.J.’s smile slipped into an odd quirk when he caught a glimpse of Kate standing beside him. He arched an eyebrow. “Reba.” He didn’t even try to hide the sarcasm.

  “C.J., Kate’s your date for this evening,” Billy said.

  “What?” they cried in unison.

  Billy grabbed his keys off the table in the foyer. “Sorry, I don’t want to be photographed with a strange redhead, and I don’t want rumors circulating that I’m cheating on my estranged wife. So you’re C.J.’s date.”

  C.J. plucked a short blond hair from the arm of his impeccably tailored charcoal gray overcoat and mad a face. “That might be a little unusual.”

  “Why?” Kate asked dryly. “You don’t like gingers either?”

  “Love them,” he answered just as dryly. “Just not on women.”

  “Oh.” How the hell had she not known C.J. was gay?

  Billy laughed. “You don’t have to make out or hold hands. You can be his assistant or his sister—I don’t give a shit—but you can’t be my date. Not until Thanksgiving, apparently.”

  C.J. frowned but appeared willing to do whatever his increasingly successful client asked. “So, assistant, how do I introduce you? I think Reba is a little too on the nose, don’t you?”

  “Ramona,” Kate said. “Ramona Chinchilla Deville.”

  C.J. gaped at her. “Seriously?”

  Billy chuckled and rolled his eyes.

  Kate slipped on a pair of large, dark sunglasses.

  “Seriously.”

  * * *

  Kate watched from a seat in the middle of the auditorium as Billy wore a groove between the massive speakers stacked on either side of the stage and the semicircle of monitors in front of his mic stand. Sound check had been completed earlier, but he’d insisted on running through everything again.

  Pushing her cart through the produce section at SuperFresh was more exciting than this. She should’ve brought a book.

>   “Take a letter.”

  She startled at the voice behind her. “What?”

  “You’re my assistant,” C.J. answered, climbing over the row of seats. “Take a letter.”

  He had to be kidding. “With what?”

  “Don’t know. This wasn’t my idea, remember?” He sat down beside her. “How’s it going?”

  Kate watched Billy pace across the stage, stop, then call out to someone in the back of the house. “How many times is he gonna listen to every instrument and check every microphone?”

  “Until he’s satisfied that it’s perfect, which it is. But this is a big deal for him.”

  “I know,” she answered, feeling as if she’d just been scolded. “I never sat through this part of it. I never went on the road after the kids were born.”

  “Wise choice. It’s not always the best environment to foster relationships. And as you can see, this part’s pretty boring. Then it goes from zero to sixty once the crowd starts to filter in, and then it’s fucking mind-blowing.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry.”

  With her index finger, she dragged the glasses down the bridge of her nose and leveled her gaze at him. “You think I never heard that word?”

  “No,” he laughed nervously. “It’s just that Billy has you on this pedestal or something.”

  “I don’t belong on any pedestal, trust me. Just be yourself. I’m sorry to make this weird for you, but until we can sit down and speak with our daughter—”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “Let’s just hope word doesn’t get out that I was seen cavorting with a woman. I’d hate to give my father any false hope. Although . . .” He gave her another once-over. “Ramona Chinchilla Deville. With that name, if you were a little taller, I might be able to pass you off as a drag queen.”

  Kate loved a good sense of sarcasm, and C.J. seemed well equipped in that department. She took his hand and shook it. “Mr. Davenport, I think you and I are gonna get along just fine.”

  An hour later, stumbling around backstage in her dark glasses, Kate wondered if she’d be mistaken for a drug addict, if not a drag queen, as she scanned the food setup for the dinner break. With Billy in his dressing room, the whole experience felt a little too much like the Bailey Swift video they had worked on not long after they’d first met.