by Wendy Wax
Avery swallowed the bitterness, repocketed her phone. But as she began to pace her way back up the beach, she knew she couldn’t live in this limbo much longer. Somehow she was going to have to find a way to either let go completely or get out of her own way and get him back. And she’d better choose one of those options soon. Before Riley Hancock wiggled her way into Chase’s heart and started picking out her china pattern.
* * *
• • •
Dustin was already asleep, wrapped around his living, breathing security blanket, Max, when Kyra heard the soft knock on the front door. Pulling her robe around her, she looked out the peephole. Daniel stared directly into it and offered a self-deprecating smile. He held a bunch of mangled wildflowers in one hand. Some still had roots hanging from them.
When she pulled open the door, he handed them to her. “1-800-Flowers doesn’t deliver out here on such short notice.”
“Ah.” Kyra took them and against her better judgment stepped back to let him in. “And probably Joan would strip-search them if they came at this time of night anyway.”
“I had to come and apologize. I’m really sorry for the way I blew up today. I just couldn’t seem to rein it in.”
There were dark shadows under his eyes and he looked more unkempt than she could remember seeing him. “I’m sorry Dustin’s not awake to hear that. Because you really upset him today. That can’t happen again.”
He nodded. “I know. And I’ll apologize to him first thing in the morning.”
“I haven’t been online, but I hate to think how many cell phones caught that today.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s trending. Hashtag newbie director goes apeshit.” He closed his eyes, shook his head. “I’m a joke. Going off on an extra like that. God.”
As furious as she was with him, he looked so chastened, so vulnerable, her first instinct was to comfort him.
“Oh, Kyra,” he said. “What an unbelievable mess I’ve made of everything.” He stepped closer. Put his arms around her and pulled her close, squashing the flowers between them. For a moment she breathed him in, felt her body respond to his, felt it quicken. Just as it always did.
He exhaled slowly against her neck, a letting go. The nuzzle against her skin felt subtle at first, like a child seeking consolation. Only this face had stubble on it, and the body pressing into hers was firm and lean and well muscled.
The erection that nudged between her thighs was the first clue of the kind of comfort he’d come seeking, whether conscious or not. It was the cologne, the fresh hint of spice recently applied, that began to bring her to her senses. Reminded her of all the reasons she could not and should not do this.
“No.” She dropped her arms and stepped back, letting go of the flowers that scattered at their feet. He stepped on them in his move toward her and she pushed him away. “No. That’s not going to happen.” She looked up into his face, saw not only surprise but disbelief. And no wonder. How many times had she said no and then allowed herself to be swept up and carried away? Abdicating control and all sense of responsibility. As if the choice was not up to her.
Because she was watching him so closely, she saw the hint of calculation steal into his eyes. And she knew that this was not a man driven by love and a need only for her. In that blinding moment of clarity she thought of Troy, who had not only declared himself, but applied himself to making her feel better, lighter, happier. Showing her how he felt about her without pushing or even asking for anything in return.
“No. This is a hard no,” she said. “I can’t seem to stop the attraction, the pull I feel, that makes me want you. But I can control what I do about it.”
She straightened and ran her hands down the sides of her robe. “Your family is right across the lake. Your wife and your children. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m pretty sure Tonja could use a little comfort right now, too. And if you’ve got half the brains I’ve always thought you had, and even a quarter of the heart, you’ll pick some more flowers on your way and take them to her.”
Twenty-nine
“Sorry. What did you say?” Nikki blinked herself back from the fog bank her mind had been drifting in and refocused on Bitsy, who had come to “help” with dinner and planned to stay for Joe’s nightly FaceTime to get an update on what she’d begun to think of as “Operation Bring Back Bertie.”
“I said, I think the girls are finished eating.”
“Oh!” Nikki checked to make sure that both girls were still strapped into their high chairs. She relaxed when she saw them smiling. Her own smile dimmed when she noticed that they appeared to be wearing most of what she’d put on their plates.
“Have you ever considered letting them eat naked?” Bitsy asked.
“It would cut down on the laundry,” she agreed, not ready to admit that she had considered that very idea yesterday as she’d thrown their lunch-stained clothing on top of the mountain of laundry that had grown to rival Kilimanjaro.
“I’m afraid I haven’t gotten all that much into their mouths.” Bitsy wiped strained carrots from her cheek and hair. “How long does it take to get the hang of it?”
“Oh, I gave up trying to feed them days ago,” Nikki said. “The books say they’re better off being allowed to feed themselves.” The pediatrician had promised her that the amount of food they ingested was less important than allowing them to gain independence. “All in all I think the increase in laundry and cleanup is worth the decrease in screaming.”
“When’s Luvie coming back?”
Nikki took a damp washcloth and wiped off Gemma and Sofia’s hands and faces then cleaned her own. “I’m not sure. She’s still under the weather and, um, was afraid she might be contagious.”
“Oh.” Fortunately, Bitsy was busy unpacking Ted Peters smoked fish spread and crackers, German potato salad, and all the necessary paper products and not listening closely enough to question the lie. She opened up the containers, filled two small plates, and pushed one toward Nikki. Then she opened the bottle of red wine to let it breathe and retrieved two wineglasses from the cupboard.
Bitsy poured them each a glass of wine then noticed Nikki hadn’t made a move toward the food. “Aren’t you going to eat something?”
“Thanks for bringing everything. I’m just not really hungry.” Especially not when she still needed to get through the call with Joe without letting anything slip, bathe the girls, and get them into their pajamas. After which she’d cuddle and read them a story then put them into their cribs and somehow convince them to go to sleep.
Just thinking about it made her tired. Somehow she’d forgotten just how long twenty-four hours could be—something she’d learned in the weeks she’d spent on bed rest before the girls were born last year. Back then she’d been uncomfortable and lonely and bored to death lying in bed all day and night. Now, only four days into full-time single parenting, she would have sold her soul for half a day in bed. Or even a full night of sleep without one of the twins waking or crying, something else the pediatrician insisted was completely normal now that they were so active and developing so many new skills.
She had asked for this. No, she corrected. She had lied to Joe and to Luvie to get this time alone with Sofia and Gemma to prove that she was a competent mother capable of taking care of her daughters herself. She was not about to give up or complain. And she definitely wasn’t going to confess that she was paying Luvie not to come.
“How much weight have you lost?” Bitsy asked. “It looks like the pounds are just falling off you.”
“I’m not sure,” Nikki said as she piled the girls’ plastic dishes and sippy cups in the sink then set the girls on the floor with a few favorite toys. Between finishing details for the fashion show and organizing a more comprehensive vintage and retro section for the gift shop while staying on top of feeding the girls, making sure they had playtime, and attempting to keep them
on a schedule, she rarely thought about food. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d stepped on the scale.
She startled when the phone rang, then drew a calming breath. She was going to have to control her nerves and put on her game face before she talked to Joe. She also needed to make sure Bitsy didn’t give anything away.
“So, I’m going to let the girls FaceTime with their dad and then I’ll hand him over to you,” she said.
“Great, thanks.” Bitsy tipped her wineglass to her lips.
“But please don’t mention that Luvie hasn’t been here, okay?” Nikki said as casually as she could, given her skittering nerves. “I don’t want him to worry. Or feel like he has to come home. I’m sure Luvie will be feeling better soon.”
Bitsy looked at her. Nikki looked back.
Bitsy hesitated then nodded. “Okay. Whatever you say. But . . .”
“Hi,” Nikki said cheerfully to Joe. “Bitsy’s here, and I’m just getting the girls settled so they can talk to you. Where are you?” She put the phone on speaker so they could hear his answer, propped it up on the coffee table, then scooped up both girls. As soon as she had them seated on either side of her on the sofa, she picked up the phone and held it in front of her so that they could all see and hear each other. As the girls broke into gummy smiles, Nikki slowed her breathing, formed a less gummy smile of her own, and told herself that not mentioning Luvie’s absence was only a lie of omission and wasn’t hurting anyone.
* * *
• • •
Bitsy sipped her glass of wine and nibbled on the food she’d brought while Nikki and the girls chatted with Joe. It was adorable, really, the two babies sitting on either side of their mother, all three of them straining toward their father’s face on the screen, the way they broke into smiles at the rise and fall of his voice.
So different from her own childhood during which her parents had left her largely in the care of a succession of nannies who were often as efficient, but rarely as warm or nurturing, as the absent Luvie. Nannies who’d seemed so wonderful in comparison to the boarding schools that had followed. And now she’d never have children, never get the chance to do better than her parents had. The best she could hope for was to regain some of what her husband had stolen, divorce him, and hopefully see him punished so that she could move on.
And what about Bertie? Were he and Delilah parents? Did he dote on their child the way Joe doted on Sofia and Gemma? Bile rose in her throat at the thought. She turned away as Nikki told the twins to say night-night to their daddy, and tried to ignore the stab of jealousy that pierced her at the giggles and exaggerated kissing sounds that accompanied their good-bye to Joe.
“I’m going to get them in the tub. Come on back when you’re finished.” Nikki handed her the phone with a tired but encouraging smile. “Maybe we’ll have good news to toast.”
“Hi, Bitsy.”
“Hi, Joe.” She smiled at Joe’s image on the screen, but could feel her pulse racing as she dropped back into the dinette chair. “Anything to report?”
“Yes,” he said with a smile of his own. “Things are moving even faster than I’d hoped.”
“Really?” She sat up straighter in the chair.
He nodded. “I reached out to a former agent who retired to the Caymans. He knows the players there pretty well and promised to make sure Bertie hears about the investment opportunity we designed for him. He’ll be telling him that the principal, that’s me, will be in Grand Cayman the middle of next week to take meetings.”
Bitsy could barely speak. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”
“I’m planning to play hard to get, but I’ll meet with him before next weekend to present the deal. And I’ve got the computer guy I told you about on standby. Timing and precision will be critical.”
“Oh, gosh. That’s great.” She smiled. “I’m so excited my hands are shaking.”
Joe smiled back. “There are no guarantees, Bitsy. Things can always go south. But I think we’ve got a good shot. We have the perfect bait. And I have every intention of setting the hook.”
“Thank you so much, Joe.” Her voice was almost as wobbly as her hands. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you getting involved in this.”
“It’s my pleasure. Bertie has a lot to answer for. I believe in making the bad guys pay. I’ll keep you posted.” There was a hesitation. “I hope you don’t mind my asking you a favor in return?”
“Of course, Joe. Anything.”
“Will you keep an eye on Nikki and the girls? And let me know if they need anything?”
“Sure.” Bitsy almost choked on the word.
“I told her before I left to have Luvie as many hours as she needs her. I worry about her getting overwhelmed. But she can be so stubborn. Is everything okay there?”
“Um, yeah,” Bitsy said nodding. “As far as I can tell everybody’s fine.”
“Do you know what time Luvie left today?” he asked.
“Um, no.” The lie stuck briefly in her throat, but she reminded herself it was only meant to keep Joe from worrying. “She wasn’t here when I arrived,” she said slightly more truthfully, praying as she smiled that Joe couldn’t read her face as easily via a phone screen as he might in person.
“Okay, thanks.” He gave her a long look, though she might have been imagining it. “I’ll keep you posted.”
Joe hung up and Bitsy tidied up the kitchen and wiped down the table, wishing she could wipe away the lie she’d just told. Then she poured two generous glasses of wine and headed back to the girls’ bathroom. But when she got there the bathroom was empty. She followed a trail of discarded clothing, damp towels, and a mixture of music and babbling into the pink-and-white-striped nursery. The mobiles, with their dangling stuffed tools and sea creatures, revolved above the cribs, and a selection of children’s nighttime music played quietly on an Amazon Echo. The twins stood in their cribs, holding on to the railings, bending and flexing their knees in a bob and weave that might be dancing. Their mother sat in the cushioned glider. Her head lolled to one side. Her eyes were closed; her mouth hung open. She was snoring.
Resisting the urge to take out her cell phone and shoot a few photos, Bitsy picked up the afghan that had slipped to the floor and draped it gently over Nikki. Then she went to Sofia and Gemma, gave them kisses good night and pressed a finger to her lips.
“Go to sleep now, okay? It looks like your mommy needs some zzzzz’s.”
* * *
• • •
It was finally Friday of the week that Kyra had begun to think would never end. Each day the mood on set got tenser. The director grew grimmer. The shooting schedule became more fluid, constantly changing as they tried to make up time, and rumors of budget overruns ran rampant.
Dustin had flubbed his lines twice in today’s final scene in the amusement park. Afterward he’d had a complete and utter meltdown that was eerily reminiscent of Daniel’s tirade at the extra. Only Dustin’s tirade had been aimed at Brandon after the First AD had explained as gently as possible that they didn’t have time to do another take and that the mistake would get fixed in editing. That tirade had been full of a four-year-old’s version of swear words.
“I wanna go back to my trailer!” Dustin’s voice was almost hoarse now from screaming.
“We’re not going anywhere until you apologize to Brandon.” Kyra tried to keep her voice calm and even despite the fact that she’d repeated these exact words five or six times now.
“Don’t wanna ’pologize!” Dustin’s chin jutted out in a fair imitation of his father when he didn’t get what he wanted.
“Well, you need to. When you yell you hurt people’s feelings. We’re going to stay right here until you apologize and promise not to ever do that again.” Kyra plopped down on the closest director’s chair and closed her eyes. The better to hold back tears. Or preven
t herself from shouting back at Dustin. She had no idea whether she was handling this properly, but had been unable to think of any other course of action. She had no experience with discipline since Dustin, who’d always been surrounded by adoring adults eager to do whatever he asked, had so rarely needed it. But she was determined not to coddle Dustin the way that Tonja and the rest of the crew seemed to coddle his father. She’d called and texted her mother thirty minutes ago asking for instructions, but so far there’d been no answer.
Dustin threw himself on the grass. He rolled around a couple of times then kicked his arms and legs. Textbook tantrum. The kind you saw in the movies.
Kyra cringed. It took everything she had not to go yank him off the ground and . . . It was the uncertainty of what would come next that stopped her. That and the number of people watching. She sat frozen, her eyes on her son, trying to maintain at least some semblance of outward calm despite the pounding of her heart and the churning of her stomach.
After what felt like a lifetime later, the tantrum slipped a couple of notches on the Richter scale. Kyra was just starting to think he might finally be winding down to a stop when Daniel appeared. Ignoring her, he squatted down next to Dustin. “What’s wrong, little man?” he asked quietly. “Just tell me what you want and it’s yours.”
“I wanna go to my trailer right now! And I don’t wanna apologize!” Dustin spit out with a glance at her out of the corner of his eye.
Daniel rocked up to his feet and stood. He did not look at Kyra. “No problem. Done and done.”
Dustin looked surprised. Kyra flushed with anger. Willing herself to ignore their audience, she got up and walked to her son and his father. Quietly she said, “There is a problem and this isn’t done. Not until he gets up and apologizes to Brandon.”