“David?” Callie’s voice is soft and startled. She looks a lot younger when she’s surprised—the almost permanent frowny V crease in her forehead lifts entirely. David comes toward his wife slowly, looking like he’s walking into a dream.
“Callie?” David sets his bag down. The two of them stare at each other for a minute. Neither moves; it’s almost like they don’t dare to breathe.
“David,” she says, her voice soft with wonder. A small smile.
And then the toddlers in their stroller squeal, “Dada!” Callum shrieks and kicks his legs, and Lily starts crying. Both David and Callie blink, as if coming out of a trance. Their children’s squeals are all it takes to get the potential lovebirds to start pecking at each other.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Callie snaps, reaching down to shush Lily. She bounces her daughter on her hip while glaring at David. “Don’t you have to work? Isn’t that what you always have to do?”
I sidle away from them and next to Flint. “This was a good idea, right?” I mutter out of the side of my mouth.
“Last I checked, it was your boyfriend’s idea, not mine,” Flint answers, sounding gruff. That stuns me for a minute; he thinks Thomas is my boyfriend? I mean if I had a penis, he might be right on the money. Still, not the time to think of it. I might have to step in and referee before one of the Winstons kills the other.
“At least I put a roof over my family’s head with all my terrible goddamn work,” David snaps, picking up his bag again. Uh oh. Ten four, he’s leaving the hotel. “I don’t sit around all day watching bad television, wishing my life was different.”
“Oh, because being neglected all day long with no one over the age of 2 to talk to and an endless load of housework is such a picnic!” Callie steps into David, and he looks a little startled. Well, to be fair to him, Callie angry is a pretty terrifying sight. I think her face is actually turning a shade of puce.
“I just want to be appreciated,” David says, straightening his shoulders and meeting Callie glare for glare.
“So do I!” she says. Okay, more like she shouts. We’re starting to attract attention from hotel guests and the concierge. I step in quickly, before we get asked to leave and have to dump a squalling David and Callie at the Motel 6.
“I have an idea.” I hand them a key card, which David takes. He stares like he doesn’t know what it is. “What say Flint and I take the kids and leave the pair of you in the Mandarin Penthouse? They have a spa hot tub, champagne, and soundproof walls in case you want to continue this conversation in private.”
“Champagne?” Callie says, looking at David with amazement.
“Soundproof walls?” he asks, incredulous. Then, together, they say,
“You’ll take the kids?”
I get the stroller away from Callie, and Flint and I slowly make our way to the hotel doors. Lily and Callum don’t mind being away from Mom and Dad, now that they have Uncle Flinty with them. I pause at the doors to look back, make sure Callie and David haven’t started throttling each other in five star splendor. But they talk for a minute, then head toward the elevators, a bellhop taking David’s luggage. I heave a sigh of relief. Fantastic. That’ll at least give them a chance to talk.
“What do we do now?” Flint asks when we’re outside. He picks up a fussing Callum, who gleefully tugs on his uncle’s hair. “You know the area better than I do. Is there a ball pit we can throw these tikes into?”
“Tikes?” I say, laughing. Flint puts Callum back in his stroller, and I lead them toward the parking lot. “Well, if you’re in the mood for some fresh seaside air, I know a good spot.”
“Let me think,” Flint says, helping me load the fussing kids into their car seats. “Do I want to enjoy the great outdoors, or do I want to be stuck inland breathing in Los Angeles’s finest exhaust fumes?” He weighs his hands in the air, like it’s a tough decision. “Hmm. How the hell do I pick?”
“Maybe you get in the car and stop mouthing off like a smartass,” I tease. Then I look back at the kids in mock panic. “Oh no. I meant smart-butt!”
“Auntie Laurel’s a potty mouth,” Flint tells the kids as he slides into the car. “That’s what we like about her.”
My heart beats quickly at his words while I struggle with my seat belt. What we like. What we like, not what I like. There’s a difference, Laurel. Learn it and fast.
I drive us out of the smoggier, traffic-clogged parts of the city, until we hit the glorious Pacific Coast Highway. We drive along, marveling at the nearby sand and the sparkling blue waves. Flint rolls down the window and lets his hand trail in the breeze. For the first time since coming to the city, he looks at home, an easy smile on his face.