“No. You stay.”
She threw her arms around my neck and put all her weight on them. I was trapped.
“You should go,” Cara said. “If she gets used to you being here, it’s going to become a habit.”
“I’ll be scared again,” Nicole said, voice still thick with sleep.
Cara tried to pull her off me, but the little stitch was tenacious as hell.
“She’s a Sinclair,” I said, lying down. “She’s gonna protect her habits. Right, Nicole?”
“Shh,” she said, tucking her hands under her cheek. “I’m sleeping. Close your eyes. Go to sleep too.”
“Okay.” I put my head down. Nicole put her arm over me to make sure I didn’t leave, and Cara stayed still on the other side of the twin bed. Maybe she slept. I sure didn’t. I couldn’t get the knowledge that Cara was a foot away out of my head.
It was a long night. I suspected Cara was awake, but I didn’t want to talk.
I could have gotten up, but the bed smelled like her, canned peaches and flowers. Her breath came at a shallow, long pace. She was sleeping. Fuck it. I didn’t want to leave. The house was a mess. And I didn’t want to get into my own bed. For what? I was fine half on, half off the twin mattress.
I relaxed. I just wanted to think in her presence. Ask her what the fuck was happening without saying anything. I had a list of things she didn’t do. She didn’t judge me. She didn’t presume even when she did. She didn’t make eyes at me.
The things she did do were uncomfortable.
She made me comfortable, which was uncomfortable. She had a soft, seductive voice that never tried to seduce me. Around her, I wanted to make a go of the daddy thing. A real go. Not a sideshow. She made it seem possible. I didn’t know how she did that, or why, or if it was intentional. But when I thought of trying harder, she was the second thing on my mind, after my daughter.
CHAPTER 33
CARA
The dream that night was the same, but different. We were kneeling on the pool table fully clothed, kissing. Just kissing. I tasted him. Heard him. Smelled the pool chlorine and rum. I woke slowly, still feeling his pressure on my lips.
Last night.
Things had happened. Nothing in the grand scheme, but in my little universe I woke to new boundaries. I’d gone from having a nocturnal secret crush to letting him kiss and touch me.
I felt bad about it. I felt confused and ambivalent. I felt Nicole’s breath on my shoulder and kicked myself for putting myself in a position where I’d have to leave her.
I opened my eyes. Brad was gone and Nicole was poking my cheek in time to a pony song, each finger down the line.
“Good morning,” I grumbled. “How did you sleep?”
“Okay. Daddy left.”
“Do you want breakfast before Miss Blakely comes?”
“Little bun and cream cheese, please.”
“Let’s get dressed.”
I fed Nicole and got her in a dress. She came to the pool house, where we played a noncompetitive, oversimplified version of chess. Right outside, two ladies in smocks were picking up beer bottles in the back, and a pool guy was skimming the water.
—Ray Heywood wants to meet you?—
It was Laura, my agent from West Side. I didn’t answer personal calls when I was with kids, but could usually text.
—We didn’t make exact arrangements, but yes— —How’s tomorrow?—
Ray had called Laura to make an appointment with me. That meant he was paying me, and it meant he wasn’t just asking for personal advice. He wasn’t just going to thank me or yell at me.
—What does he want?—
—I think he wants you to keep quiet about Willow— There were a few words for exactly how insulting that was.
—When have I ever disclosed anything that goes on with a family?— —Never. I know. Just meet him. Hire you back at the best. Free lunch at the worst— Nicole was making the black king kiss the white queen.
“I love you, Mr. King,” she mimicked with the piece. “I love you too, Mrs. Queen.” She made smacking sounds.
—All right. He’s buying—
We got back into the main house at about eleven. Nicole wanted another cream cheese sandwich.
Brad was already in the kitchen underlining things in a script. He looked as though he’d gone out and come back already.
“We’ll be out of here in a minute,” I said when Nicole and I hustled in.
“Wait!” He let the script flop closed. “I’ve had a lot of time to think.”
“Side effect of a kid forcing you into a twin bed.” I pulled the tub of gourmet cream cheese out of the fridge. The little slider buns were in the bread drawer. Knife. Plate. Little girl on little bench.
Brad leaned over to Nicole. “How would you like to go to Disneyland?”
She gasped and covered her mouth with brows arched over wide eyes.
“That’s a yes, I’ll take it,” Brad said with a big stunning half-moon of a smile.
Nicole clapped. “When?”
“Day after tomorrow. Two days of nothing but fun.”
He glanced at me. I was supposed to say something.
“I think that’s a great idea.”
Nicole bounced as if her chair was a trampoline.
“I hate to bring this up,” I said softly, looking at Brad. “Have you arranged security?”
He snapped his fingers. “Under control.”
That was what I was afraid of. His version of under control wasn’t mine. Not when it came to Nicole and not when it came to where his lips landed. I was pretty sure we’d keep spontaneously combusting in moments of weakness without making any decisions about whether I should stay or go.
“I think we need to talk,” I said. “A lot happened yesterday. We crossed lines.”
“I hate lines,” he said, smiling. God damn that face. “Listen. I thought about it.”
He paused long enough to refill his coffee.
“Go on,” I said while Nicole drew Minnie Mouse.
“Coffee?” he asked. Nice stall. I’d give it to him because I needed coffee.
“Yes.”
He took his time pouring and pulling the cream out of the fridge. When he handed me the cup I made an effort to take it without touching him, and failed. His finger brushed mine, and I remembered the way he’d stroked my arm the night before. The perfect amount of pressure.
I put the cup to my lips.
“Go on,” I said.
“Before I start, do you have anything to say? I’m sure you have an opinion.”
“You’d been drinking.”
“Not that much.”
“I’m trying to give you an out.”
“If I wanted an out, I’d be out. I want in.”
My mouth went dry. I swallowed, but I had nothing to go down. Nicole was singing to herself at the counter, and I wanted to die or jump up and down in joy. Both. Neither.
I started to say something, but never decided what, so I just stood there with my coffee circled by both hands, mouth half open. He met my gaze and held it.
“Here’s how it is,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “You don’t want to work for me anyway. Ride out your time here, then all bets are off.”
“What bets are off, exactly?”