“Ducks! Ducks! Ducks! Ducks!”
I shake my head as Maddie snatches the pre-packaged bags of kale off of the platform beside the cash register, excitedly chanting that word, hardly giving Bethany a chance to even scan them, much less toss them in bags with the rest of our stuff.
“You going to see the ducks today?” Bethany asks with a laugh, taking my money when I pay.
“Yep!” Maddie says. “Picnic with the ducks! Right, Mommy?”
“Right,” I say—if Lunchables with juice boxes count as a picnic, which I like to think it does.
Bethany dramatically frowns Maddie’s direction. “Lucky girl. I’m stuck working all day, unlike your mama, so no feeding ducks for me.”
“The ducks eat all the time,” Maddie tells her. “Every day, too, so you can feed them when you’re not working!”
“You know, you’re totally right,” Bethany says. “I’ll have to remember that.”
Maddie smiles, satisfied, as she starts dancing around like she’s playing hopscotch, jumping from square to square on the checkered floor.
Bethany counts out my change as she switches topics, rambling about schedules and days off and blah, blah, blah… precisely everything I don’t want to talk about, but I humor her before making my escape. I look around for Maddie, spotting her at the end cap of the checkout lane, looking right at the exact thing she shouldn’t be seeing.
Hollywood Chronicles.
“That’s about enough of that,” I say, pressing my hand to her back, steering her away from it. She doesn’t fight me on it, and I’m instantly grateful she’s just now learning how to read, because that means she didn’t understand half of what I saw on that cover.
JOHNNY CUNNING REHAB SHOCKER!
Alcohol, Drugs, and a Sex Addiction Tearing Breezeo Star’s Life Apart!
Friends concerned he’s knocking on death’s door!
I lead her out of the store, carrying our picnic stuff as she drags along the bags of kale. I’m digging my car keys from my pocket, trying to keep an eye on her, when she digs her heels in, dropping one of the bags.
I nearly step on it, hearing her as she whispers, “Breezeo.”
“I know, sweetheart,” I mumble, snatching up the bag of kale, about to hand it back to her when she yanks away from me.
“Breezeo,” she says again, a little louder this time, gone from my side in a blink. Running.
“Madison!” I call out, darting after her. “Stop!”
Maddie doesn’t stop, but I damn sure do. She’s barely ten feet away, heading for someone approaching the grocery store. She runs right up, blocking the path as she says it again. “Breezeo!”
Oh god.
Oh no.
No, no, no…
Breezeo.
Jonathan stands there, blinking down at her, confusion clouding his face. I’m not sure how she recognized him, with scruff covering his jaw, still all banged up. He looks like a battered version of the actor, not the character.
My chest tightens as I hold my breath. He doesn’t recognize her right away, but I can tell the moment it kicks in. There’s a flicker of shock he can’t conceal before his expression straightens out. He might be panicking, but he isn’t showing it, not that I can see.
Yet, he says nothing.
He stares at her in silence.
I’ve imagined this moment so many times, in so many different ways, none of which I’m even remotely ready for, but it was never like this. I have no idea how he’s going to react, no idea what he’ll do. It’s so far out of my control that I want to just grab her and run.
Jonathan’s eyes meet mine, widening, pleading. There’s the panic. Carefully, I step toward them.
“Breezeo?” Maddie says again, standing right in front of him, drawing his attention back to her. She sounds hesitant now, conflicted by how he’s acting, a fact that seems to spur him into action.
“Hey there,” he says as he kneels down, eye-level with her. “Don’t say that too loud. People might hear.”
“Mommy says she got my drawing to you,” she says excitedly, whisper-shouting. “Did you see?”
He smiles slightly. “I did.”
I can barely hear his voice. He stares at her like he’s committing her face to memory, like he fears this may be the only time he ever sees it.
“Did you like it?” she asks. “Did it make you better?”
“I loved it,” he says. “And it made me feel a lot better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Breezeo!”
His gaze meets mine. He cocks an eyebrow. He’s waiting for me to do something, but what?
“Maddie, sweetheart, we’ve talked about this,” I say. “He’s not really Breezeo, remember?”
“I know that.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, like I’m being crazy. “He’s Johnny, like on the TV and the papers and stuff, but he’s still Breezeo too, right?”
“Right… I think.”
“Sounds about right to me,” he says, holding his left hand out to her. “My name’s Jonathan, though. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She grabs his hand, shaking it wildly. “Mommy calls me Maddie. You can call me Maddie, too!”
“Maddie,” he repeats.
It’s a sweet moment—or well, it should be sweet. Tears sting my eyes that I blink away, a lump in my throat that I force down, not wanting to confuse Maddie with my reaction.
“What are you doing here?” I ask quietly when Jonathan stands back up.
“McKleski sent me to get milk,” he says. “She told me to make myself useful.”
“Yeah, uh…” I glance toward the store. “You’re not going to want to do that. The cashier that’s working, well, she’s a bit of a Breezeo fangirl.”
“Me, too!” Maddie says.
I grasp Maddie’s shoulder, pulling her back to me. “Yes, but you, little one, know how to keep a secret.”
“I do,” she says, smiling widely as she looks up at me. “Like that one time when you told me that secret that you didn’t like—”
I don’t even know where she’s going with this, but I don’t let her finish, clamping my hand down around her mouth to muffle her words, hissing, “Secret, remember?”
Jonathan laughs. “Well, then. I guess no milk for McKleski today.”
Maddie yanks my hand away from her mouth, too excited to stay quiet. “I can get her milk!”
“No, I, uh…” Crap. “I can do it. It’ll only take a second. Just…” Crap. “Uh…” How did I get myself into this? “Just wait here. Do you think you can…?” Crap. Crap. Crap. I wave between him and Maddie. “For just a second?”
His eyes widen when he realizes what I’m asking, like he can’t believe his ears, which is funny, because I can’t believe it came from my own freaking lips. Did I seriously ask him to watch her for me?
“Sure,” he says hesitantly, like he expects me to change my mind, and I want to, but I can’t, not when I’ve already said it. “If you’re sure.”