“I CAN’T BELIEVE the town is throwing us a picnic,” Mira mused, holding a hand to her forehead and shading her eyes. The producer laughed. “Just when I start to think this town can’t get any more perfect.” Dropping her arm, she squinted at Flo. “Go ahead, you can tell me. What’s the seedy underbelly of Rose Bend? Spill.”
Grinning, Flo steadied her camera on the tripod and shot Mira side-eye. She and the producer had become friendly over the last few weeks of filming. Mira and some of the crew had even joined Flo at Road’s End a couple of times.
“If I can trust you,” she said, lowering her voice and crooking a finger at the woman, beckoning her closer. Mira’s eyes widened, sparkling with humor and probably the anticipation of some tea. “You didn’t hear it from me, but you know Mrs. Roman over at The Cat and Chew?”
“The owner of that cat tea shop? Yes, sweet lady. I mean, I’m not one for sitting down and eating while a bunch of cats stare me down like they’re plotting my death, but—” she shrugged, adjusting her headset “—cute place and cuter lady.”
The Cat and Chew, the cat café Mrs. Anna Roman had opened a couple of years ago, had become one of the most popular places in town. But Flo was a fish person. Not that she had any, but still... Flo was firmly on the same page as Mira.
“Well, Mrs. Roman moved into town, and she might be this sophisticated, elegant businesswoman by day, but once night falls...” Flo trailed off dramatically.
“Yeah?” Mira breathed, leaning closer.
“She locks herself in that store and...”
“What?” Mira pressed, impatience lining the other woman’s voice.
“Bathes herself in the blood of virgins so she maintains that porcelain smooth complexion. Now the town council is set to discuss an ordinance limiting people to one virgin sacrifice per quarter. Bad for the tourism.”
Mira blinked. Then a loud crack of laughter burst from her, and she pointed at Flo.
“Okay, good one. Just remember payback is a bitch and I have a television crew at my disposal.”
Flo winced. “See, you’re not playing fair.” Turning back to her camera, she fired off a couple shots of the surrounding trees, gazebo and creek in the distance. “I love my hometown, and though I love to travel, I also love returning home. But it’s not perfect. We have our issues, too, like bigger cities, just not on as large a scale. Still, we’re not exempt from society’s problems.”
“Name one,” Mira challenged.
Flo straightened, arching an eyebrow. “Okay. As we speak the local librarian is organizing a rally to protest the banning of books by a small but virulent group who want to remove ‘inappropriate’ material from the library. In other words, the books are too Black, too gay, too trans, too other.”
“Get out.” Interest gleamed in Mira’s eyes as she crossed her arms. “When is the rally supposed to be taking place?”
“In a week or two.”
“And can anyone join? Including, say, a producer and a film crew who are off the clock and might be walking near the library with their cameras?”
Flo laughed. “That’s very specific. And yes, anyone can join. The more people show up, the better. Including said producer, film crew and cameras. I think Remi—the head librarian—would love that. Beck Dansing and I.M. Kelly have already agreed to participate, which, hopefully, will bring even more people out. But I’ll get you firmer details as soon as I have them.”
“Great.” Mira grinned. “If you could also give me the contact info for the librarian, I would be more than happy to pass it along to a friend of mine. She’s a field reporter out of a station in Albany. I can’t guarantee anything, but I think she would love this kind of community interest story. Especially with this book-banning bullshit happening all over the country. And throw in two very popular New York Times bestselling authors? Oh yeah, like I said, I can’t promise, but I see this grabbing her interest.”
“That would be amazing. I’ll send you Remi’s info now.” Excitement and delight sparked inside Flo as she whipped out her cell, pulled up the librarian’s contacts and texted them to the producer. “And you wonder why the town wants to throw you a picnic,” Flo teased, returning her phone to her back pocket.
“Whatever.” Mira snorted. “Let me get inside. We’re still filming in the kitchen—good morning, Adam,” she broke off, turning to wave to the man who might’ve left Flo’s apartment last night, but not her thoughts or dreams. “And who’s this little sweetheart?”
Flo spun around, her gaze crashing into Adam’s bright one before falling to his daughter, who grinned widely.
“Hi, Flo!” Justine yelled.
“Hey, Jussy,” Flo greeted at a lower volume and walked over to them.
What was going on? He’d never brought Justine to work with him before.
“Morning, Mira,” he said to the producer with a dip of his head. “This is my daughter, Justine. She’ll be visiting with me today.”
The innocuous words somehow didn’t match up with the vein of steel threading through his voice. Flo frowned, briefly studying his impassive expression, then she shifted her attention back to Justine.
“Hi, Justine, it’s nice to meet you.” Mira squatted down and stretched out her hand. “A pretty name for a very pretty girl. My name’s Mira, and I work with your dad and Flo.”
“Hi,” Justine said, and in an uncharacteristic show of shyness—well, as long as Flo had known her—the little girl crowded closer to her father’s leg.
“Jussy, how cool you get to spend the day at your daddy’s job,” Flo said, smiling down at the five-year-old. “I guess that officially makes you a big girl.”
“I am.” The bout of shyness gone, Justine puffed out her small chest. “Ms. Angela flaked on me, so I’m here.”
Uh-oh.
“Justine,” Adam called her name, the warning unmistakable.
“That’s what you said, Daddy.” She tilted her head back, nose wrinkled. “You said she—”
Flo moved forward, hopefully cutting off what was sure to be more of her father’s opinion on the absentee Angela.
“Hey, Jussy. What do you think about hanging with me today while I take pictures? I even have a camera for you, and you can show your dad all your pictures when he’s finished working,” Flo suggested, glancing up at Adam.
Technically, she should’ve asked him for permission first, to watch Justine. There was a difference between letting Flo eat dinner with them at a diner and letting her babysit his daughter by herself, even if he would be near.
But to be honest, she hadn’t expected the proposition to fly out of her mouth. The same surprise that flickered through his golden eyes shimmered inside her. But now that the offer sat between them, waiting to be accepted or rejected, she hoped he said yes. And not just because she liked Justine and hanging with her would be like spending the day with her younger nieces and nephews.
But also because... Well, she wanted to help him.
As he’d shown up for her last night.
Except she wouldn’t be kissing the ever loving hell out of him in front of God and television crew.
Staring into his eyes, she almost lifted her fingertips to her lips as if she could still feel the hungry and insistent molding of his mouth over hers. With a will constructed of scotch tape and tissue paper, she managed to keep her arm by her side, but a slight narrowing of his eyes had her wondering if the same thoughts of that incendiary kiss filtered through his mind, too.
Why did you kiss me? Did you mean to take my mouth like you’ve been starved for me? Why did you come back and hold me...offer to stay?
The questions flew through her mind at warp speed.
Nope. Nopenopenope. Not going there. Anything having to do with Adam’s body parts meeting—or being inside of—hers was off-limits.
“Yay!” Justine bounced on her feet, practically vibrating with excitement, and Flo smiled at her enthusiasm. “Daddy, can I play with Flo today? Please?”
“Are you sure?” Adam quietly asked, and Flo nodded. Relief eased some of the stiffness from his expression, and he exhaled a low breath. “Thank you, Flo.” Looking down at his daughter, he arched an eyebrow. “Be a good girl for Flo, okay? And listen to everything she says.”
“Okay, Daddy!” Justine boomed, back to bouncing and throwing in a wiggle. God, she was cute. Flo smothered a snicker and held her hand out to Justine. Immediately, she released her father and clasped onto Flo. “I can still take pictures?” she asked.
“You sure can,” Flo assured her. “You can be my assistant today. How’s that sound?”
“Daddy,” Justine excitedly called out to her father as if he wasn’t standing right there. “I’m going to be Flo’s ’stant.”
“I heard, baby girl.”
Mira laughed. “Welcome to the crew, Justine.” Giving them a wave, she climbed the porch steps and disappeared inside the house.
“Come on, Jussy. I have a camera just for you in my car. We’ll go get it and start our workday.”
With the child’s hand still clasped in hers, Flo started for the curb and succession of parked cars.
“Flo.” Her name in Adam’s deep rumble of a voice halted her midstep.
And before she turned around, she schooled her features so he couldn’t see the effect it had on her. His gaze roamed over her face, and though it made her sound like a heroine in those romance books Sinead devoured, she swore that gaze swept over her skin like a physical caress. Warm, heavy, yet gentle.
Yeah, enough of that.
“Yes?” she asked, notching her chin up.
For a moment he remained silent, but then he glanced down at Justine.
“You carry extra cameras in your car?”
She mentally stumbled, not expecting that question—there had been...more in his eyes. Something more intimate there.
But she replied anyway.
“Disposable cameras, yes. I have nieces and nephews who like to take pictures, so I started keeping them on hand.”
He nodded, a ghost of a smile flirting with his full lips.
“C’mon, Flo!” Justine tugged on her hand. “Bye, Daddy! Have a good day! We have to work!”
That faint smile grew into a full, genuine one that damn near knocked the air out of her lungs.
Time for her to get to work like Justine said.
Past time for Flo to stop dwelling on Adam.
“LOOK, FLO!” Justine ran over as she zoomed her lens in on the sparkle of the creek just through a break in the thick copse of trees.
Capturing the image quickly, Flo lowered her camera and smiled as Justine skidded to a stop in front of her, waving the disposable camera. They’d spent the past two and a half hours together, and Flo had enjoyed herself. The little girl’s exuberance in taking pictures, and her endless questions about Flo’s work, had been an absolute joy. And besides, how could anyone not enjoy Justine? Her delight in even the smallest things—from the little bench in the time-warped gazebo to a ladybug crawling along a leaf—was infectious.
Wisps of anger and hurt undulated through Flo.
Every woman had the right to choose whether or not they wanted to become a mother. There was no shame in deciding for themselves that birthing and raising children weren’t for them—because being a mother wasn’t every woman’s chosen path or destiny.
But Justine’s mother had decided on that path. She had decided to bring this precious baby into the world, and for the life of Flo, she couldn’t understand how the other woman could walk away. If Flo had her standing in front of her right now, she’d shake the hell out of her, remind her that Justine didn’t ask to be here. Remind her that the moment she decided to have the little girl, her priority became her baby, protecting her and nurturing her. She didn’t have the fucking right to abandon her.
Shoving down the emotion brimming inside her, Flo knelt down so she was eye level with Justine.
“What do you have?” Flo asked the beaming child.
“I finished this camera,” Justine announced. “Can I have another one?”
It was a good thing Flo had grabbed a few of the disposable cameras; Justine had gone through two already.
Still smiling, Flo nodded and swapped out the cameras.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you, Flo.” Justine hugged it to her chest, her torso swaying back and forth. “Are you going to babysit me tomorrow, too? Can we take more pictures?”
“I don’t know about tomorrow, Jussy. Ms. Angela might be back so you would be with her again,” Flo said, but the little girl shook her head, a mutinous expression crossing her face.
“I don’t want her. I want you.” Then a look that seemed far too anxious for a girl her age replaced the stubborn one. “We’re friends, Flo. You like me?”
“Of course, sweetie,” Flo rushed to reassure her, alarmed that she would possess even one second of doubt about that. “You and me, we’re best friends. Pinkie swear.” She held up her smallest finger.
A huge smile brightened the little girl’s face again, ushering away the shadows that had darkened it. Justine hooked her finger through Flo’s, and they completed their handshake ritual.
“Pinkie swear!” Justine yelled.
Flo laughed, but let her humor ebb as she cupped the girl’s shoulder. She murmured, “Jussy, you do know we all like you very much, right? I can’t imagine anyone not loving you as soon as they meet you.”
Instead of giving Flo her trademark open, unguarded grin, Jussy wrinkled her nose, frowning.
“Mommy, too?”
Holy shit.
“Sweetie,” Flo breathed, her fingers lightly squeezing Justine’s shoulder. “Of course she does—”
“Lunch.”
Flo didn’t jolt at the sound of the deep voice behind her. Relief and hurt swirled inside her. Relief because this conversation was now averted. How did she explain a mother’s decisions to a five-year-old when Flo didn’t understand them herself? And hurt because eventually someone would need to have this conversation with Justine. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
And at this moment she couldn’t be more thankful for the interruption Adam presented. Rising, she turned around.
Adam glanced down at Justine before returning his gaze to hers. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” She pinned a smile on her lips. But she also gave him a tiny shake of her head to relay they would talk later. Without an avid audience. “Did you say something about lunch?”
He studied her for a long moment then slowly nodded and held up a couple of paper bags.
“Daddy!” Justine flew to her father, arms outstretched, and he swooped her up into his arms, hugging her.
“Hey, Jussy. You been having fun?” he asked, and she nodded so hard, Flo inwardly winced in sympathy.
“Uh-huh,” the little girl said and thrust out the new camera Flo had given her. “I have lots of pictures!”
“Good job, baby girl,” he praised, kissing her cheek. “Ready to eat lunch?”
“Yes!”
He set her down and pulled a sandwich, chips and juice box free from his bag.
“Here you go. Take this over to the bench and don’t wander, okay?”
Justine nodded, and clasping her lunch to her chest, ran over to the little black bench at the side of the house.
“She doesn’t ever walk anywhere, does she?” Flo asked, chuckling.
“No.” Adam shook his head, a smile playing about his lips. “She has two speeds. Stop and Mach 10.” He dipped into the brown paper bag once more, retrieved another sandwich and chips and extended them to her. “Lunch?”
“What? I don’t get a juice box?” Grinning, she accepted the meal and dipped her chin toward the gazebo. “Are you taking a break and eating, too?”
“Sure.”
She led the way toward the gazebo and settled down on the bench inside, glancing over to make sure Justine remained in view. Opening the wrap around her sandwich, she bit into it and hummed in appreciation.
“Thank you.” She held up the sandwich, swallowing the bite of tuna fish. “This is good.”
“It’s Jussy’s favorite,” he said, sitting down next to her and pulling his own meal free of the sack. They spent the next several minutes in silence, eating their lunch.
Once she finished her sandwich, he softly said, “So the conversation I walked up on...”
Damn. She’d hoped he would let that go.
Shaking her head, she picked up one of the bottles of water he’d set between them.
“I think she just misses her mother,” she murmured.
Sighing, Adam rubbed a hand over his head. “She’s so upbeat and happy, I sometimes convince myself our divorce and her mother’s absence doesn’t affect her. Maybe I want to believe that, but I, more than anyone, know it’s not true. Children can find ways to blame themselves for almost everything.”
So true. For the longest time Flo had blamed herself for Noah’s leaving. Blamed herself that her adopted father’s brother stayed away because he couldn’t bear looking at her and seeing her biological mother, the love of his life. Blamed herself for not being enough to make Noah stay or return.
As she grew older, she acknowledged the truth—that all of Noah’s choices were on him, not her. But emotionally?
Emotionally, she couldn’t completely eradicate the footprints of that guilt.
“Just from the amount of time I’ve spent around Jussy, she is a happy, upbeat little girl. You’ve done a remarkable job with her. But it’s tough for a five-year-old to understand what most adults don’t.”
“Yeah, I get that.” He nodded. “It’s just...” He didn’t finish the thought, trailing off and shaking his head. “Never mind.”
“You said, more than anyone you could relate to what Justine is going through.” She paused, fearing she was treading where she had no right. But curiosity and an inexplicable desire to know everything about this man propelled her. “Did you lose a parent, too?”
A heartbeat of silence passed, and she almost rescinded her question, almost told him to forget answering. But then he nodded, rubbing a hand over his bearded jaw.
“My parents separated when I was seven, and I haven’t seen my mother since. I guess I should be thankful that Jennifer at least calls Jussy. Because I didn’t get even that.”
Unable to stop herself, Flo scooted closer to him, laying a hand on his hard thigh. Muscles flexed beneath her palm, almost distracting her. Almost.
“I’m sorry, Adam.”
He flicked a hand, as if brushing away her sentiment. “It was a long time ago.”
Right. Her mother had died decades ago, and her first father figure had walked away from her not long after that. And yet, she still bore the scars. Would Adam really be any different? From his reaction, she didn’t think so.
“So your father raised you by himself?”
He snorted, picking up his bottle of water and taking a long sip.
“Well, he provided food and shelter. But much more than that is debatable.” He loosed a low, dry laugh, twisting the cap of the bottle back on. “I learned a lot about fatherhood from him. Mostly what not to do with my own child. Having Jussy, being her parent... It’s like redemption.”
Flo tilted her head, studied him. “Redemption implies being absolved of a wrong, a sin. And I thought we just agreed you couldn’t possibly be at fault for something that happened to you as a child.”
A rueful smile twisted his mouth. “Right. We did agree on that.” He sighed, the smile growing tight. “Anyway, how did Jussy do today?”
A part of her was tempted to refuse the switch in subject. But a bigger, admittedly more cowardly part of her decided to let him have it. Because she still felt a little raw from the night he showed up at her apartment, when she’d been at her most vulnerable. He’d witnessed a side of her she allowed very few to see... She couldn’t give him more. More terrified her.
“She did great. I enjoy hanging with her.” A warmth unfurled inside her, easing the tension that had crept in. “And it’s fun watching her excitement over taking pictures. I love photography—it’s my passion—but it’s also my job. Seeing it through her eyes reminds me of my own joy when I first discovered it.” She huffed out a laugh. “Even the pictures with my finger in them were amazing.”
His low chuckle joined hers. “I’m pretty sure there are going to be plenty of those.”
“Oh, most definitely.” Twisting the water bottle back and forth between her palms, she glanced toward the bench where Justine still sat, sipping on her juice box. “Have you heard anything else from Angela?”
His irritated sigh punctuated the air between them.
“No, nothing. I’m guessing she’s too busy celebrating her elopement.” He frowned. “I placed a call to my real estate agent who originally recommended Angela to see if she knows anyone else, but no luck so far.”
Even as she silently warned herself against getting any further involved with Adam and his daughter, Flo heard herself saying, “I don’t mind keeping her with me.”
Huge. Ass. Sigh.
But she didn’t take the offer back. The sense of...rightness settling in her chest informed her it was the right thing to do.
And if she was honest with herself, she wanted to do it.
Adam’s frown deepened. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking me. I’m offering.” The more she talked, the more certain she became. “She can hang with me while I work. If you don’t mind her going to the studio with me for the appointments I have, then she can come and be my assistant. I can bring her back here to meet you or I can take her to your house and wait for you there, whichever is easiest for you.” When he remained silent, his eyebrows still drawn down in a vee, she settled a hand over his knee. “Honestly, Adam. I don’t mind. She won’t be a bother.”
After a long moment, he gave a slow nod.
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I am.” Realizing she still cupped his knee, and his skin seemed to warm hers through his jeans, she jerked her arm back, pressing her hand to the cool water bottle. Not that it did anything to relieve or erase the imprint of him on her palm. She felt branded. “I have another couple of hours here, then I have to run by the studio and set up for a shoot first thing in the morning. After that I’ll take Justine to the pharmacy and get her pictures developed. Would you prefer I drop her off here or bring her home?”
“Home.” Standing, he slid a hand into his pocket, emerging a second later with a key ring. He wrestled a silver one off and handed it to her. “I’ll have one made for you, but could you take her home? I’ll bring pizza.”
“Is that your way of inviting me to stay for dinner?” She accepted the key, closing her fingers around it.
The light note in her voice belied the burst of flutters in her belly, and damn if that didn’t disgust her a little. She was twenty-four, not fourteen. Get your shit together, woman.
“The very least I can do for you helping us out is feed you.”
She shouldn’t.
Between working and watching Justine, she was already in his sphere more than she should be. More than was wise.
So no, she absolutely should not accept this dinner invitation...
“Sure, I’ll stay for dinner.”
Somebody shoot me and just put me out of my misery.
“Good.” A beat of silence, and his gaze dipped to her mouth, lingered there. Her breath stalled in her throat. “Last night...”
“Was a mistake,” she rushed to complete his sentence. “Emotions were running high and—”
“I wanted to know if you were okay,” he interrupted.
Well...damn.
It was still a mistake. He thought so, right? He had to because she couldn’t be the strong one when it came to keeping things platonic between them. Just sitting this close to him with that earthy and sweet scent teasing her nose had heat stirring low in her belly and between her thighs.
He’s leaving.
You don’t do commitments.
And if you did, he’s all wrong for you.
His dick isn’t.
Shit.
She was doing so well.
“I’m doing fine, thanks,” she said, ducking her head on the pretense of picking up the discarded paper bag and stuffing the remnants of their lunch inside. “Nothing that a good night’s rest couldn’t fix.”
A good night’s rest and Marty McFly’s DeLorean time machine, but whatever.
He stared at her, and it required every bit of her self-control to meet that golden scrutiny. At one point in her life, all she’d desired was to feel seen.
Now, under his intense gaze, that need was severely overrated.
“Good,” he finally said.
She did not need a second job as a mentalist to determine he didn’t believe her.
Funny.
She’d been good at hiding the truth all her life, and one sexy single father torpedoed that record to hell.
“Well...” She stood, grabbing the brown bag. “We should get back to it. Justine and I have more photos to take.”
He nodded, extending his hand for the trash. “Thank you again, Flo. I’ll see you later at the house for dinner.”
Handing over the bag, she nodded. “I’ll text you when we get to each of our stops and give you an update.”
“I appreciate that.” A smile lit his face, slowly spreading as Justine glanced up, caught sight of them and raced across the lawn. He knelt, opening his arms, and his daughter flew into them, embracing him as if they’d last seen each other a day ago instead of a half hour. It was both corny and immensely...heartwarming. “I’m headed back to work, Jussy. Keep being good for Flo, okay?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She looked up and grinned at Flo. “I’ve been good, right, Flo?”
“The best, Jussy,” Flo agreed. “Ready to go get some more pictures?”
“Yep!” She smacked a kiss on Adam’s cheek then skipped back over to the tripod and camera bags. “C’mon, Flo!”
“I’m being summoned,” Flo drawled.
“You better get to it, then,” Adam said, standing. “Thanks again, Flo.”
“You’re welcome, Adam.”
With another long look that had her fighting back a rush of heat to her face and other body parts farther south, he turned and walked back toward the house. Leaving her to wonder if she had done a good thing by helping out.
Or if she’d made the biggest mistake outside of taking Adam Reed home.
Either way, she was in too deep.
“I SEE YOU’VE already learned one of our secret treasures here in Rose Bend.” Flo picked up her plate and followed Adam into the kitchen, setting the dish in the sink as he threw the grease-spotted empty pizza box in the trash.
He smirked, a flash of surprise flickering through him as she twisted the faucets, running water in the sink. It’d been years since someone else washed dishes in his house—even before Jennifer left. Domestic duties fell on him, and to watch someone else take them up, particularly without him asking, took him aback for a second.
“You mean Morelli’s Pizzeria?” He snorted. “I don’t think you can call it a secret if half the town was crowded in there, waiting on their order.”
“It’s not a secret to us here in Rose Bend,” she pointed out, shooting him a look over her shoulder. “But to the rest of you outside of our town limits, well...”
The corner of her mouth twitched with an almost smile, and he dragged his gaze up from that too-tempting enticement back to her eyes.
“Do I need to sign a pact in blood that this all remains hush-hush?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, I’m not not saying you shouldn’t...”
Chuckling, he walked over to the sink, gently bumping her shoulder. Flo shifted over, reaching for the dish detergent and squeezing the liquid into the water. They worked in silent and surprisingly comfortable tandem, washing up the few dishes the three of them had used for dinner. On the counter’s corner a baby monitor emitted the sounds from Justine’s room as she sang to herself and played with her toys.
It should worry him how happy his little girl had been tonight with Flo in their home. Justine had always seemed well-adjusted—maybe a little too well-adjusted to the circumstances of the divorce and her mother’s leaving, if he was honest—but this evening, snuggled right up against Flo’s side as she ate pizza and chattered away, it was the most relaxed and...contented he’d seen her in a long while.
Yeah, it should worry him... And later, it probably would. But right now, with his baby girl’s carefree singing echoing in the kitchen and the suspected source of that contentment drying dishes next to him, he couldn’t bring himself to question it.
“You have plans for the rest of your evening?” he asked as she passed him the last plate and he moved to put it up in the cabinet.
“Editing some pictures,” she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Jussy and I usually watch a movie a couple of days a week after dinner. Fair warning, it’s her choice so that could be anything from The Princess and the Frog to The Wiz.”
“The Wiz, huh?” Flo arched an eyebrow. “That’s an oldie.”
“What can I say? My daughter is a lover of the classics.” He snorted. “And Michael Jackson as the Scarecrow doesn’t hurt, either.”
“I don’t know.” Flo scrunched up her nose, propping a hip against the edge of the counter and crossing her arms. “Unpopular opinion ahead, but the Wicked Witch was always my favorite character. I mean, nobody would dare bring that woman bad news. That’s some serious influence right there.”
“Hell yeah, that’s an unpopular opinion. She tried to kill Dorothy.”
“Meh.” Flo twisted her hand back and forth. “She was just a little misunderstood. Powerful women always are.”
Adam paused, stared at her. “Has anyone ever used the term ‘morally gray’ to describe you?”
She snickered. “You flatterer, you.” Pushing off the counter, she stepped forward. “If that’s an offer—or a warning—to stay and watch a movie with you, then I accept. And I’m really pulling for Diana Ross and Michael Jackson.”
The warmth that bloomed in his chest had a shade of unease skittering down his spine like a drunk spider. But denial had apparently become a part of his daily repertoire and once again, he shoved the feeling aside, focusing on the here and now. And in the here and now, he couldn’t come up with a reason why he shouldn’t grab a couple more hours watching his daughter smile and hearing her unfettered laughter.
Or an excuse not to sit there for a couple more hours and pretend that Flo’s scent, just the sight of her, didn’t affect him.
“Let me go get Jussy, and you prepare to grovel.” He dipped his chin toward the kitchen entrance and the direction of the living room. “Good part is I think you have more of an in with her than I do. So your chances of Team No Bad News look good.”
Flo grinned, and the blood in his veins transformed to molten lava.
Shit.
He might have to let her and Justine have the couch and make sure he sat in the armchair upwind of her. Hell, even catching a hint of that jasmine-and-cedarwood fragrance would have his control threatening to unravel.
Goddamn. Bricking up while in the same room with his daughter was not a shining example of fatherhood.
“You have chips or ice cream?” Flo asked. “I get the feeling she’s susceptible to bribery—”
His cell phone vibrated, and he paused, removing it from his pocket. It was almost seven, too late for anyone to be calling him. Unless it was Addie. A sliver of disquiet crept through him. Had something else happened with their father—
He lifted the cell, peering down at the screen. And from one second to the next, trepidation switched to annoyance.
Jennifer.
His jaw clenched, and anger flared hot and bright in his chest before he quickly doused it. But he couldn’t deny its existence. One day, just the glimpse of his ex-wife’s name on a caller ID would only stir apathy. Today wasn’t that day.
Then again, there might come a time when his ex would adhere to the court-ordered visitation and call schedule and not completely eschew it in favor of whatever camping trip, man or moon cycle caught her fancy.
But also, today wasn’t that day.
Guilt swarmed low in his gut like a hive of angry bees. Jennifer was Justine’s mother. No matter his personal feelings about her neglectful and selfish behavior, that fact always had to come first. Justine hadn’t asked to be brought into this world...hadn’t gotten a chance to choose her parents. So their responsibility was to make this transition into co-parenting as seamless and painless as possible.
Repeating that over and over to himself like a mantra, Adam pressed the screen, answering the call.
“Jennifer,” he greeted his ex-wife, his tone even, almost flat.
Movement in his peripheral vision snagged his attention, and he glanced toward the kitchen entrance. Dammit. The unexpected call had distracted him, momentarily making him forget Flo hadn’t completely left the room.
If guilt churned in his stomach, shame congealed the ugly mess. Logically, it didn’t make sense. His absentee ex-wife wasn’t his fault; he couldn’t make her be there for her daughter. But a small, secret part of him blamed himself. Because he’d chosen Jennifer. He’d married her. He’d failed in keeping his family happy—in keeping them together.
“Hey, Adam,” Jennifer chirped. “How’re you?”
The lighthearted tone, as if it hadn’t been months since they’d last heard from her, grated on his nerves, and he ground his teeth together to imprison the caustic response that seemed to burn a hole on his tongue.
“Fine. Let me get Jussy. I’m sure she’ll be glad to talk to you.”
At least he hoped that was the case. Sometimes he wondered if his ex-wife would one day become a non-factor in their daughter’s everyday life, and the heaviness of that possibility weighed on him.
“Thanks. I can’t wait to speak to my baby,” Jennifer said.
Jesus. By the time he finished trapping everything he wanted to say, he might not have any enamel left.
Lowering the phone, he tightened his grip on it, taking a moment to inhale a deep breath. He couldn’t go into Justine’s room looking like rage personified. Fuck if her mother knew, but no way in hell would he scare Justine.
Sliding Flo a glance, he took in her impassive expression and for a second, he paused, wondering what she had gleaned from the abbreviated side of his conversation? Did she judge him?
Hell, why not? He did.
Like father, like son. Like father, like son.
The indictment scrolled through his head, a sly taunt that followed him like a group of bullying kids as he nodded at Flo and moved past her, heading down the hall to Justine’s room.
Briefly closing his eyes, he flattened his palm on the cracked bedroom door, schooling his features into what he prayed was a pleasant expression that didn’t betray his turbulent roil of emotions.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the room, spotting Justine on her bed, reading one of her books aloud. His smile came a little easier at the sight of her, that clenching around his chest loosened just a fraction. She looked up, and a wide grin spread across her face, and he couldn’t help but return it. God, she was pure, infectious joy, and a fierce surge of protectiveness swelled within him. At all costs, he had to guard and shelter that innocent joy. Even if it was from her mother.
On that thought, he held out the phone to Justine.
“Here, baby girl. It’s your mom on the phone. She wants to talk to you.”
Her grin remained, and Justine hopped off the bed, running the few feet separating them.
“Mommy? Yay!” She held up her arms, and he handed her the cell. Palpable excitement hummed in her voice as she pressed the phone to her ear and exclaimed, “Hi, Mommy!”
Adam didn’t leave the room. Hell, if he’d thought about it, he would’ve put the phone on speaker to cut off the conversation if Jennifer uttered anything upsetting. His ex-wife had a bad habit of asking their daughter to understand why she couldn’t come see her or handing out half-ass excuses about why she hadn’t called and placing the blame everywhere but on herself. At five, Justine couldn’t possibly grasp why a party in Los Angeles with her latest “friend” was more important than spending time with her daughter.
Hell, at thirty-seven, he didn’t get it, either.
But it never occurred to Jennifer to ask that same question.
He crossed his arms over his chest and propped a shoulder against the wall as he eavesdropped on Justine’s very animated exchange with her mother. She chattered away about Rose Bend, her new room, her new friends, especially Flo.
Flo gave me a camera.
Flo let me take pictures.
Flo and me got hot chocolate.
Flo. Flo. Flo. The other woman’s name peppered Justine’s conversation.
After another ten minutes, Justine told her mother goodbye and extended the phone to Adam. Accepting it with one hand, he laid the other on the top of her head.
“We’re getting ready to watch a movie, okay? Go on out there with Flo and pick one for us.”
Justine’s eyes brightened and, cheering, she dashed out of her bedroom, calling Flo’s name. Waiting until he was certain she no longer remained in earshot, he lifted the cell to his ear.
“If that’s it, Jenni—”
“So she’s there right now? This Flo,” Jennifer said, voice clipped and carrying more than a trace of irritation. “Don’t try and deny it. I overheard you.”
He swallowed a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Why would I deny it? She’s a friend and is helping me out with Justine. Why wouldn’t she visit us?”
“It’s after seven there,” she pointed out, that same razor edge to her tone. “Isn’t it almost Jussy’s bedtime? You’re there so what exactly is she helping out with? Can’t you handle putting our daughter to bed by yourself?”
Anger sizzled beneath his sternum. Did she even hear the words that came out of her mouth? Resentment loosened the bands on his tongue.
“Yes, I can and have been handling Jussy’s bedtime by myself. Bedtime. Breakfast time. Lunchtime. Every time in between. I’ve been doing it by myself for two years now,” he ground out. “Do you really want to get on this subject?”
She sucked her teeth, the immaturity and petulance of the sound setting him further on edge. “Please, Adam. Always the martyr. Don’t you ever get tired of being the victim?”
“The only one hurting in this situation is Jussy. We might be divorced but neither of us divorced her. And yet, this is the first time you’ve spoken to your daughter in over three months, and I can’t even tell you the last time you laid eyes on her. So don’t come at me about how I’m raising her when I’m the only one actually doing it.”
He tried to remain calm, to keep the bite out of his voice. But last time he checked, the only perfect person had walked the earth two thousand years ago. Perfection was above his pay grade.
“No one can replace me as her mother, Adam,” she snapped. “So don’t you dare try and do it.”
“Mother is a verb, Jennifer, not a noun. Not a title you can trot out and dangle like a shiny thing on a special occasion. It’s being there to celebrate with her when she reads a whole sentence by herself. It’s being there when she’s sick and waking up in the middle of night to creep into her room and just listen to her breathe. It’s enjoying every smile and bearing through every whine. It’s all the little and big things, Jennifer. And you’ve missed damn near all of them in the last couple of years. Because you’re. Not. Here.”
“That’s not true—” she hotly objected.
“Her birthday, Jenn,” he interrupted, voice quiet. “Her birthday. You didn’t even call her or show up for her on her birthday. You’re right about one thing—no one could ever replace her mother. And Justine’s starved for her mother’s attention. But don’t be surprised or mad at anyone but yourself when she finds that attention somewhere else. You only have yourself to blame.”
A cold silence shivered down their connection. He wouldn’t be surprised if his ear came away frostbitten.
“I need to go,” she said, ice clinging to every word.
“You can be as pissed off at me as you want to be, Jennifer. Frankly, I’m used to it,” he added, his grip tightening around the phone. “But don’t take it out on Jussy. For her sake—and yours—keep to the visitation and calling schedule. Don’t start again only to disappear and disappoint her.”
“Bye, Adam.”
The call ended before he could reply, and he lowered the cell, staring at the screen for several long moments. Anger pitched inside him, swirling in his chest. But he couldn’t find the strength to hold on to it. Thinning his lips, he dragged a hand over his head. He was just so fucking tired.
Tired of holding it together.
Tired of feeling guilty for being tired.
Tired of failing.
Inhaling a deep breath, he dropped his arm and stared blindly at the cracked bedroom door. The lightheartedness that had been so much a part of the evening dissipated, leaving him hollow, weighed down and a little defeated.
In a way, he should be grateful for Jennifer’s call, he mused, moving toward the door. It’d served as the sharpest of reminders that the ability to sustain successful, healthy relationships wasn’t wired into his DNA. All he had to do was look at his father. And at the wreckage of his own marriage that still littered his life.
No, his sole focus needed to be his daughter, her security and welfare.
A father, first.
He didn’t have room for anything—or anyone—else.