Johnny waltzed into the gym like he owned the place. I watched him make his way through the row of elliptical machines and treadmills, sparing no one a second glance. He was a man on a mission, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that my dick swelled a tad in my Lycra shorts just knowing it was me he wanted.
It didn’t make sense. He could have had anyone…the twink receptionist with spiked pink hair and a nose ring or the beefy muscle-bound wrestler who’d set his motorcycle helmet on the bench next to the leg press…like extra advertisement in case the fact that he could press over three hundred pounds wasn’t impressive enough. Johnny mustn’t have seen the two Hollywood types who’d been cast in an upcoming blockbuster either. They were both tall, dark, handsome, and easily twenty years younger than me.
But I was the one he wanted.
He paced in front of the row of hand weights, ignoring his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors as he reported details of his afternoon. I listened intently but didn’t comment until he finally ran out of steam and dropped onto the bench beside me.
“Are you going to say anything? Your kid doesn’t know who Def Leppard is. That alone would be enough to keep me up at night if I were you,” he huffed sarcastically.
I chuckled. “I’m sure he doesn’t know who Culture Club or The Clash are either.”
“Culture Clash who?”
“Very funny. Thankfully, I know you’re kidding.” I inhaled as I curled the hand weights toward my chest.
“Hmm. Why aren’t you tripping out? In spite of her thinking Clay is my boyfriend, Fiona was extremely cool. She likes me.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” Johnny set his hands on his narrow hips and scanned our immediate area. “Except I don’t think your ex would think I was so great if she knew that I wished I could pull those sexy shorts down and suck your cock.”
“Right here, right now?” I set the weight on the floor and grabbed my water, clandestinely adjusting my junk as I sat up, noting that we had this section of the gym to ourselves.
Johnny licked his lips and nodded. “Yep.”
“Let’s not get arrested. Come here and kiss me instead.”
“Now?”
“Now,” I said firmly.
His eyes took on a molten sex-hazed expression I knew well. He craved this kind of power exchange. He liked his freedom, but every once in a while he liked to be reined in with strict instructions. He wanted consequences too. He wanted to be held accountable…on his terms, of course. But that was in the bedroom. I expected him to give me a sharp look or to tell me to fuck off. To my surprise, he obeyed.
Johnny licked the corner of my mouth, then sealed his lips over mine and stroked my cock through my shorts. I broke the kiss and held his chin firmly.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He smiled, biting my shoulder, and snickering like a loon when I swatted him away. “Sorry. I got carried away. Hey, you’re right. I shouldn’t worry about the kid and the ex. I’ll stay in my lane and do musical things.”
“I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you to worry about Fiona.”
“Okay.” He regarded me thoughtfully before sweeping his hand toward the weights. “This place reminds me of a torture chamber. I understand it’s popular with the locals, but I don’t get it. What’s that thing over there?”
I swiveled to see where he was pointing. “A squat machine. C’mere. You can try it out.”
“No, thanks. I don’t want to muss my hair.”
I mussed it for him and led him by the elbow to the equipment. “Stand here. No, back up a step, so it’s evenly leveled on both shoulders. I’ll adjust the weight, and then you get to work.”
“Doing what?”
“Squats.” I bent my knees and straightened them and motioned for him to copy me.
“Not a chance. I’m dressed in my best emo ensemble. I can’t ruin this look. But since you’re ready to show off a bit, let me look up your shorts and check out that package while you work.” He lay flat with his Doc Martens parked on either side of the bench. “I’m waiting. Inspire me.”
I huffed derisively but decided to play along.
“All right. Here we go.” I flexed my fingers and wiggled my wrists. Then I positioned my shoulders evenly, bending my knees before lifting and squatting.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he whispered.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what? Oh, you’re right. Looks like we have a gawker. It’s okay. He probably thinks we’re in one of those daddy-son relationships.”
I furrowed my brow. “Cool it. This is a lot of weight.”
He snickered. “I’m so impressed…Daddy.”
“Johnny…”
“What?” he asked, blinking innocently. “Carry on. Just so we’re clear…I’d totally be down to call you Daddy in bed, but I will never in a million years say it aloud in public. It’s not me. Not that I have a problem with other people doing it. When I worked at Aromatique, there was this couple who came in on the weekends. The older man was probably in his fifties, and the younger one was maybe twenty-two. At first I didn’t know they were a couple. They just didn’t go together in my mind, and they weren’t obviously together either. They didn’t hold hands or touch each other…until…”
“Until what?” I prodded, finishing my set with a big exhale.
“The younger guy slipped his hand in his partner’s and asked Daddy if he could have a croissant.” Johnny sat up quickly, opened his mouth in a perfect O, and widened his kohl-streaked eyes. “Daddy. He literally called him ‘Daddy.’ ”
I brushed my palms on my shorts. “Why is that a big deal?”
“Have you ever done that? Or had a partner call you ‘Daddy’…not in bed. Like I said, anything goes in between the sheets, but…well, have you?”
“I didn’t call my own father ‘Daddy.’ It’s not sexy to me.” I cocked my head. “Is it to you?”
“Oh, hell yes. But I didn’t have a father, so maybe I have daddy issues.”
His jocular tone and sultry gaze were meant to pull me off my game. It was working. My dick was on its way to half-mast and yeah, we had an audience. Two thirtysomething buff dudes stood near the row of weights…out of earshot, but close enough to check us out. And vice versa. I was not about to engage in kink-talk. I’d have a flagpole in my shorts in seconds flat, so I switched gears.
“You never met your father?”
“No. To be honest, I don’t think my mom remembered meeting him. Seriously. I think I’m what’s commonly referred to as ‘trash.’ ” His self-deprecating snort was supposed to be dismissive, but I didn’t let it go.
“That’s not funny or true. Don’t say that again,” I said sharply.
He met my gaze and blinked, no doubt surprised by my tone. I expected him to turn the exchange into something sexual. “Am I in trouble? Don’t spank me, Daddy.” Something embarrassing and over-the-top that served as a reminder that I wasn’t “the boss of him.” But he didn’t speak for a long moment. He watched me wipe sweat from my brow, then return to the machine for a second set of squats.
“I think something is wrong with me.” He leaned against the metal post of the equipment and frowned. “I hate bossy assholes, but I really like you and I can’t figure it out.”
I smiled through my series of reps. “Thanks?”
“Hmm. Are you almost done here?” He glanced around the vicinity, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “There’s gotta be something else that gets your motor running. Besides sex, of course.”
“Golf.” I grunted, releasing the bar with a clunk.
Johnny’s lips twisted in horror. “Seriously?”
I wiped my hands on my towel again and reached for my water bottle. “Have you ever played?”
“Fuck, no.”
“It’s fun,” I insisted with an amused grin.
“What could possibly be fun about trying to get a tiny ball in a hole a mile away?”
“Lots of things. It’s a personal sport. You can play with friends, but the goal is to work on your own game. It’s a great stress reliever and good exercise—”
“Unless you’re in a golf cart with a twelve-pack of beer,” he snarked.
“True, but I prefer to walk the course.” I chuckled at his theatric eye-roll. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“Ha! You’ll never get me on a golf course, so—”
“Ever?”
“Never.”
I drank half the water bottle, aware of his rapt attention. I stepped closer, closing the distance between us as I recapped the bottle and met his hungry gaze. I’d bet every penny in my bank account we were thinking the same thing. Why were we still here? Why did my attraction to him grow stronger every day?
Johnny wasn’t classically handsome or endlessly witty and charming. He was beautiful in the way wild creatures are. Raw and real with sharp claws and a biting tongue. The dark smudges under his eyelids softened his austere black-on-black attire. I’d bet he didn’t realize that he looked exotic rather than fierce. His bright smile and twinkling eyes gave him away. He was lovely from the inside out. I just couldn’t get enough.
The bigger shock was that he made space for my craziness in his life. The guitar lessons that had begun as an impetuous suggestion to reach a struggling teen had snowballed into a relationship that was beginning to entangle all the pieces of my life I’d worked hard to keep separate. I should have been more wary about Fiona mixing with Johnny, but that cat was already out of the bag. They’d loosely worked together well before he and I became lovers. Now…fuck, this was complicated, but it also felt too good to be wrong.
And funny enough, I didn’t just think about how he fit into my life. I started to wonder how I could fit into his. How I could show him pieces of myself that might make me seem worth the hassle.
I reached out impulsively and traced his jawline, loving the scratch of his scruff against my thumb.
“Come to the desert with me,” I said in a low, raspy voice.
Johnny lowered his lashes, sighing when I dropped my hand. “When?”
I shrugged. “In the next week or two. Just me and you.”
“That sounds vaguely romantic,” he hummed. “You don’t want me to get the wrong idea, do you?”
“Of course not. That’s why we’re going golfing.”
“Fuck that.” He glowered, crossing his arms like a petulant kid.
I smacked his ass, then uncapped the bottle. “Language. Or did you want a trip over my knee?”
Johnny nodded like a puppet on a string. “Yes, please.”
I waggled my brows, pleased when he laughed aloud. “Let’s go, bad boy.”
Balancing business and personal life was always a challenge. It was exceedingly rare to find harmony between the two…for me, anyway. Investments went sideways at the last second, kids got sick or had issues at school, my ex-wife wanted more money. It never ended. My dad used to say that the Lord never gave you more than you could handle, and that if it seemed like too much, you just had to dig a little deeper to find a reserve of strength. I suspected he knew I was wired differently, and this was his way of encouraging me to stay on the straight and narrow path. Pun intended. I’d become so adept at juggling chaos that I had a hard time relaxing when things seemed to be going too well.
Like now.
My biggest business worries were under control, and my personal life was kind of amazing. I had a sexy lover I couldn’t get enough of, the kids were happy, and Fiona was too. She must have been busy with work. She didn’t call every other day or offer helpful hints on how to deal with Penny’s overly booked social calendar or Parker’s lack of one. Or maybe we’d reached a good place in co-parenting.
She was definitely a fan of guitar lessons. She’d called me the night she talked to Johnny at the studio, sounding genuinely thrilled. Her lilting enthusiastic tone reminded me of the girl I’d met almost twenty years ago. I saw traces of her in our daughter, but the Fiona I knew now was harder to gauge. I understood. Life hadn’t gone according to plan for either of us. And that was my fault…but that was another story.
“Parker lit up the moment we walked in the door. The darling receptionist knows him, the guys in that other band…Jealousy, I think—greeted him so sweetly before we found Johnny. He just seemed so happy there. And when he got home, he played a song for me. I didn’t have to beg him or anything. I’m not sure this will go anywhere, but rock stars are popular and if nothing else, it’ll give him much-needed street cred.”
Street cred? Popular? I frowned at her word choices, but she’d moved on to a new topic that thankfully didn’t involve alimony, so I let it go. I hung up feeling more hopeful than I had in years.
And a couple of weeks later, that feeling hadn’t faded. In fact, it had gotten better.
Escrow closed on the LA property Harry, Darren, and I had purchased with the McMillan Group and according to Darren, Myron was interested in investing in the building phase as well.
“Really? Do we want them involved?” I asked, studying Johnny’s profile from my corner of the sectional. He was perched on the opposite side, bent over his guitar, strumming a tune I didn’t recognize.
“Harry said the same thing. Let’s talk to Myron and see how we feel. I’ll invite him to Palm Springs this weekend. What day are you getting here?”
“Friday, but I’m not there on business. Let’s meet with him in LA,” I suggested. My normally loquacious friend went suddenly quiet. “Darren?”
“I’m here. Are you bringing him?”
I squinted in confusion. “Who?”
“The guitarist. I hear him playing in the background, and I’ve seen that look in your eye when you talk about him. Bring him. Myron would flip out to meet him in person and that, my friend, could be good for business. Think about it. Brunch would be nice. Mwah!”
I disconnected the call with a sigh and tossed my cell onto the coffee table.
“What’s up?” Johnny asked, slapping his hand on his strings. “Before you say ‘nothing,’ I heard the conversation. You’ve got your volume on full blast. Myron wants to meet me, and it’ll be good for business. I’m in. I want to meet your friends anyway. They sound weird.”
I huffed a laugh. “Myron is the water guy, baby. He’s the one who insisted that you be on the Pride bottle. He’s a superfan.”
“That’s cool. I don’t mind.” He propped his guitar against the adjacent armchair.
“Well, I wasn’t planning on seeing any of them this weekend. I didn’t want to work. Myron is work. Harry and Darren are my friends, but they’re also work. I want you to myself.” I slouched on the sofa and motioned him over.
“Wait. Show me how you look when you talk about me. I overheard—”
“You shouldn’t eavesdrop,” I scolded without heat.
Johnny grinned. “That’s how you find out all the good stuff.”
“Or the bad stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah. Show me your special googly eyes.”
I widened my eyes in terror. “Something like this.”
“Liar. I bet you it’s like this.” He bit his bottom lip and sighed dreamily, fluttering his lashes.
“Maybe you’re right. C’mere.”
He hesitated. “For what it’s worth…I wouldn’t embarrass you.”
I sat up quickly. “Hey, where’s that coming from? I’m not embarrassed by you.”
His lips curled in a lopsided smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Okay. I just want you to know you can trust me not to grab your dick under the table, drink too much, or talk with my mouth full. I know you like to keep business and personal shit separate, but if I can help you with business by showing up, I’m willing to do it.”
“Why?”
“ ’Cause I like you. It might not be as easy for you, but…I don’t really care who knows anymore.” He climbed atop me, nestling his face in my neck.
I ran my fingers through his hair and kissed his temple, unsure how to respond.
But here’s what I did know…my heart thawed, melted, and expanded every day, leaving room for him to crawl inside and take whatever he needed. He walked into my home, sharing songs and telling stories about his day. I listened, I commented, I shared my food, my wine, my bed. Yet, I held back more than I gave.
I felt the weight of my burdens slip from my shoulders when he was around, but I didn’t set them down. Honestly, I didn’t know how. I wasn’t equipped for this game of give-and-take. I was afraid to give too much and more afraid to take what I didn’t deserve. And I was pretty damn sure I didn’t deserve Johnny.
That didn’t stop me from trying. I spent every free night with him at his house or mine. We’d make dinner together, play with my dog or his cat, and talk about everything and nothing at all. Kids, pets, stars, bars, places we should go and people we wished we could meet. Sometimes, his bandmates joined us for a beer or stayed to grill burgers. Was it awkward? Well…not really. They were easygoing, good guys who loved him like a brother.
Tegan was the only one I knew well. We’d been friends longer than we’d been lovers and truthfully, we’d had more of an understanding than a true relationship. He hadn’t been part of my life the way Johnny was. I’d given him the CliffsNotes version of me and was careful to keep him separate from my kids because I didn’t know how to share what mattered to me most.
Tegan’s reaction hadn’t really surprised me. He’d waited until we were halfway through a workout session to grill me…or warn me.
He’d stood behind me, spotting me while I lifted and blurted, “You know that I know, so let’s get this out of the way. Don’t hurt him. Johnny doesn’t trust easy. And…he’s already let you in, so be careful.”
I’d nodded, Tegan had changed the subject, and that was that.
I had to admit, his warning stuck with me, though. He’s already let you in, so be careful. For a guy who’d made it a policy not to let anyone in, I was both alarmed and honored at the same time. I wanted to be on the inside with him, but reciprocating didn’t come naturally to me. My walls were too thick, and my rules were ironclad. I was a human fortress designed to protect those important to me. My kids.
But, here’s the thing. Johnny had become important to Parker and Penny.
They loved him. He was so damn good to them. Guitar lessons turned into Lego-building and nail-painting and movie-watching. He never gave the impression that he was doing me a favor or that he couldn’t wait to move on to something else. He genuinely liked being with them. Sometimes I sensed that he was taking notes, reliving a piece of childhood he’d been denied. Like a second chance…without melancholy or unwanted ghosts. Whatever it was, I was grateful.
Penny was her usual exuberant self and Parker was…happy. Really happy. He smiled more often, engaged in family discussions without having to be drawn in, and when his nose wasn’t buried in a science book, he spent a lot of time practicing guitar. But the thing I loved most was that he’d actually started talking to me. Not about feelings or friendships, which was fine.…I didn’t talk about those things either. For now, I was pathetically pleased when he initiated conversations.
Even if it was just about breakfast.
“I’m going to make scrambled eggs,” Parker announced, pulling the refrigerator door open.
I glanced up from my post in front of the coffee machine and did a double take. He looked like he’d grown in the middle of the night. He seemed taller and if possible, a bit more self-confident. It was in the tilt of his chin and the set of his shoulders.
Or maybe I needed more caffeine.
I mumbled a barely audible “Mmhmm,” then leaned against the counter and observed as our usual Friday morning routine unfolded. Penny rubbing sleep from her eyes as she shuffled toward the island, Parker pulling ingredients from the fridge, Lullah lying in wait near his feet, hoping for scraps. It would be quiet for a few minutes until Penny was fully awake and made it her mission to fill the silence. I relished mornings like this when I knew I wouldn’t see them for a few days.
Our schedule was already wonky this week. Fiona had a business meeting out of town and had asked to switch days. I’d usually keep the kids for the weekend, but since I had plans to go to the desert, I’d see them on Tuesday. My mind wandered into the following week…meetings I had on my calendar, calls I had to make. I reminded myself to check in with Garrett even though I knew he had Vibes under control. The new hires were working out well and…
“Yum. I love scrambled eggs. Will you make me some too? Pretty please, Parker,” Penny cajoled, hopping on a barstool at the kitchen island.
Parker rolled his eyes, sending a lock of his blond hair into his eyes. “Sure. Sunny-side up for you.”
“Scrambled. I don’t like drippy eggs. Want me to help?” Penny asked sleepily.
“No, I got this.” He pulled a carton of eggs out and glanced over. “Do you want eggs, Dad?”
I froze mid-sip, then raised my coffee mug. “This is my breakfast. Thank you, though.”
Now, here’s how things usually worked…Parker would grunt and turn to his chore while Penny filled in the ensuing silence with chatter. Sometimes I wondered if she felt the need to manage the tension with monologues to entertain us. That was a lot of pressure for an average nine-year-old. I think she preferred to take over rather than listen to my stilted attempts at drawing Parker out of his shell.
Today, he surprised us both.
“You should eat something real,” he chastised as he cracked eggs against the side of a bowl. “Coffee isn’t breakfast.”
I nodded. “True, but it wakes me up.”
“We studied about it in school yesterday. Breakfast replenishes stores of energy and nutrients to the body which make you more productive.”
I widened my eyes. That was two complete sentences. Wow. “You’re right. I’ll grab a chocolate croissant and a dozen donuts after I drop you off at school.”
“You wouldn’t!” Penny gasped theatrically. “Let’s go before school. I want a powder donut, please. And I won’t tell Mom.”
“He’s kidding, Pen. Dad’s a health freak.” Parker pulled a whisk from the drawer and set to work, beating the eggs. He looked up at me as if sensing my stare. “Am I doing this wrong?”
“No, you’re doing a great job,” I assured him. “What else did you learn about nutrition?”
“We weren’t really discussing nutrition. We’re talking about the digestive system in my anatomy class.”
“Ah, that’s interesting,” I replied, sounding like a real…dad.
For once, Parker didn’t mind. “It is. Did you know there are fourteen musculoskeletal systems in the human body? I have to build a model of the organs. It’s due next week.”
“Oh, cool.” All right. I knew I had to come up with something intelligent. The problem was, I didn’t have much practice conversing with a talkative Parker. This was new. “Let me know if you need any help. I was pretty good at building models in my day.”
Dad alert, Dad alert.
“Thanks. Johnny’s going to help. His friend Tegan has a workshop area in his garage. We’re going to start on it when he gets home. He’s going out of town this weekend. Do you want toast?” Parker asked, popping a piece of bread into the toaster.
“No, thanks,” I mumbled. Hmm. My boyfriend and my ex. This wasn’t complicated at all, I mused, sipping my coffee thoughtfully.
“I do!” Penny chimed. “Where’s Johnny going?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
“Oh. I’ll ask.” Penny typed a message into her phone, then pushed it aside and climbed onto her knees on the barstool. “You’re burning the eggs, Parker.”
“No, I’m not. They’re fine.”
“There’s smoke coming from the pan,” she insisted.
Lullah barked, Parker barked something at Penny, and a cell buzzed all at once.
“Penny, sit down,” I said.
“I have a message. Oh! It’s Johnny. He’s going to Palm Springs.” Penny whirled around on the stool, swiping strands of her blonde hair from her eyes as she leveled me with a shocked yet pleased expression. “Like you! Are you going to see him?”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Uh, I don’t—um, maybe. I don’t know,” I stumbled.
“You should,” Penny enthused with a broad grin. “I wish we could go. Stupid school. We should do home school. Those kids get to go everywhere, whenever they want. They’re so lucky. I wish…”
I braved a glance in Parker’s direction and got the exact opposite reaction. He met my gaze for a split second before lowering his head as if dishing eggs onto two plates required his absolute concentration. Hurt and disappointment poured out of him in waves. If he were a small child, I would have scooped him in my arms and known exactly what to do to make things better. Now…I had no clue.
But I had to try.
“Parker, it’s not—”
“Not what?” he challenged, fixing me with a blank stare, daring me to lie to him…one more time.
Penny glanced between us, then pointed at the toaster. “It’s burning, Parker. Don’t worry. I like it a little crispy. Especially with strawberry jam. I like bagels to be softer. And I like it when the cream cheese isn’t too cold. It’s not as good when it comes straight out of the fridge and…”
Ah, here we go again.
Penny chattered nonstop on the way to school. I dropped her off first, hoping to get a word with Parker alone. He stiff-armed me for ten minutes, alternately staring out the window or answering questions in monosyllable tones. I might have imagined it, but I thought he sighed with relief when I pulled up to the corner. He gathered his backpack and curled his fingers around the handle like he was preparing to dive out of an Air Force helicopter during wartime.
“Parker, wait. Tell me what’s wrong,” I demanded in an even tone.
“Nothing.”
“Look, if it’s about Johnny or—”
“Why do you lie about him?” he snapped.
I jolted, taken aback by his anger. “I…I don’t lie. He’s my friend.”
He didn’t roll his eyes, but I got the message nonetheless. “W-we’re not dumb, you know. I know, but you d-don’t tell us anyt-thing.”
“That works both ways.” I gestured toward the posse of kids near the gate. “I know things change, and I know you don’t hang out with your friends anymore, but—”
“They’re not my friends,” he growled fiercely. “They suck. They’re mean jerks. They make fun of people and t-talk behind y-your b-back, and I’d rather be alone. They’re not my friends. I’m not doing the t-talent show. I’m n-not going to the dance t-tonight. It’s stupid and they’re stupid and…”
He broke off on a sob and lowered his head to hide his face. And yeah, my heart cracked in two. I was so fucking lost, but I had the presence of mind to drive my SUV farther up the street, stopping in front of a tall brick wall covered in ivy. I turned off the engine, then shifted in my seat and laid my hand on his head.
“I’m sorry, Parker,” I whispered. “I’m sorry you’re going through this right now. I could talk to—”
“No. Don’t talk to anyone.”
“If you’re being bullied, I—”
“I’m not. Just ignored,” he sniffed.
Damn it. This was the shit they should cover when you’re going to have children. Teething, crawling, learning to ride a bike or swim…that was easy. What do you do when your kid feels alienated and alone? What do you do when your instincts tell you to follow him and trounce anyone who dares look at him sideways, knowing that won’t solve any problems? My own parents would have told me to be tougher. To be stronger. They wouldn’t have told me I was weak, but the implication was there. Try harder, be braver. Under the circumstances, that seemed like rotten advice.
“I hate to see you unhappy, son.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, drying his tears.
“No, no. That’s not what I meant. Look, I can do a couple of things. I can take the day off work, talk to your teachers, and—”
“No, thank you. That would be terrible.”
“Or…I give you a few tools that might make your day better.” I swallowed hard, then continued. “Go where you feel safe and happy. Talk to people who make you feel safe and happy. I promise you, it gets better.”
He sighed heavily and nodded. “That’s what Johnny says.”
I managed a wobbly smile. “He’s very smart.”
“I know. So if you’re together, you should just tell us.”
Ah, right…the reason he was mad at me. “Well, the thing is…it’s not simple,” I heard myself say.
“Why not?”
“It just isn’t,” I replied lamely.
“Will it ever be? Simpler, I mean.”
I pursed my lips and stared unseeing at the ivy before meeting his gaze. “I don’t know. I hope so.”
“Yeah, me too.” He gathered his backpack again and reached for the handle.
I called his name and waited for him to turn around. “I love you, Parker.”
One second, two seconds…
“I love you too, Dad.”
I watched him shrug his bag over his shoulder, trudging toward the entrance, all sense of urgency gone. My heart shifted uncomfortably in my chest, like broken pieces of porcelain chafing.
And though she was usually the last person I’d call for a lifeline, I scrolled for Fiona’s number and pressed Call.
“Hi, Sean. Don’t worry. I know you’re going out of town. I’m at the airport now. I’ll be in LA this afternoon. If I’m running late, the nanny will pick the kids up,” Fiona assured me in greeting, sounding slightly out of breath, as if she were in the midst of running through the terminal.
“Great.” I shot a quick glance at the posse of kids huddled in a tight-knit group on the sidewalk. I thought I recognized a couple of them, but I didn’t linger. I checked my rearview mirror and inched into traffic. “Hey, I just wanted you to know I’m—”
“Phew! I made it. I’m at my gate. Are you there?” Silence. “Sean?”
“Yeah. Hey, this isn’t a good time. We can talk when we’re both in town.”
“Sounds good. Have fun in Palm Springs.”
I smacked the steering wheel in frustration. Maybe later was better.