Chapter Nine
KATE WALKED THROUGH THE SMALL courtyard behind Chris. A collection of pretty townhouses surrounded the well-maintained common area. Flower beds still bloomed in the winter air, and the palm trees were tall and green. The sound of ocean waves and the tang of salt told her they were near the beach. Kate peeked through the gaps in the buildings and caught a glimpse of white foam sparkling on the inky ocean. The dark, evening sky matched her mood. Dull, black, and starless.
She was exhausted, and what she really wanted to do was to go back to Ben and Lily’s house, crawl into the comfy guest bed, bury herself under a fluffy blanket, and never leave. She didn’t know why she agreed to Chris’ rotten-day antidote plan. There was nothing that could fix the mess of this day. She should have pulled herself together and insisted that he take her right back to the mission, so she could have had her breakdown in private. Instead, she’d dissolved into a crying mess right in front of him.
The memory of how he’d pulled her into his arms rushed through her with a tingle of excitement that she tried to ignore. This was Chris. She couldn’t dwell on his strong arms or his hand on hers or the way he had held her like she was someone special. That was too complicated. There were too many things that could go wrong. She would get through this one night, and that would be the end of it.
She had been distracted and foolish to agree to come here with him, but after the shock of seeing her mom again after almost six years, she didn’t know what to do. Her whole world had been turned inside out, and she didn’t know which side was up anymore. She couldn’t stay in that house, not for one second, with her mother. The woman who had walked away, packed up, and left without even saying goodbye had suddenly reappeared, showing up like she would be welcome, like all would be forgiven. The fact that her dad would even let her in the house was ridiculous. That he had been a part of it, asking her to come to the house without telling her why, crushed her heart with such force, she was amazed it was still beating.
Of course, he didn’t want to warn her about her mom being there. He knew she never would have come. That he would be a part of the ambush, springing it on her like some twisted surprise party, made her want to scream. He was the one person she thought would understand, the one person she thought was on her side. Her mother had abandoned him, too. Had he forgiven her? Let bygones be bygones? It was impossible. Her mother didn’t deserve forgiveness.
She didn’t care if her mother had come to apologize. Words wouldn’t make up for what she had done. Words didn’t matter. Would words bring back all the years she had lost? Would an apology make up for the damage she had caused? No. It was too late for apologies or phony tears. That bridge had been burned a long time ago, and Kate had no interest in rebuilding it. As far as she was concerned, her mom could go right back to wherever she had been for the past six years. She hadn’t been there when Kate needed her, and she certainly didn’t need her now.
Sitting in Chris’ car when he went to get her purse, she had no idea what to do or where to go. She thought about going back to Boston. Forget about Megan and the accident, forget about Los Angeles and her family. She wanted to run away, to get as far away as possible from her parents. She wanted to go back to the city where she had tried to start over, but she didn’t have a job there anymore, and she had canceled the lease on her apartment. There was nothing for her in Boston anymore. There was nothing for her anywhere. She wanted to run and never stop, but she didn’t have anywhere to go. She could have said no to Chris’ plan and gone back to Ben and Lily’s house, but Lily would have taken one look at her and wanted to talk. Lily was her best friend, and she loved her, but she wasn’t in the mood for encouragement or prayer or support.
So, she had ended up in a small complex of townhouses in Santa Monica with Chris. He had been so kind to her, holding her when she dissolved into a weepy mess, ignoring the sob-induced hiccups and incessant sniffling. The truth of the matter was that she hadn’t wanted to be alone. She didn’t want to be tough and strong anymore. She had been unprepared for the shock of seeing her mother, and as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t want to deal with it on her own. It wasn’t her finest moment, and she wouldn’t have blamed Chris if he had dumped her at her car and sped off into the night. Nobody wanted to walk into that much family drama.
She didn’t want to think about what he thought of her—or what she looked like. She probably had mascara streaks covering her face and snot crusting on her nose. Honestly, she was too tired to care. She was empty and exhausted, and more than anything, she wanted to forget.
Chris had let go of her hand when they left the freeway and started driving down the narrow, two-lane roads. When they parked, she wondered if he was going to try to hold her hand again, and she wondered if she should let him. Instead, he led them to a corner townhouse with a leaded glass door. She stood behind him as he sifted through the keys in his hand.
“Where are we?” Kate asked.
Chris glanced over his shoulder as he answered. “My place.”
Nerves tingled in her stomach as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. He’d brought her to his house. Implication and anticipation warred within her. She scrambled to find the logical thing to do, the common-sense choice. Should she stay? Should she go? Was she about to do something incredibly stupid?
Chris flipped on the lights and waited. “Are you coming?”
She was about to object. Her mushy brain was formulating an excuse when he smiled. “It’s okay, Kate. I promise.”
How she longed for a promise she could believe in. She followed him inside, willing to go anywhere that didn’t require her to think, work, or pretend like everything was fine.
As he led the way, she looked at his house. It wasn’t flashy or overdone; in fact, it was barely decorated. No movie posters on the walls or flashy colors. The entryway had an oak table with an orderly collection of shoes sitting underneath. Chris kicked off his shoes and slid them under the table. As Kate slipped off her shoes, she looked at a stack of unopened mail piled next to a basket where he tossed his keys. No fancy chandeliers or expensive furniture. It was quiet and humble, like the man who lived there.
She wasn’t sure if this was exactly what she had expected from Chris or if she just hadn’t thought about it before. Part of her had assumed he would live in a big house like Ben, enjoying the perks of Hollywood life, set apart and distant from everyone else. Maybe a personal chef or at least a big garage with a bunch of fancy cars. It was unexpectedly comforting to have been wrong. Chris was the same man here that he was in the office—simple and unpretentious. What would it be like to be that honest? Guilt pricked her conscience, and she pushed it away. She was too tired to examine the mistakes she had made—the mistakes she was continuing to make.
She followed him into the living room. The tile floor was cold against her bare feet. The living room was large and open with a wall of windows that faced the ocean. Whitecaps rolled in the distance. “Oh, wow,” she whispered and crossed to the glass doors.
Chris smiled and slid the door open. A chilly breeze hit her—salt and sand and memories. She stepped out onto the wooden deck and breathed deeply. Two large surfboards were propped against the wall to her left, and a massive grill sat to her right. Black wicker chairs with thick, blue cushions faced the sea, and a short staircase led to the beach. No wonder he picked this place. She could have walked down the stairs and been at the water’s edge in less than a minute. The temptation was strong, the pull of the tide and the lullaby of the waves. Soon the moon would be high, its light reflecting on the shifting surface. She knew what it felt like to swim in the moonlight, to dive into the quiet immensity of the ocean at night.
“This is what sold me on the place,” Chris said as he stood beside her, his long hair caught up in the breeze. He tucked it behind his ears. “I couldn’t say no to having the beach for my backyard. The place needs a lot of work, which we all know I am incapable of doing myself, but it was worth it.”
“It’s amazing.” Kate looked at the view, longing and loneliness dancing in her heart. She had given up so much trying to escape her past, and after all those years, she ended up right back here, at the edge of a southern California beach in the moonlight.
“Do you want to walk on the beach?” Chris asked.
She shook her head. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. A trip to the beach at night, a drive down a canyon road—that was what had started her on this path—one bad decision that had changed everything. She couldn’t face it. Going to the beach was the last thing she had promised Megan, and they never made it. She couldn’t go on her own. Not when Megan’s memory still haunted her, still echoed in a tangle of broken glass and screaming tires.
Chris didn’t insist or ask why. He went back into the house, and she followed him into the kitchen. The appliances were outdated, and the small, square tiles that covered the counter tops spoke of the age of the house. But everything was clean, almost sparse. Kate had never been a neat-and-tidy kind of girl. Her office at the firm had been organized and clean, but that was because it had been expected. No one wanted to hire a disorganized lawyer. Like everything else in her life, it had been about keeping up appearances. Her apartment in Boston was another story. It had usually been a mess, simply because she didn’t have the time or the desire to keep it clean. She knew where everything was, and she didn’t entertain enough people to require her to keep it respectable-looking. She was the only one who saw it, and it didn’t bother her.
Chris opened the refrigerator and peered inside. From behind him, Kate saw that his food selection ranged from leftover Chinese food to a variety of half-empty condiment jars. “Water? Coffee? Soda?” he asked.
“Water would be great, thanks.”
He passed her a bottle of water and grabbed one for himself. “Step one of my Rotten Day cure. Pizza.” He pulled a frozen pizza out of the freezer. Based on the stack of pizza boxes in the freezer, Kate guessed it was one of his go-to meals. Not that she had any room to judge him. Her culinary skills were limited to making breakfast and reservations. At least now she knew why he showed up at Ben and Lily’s house for dinner so often. Without Lily’s cooking over the past few months, they both might have starved.
As he turned on the oven to preheat and unwrapped the pizza, she looked at the photos on his fridge. There were several photos of a young boy and a baby girl. In one, the boy was wearing a giraffe costume. In another, the little girl had a big pink bow on her head and a onesie that said, “My uncle loves me.” There was also a family photo taken somewhere in snow-covered mountains. Chris and two older people she assumed were his parents and a young woman. Girlfriend? Sister? Ex-wife? She had no idea. She looked at the photo and realized how little she knew about him. She had always thought of him as Ben’s friend. The guy who tagged along, the best man at the wedding. In all the time they’d spent together, she’d never bothered to ask about him, and yet, there she was, in his house by the beach, while he made her pizza. In focusing all her energy on finding Megan’s killer, she had overlooked so much.
“Are these your parents?” she asked, pointing at the photo.
Chris nodded. “Yep. That was four or five years ago. We spent Christmas in Tahoe. That’s my little sister, right before she met the man she ended up marrying. They live in Michigan, and my parents moved out there to be close to the grandbabies. The California sun was no match for the pull of baby snuggles and dirty diapers.” He laughed as he slid the pizza into the oven. “But I don’t mind sending them our weather reports every winter. I’m pretty sure they’re snowed in right now.”
He led the way out of the kitchen and into the living room. His chocolate brown sofa was squishy and soft and so comfortable, she thought she could fall asleep on it. Once they were seated, he turned to her. “Ready for step two?”
Apprehension raced through her. His nearness was . . . she searched for the right word. Unsettling. It ignited nerves and excitement she thought were dead. It wasn’t like she’d never been on a date or had a boyfriend; she’d had plenty, but most of them had ended in disappointment or disaster. She just hadn’t been on a date for a really long time. The last time she’d thought about a relationship was when she’d foolishly thrown herself at Noah, and he’d turned her down.
The townhouse was suddenly too warm. She felt the heat of it in her face. She should have gone back to Ben and Lily’s house. She should have gone back to Boston. She was about to get up and leave, call a cab to take her back to the mission and put some distance between her and Chris, when he gently touched her hand.
“It’s going to be okay, Kate.” Peace enveloped her. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust him. He passed her a blanket, and she snuggled under it while he grabbed a remote control from the coffee table in front of the sofa.
A large, flat screen television mounted to the wall across the room sparked to life. He may not have updated his kitchen appliances, but the television was state-of-the-art. Chris scrolled through the menu and pulled up a black-and-white movie she’d never heard of. She narrowed her eyes at the screen. She had expected him to play one of his movies, something he’d made, something with his name on it. In her experience, men were quick to brag about themselves, always trying to impress with their achievements. She had learned to play the same game, flaunting her victories and her accomplishments to keep pace with them, to feel like she was a part of that world.
Piano music filled the room as Charlie Chaplain waddled across the screen swinging a cane. “This is step two?” she asked, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice. “Charlie Chaplain?”
Chris looked scandalized, as if she had just insulted his childhood hero. “Don’t underestimate Charlie Chaplin. This guy was a genius. He wasn’t just the star of his movies. He was the writer, director, even the composer. He completely changed film-making. I took an entire class on his films in graduate school.”
Kate nodded with all the solemnity she could muster. “Was that class before or after Explosions 101 and Tactics for Effective Alien Invasions?”
Chris laughed and wagged his water bottle at her. “Hey, Explosions 101 is paying for our documentary.”
A tickle fluttered in her veins when he said “our documentary.” He had given her a place when she didn’t have one, included her in his dream, shared his deepest hope with her. She didn’t deserve it. If he ever found out her real motivations, he’d never forgive her, and she wouldn’t blame him.
She watched the flickering scene, lulled into comfort by the piano music and the lack of conversation. Her world was all about words. Arguing legal precedents, searching for loopholes in contracts, debating the meaning and ramifications of a single word. It was exhausting.
Heaviness gripped her heart. Two words from her father had sent her entire world crashing down. She’s here.
She tried to focus on the movie, but her mind kept going back to her father’s house. Was her mother still there? Had he let her stay? After everything she had done to them, the pain she had caused, was he going to let her move back and pretend like nothing happened? She didn’t know if she wanted to call her dad and yell at him or never speak to him again.
The timer on the oven beeped, and Chris went back to the kitchen. Kate didn’t want to think about it anymore, but she couldn’t stop. All of the carefully constructed walls she had built, the boxes she had used to ignore her pain and her memories—it was all gone, blown to smithereens by her mother’s reappearance. What was she supposed to do now?
Chris reappeared at her side and handed her a plate with two slices of pepperoni pizza. “Step three of my feel-better cure is to stop thinking about the thing that made your day rotten until after ice cream.”
She looked up at him, his tousled hair and broad chest, his golden skin and blue eyes. He hadn’t asked any questions. He hadn’t demanded to know the details of her family drama. He’d brought her here and made her dinner like it was the most natural thing in the world. No one had ever treated her so gently. Most people she knew were happy to capitalize on her strength and confidence. They expected her to have it all together, to push through and get things done. Chris was willing to take care of her without even being asked. In this house, with this man, she could be vulnerable; she could be sad; she could be a hot mess; and he didn’t mind. He accepted her in the midst of the chaos, instead of demanding that she get her act together first.
From somewhere in the back of her mind, from the recesses of her heart, she heard the whisper of a word. Grace. Grace was a concept used by people who refused to take responsibility for their actions, an excuse for failure. She wasn’t interested in that kind of easy road. In her world, people got what they deserved.
Kate took the plate and tried to smile, silencing the echo. “There’s going to be ice cream?” she asked, struggling to get the words past the dryness in her throat.
“Of course, there’s ice cream,” he said. “I’m not a savage.” He sat next to her with his own plate and closed his eyes in prayer.
She watched him, oddly comforted by his willingness to pray over frozen pizza. His faith was so ingrained in his life, in everything he did, that not even pizza was too little to pray about. She had never felt that way about God. Even living with Lily, she never accepted the idea that God cared about the small details of her life. Growing up, she always thought He was more of a big-picture God. She’d been convinced that as long as she took care of the day-to-day details of her life, as long as she was a generally good person and tried to do the right thing, God would be there for the big stuff. She had believed that if she was ever really in need, He would show up with lightning bolts and power, but when that time came, He wasn’t there. If He didn’t show up when her sister was dying, why would He care about pizza?
Even though it didn’t make sense to her, she appreciated that Chris believed. He might be wrong, but at least he was sincere. It was something she could count on, one of those immovable mountain things that gave her topsy-turvy world a center.
Chris opened his eyes and looked at her, and she swallowed, embarrassed that he’d caught her staring at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“What?” she asked.
“Whatever happened back at the house.”
She shook her head, feeling guilty for not wanting to open up to him, to explain the entire tragic backstory, but she wasn’t ready. “I’m sorry. I’m not being very much fun.”
“You don’t have to be fun or put on a brave face or pretend like everything is okay.” He reached across the distance between them and covered her hand with his. “Just be you; that’s all I want.”
His hand slipped away, and he pushed play on the remote control. As Charlie Chaplin danced on the screen, Kate longed to take Chris’ hand, to hold it close, but she refused. She didn’t have anything to offer him, nothing to bring to the table. She didn’t deserve his goodness, and he deserved much more than the broken woman she had become. She left destruction in her wake everywhere she went, and she didn’t want him to be the next casualty.