I nuzzle into his chest. “I didn’t expect it to feel this way being here. It doesn’t feel awful. It feels good. And I don’t understand. I thought—”
Tears trap my words inside me.
Bobby’s mouth moves through my hair in light, comforting kisses. “You thought what?”
I take a moment to let myself calm.
“I always assumed that whatever happened between my mom and Alan, I made myself forget. That it had to be awful for everything to change in our life so quickly, too awful for me to remember. But my memories are good. Nothing terrible happened in this house. We were happy together here. Somehow it makes it harder, all the unanswered questions and that one day I had two parents loving me and then I didn’t.”
With his thumbs Bobby brushes at the dampness on my cheeks. “You shouldn’t be sad that your memories are good. What happened in your parents’ past has nothing to do with you. That you don’t know the unpleasant parts of their history is a clear indication how much they both love you, Kaley.”
I sniffle and nod.
He’s right; I just can’t change how it makes me feel.
I slowly breathe in and out to steady myself.
“When I was really little, I used to call Alan ‘Daddy.’ I didn’t remember that until today either. Standing here I can see us together, like watching a film. All the frames three-sixty perspective. He’d carry me, I was like three, and I’d slap his face saying, ‘Daddy. Daddy. Don’t want to leave the beach. Want to play.’ And my mom would flush and get nervous and try to take me from him, so I’d say it more and Alan would just smile and whisper in my ear, ‘No, love, we’re just good friends.’”
I bury my nose into Bobby’s chest and cry harder.
He soothingly strokes my back. “It’s OK, Kaley. Let it out. You love your dad, even though you pretend you don’t, but more importantly, you know he loves you and always has.”
I lift my stricken eyes to him. “Then why is everything so fucked up? Why won’t he admit he’s my dad?”
“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Sometimes it’s better not to know everything. Have you considered that?”
A sound makes us pull apart and turn.
“I’ve called the security company. You better get out of here fast,” says a girl from the front hall.
A young woman—college age, dressed in boy shorts and a too revealingly thin cotton tank top. Long black hair tousled like she just climbed from bed. Deep olive skin. Soulful brown eyes. Exotic. Built. Holding an aluminum bat for protection—lame, but original.
“Who are you?” I ask in a deliberately condescending way.
She tenses, stepping back and lifting her weapon higher. “I’m the housekeeper.”
I give her a rude stare from head to toe. “Housekeeper, huh? Is that what they call girls like you these days?”
Her face turns scarlet, but Bobby chides me with a stern look. And, damn, he’s right. Provoking her is not a good move, but seeing that Alan has a hottie tucked away at the beach instantly stirred my protective instincts for Mom.
“The cops are on their way,” she warns. “If either of you so much as makes one step toward me I’ll bash you on the head. Don’t think I don’t know how to use this.”
I roll my eyes—ridiculous.
Bobby moves slowly forward.
She pivots toward him.
“I’m Bobby Rowan. My dad is Len Rowan. Do you know who that is?”
She nods.
“Then put down the bat,” Bobby adds. “We didn’t take anything and we’re leaving.”
She looks unsure.
Her gaze shifts back to me.
“We didn’t mean to scare you,” I say quickly. “We thought the house was vacant. That’s why we didn’t knock and used the codes to get in. I have the entry codes. That should tell you this is OK. And if I were you, I wouldn’t tell Alan any of this. Do you think he’d be happy to know you threatened to hit me with a bat today? If you really are the housekeeper, if you really need your job, you should just let us go and not say anything.”
She studies me, nervously gnawing her lip. Then her eyes widen; ah, now she sees the resemblance. The bat lowers to the floor.
“I’m not supposed to let anyone into the house,” she mutters anxiously. “And no one told me he had a daughter.”
Fuck, even the housekeeper can see it, and I’ve known her all of a half second.
Everything in me starts to twirl.
I shrug.
“I won’t tell if you don’t tell.” And then I grab Bobby’s hand and hurry toward the door.
* * *
We’re quiet on the drive back to Pacific Palisades.
I tell myself not to, but I can’t stop it. For the last half hour I’ve done nothing but Google my dad. Just the same shit as last night and, oh, I should definitely knock it off because I can feel Bobby alertly watching me.
So stupid to be doing this. Like the housekeeper is going to get on the Internet and post something about the big drama of her morning. Nope, not if she’s going to get into trouble for us being there. She’s not going to post anything, ever.
Bobby hits the signal and turns onto the street to his house. “What do you want to do now? Knock over a 7-11? Or can we have breakfast first?”
Laughing, I lean in to him, letting my head fall on his shoulders. “Breakfast first. I’m hungry.”
His eyes grow serious. “We shouldn’t be joking around about this. What we did today wasn’t cool and I shouldn’t have taken you there. What if the cops had come? Have you thought about that? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that since we left Alan’s.”
I exhale loudly, shaking my head. “But they didn’t come. There’s no reason to get all freaked out now.”
“That nothing bad happened doesn’t mean you should keep on doing everything you think you’re justified to do. How far are you willing to take this? Until you hurt the people you love? Or until you hurt you? Do you even know what it is you want? Is it the truth? Your dad in your life? Or maybe, just maybe, deep down inside in a way you don’t want to admit, what you really want is to hurt them all the way they’ve hurt you. I’m not sure anymore and that scares me.”
What I hear in his voice turns my insides cold. Crap, he is really worried for me.
“Jeez, Bobby. A little perspective here would be nice. We went into a house. My dad’s house. It’s not like we committed armed robbery.”
He parks in his driveway and angles his body in the seat to face me. “I love you, Kaley. Don’t make me watch you take this obsession so far that you hurt everyone you love, including you.”
My cheeks grow hot. “It’s not a fucking obsession to want to know the truth about who your parents are.”
“No,” he replies unruffled. “The obsession is how you’re doing it. Cyberstalking 24/7—do you think I don’t know what you are always doing on your phone?—and it has now progressed to breaking and entering. Excuse me for being concerned and thinking maybe we should hit the pause button here.”
He opens his door and starts to climb out.
I follow him to the pool house and the silence between us is heavy and awful. He goes to the fridge and pulls out an orange juice.
“Do you want me to leave?” I ask.
He doesn’t look at me. He remains crouched there, back toward me, shaking the bottle and shaking his head. “Is that what you think or do you just say shit like that to hurt me?” he says after an excruciatingly long moment of silence.
“That’s a no-win question. It’s not fair. Neither answer is true.”
He turns and probes me with his gaze. “Then what is fair?”
“That I love you,” I whisper. “And that I’m sorry. Hurting you is the last thing that I would ever want to do.”
We square off with our eyes.
“Then don’t.”
I nod.
He takes me into his arms. “I love you, Kaley. I’m here for you. Let me be. And let me be the guy I want to be for you.”
I fan his face with my fingers and lean in until our foreheads are touching. “You already are.”
His gaze softens and the grim line of his mouth relaxes. “Remember that, Kaley. I’ll be the guy you need me to be even during the times you don’t want me to.”