Zoe looks around the house with her nose slightly lifted in the air. “Something smells good.”
“Lourdes must be cooking. Are you hungry?”
Zoe nods enthusiastically. “That popcorn didn’t do it. I could definitely eat.”
We go into the kitchen to find Lourdes hard at work.
“Hi, Lourdes. How long until dinner is ready?”
She arches a brow. “Ethan has already eaten. I did not know you would be here for dinner. You will have to wait. I’m busy now.”
I peek into the oven. “Wait? Why? There’s braciole.”
“That is not for you, mi niña. You want braciole you tell me you will be here. I am not a restaurant. That is for Mrs. Harris and Señor Alan. A special dinner for them. You wait until I’m done. Then you can cook yourself a grilled cheese.”
I give her the wide puppy-dog eyes. “But it smells so good. And braciole is my favorite.”
Well, that worked brilliantly.
She doesn’t even look at me. She stares intently at the tablet beside her, chopping vegetables somehow without chopping herself.
Her eyes shift to me briefly. “It is Señor Alan’s favorite, too. That is why I make it. For him. Not you.”
Zoe chokes back a laugh, but my cheeks burn. Fuck. I’ve only been gone five hours. Everything feels totally out of whack again.
I sink down heavily on a barstool. “Where is Alan, anyway?”
She points with her chin. “He is in there.”
Zoe’s eyes glow impishly as she leans in to me. “He’s in the cabinet? Way to go, Chrissie. She’s got him hog-tied now.”
We both laugh.
Lourdes rebukes us with her eyes. “Señor Alan is in the nursery. He has been there all evening with Khloe. I have been watching. It is why I am cooking him braciole tonight. A man who does not love his children is not a real man. Even if they are as cute as Señor Bobby, you should not sleep with them unless you are positive he will love his children. Remember that, chica. Much happens in a woman’s life beyond her control. But a real man always loves his children.”
My entire body is on fire.
Oh fuck.
Does everyone know my personal stuff that I’m sleeping with Bobby?
Did they have a group meeting without me?
“Let’s bail, Zoe. We can eat out.”
I turn and her attention is glued to the tablet. She’s all mushy and emotional. She looks at Lourdes. “I’d make him braciole, too. That’s got to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen a guy do.”
Lourdes smiles. “Is he still sitting with her, crying?”
Zoe nods.
Crying?
I rip the iPad away from her.
Oh God.
Alan is sitting there on the bench with Khloe, cuddling her against his chest and crying.
I can’t breathe.
It feels like there is a knife stuck in my stomach.
My insides are roiling again.
I can forgive Zoe—she’s not thoughtless, only a ditz—but Lourdes? How could she say those things with me in the room?
“A man who doesn’t shed tears over his children will never be a good father,” Lourdes tells Zoe. “Señor Alan will be a very good father. I am not worried any longer.”
It’s like there is a pillow on my face, darkening the world and suffocating me. Without a word to either of them, I run from the kitchen. I’m in the foyer when the tears let go.
“Kaley,” I hear Zoe call from behind me.
I stop my forward motion, but I can’t stop everything rumbling through me.
Why do they lie about me and not her? Why does Alan love Khloe and not me? I’m ashamed of what I’m feeling because in this moment I truly hate her, and it’s not her fault. She’s just a baby. But why her and not me?
I’m walking in circles, shaking my hands, trying to calm the sudden rush of too much inside me. It’s a shock like seeing a horrific traffic accident. Only it’s not an ugly thing. It was beautiful, it was loving, it was right, and I hate everyone for it.
Zoe clutches my shoulders and whirls me around. “Oh, Kaley, I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“It’s not your fault,” I whisper, gasping with every breath. “But I can’t take it anymore. I can’t. This shit stops tonight. It feels like it’s killing me.”
Zoe’s eyes are enormous on her face. “What are you going to do?”
I reach for my keys on the console table, see Alan’s, and take those instead. It’s time to get him someplace away from Chrissie and have it out finally. He won’t chase after me. Not this daughter. But I’m pretty fucking sure he’ll chase after his car.
CHAPTER 19
Bang. Bang. Thud.
“Zoe Kennedy, what is the matter with you?” a voice bellows, shattering the airwaves as something hits the wall.
I jerk awake to find Mr. Kennedy standing in the open doorway, messy as if he’s just climbed from bed, wearing boxers, a t-shirt and an open robe.
Oh crap, he’s frantic.
Alan must be here.
Zoe pulls slowly from sleep, rolls over and grabs her phone from the bedside table. “Jeez, Dad, it’s 7:30 a.m.”
Ian looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his head.
He crosses to the room and sinks down on Zoe’s bed. “Really, that’s what you’re worried about? How early it is? You weren’t joking last night. You stole a Bugatti Veyron Super Sport. It’s parked in my driveway. A $2.4 million car. Have you lost your mind, girl?”
Zoe flips over toward me, eyes enormous and fixed on my face. “Kaley! We stole a $2.4 million car! I knew it was a bad idea.”
Oh fuck.
Don’t fold on me now, Zoe.
I struggle to remain calm because there is entirely too much anxiety in the room, I don’t want to get swept away in their panic and lose my nerve, and Alan’s here and it’s time to get this over with finally.
I push the hair back from my face. “Well, how was I supposed to know it was worth that much? It’s foreign.”
Ian shakes his head. “I’m not even going to ask why you girls stole Alan’s Manzone’s car last night. Get up. Get dressed. Get moving. He is in my kitchen, pissed off and demanding to speak with you, Kaley.”
An internal prick of distress; I ignore it.
My lips pucker anyway. “See, I told you he’d follow his car.”
Zoe’s eyes somehow grow larger. “You’re not going to do it, are you? I thought you were just letting off steam. I didn’t think you’d really go through with it.”
I arch a brow. “Well, you thought wrong. Of course I’m doing it. It would be stupid to come this far and not finish.”
“Do what?” Ian’s face snaps up anxiously.
“Jeez, Dad, do you have to know everything?” Zoe makes an aggravated growl and stares at her father. “Can you get out of here so we can get dressed?”
Ian springs to his feet. “I’ll wait in the hallway, but you girls better not take long. I want you in that kitchen apologizing to him in five minutes. And before you argue with me, Zoe, he can call the cops for what you did. So unless jail is what you two girls are into, you better start moving fast.”
The door closes behind him and Zoe’s panic kicks up ten notches. “Jail. I don’t want to go jail,” she wails as she pulls on a pair of sweats.
I roll my eyes. “We’re not going to jail. Alan won’t even get mad at me. Denial may be a terminal addiction for my dad, but instinct won’t ever let him do something that would hurt me. He never has and he never will. And he can’t send you to jail without me. I stole the car.”
“My dad made it sound to me like Alan was pretty mad.”
Once I’ve put on my clothes, I run my fingers through my hair, and then do a fast check in the mirror. “He won’t even yell. I promise. Try not to freak out, Zoe, and don’t say anything. Let me do all the talking. It’s all good.”
“Good? It’s a freaking nightmare.”
I let out a frustrated sigh and we race for the door.
I follow Ian into the kitchen, and Zoe hangs behind me ten steps like she’s going to cut out or something.
I falter for a moment in the doorway. Yep, there’s Alan, in the clothes he wore yesterday, standing at the kitchen island sipping coffee. The only unexpected part of this scene is the hour. 7:30 a.m. Didn’t see that one coming.