My heart stills. “She did? I haven’t seen it yet. Wait, Pop, I want to open my e-mail and make sure Mom didn’t foul up and that it’s there.”
“What’s going on, Kaley?”
I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Nothing. It’s just some research I wanted that I couldn’t get online. Hold on.”
I grab my tablet, connect to the car mobile hot spot—oh please, let it work here in the middle of nowhere—and then log on to my e-mail. Relief shoots through me as it starts to load.
I scan my loading e-mails.
There it is.
I click open the attachment.
I quickly read it.
My heart stops.
“Oh God.”
“Sweetheart, are you all right?” my dad asks, suddenly sounding concerned.
“I’m OK,” I mumble as I continue to read.
Holy shit.
Right there.
Names of parents.
Their dates of birth.
Location of birth.
Even a last known address.
My heart is racing so fast I can hardly breathe. I turn off my Surface and set it aside. I wonder what Bobby is going to think of this. Maybe I should have asked him, instead of filling out the forms myself pretending to be him and submitting them to the Los Angeles Department of Social Services for his adoption file.
Too late now.
“Kaley, what’s going on?”
Fuck, I just left my dad hanging. “Nothing. Everything is good. I think we’ll be home no later than Friday. Filled with news and definitely ready to see you.”
“News, huh? What’s going on, Kaley?”
He sounds super concerned now.
Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that last part.
When did my dad get so suspicious?
My cheeks warm. “Nothing. It’s just an expression.”
A long pause. “Not buying it. You can explain when you get here. See you soon?”
“Soon, Dad. I promise.”
Click.
I set my phone back into my tote just as Bobby starts crossing the driveway toward me. I grab my camera, pop from the car and quickly snap some pictures of him.
He gives me a pained look.
I smile as I watch him open the passenger door. “That one I’m sending to Linda,” I taunt across the roof. “That picture she’ll love. You looking like a construction worker. I bet she uses it for the Christmas card.”
He leans, arms on the car, shaking his head at me. “Very funny. Why don’t we use it for our Christmas card? Our first one as Mr. and Mrs. Rowan.”
I copy his posture with my arms on top of the car. “Say that again.”
He smiles. “Which part?”
My eyes widen. “The good part.”
“Mrs. Rowan,” he says in a husky, exaggerated way.
I bite my lower lip. “I love hearing that. I wish people still called each other Mr. and Mrs. I could hear that all day and never get tired of it.”
He arches a brow. “Then why haven’t you wanted to tell our parents we got married last month?”
“Because I want to tell them in person. Especially since we got married without them.”
“Who should we tell first? My mom? Your mom? The moms together? Or all our parents together?”
I gnaw my lower lip as if trying to decide, but I already know. “My dad. I want to tell my dad first and I want to be alone with him when I tell him.”
The expression softens in his eyes, a tender look of understanding and approval. “OK. Your dad. Alone. First.”
I love that he gets that without asking me to explain.
“Thank you. My dad, then you have to tell everyone else all on your own.”
“Kaley—”
I climb into the car before he can finish and Bobby settles in the passenger seat. I turn on the ignition and head down the road.
He grabs from a cooler a chilled bottle of Gatorade, twists off the top and downs nearly half of it. He leans back against the headrest.
“God, I’m exhausted. That man was over seventy and I could barely keep up with him. We started at 8 a.m. and just finished now without a break. I don’t know how he does it.”
I laugh. “You probably do more during your nights than he does. He’s more rested in the morning.”
His lids lift and the look in his eyes sends a current through my veins. “I definitely have a hotter wife.”
I lapse into silence and debate whether I should tell him the major news I’ve been keeping from him for weeks.
I park at the motel we’ve been staying at, the only one in the gas and food stop exit near the 99 Freeway that pretends to be a town. I stare at the run-down building. Maybe I should wait. This is not a romantic, marital kind of setting, and I want this to be a perfect memory for us.
This is not perfect. The motel is clean, but that’s about all I can say for where we’re staying tonight. Yep, I should wait and not do it here.
Bobby opens his door and sighs. “I’m so tired I don’t know if I can make it to the room.”
I laugh. “You better. I don’t think I can carry you.”
He shakes his head. “Do you know that old man offered to pay me today? He got all emotional when I wouldn’t take his money.”
My brows hitch up. “Really, how much?”
Bobby grins. “Forty bucks.” He laughs. “I’m driving an Aston Martin—we really need to unload this car and get something else—and he offers to pay me because I helped him today with his roof. I hope that isn’t the way our country has become and I just don’t know it. That people don’t help people unless they’re paid to.”
“Most people aren’t as good as you, Bobby.” I slip my hand around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. I ease back enough to smile in his eyes. “I love you.”
He sort of droops into me. “I love you, too, baby. But don’t think you’re getting any tonight.”
I laugh. “Wasn’t planning on it. And I think I’ve already gotten more of you than I should.”
He frowns, lifting his head to study my face.
Shoot, why did I make that last joke?
I climb quickly from the car, hurrying toward our door, and then slip the key into the lock. Keys. A definite indication we are somewhere not pricy and stylish.
I flip on the light, enter our room, and drop my stuff on the desk.
I turn toward Bobby as he closes and bolts the door.
I lie on my side on a bed and watch him start to undress.
“There are two beds,” I say. “Since you don’t want to give me any, maybe we should each sleep in separate beds tonight. You really do look worn out. But you really do look hot when you’re a sweaty mess. I may not be able to resist myself and jump you even though you are exhausted.”
Laughing, he puts a kiss on my head. “Just let me take a shower. I might get a second wind.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not counting on it with the way you look.” I crinkle my nose. “Or the way you smell. Nope, you’re the one not getting any tonight.”
“You’ll change your tune once I’m clean,” he says in a sexy, half whispering voice.
“You are so conceited, Bobby.”
He grins. “Nope. I just know my wife.”
I keep my face carefully blank. Not as well as you think, Bobby. I wait until he’s out of view in the bathroom and I hear the water turn on before I lie back on the bed, turning my decisions over and over again inside my head. My first impulse is always to run and tell Bobby everything. It’s so freaking hard not to, to wait and try to do it at the right time, in the right way.
But Bobby is not just my husband. He’s my best friend and I want to share everything with him.
I want to tell him so badly…
I cross the room, take my Surface from my tote, sit back on the bed, and log on to my e-mail. I’ll let the e-mail decide. If the last known locations of either of his parents are a reasonable drive from where we are, I’m telling Bobby everything tonight.
I quickly search through the attachment. No last known address for his birth mother, but the dad is in Lodi, California.
Lodi? Lodi? Lodi?
Where the fuck is that?