I’m here now, and I’m sure as hell not lurking in the hallway. Flowers. I scan the area for anywhere obvious to purchase something. Poor planning. Again. Except I now realize I have no idea who I’d be giving them to.
I rap my knuckles on the door and walk in without waiting for a response. Nikki turns toward me, and her gasp of surprise is audible. That’s the kind of reaction I wanted from Ellie last night. At least I’m capable of surprising someone.
“Wyatt.” She rounds the hospital bed with a pointed glare at Ellie. Both Nikki and Ellie are a combination of their parents’ physical traits. Nikki got their father’s darker, wavier hair coupled with their mother’s blue eyes. Whereas Ellie got the brown eyes and hair that, whether through highlights or the sun, is streaked with blond.
If Nikki is greeting me, then who is in the bed? The room is large but sterile and without personality in the way most hospital rooms are, and as I stride forward, more of the sleeping figure becomes visible. Ellie turns, and her complexion is pale, stunned.
In the bed is a young girl who is maybe eight. She’s flushed and unconscious. Ellie tries to block my view of her with her body. The child’s identity is obvious. Why is she hiding her?
“This your little girl, Nikki?” I approach the hospital bed.
“Wyatt.” Nikki’s focus zips from me to her daughter. “What are you doing here?”
“Why didn’t you tell me it was Nikki’s daughter who was sick? I thought it was Nikki.” With her eyes closed, she resembles her grandmother. Evelyn as an eight-year-old. Strong gene pool.
“What are you doing here?” Nikki brushes shoulders with Ellie, helping her block my view of the bed.
“What’s your daughter’s name?” I ask.
“Haven. Haven’s her name.” Ellie is flushed.
She doesn’t seem angry, which is surprising. The emotion stretching across her face isn’t one I can place. I thought I recognized all Ellie’s expressions, but this is new.
“It’s funny how much she looks like your mother.” Her sharp intake of breath draws my attention. “You don’t see it? First thing I noticed.”
“No, I . . .” Ellie stutters and trails off.
“How do you know about Haven?” Nikki cocks her head to the side.
She’s not happy to see me. If I’d had to bet on a family member liking me, it would have been Nikki. But then I spent years confident Nikki and Evelyn were the ones who’d convinced Ellie my lifestyle was no longer acceptable. I second-guessed myself, but her tense posture now makes me wonder if I was right.
Since I got sober, I’ve been using TMZ as my own personal version of Facebook to keep track of my ex-girlfriend and her family. Ellie is rarely spotted anywhere off Bermuda. My fixation is weird and unhealthy. Camila told me as much.
“Uh, I think I saw Haven in a few set photos or out with you and Ellie? Maybe? I’m not sure.” I toy with the brim of my hat to disguise my lie. “The website said she was yours, Nikki.” The pictures I saw were taken through a long, grainy lens, showing Haven coming in or out of a trailer holding hands with Nikki or Ellie. I couldn’t quite recall . . .
“Right.” Nikki shoots Ellie a glance loaded with a meaning I can’t grasp. “That makes sense.”
They’re both being so stilted and strange. Is Haven sicker than they thought? Or maybe they think I’m a stalker with my comments about Nikki’s daughter. Whatever it is, I’m not going to figure it out, so I focus on Ellie.
“Look, I’m sorry I came. You asked me not to. But if you’re only giving me one day, I don’t want to let it slip through my fingers.”
Haven stirs in the bed and opens her eyes. They are a brilliant blue, a shade or two lighter than her grandmother’s. Haven sees me, and her eyes go round. She looks to Ellie first and then to Nikki.
Ellie is mute and if it’s possible, she’s gotten paler. She fiddles with the sheet and takes Haven’s hand in hers.
Well, if no one else is going to speak, I’ll break the ice. “I’m Wyatt.”
“I know who you are.” Her eyes are glassy with fever, and her skin is as white as the sheets covering her slight frame.
Nikki looks as though she might throw up, and she says to Ellie, “Why don’t you and Wyatt go get a coffee, and I’ll stay with Haven?”
Ellie gives Haven’s hand a squeeze before reluctantly letting go. “I’ll return soon.” She smooths Haven’s hair and kisses her forehead, lingering for a beat.
“Is he coming back?” Haven stares at me.
“I don’t know.” Ellie holds up a thin blanket from the bottom of Haven’s bed, but Haven shakes her head. The air-conditioning has made it cool in the room.
“If you want me to, I will,” I say. She appears so tiny lying there in the bed, and something in my chest constricts. She’s hooked up to an IV, and there’s a machine that beeps periodically. Haven’s vulnerability tugs at my protective instincts. Tell me what to slay, kid, and I’ll do it.
She nods, and the worry vanishes.
“Okay, we’ll see what we can round up for you while we’re gone. Ice cream?” I ask. Her face lights up. “Is it okay, Nikki? If we can find some?”
“I’m not sure you should be in the room. Family only.” Nikki shifts in her chair and takes Haven’s hand.
“I’ll buy the ice cream,” Ellie says.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Ellie? Maybe we should check with her doctor to ask if ice cream is appropriate.”
“All right.” I purse my lips, trying to figure out how to defuse the tension. “No ice cream. How about a teddy bear or a balloon? There’ll be a gift shop somewhere.”
Nikki and Ellie are locked in a silent battle I don’t understand. Siblings. My younger sister and I have gotten into lots of battles of will. Anna’s stubbornness drives me nuts, but I don’t remember Nikki being quite so resistant to Ellie before. Maybe it’s the stress of the situation.
“A balloon,” Haven says from the bed. “I want him to come back. I want to talk.” She glances from Ellie to Nikki and lands on Ellie.
Ellie doesn’t say anything but leads me into the hall. Her behavior is odd. The tension between her and Nikki as we leave the room is unreal—worse than anything I’ve ever had with my sister, and that’s saying something.
Once we’re outside the door, I decide to tackle the situation head-on. “Are you okay, Ellie? Will Haven be okay?”
“She’s—” She breaks off, and her voice catches. “It’s a virus. Sometimes kids catch something that flares up and fades away. They’re keeping her overnight to make sure it’s not more serious. Her fever is very high, and her energy level is low.”
We start down the hallway together. Having her niece so ill has thrown her. It would do the same to me. I understand that kind of responsibility because my nephew, Jamal, lives with me. But I’m surprised she’s not worried about people seeing us together. We reach the end of the hallway and rather than taking us to the gift shop, Ellie stares out the large window with a view across narrow streets, palm trees, and brightly colored houses. It’s a view I would normally find relaxing and peaceful, but Ellie is brimming with anxiety and sadness.
I give her space, watching her grapple with Haven’s sickness. Then I approach her from behind, not touching her, but close enough she probably senses me, the same way I always sensed her. Seeing Nikki’s child in the hospital bed did strange things to my insides too.
“She looks so much like your mom, and so there’s this resemblance to you. A reminder of what my life could have been if I had made a different choice. Made me a little sad.”
“Wyatt,” Ellie says. “Please don’t. Don’t.” Her breath hitches on a sob.
I turn her in my arms and hold her close. The number of times Ellie cried when we were together can be counted on one hand.
“She’s going to be okay, right?” I rub her back in slow circles as she clutches me. I draw her closer, fitting us together. She rises on her toes an
d throws her arms around my neck, and I lean down to let her bury her face under my ear. I close my eyes while the scent of vanilla and flowers surrounds me. The emptiness that’s plagued me isn’t quite so vast with her pressed against me. We still match perfectly, like two puzzle pieces. “Ellie?” I don’t want to break whatever spell has let her lean on me for support. “Are you okay?”
She nods, easing away and wiping her cheeks. “Sorry. It’s just . . . the last couple of days—you, Haven, it’s a lot.”
“My reappearance came out of nowhere for you. But I’ve been trying to find my way back for years.”
She shakes her head and can’t quite look at me. “I find that hard to believe,” she says, bitterness tingeing her voice. “I read TMZ too.”
There’s no defense for anything she read or saw. She left such a massive void, and I tried to fill it with more drugs, relationships, even death. Nothing worked.
“Ellie.” I reach for her again.
She backs away and raises a hand to ward me off. “No, Wyatt. Just—no.” She turns on her heel and yanks open the door to the stairs. “Let’s get the damn balloon you promised Haven.”
Chapter Nine
Ellie
Present Day
I wait for the explosion. Tick, tick, tick. The time bomb of my life is about to detonate.
Haven eats the ice cream I bought and chats to Wyatt like they’ve been friends for years. The balloon he got her is tied loosely to her wrist. Wyatt hasn’t asked her how old she is. Usually it seems to be the first or second question people ask. She’s petite and looks younger than she is. Maybe he thinks he knows. Nikki’s daughter. We didn’t even have to say anything.
His baseball cap is turned backward. His posture, his mannerisms, and the jokes he tells remind me of when we met. He’s so light and carefree with Haven. This moment is everything I’ve ever dreamed of having but haven’t let myself hope for. Sober Wyatt. Here. It’s mind-boggling.
She’s asked him about movies, and actors and actresses he’s worked with. A few questions about me too. She stumbled over calling me Ellie, but she’s used my name enough in public that I’m not sure Wyatt noticed. Why would he question it? To him, she’s Nikki’s.
Before answering Haven’s questions about us, he glanced at me, and my heart shattered. The love in his eyes took my breath away. It’s been ten years, and he still looks at me like I’m the only woman in the room.
Of course, love was never the problem.
While he stared at me, he said, “Ellie is the best woman I’ve ever known. You’re lucky you get to spend time with her.”
The truth is so much more complicated, for all of us.
There’s a tightness across my chest at the sight of them together. He’s patient and kind with her. Bittersweet has a new meaning.
When it starts to get late and the room shades over, one of the nurses pokes her head in. “You both staying here tonight?” She eyes Wyatt, another question on her lips.
“Ellie and I will be staying.” Nikki jumps in before any other assumptions can be made.
The nurse nods. “I’ll get a cot wheeled in here.”
Wyatt sighs and stands. He grins at Haven. “I should probably get to my hotel. If you’re still here tomorrow, would you like me to stop by?”
An objection rises to the tip of my tongue, and I hold it in. I can’t deny either of them their time.
“Yes!” Haven says. “Even if I’m home, you can come over.” She turns her bright eyes and flushed face to me for approval.
Nikki intervenes before Haven gets carried away. “We’ll see what tomorrow brings, Haven.”
“Spoken like a true mother.” He stares at me, as though he’s memorizing me for later. “Can I have a quick chat with you in the hall before I take off?”
“Sure,” I say.
“Ellie.” There’s a hint of warning in Nikki’s voice.
“It’s fine.” There’s nothing Wyatt can say in the hall that’ll change my life. I have Haven and a career I love. He’s ten years too late to wheedle himself back in.
I follow him out of the room with my hands in the pockets of my shorts. When we’re alone, I lift my eyebrows in silent question.
“Dinner tomorrow? If Haven is better?” Wyatt leans his shoulder against the wall in the hallway.
“Wyatt.” Impatience seeps into my voice. “I already told you I can’t.”
“Sounds like won’t.” He scans my face, seeking something I don’t want him to recognize. “Look,” Wyatt says. “You can either agree to eat dinner with me or I can track you down. I’ve done it before.”
I shake my head, more from embarrassment than annoyance. Charm seeps out of him. Part of me is dying to react to the memories he’s stirred to the surface. We did have some good moments.
He crashed my date after we finished filming Love Letters from Spain. The memory of that night is vivid, visceral. Without a doubt, it’s the moment he swept me off my feet. He disappeared overseas to do another project. I thought we were only a set romance, so I agreed to a date with a friend of a massage client. Somehow, Wyatt found out where we were eating. He turned up, pulled up a third chair to our two-person table, and ordered a meal.
The guy I was with, I don’t even remember his name now, took the intrusion well. Wyatt was Wyatt, after all—enthralling when it suited him. He charmed the pants off my date, and he charmed me out of mine later. When our movie blew up, my date had a great story for parties—his dinner with Wyatt Burgess.
“Dinner,” I agree against my better judgment. Maybe I owe him this chance. “But it has to be at my house, and you have to cook.”
“You still don’t cook?” The corners of his mouth quirk up.
“I can cook,” I say. “But I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to cook like you.”
He rubs his hands together. “This is gonna be good, Ellie. I can sense it. The salmon?”
I close my eyes and almost moan. I snap them back open. Shit. Why does he keep bringing up these freaking fantastic memories? His salmon dish used to be like sex on a cedar plank.
His grin chips away at the ice around my heart. Crying in his arms earlier might have made the chipping a little easier. My senses flood with the memory of having him so close, and my eyelashes flutter.
“What time should I come over?”
“You cannot go grocery shopping.” I twist the ring on my middle finger. Give an inch, and he takes a mile. “Where’s your phone?”
He fishes it out of his pocket and unlocks it before passing it to me.
I click on his contacts, and I pause for a minute to question my sanity. This is for Haven. I plug my burner number into his phone. Agreeing to spend time together is wrong and right. My mind is in turmoil over the door I’m cracking open.
He’s triumphant when I return his phone.
“Text me what you need. I’ll buy it and come pick you up. Five o’clock?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“This is conditional on Haven being out of the hospital.”
“I know, Ellie. You’re a good aunt.”
I can’t make eye contact when I give him a curt nod. A good aunt.
He steps closer to me and places his hands on either side of my waist. He kisses my cheek, and I breathe him in. Can’t help myself. He’s here.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turns his baseball cap around and slips his sunglasses onto his face before heading for the stairs.
“Wyatt!” I call after him. “How are you getting back?”
“Calshae said the hotel can send a car,” Wyatt says. “Go be with your family.” He disappears down the stairs with a final wave.
On the threshold of Haven’s room, I pause. Her storm of questions awaits me. Taking a deep breath, I enter.
Haven’s raised her bed to an upright position, and as soon as she sees me, she says, “Is he gone?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Mom, you
have to tell him,” Haven says. “He’s so nice. And he’s my dad. He should know he’s my dad. He came, right?”
“Haven, honey. We’ve talked about this before.” My heart squeezes at the joy and confusion on her face. I sigh and drag my chair close to the side of her bed.
“I know.” Haven releases a heavy sigh. But the defeat doesn’t last long. Her resolve roars back. “I want to know him. I’m old enough to get a choice.” She reminds me so much of Wyatt—impulsive and bullheaded. Scares me to think where it could lead.
“You’re nine. You’re not twenty-nine,” I say.
“If he comes tomorrow, I could tell him. Or I could slip and call you Mom in front of him.”
Her attitude is partly the fever. I told her if Wyatt ever came looking, and he wasn’t sick anymore, we’d tell him about her. We only recently started discussing the realities of her father’s sickness. Wyatt is right about YouTube. Wonderful and horrible when your daughter is curious about her famous father.
“I’ll consider it. He’s here for the week. If you want to spend time with him, you can. But whether we’re going to reveal you’re his daughter . . . As long as you’re living under my roof, it’s my choice.”
Haven huffs out a breath and stares at Nikki. “I spend a lot of time under your roof too. Can I tell him at your house instead?”
Shit. Her teenage years will be fun.
“Speaking of which,” I say, and I glance at Nikki, “I might need a favor.”
“What’d Wyatt get you to agree to outside in the hall?” Nikki’s eyes narrow.
“Dinner tomorrow night.”
“I’m coming!” Haven says.
“No, Haven,” Nikki says. She gives me a pointed look across the bed. “If you want your mother to tell Wyatt he’s your dad, then she needs to be sure he’ll be good for you.”
I nod, as though that’s what I would have said. Our daughter as a buffer, a reminder, might be nice. Whether or not Haven could go a whole night without calling me Mom is questionable. Whenever she visits movie sets with Nikki, she calls us both Mom. People have assumed it’s a cute affectation. Bermudian citizens have protected our privacy from any prying eyes, and Nikki jumped in to help me with Haven the minute I faltered and has been by my side ever since.
When Stars Fall Page 6
