“But she doesn’t know that,” Claire said quietly, hating to say it but needing him to remember it all the same.
“Something I think we should talk about,” he said. “But another time. Right now, we’re talking about you going to Seattle. I’ve watched you put Maya to bed, so I know her routine. I’ve got her allergies down, and you can leave me with any emergency numbers and contact info for your friends in case something happens. Which it won’t. I may be a fuck up, Claire, but I’m more responsible than a sixteen-year-old.”
“I know,” Claire said. And she meant it. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. It wasn’t that she still saw him that way, like he was someone she needed to protect herself from.
So why was she still resisting him?
“It just feels like a lot,” she said hoarsely. “And anyway, this is next weekend we’re talking about. Don’t you have to get back to Chicago?”
“I can wait.”
She looked at him. “How long are we talking about?” she asked, trying to read him. Trying to figure out what the hell was going on. But his gray eyes were clouded over, and she couldn’t tell what was brewing underneath.
“I was thinking about as long as you’ll let me.”
“Ryan,” she said.
“Claire.”
He put his arms around her. She dropped her bag at her feet. She was going to be late. She was supposed to care about being late. She was supposed to care about making sure she was ready and on time before her first client came in.
But all she could focus on was the warmth of his body, the press of his lips on hers.
“Let me watch Maya next weekend,” he whispered. “You come first. You and Maya. You’re what matters to me.”
She rested her head against his chest. She was tall, but he was taller. Even before his shoulders had filled out like this, he’d always been able to hold her in a way that made her feel like she was his.
“But you have your life in Chicago,” she said. “You have a manager who keeps bugging you to come back, meetings that are make-or-break for your career, and I know how much you want this, Ryan. I know how much you’ve been wanting this comeback. And you deserve it.” She shook her head against his chest. “I don’t want to stand in your way.”
He hooked his first two fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to him.
“You’re never in my way. You spent our whole relationship putting me first when we were together. My music, my band, my needs. And I took advantage of how selfless you are. Just because I wanted a drink didn’t mean I had to have one. Just because I felt like staying out all night didn’t mean I was entitled to do whatever I wanted.”
She tried to protest, but the words died in her mouth. He was right. She’d given, and she’d given. And then Maya came along, and she’d given to Maya, instead. Healthier, probably, but no less of a sacrifice.
“I want to put you first, Claire,” he said. “And right now, that means making sure you can get to this conference.”
Claire touched his chest. She could feel his heart strong and steady against her fingers. She’d been looking forward to the conference, and she really did need to fit in the class hours sometime this year. Why was she automatically saying no to his help? Why was she making her life so much harder than it needed to be?
“All right,” she said, quiet enough that she might still be able to take it back if the words sounded wrong to her ears.
But he was standing so close to her, their bodies pressed together in the doorway, the smell of syrup and blueberries and lazy mornings and Maya’s beloved sleepovers in the air.
So of course he heard. And he wasn’t going to let her slide back into that safe place she’d spent five years cultivating, the one where she did everything alone and never relied on anyone else to take care of her.
Which meant she never opened herself up to get hurt.
But here was Ryan, promising her he wasn’t going to hurt her again. Showing her with more than just words.
He pressed her back against the front door, still kissing her. Her head was spinning, her heart was pounding out of control, but her hands knew exactly what they were doing. She pulled off his shirt, unzipped his jeans, and let him undo in seconds all the effort she’d put into getting dressed and smoothing down her hair before showing up on time to work, like she’d been planning to do before everything about the man carrying her back to the bedroom caught her completely off guard.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Okay. So he’d just agreed to be the sole person responsible for a tiny human being for an entire twenty-four hours when he’d literally never taken care of anyone else in his life. It couldn’t be that impossible—right?
He’d meant what he’d said when he told Claire that she and Maya came first. He wanted this more than anything. But his stomach was still a snake pit of nerves when the weekend arrived.
“This is the pediatrician’s office, her doctor’s number at home, the allergist, the nearest hospital, local lines for the police and fire departments, poison control, and here’s where I keep her spare EpiPen, first aid kit, extra bandages, and the fire extinguisher.”
“Claire,” he said as she ran through the list of numbers for the third time. “I got it. It’s only one night. We’re going to be fine.”
She’d only agreed to the trip if she skipped the Friday night information session and drove down first thing Saturday morning to attend the workshops she needed to maintain her license. She’d come back midday on Sunday after back-to-back panels on business expenses that made Ryan’s head spin.
“I know,” she said, her voice spiraling up in a way that said she definitely did not think everything was okay. “I just want to make sure you know what to do in case anything happens.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” he said gently, steering her away from the laminated sheet on the refrigerator with a list of common foods most people didn’t know contained allergens. Foods Ryan didn’t need to worry about because none of them were in the house, and it wasn’t like he was planning on taking the kid to the grocery store to entertain her.
Especially since Claire had stocked up like she was leaving for a week. Fortunately, he’d noticed a bag of chocolate chips in her cabinet when he’d been rooting around for pancake ingredients, so he at least knew one thing he and Maya could tackle. He could find a recipe online. And if eating chocolate chip cookies got Maya to drink her milk, then he was being a totally responsible caregiver. Right?
“Get out of here,” he told Claire. “You’re going to be late.” He dropped his voice. “And stop worrying so much, you’ll freak Maya out.”
Claire took a deep breath. “I just don’t usually leave her overnight with other people. She’s not used to having another babysitter for this long.”
Ryan tried not to let the words sting. But they did.
“I’m not babysitting my own kid, Claire. I’m taking care of my daughter while her mom is off advancing her career. Think about how much it will mean to Maya when she’s older to know you were doing this kind of stuff. Wouldn’t you want her to go to the conference if she were in this same boat?”
Maybe it should have sounded crazy to be talking to her like that, saying the words “my daughter” and talking like they were a team doing this whole parenting thing together. But the words felt right, and he didn’t want to stop them.
“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Logic,” Claire grumbled. “Just…promise me you’ll call to check in? And if anything happens, don’t wait and try to fix it yourself. Call me or one of the numbers on the list. Sam is hard to get hold of, and Austin practically never has his phone on him, but if Mack or Connor don’t answer their cells you can try them at Mackenzie’s. Oh, and I left the number for the nature center where Abbi and Tyler work. There’s usually someone there on the weekends, so if they don’t pick up it’s—”
“Baby.” Ryan kissed her nose. “Get out of here before I strap you to the roof of the car and drive you down myself.”
Claire raised an eyebrow and leaned closer. “You’ll tie me up?” she whispered.
Ryan felt himself turning to steel under his jeans. How could she be this worried and still do this to him?
“When you get back,” he whispered, sliding his hand down to graze her ass where Maya, coloring on the coffee table, couldn’t see. “I promise.”
She kissed his cheek. “I can’t wait.”
“Bye, munchkin,” she called to Maya, who put down her crayons and came running over. “I’ll see you tomorrow, love. You’re going to stay here with Ryan. He’s in charge, but he has my number so you can call me anytime you need to, okay?”
And then they were walking Claire out to the car, waving as she backed down the driveway, and as much as Ryan had been trying to usher her out the door, not understanding why she was fretting so much, as soon as the car rounded the corner, he wished he could call her right back.
Maya looked up at him, her eyes wide, and it was really freaking different not to have someone else there—the mom, the real parent, the actual adult to figure out what to do and how to make conversation and come up with the next activity and keep everything moving along.
Ryan swallowed.
“Want to go back inside and color some more?” he asked, trying to sound upbeat and not totally freaked out.
But Maya shook her head. “No.”
“Watch cartoons?” he asked.
“No.”
“Play a game?”
“No.”
“Go for a walk?”
“No.”
“Uh, well, what do you want to do?”
Maya shrugged. “When’s Mom coming back?”
Ryan led her inside, checking his phone along the way. Three missed calls from Eddie, plus another text demanding to know where he was.
It was going to be a long day.
…
Claire watched the mountains disappear in her rearview mirror, practicing every form of deep breathing she knew. Twice she pulled into gas stations, certain she was going to turn around and head back. What was she thinking, leaving Maya with Ryan for a whole night? She should have asked her parents to postpone their trip or take Maya with them.
But she knew that even if she didn’t say a word to them about Ryan being back, Maya would spill the beans in an instant, going on about “Mom’s new friend” who’d spent the night.
That was not a can of worms she needed to spill all over the place. They’d lied to her, made her believe Ryan had never tried to find her. She understood their concern. But this was one mess she needed to clean up on her own.
She pulled out of the parking lot and kept heading south.
Maya was going to be fine—right? It wasn’t like Ryan needed constant supervision.
Then she thought about last night’s bottle of wine still sitting three-quarters of the way full on the kitchen counter and hit her palm against the steering wheel. Crap. She felt stupid for not thinking about the liquor she had in her cabinets and then guilty for feeling that way at all. Ryan had done nothing but show her he was different.
And she’d done nothing but doubt him, looking for the sign he was going to screw up again. He didn’t deserve that from her. Couldn’t she just let herself be happy?
Everything was going to be fine, she told herself as the Seattle skyline came into view. How could she trust herself to help clients relax if she couldn’t even take a few deep breaths herself?
On the morning that she’d agreed to let him stay with Maya, the morning he’d made her really late for work, he’d promised he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d said again that Chicago could wait.
He was the one with the whole crazy plan for how he could fly out to Chicago a few times a year to meet with his manager but not have to live there full-time. He was the one who’d said he didn’t have to be on tour as much as he used to. Not if he had someone sharing his life with him. Not if he had a reason to be home.
Home.
In Gold Mountain. With her.
If that was what she wanted, then trusting him with Maya for the weekend was as good a place as any to start.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ryan checked his watch. Four o’clock. He’d made it through almost the whole day, and he was still standing. Sort of.
Maya had colored, run around the park, played with dinosaurs, started a puzzle, smashed a puzzle, drawn on the couch, scolded Ryan when he used the wrong cleaner on the couch, sat in the wet spot on the couch, changed her underwear three times while Ryan stood outside the door asking if she was ready yet, eaten half a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough—probably a mistake—eaten her weight in slightly burned chocolate chip cookies—another mistake—and was now looking at him expectantly, like what were they going to do next?
He didn’t want to admit that he had no clue—besides plunk her in front of the TV for, oh, about ten thousand hours. Which may have been the worst idea ever, but at least it bought him some time to sit down and take a few breaths.
He was just closing his eyes for what he swore was half a second when his phone buzzed. He bolted awake. Eddie, probably. Or Claire, and then he’d have to pretend that he wasn’t completely exhausted and out of his depth already.
But it wasn’t either of them. Thank God. It was a Seattle number Ryan hadn’t heard from in years. He could feel that old, familiar grin creep across his face. Cam played the drums in the very first band Ryan put together after high school, before he left to form Little White Lie. He couldn’t believe how long it had been since they’d been in touch—or how grateful he was for human contact with another adult.
“Cameron Fucking Sallister,” he said, and then realized Maya had whirled on him, her eyes wide.
He covered the mouthpiece with his palm. “Don’t tell your mom I said that,” he whispered. She clapped her hands over her mouth, but she nodded. Just another thing he was going to have to work on when it came to this whole “responsible adult” routine he was working on.
“Ryan Fucking Thomas,” Cam said right back. “It’s been a while! What’s up? Where are you? What’s been going on?”
Ryan laughed. He had no idea where to begin.
Keeping up with friends hadn’t been his strong suit over the years. He’d been a little busy with that whole getting-his-life-back routine. But hearing Cam’s voice, it was as though no time had passed.
“I’m good,” he said and looked down at his tattoo. “I’m actually really, really good.”
“I heard your last album,” Cam said. “It’s gold, man. So fucking solid.”
“Thanks. It’s been doing pretty well.”
“That’s awesome. Because I’ve got some ideas, and I’m hoping we can discuss in person. I heard a rumor you’re nearby. Gold Mountain? I’m actually heading your way as we speak—I’m meeting some buddies of mine right near there if you’re around.”
“For a little bit,” Ryan said, thinking Cam raised a good point. How long was he planning on being around, exactly?
Then he saw Maya fidget in front of the TV, and reality hit. “But I can’t tonight,” he said.
“You’re killing me. Why not?”
“Remember Claire?”
“Shit.” Cam laughed. “You guys still together?”
He paused. He had no idea how to answer that question, so he sidestepped it altogether. “I’m watching her daughter. She’s away for the weekend, so I can’t really go anywhere.”
That “her daughter” stuck in his throat, but it was better than getting into every sordid detail.
“If you’re still around Sunday night, I’ll hit you up,” he added.
“Shit. We only have the guys there tonight. I’ve gotta get on the road tomorrow. We’re heading up to Vancouver, starting a Canadian tour. I was really hoping we could talk.” Cam paused. “Can you bring the kid? Just for a little bit? I’ll teach her to bang out some riffs on the drums.” He laughed.
Ryan looked at Maya. Could he?
He knew
Cam’s band had just won a bunch of awards. He’d seen it in Rolling Stone. And while he was happy for his friend…the truth was that it kind of sucked, too. He’d flamed out so spectacularly in his own career, while the guys he used to play with, the ones who didn’t practice as hard or take the risks or go to New York when the chance hit, had finally found their stride.
Of course he wished more people had still been around when he was on the bottom, instead of calling only now that he was climbing back up. But Cam was reaching out now, showing him a way back into a music world he’d left behind. Did he really want to still be left behind?
By now Maya’s eyeballs were practically fused to the screen. He couldn’t let her stay like that for the rest of the night. Claire would come home tomorrow asking what they did the whole time, and Maya would still be drooling, eyes vacant, snapping to attention only to beg for products from every single commercial now permanently seared into her brain.
At least seeing Cam and his band would give them something else to do.
“Tell me where to meet you,” he said, hoping he was making the right call. “We’ll be there soon.”
Cam named a bar Ryan had never heard of. That made him pause. He almost suggested the guys come over to Claire’s place instead, but that was the dumbest idea he’d ever had. They’d track their muddy boots through her house and leave empties around so she’d think he had some kind of party while she was away.
No. It was better to go somewhere else.
A café? Some place better for Maya…and better for him?
But Cam was meeting other friends. Ryan couldn’t ask everyone to change their plans just for him. And if Cam wanted to talk about new opportunities, he sure as hell didn’t want to come across like more trouble than he was worth.
It wasn’t late yet. As long as he got Maya home before bedtime, what was the harm?
“Hey, Sprout,” he called. “Want to go meet some really cool guys who play the drums?”
He played out a riff on the coffee table. Maya had no idea that he sucked at the drums. He could still do a few things, and the trick piqued her interest.
Make Me Yours (Men of Gold Mountain) Page 14
