Wait For Me

by K. L. Grayson

  “Do you want to come swing with us?” I ask him.

  He shakes his head and watches his sister. “That’s high enough, Emma. If you fall, you’re gonna get hurt.”

  “I won’t let her fall,” I answer.

  “Come on, Jack! Come swing wif me!”

  But even Emma can’t coax him out of his shell.

  “I’ve got an idea. How about we play hide and seek?” I suggest.

  “Yeah!” Emma drags her toes on the ground until her swing comes to a stop. She hops off and waits for me to unbuckle Henry and then runs toward Jack. “You gonna pway wif us?”

  “I guess.” He throws down the stick he was holding. “Go hide, Emma, and I’ll come find you.”

  “How about you both go hide, and Henry and I will be the finders?”

  “Really?” Jack says, cocking his head at me. “But I’m always the seeker because Emma doesn’t like to do it.”

  “Yes, really. I love being the seeker, which means you two get to hide. But you have to promise you’ll stay within your dad’s yard.”

  “Okay.” For the first time today, Jack smiles.

  It’s not the same smile as Grayson and Duke have, which makes me wonder what his mother looks like. And if she’s still around.

  Jessa told me Lorelei had gotten into drugs, but she never said another word about it. Jack must favor her, since he looks nothing like his dad, and she must be gorgeous, because Jack is a handsome little devil.

  “You’ve got twenty seconds.” I squat down next to Henry. “Cover your eyes,” I say, laughing when he slaps a hand over this face. His eyes aren’t covered, but he looks adorable.

  “Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen.” I cover my eyes, take Henry’s hand, and count down. When I get to one, I lower my hand. “Ready or not, here we come!”

  Hours later, the kids are still wired and ready to go, and I can barely stand. My feet hurt from running around with them, my arms are sore from picking up Henry, and my face aches from laughing.

  I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun or been this exhausted. My concerts don’t wear me out the way these kids do.

  “All right, everybody in the house. I have to use the bathroom, and we’re gonna take a break.”

  I follow Jack and Emma to the front door of the sprawling brick home. It reminds me a lot of Nick and Jessa’s house, only bigger. I suppose Grayson needs the extra room with three kids.

  Once inside, Jack and Emma go straight for the couch and flip on the TV.

  “Jack, can you keep an eye on Henry for me while I use the bathroom?”

  “Sure,” he says, sliding off the couch onto the floor. He pats the spot beside him and Henry toddles over and plops down next to his big brother.

  The bathroom isn’t hard to find, and when I push the door open, I gasp. It’s huge—although most bathrooms are, compared to the one on my tour bus. But this bathroom looks straight out of a magazine. The tiled, stand-up shower has one of those fancy rain shower heads hanging from the ceiling, and I make a mental note to have one installed in the bathroom at my house. Even though it’ll probably never get used, at least it’ll be there if I want it. Next to the shower is the biggest bathtub I’ve ever seen. It could easily fit three adults.

  Toys, bubble bath, and baby shampoo line the edge of the tub. All it needs is a few candles and a plush bath pillow, and it would be the perfect sanctuary. What I wouldn’t give to turn down the lights and climb into a hot bubble bath right about now. I can’t remember the last time I took a bath. It’s been over a decade, if I had to guess.

  Would it be weird if I offered to pay Grayson to let me take a bath in his bathtub? In my head it sounds reasonable, but he’d probably think I was crazy.

  “I fought you got lost,” Emma says from the doorway.

  “No, sweetie. I was just admiring your bathtub. It’s huge.”

  Emma smiles and scoops up a Barbie from the ledge of the tub. “I wove taking bubble bafs. Do you?”

  “I do, although it’s been a long time since I’ve taken one.” I stare longingly at the tub, take a breath, and shuffle Emma out of the bathroom. “I’ll be right out.”

  By the time I finish using the restroom, wash my hands, and step into the hall, Emma is gone. I find her in the living room on the floor, playing with the Barbie she grabbed. Henry is asleep with his head on Jack’s lap while Jack laughs at some silly show on the TV.

  “Is anyone hungry?” I ask.

  Jack and Emma nod, and I escape to the kitchen to see what I can make. I open the fridge, shocked to find it almost empty. I don’t know much about raising kids, but I think having lots of food is a must. Grayson must’ve missed that memo.

  I open an old pizza box and cringe when I look inside. No way am I reheating this. I toss it in the trash, along with something else that looks way too jiggly to eat.

  “Damn, Grayson, it’s time to go shopping,” I mutter to myself as I pull open the freezer. Bingo! Frozen chicken and a bag of frozen veggies. Now this I can work with.

  I think.

  I rarely cook for myself, but I’ve watched enough cooking shows to know it can’t be that hard. I defrost the chicken breasts, toss on some seasoning, put them in a dish with the veggies, and pop my creation into the oven. And then I give myself a pat on the back.

  If Bo could see me now.

  The kids are quiet and playing amongst themselves, so I take a minute to relax, but as soon as I sit down, my cell rings.

  “Hey, Nicky, how’s your day going?” I say, answering the phone.

  “I really wish you’d stop calling me that.”

  “Sorry, brother, no can do. What’s up?”

  “Nothing, I was just checking in to see if you’re still alive.”

  “You mean you’re wanting to make sure your precious truck is still in one piece?”

  “That too.”

  I laugh. “Don’t worry, your love machine is fully intact. And I made it out to Grayson’s and dropped off Emma’s doll.”

  “Thanks. Did you talk to Gray?”

  “Not much. He was busy working. In fact, I’m still here.”

  “You’re still at Gray’s?”

  “Yep.” I smile when Jack laughs at something on the TV.

  “Why?” The tone of Nick’s voice catches my attention. He doesn’t sound upset, just surprised.

  “Angela’s husband had a stroke last night, and he needed help with his kids, so I offered to stay.”

  “Ed had a stroke?” Nick blows out a breath. “I hate to hear that. He’s so active and still so young.”

  “It’s awful.”

  “I’ll reach out to Angela and let her know if she needs anything, I’m here. It’s nice of you to help Gray with the kids. He doesn’t really have anyone he can call on in such short notice.”

  “I don’t know about that. His brother was here when I got here.”

  “Duke?”

  “Yep.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm, what? Why are you hmm-ing?”

  “It’s just that Duke is…wild. He’s always been a little unreliable. I’m surprised to hear he was there.”

  That isn’t the impression I got. “Maybe he’s changed.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Miss Nowa?” Emma says, tugging the bottom of my shirt.

  “Yes, sugarplum?”

  “Do you know howda bwaid?”

  “I do. Would you like me to do your hair?” She nods. “Okay. You go grab a brush and two ponytail holders, and I’ll meet you in the living room. Deal?”

  “Deal!” She scurries off.

  “Nicky, I’m gonna have to let you go. Emma wants me to braid her hair, and I need to keep an eye on dinner.”

  Nick barks out a laugh. “You’re cooking?”

  “Yes, I’m cooking,” I admonish. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  Had anyone told me a few months ago that I’d be making dinner for three kids and looking forward to their dad coming home, I’d have laug
hed in their face. And yet, here I am—putting together a meal and glancing out the front window every few minutes for signs of Grayson.

  “Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?”

  “Ha. Ha. Funny.”

  “Take a picture of the food or it didn’t happen.”

  “I am not taking a picture.”

  “You ordered takeout, didn’t you?”

  My jaw drops. I can’t believe he doesn’t believe me. “No, I didn’t order takeout.”

  “Picture.” Nick hangs up.

  I open the oven, take a picture, and send it to him.

  Now do you believe me?

  He replies right away.

  That actually looks really good.

  I smile smugly and turn around to find Emma clutching a brush in one hand and ponytail holders in the other.

  “Come on, princess, let’s go do your hair.”

  We sit on the couch, and I part her hair down the middle, securing one side so it doesn’t get in my way.

  “My mommy used to bwaid my hair,” Emma says as I start working on the right side.

  “She did?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How do you know?” Jack snarls from his spot on the floor. “You don’t even remember her.”

  “Do too!” Emma shouts, waking Henry.

  He pushes himself into a sitting position and looks around the room with sleepy eyes.

  “Do not! You were too young to remember that.”

  Emma’s bottom lip wobbles. Her big eyes look up at me.

  Crap.

  I reach for Emma as she bursts into tears and pull her against me, braid be damned.

  “I wemember,” she cries against my chest.

  “No, you don’t.” Jack stands up and stomps down the hall. A second later a door slams, and we all flinch.

  Henry crawls toward us and wraps his arms around his sister. I push my fingers into his hair and smile down at him.

  “Fank you, Henwy.” Emma wiggles an arm free and wraps it around him. “Henwy doesn’t wemember, but I do. I wemember her.”

  “I believe you, Emma.”

  Once the tears have stopped and Emma is feeling better, I stand up. “I’m going to check on Jack. I’ll be right back.”

  It isn’t hard to figure out which room is his, considering his name is on the outside of his door. I knock once and try the knob, but the door is locked.

  “Jack?”

  “What?” he growls.

  “Do you want to talk?”

  “No.”

  He seems so angry, and I feel helpless. I don’t know how to get through to him, or if I should even try. I’m no one to this kid. Why would he want to open up to me?

  “Okay, well, I’m here if you want to talk about what happened, or if you’d like to talk about your mom or anything else. I’m just…I’m here.”

  Silence.

  “Jack?”

  “Go away!”

  “I can’t. I’m worried about you. Do you want me to go get your dad?”

  “No.” There’s a soft click and then the door creaks open just enough for me to see Jack’s red, puffy eyes. “Please don’t get my dad. He’s already mad at me, and he doesn’t like to talk about Mom.”

  “Okay, but—” The door slams in my face.

  Shit. This kid thing is hard. Maybe Grayson has a manual somewhere on how to handle these types of situations.

  “Jack, you can’t slam the door in my face. It’s not nice.”

  Silence.

  I blow out a breath and try a different tactic. “I’m sorry about your mom. I didn’t know her, and I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry she isn’t here. I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you. I’ve never lost a parent, but I understand what it’s like to feel lonely.”

  Still nothing. Who would’ve thought communicating with a moody child would be harder than entertaining a crowd of fifty-thousand people?

  I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the door. “Do you want me to go? I just…I don’t know what to do.”

  More silence.

  “Knock twice if you want me to stay here, Jack. I can keep talking.”

  Knock.

  Pause.

  Knock.

  I take a breath. “Okay. That’s good. We’re getting somewhere.” I press my hand against the door. “I won’t pretend to understand what it’s like for you to be without your mom. It must suck. I had my mom up until the age of ten.”

  I close my eyes and remember how good life was—the weekend trips our family used to take to the lake, game and movie nights, playing whiffle ball in the backyard.

  “What happened when you were ten?” he asks softly through the door.

  My eyes pop open. “That’s when my life changed. I went off to Hollywood, got my own TV show, and nothing was ever the same.”

  The door cracks open enough for me to see a sliver of his face. “Did your mom leave you?”

  I shake my head. “Not at first. She was with me every day for the first year.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “She went home.”

  “And she didn’t take you with her?” he asks. I shake my head. “Did you miss her?”

  I nod. Those first few nights without her were rough. I was still a kid in a fancy condo with a nanny, tutor, butler, and every toy I ever wanted, and I was so alone. Never, in a million years, did I think she would leave me. Had I known, I’m not sure I would’ve chosen that life. But hind sight is twenty-twenty, and I can’t go back and change things now.

  “I missed her every second of every day.”

  “Did she ever come back?”

  “Every other weekend for a while. And sometimes on my birthday.”

  Jack’s gaze falls to the floor. “My mom isn’t coming back. Not even on my birthday. Did you know we share the same birthday?”

  “I didn’t know that. When is your birthday?”

  “June twenty-second.”

  “Hey, mine is June twenty-third.”

  “Really?”

  I nod.

  He tries to smile, but it falls short. “Mom always told me I was the best gift she’d ever gotten. I thought I was special, but then she left.”

  I want so bad to push the door open and pull him into my arms, but he’s talking, and I don’t want to do anything that’ll jeopardize the fragile bit of trust I seem to have gained.

  “I’m sorry, Jack.”

  He shrugs and looks up. His eyes are swimming with tears, and the tremble in his lower lip tells me he’s doing everything in his power to hold his emotions in.

  “Do you miss her?”

  He nods, and the first tear falls. And then another and another and screw this. I nudge my way into Jack’s room and pull him into my arms. He pushes his face into my stomach, wraps his arms around my waist, and cries.

  I don’t know Lorelei’s story, or the demons she was battling, but right now I want to clobber her for doing anything that could leave her child in so much pain.

  “I’m so sorry, Jack.” I hug him close and rub his back.

  “I miss her,” he says between sobs. “I miss her so much, and I just want to see her again.”

  Son of a bitch. I squeeze my eyes shut, but a tear escapes anyway. How am I supposed to respond to that? I try to come up with something—anything—but I’ve got nothing, because I don’t know the circumstances surrounding the situation.

  “Will you tell me about her?” I ask.

  “Really?” Jack looks up, and I wipe a tear from his cheek.

  “Yeah. I bet you look just like her.”

  He smiles tremulously and nods. “That’s what my dad says.”

  “She must’ve been beautiful.”

  “She used to sing to me,” he says, a sense of wonder in his voice. “Every night she would tuck me in, run her fingers through my hair, and she would sing.”

  “That sounds lovely.”

  “It’s so quiet now,” he adds. “At night
, when I crawl into bed, everything is just so quiet. Sometimes I can’t sleep, and I just lay there and think about her.”

  “Have you told your dad?”

  Jack shakes his head. “He usually falls asleep putting Henry and Emma to bed.”

  “Do you remember what song your mom used to sing?”

  “No. Why do you wanna know?”

  “Because maybe I can find a recording of the song and you could play it at night when you go to bed.”

  “Really?”

  I’m probably overstepping a hundred lines right now, but it’s the only form of comfort I can come up with.

  “Yeah.” I sit on Jack’s bed and pull him down beside me. “Just because your mom isn’t here doesn’t mean you can’t still have pieces of her. Does that make sense?”

  “I think so.”

  “What else do you remember about your mom?”

  He furrows his brow, and then his eyes light up. “On the weekend she used to make special pancakes. They were so good. And she would always make mine in the shape of Mickey Mouse ears. She promised one day she was going to take me to Disney World.”

  “That’s cool. What was in those special pancakes?”

  “I—I don’t remember.”

  “Chocolate chips.”

  My head lifts at the sound of Grayson’s voice. He walks farther into the room, and I stand.

  “Can you give me a minute alone with my son, please?”

  “Of course.” I squeeze Jack’s hand, slip out of the room, and almost plow right over Emma.

  “Can you do the bwaid now?”

  “I would love too. Thank you for being patient.”

  “What’s dat mean?”

  I smile. “I’ll explain it while I braid your hair.”

  11

  Grayson

  Nora has been with my kids for a few short hours, and already, the mood of the house feels different. For the first time in I don’t know how long, Jack opened up to me—truly opened up to me—and now music, baby giggles, and belly laughs waft through the house, a far cry from the normal screaming and arguing I come home to, and all I can think is this is how it’s supposed to be.