by Karina Bliss
She moved to grab the wineglasses before he broke any and he caught her wrists. “Ask me,” he said gruffly. “Ask me to give it up, for you and the kids. No, tell me I need to put my family’s needs first.”
Gently, she freed her hands. “I think we have some lumber in the basement. Go build a torture rack. It’s not very Christmassy, but we can decorate it with tinsel.”
He gave a strangled laugh. “Kayla…”
Moving the wineglasses out of harm’s way, she faced him. “Recently, a man—let’s call him Bob—told me this lovely story about meeting his wife. I never told him about meeting my husband. This teenager—let’s call him Jared—was the coolest boy I’d ever met. He was oblivious to the popularity contests and high school politics that kept the rest of us so busy. He was always looking out through music to the bigger world. Whatever instrument he played, and he could play many, he transported everyone listening. I didn’t have a musical bone in my body. Hell, I couldn’t even keep time on a triangle, but I got it. This is what he’s on this earth to do. Play music. Make people happy.”
“Don’t you dare let me off the hook,” he said quietly. “How do I make you happy?”
She answered his first question. “I haven’t asked you to quit because, right now, you need this more than I need to live in Bridgeton.”
“I don’t accept you sacrificing your wants for mine. God knows, you’ve done enough of that over the past eighteen months.”
“I’m not being a martyr.” Turning back to the sink, she put in the plug and ran water. “With all our friends and family telling me how lucky I was, I felt such a failure struggling with the rock-star lifestyle. I’m not pretending anymore.” Squirting soap into the water, she handed Jared a tea towel. “In future, if your ego gets out of hand or I’m struggling, I’ll speak up.”
Doggedly, he shook his head. “I know living in L.A. is tough for you. It’ll get lonely when I start traveling to gigs again.”
Swirling the water into bubbles, she picked up the dish brush. “I have ideas how to improve things.” As she washed the glasses, she told him what she’d discussed with Dimity—finding a community, working part-time. “If you’re on tour for longer than a week, the kids and I will go stay with your folks or my mother.”
She handed him a glass to dry. “Remember when we discussed having kids? We decided we’d do what we had to, to make it work. Because we weren’t going to compromise my dream of a family for yours of a music career. And it was tough making ends meet, but we managed because we were working together for something important.” Her throat tightened. “I don’t mind doing hard, Jared, as long as I feel that we’re still in this together, that we’re a team. That’s how you make me happy.”
She saw he was still conflicted. “Our new life has given us one incredible benefit. I can be home with the kids while they’re small. So many young families can’t afford that luxury. I’m grateful for that. I can build a new life in L.A. for that.”
*
The terrible pressure in Jared’s chest eased. With all that he’d done wrong, he was doing some things right.
“The day I signed a contract with Rage and you were able to quit work and stay home with the kids like you wanted was one of the proudest days of my life. It wasn’t until then that I understood how much I need to take care of my family.
“I’ve never thought of myself as ambitious, but I do want it all, Kayla. A career in music, recognition, the kids and you. I wouldn’t take this risk if I didn’t believe I could make it work.”
“Then let’s make it work.”
He took her into his arms. “If we’re baring our souls, I need you to be honest with me. What am I missing with you?”
“Nothing, why?” But he felt the tension in her muscles.
“You’re still wary around me, guarded.”
“I’m not,” she protested. She must have heard the defensiveness in her own voice, because she smiled. “At least, not since you admitted our tour issues were all your fault and we’ve cleared the air over Simone.”
“No?” He started unbuttoning her blouse. “Then let’s get naked and do it on the kitchen table, right here, right now.”
Laughing, she moved his hands. “The kids…”
“Are asleep, and Maddie’s probably already in our bed.” He cupped her cheek. “What’s going on? You don’t undress in front of me anymore, you turn down the lights when we make love, and you find it harder to let go when we have sex.”
He’d noticed it this afternoon when he’d made his move. The kids had both been napping and sunlight was streaming through the windows when he’d swept Kayla up and carried her into the spare room. She’d made excuses then, too.
With her cheek pressed against his palm, his wife took a deep breath. “Hé, la grosse, ça va là, fous-moi la paix. Do you know what that means?”
He shook his head. “Tell me.”
She hesitated, then kissed his palm and moved away. “I’ll tell Bob on our date next week.”
“Why not tomorrow?” They’d booked a babysitter, and a hotel, and were staying downtown for the Grammy party. And their wedding anniversary. He had her gift already packed with his tux.
“No, tomorrow’s for fun.” She crossed to the kettle and flicked the switch. “Hot chocolate?”
“Sure, thanks.” And that was clearly the end of that discussion. But he had no intention of waiting another week to find out what was bothering her. Excusing himself, he walked into the living room and looked up the phrase on Google, pretty sure it was French. Except nothing he put into the search engine came up with a match, because his spelling was strictly guesswork. Stuck.
Chapter Thirteen
Jared woke on his wedding anniversary with Maddie’s calendar in his face, no Kayla beside him and an idea.
“You’re well enough to go back to your own bed tonight,” he told his daughter as they crossed off another day.
“But I always sleep in your bed when you and Mommy aren’t here.”
“Tomorrow, then. I’m serious, kid, get your brain around it.”
She skipped to the door. “Okay, Daddy.”
Rolling out of bed, he showered, dressed, then phoned Dimity. “You speak French. Any idea what Hey, lagrosse car-va-la something means? I can’t find a translation online.”
“Did Kayla suggest you ask me?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not at liberty to say…but you’re pronouncing it wrong. Grab a pen and write this down.” She spelled out the phrase for him.
“Thanks.”
“And Jared, I offered to get him fired. She wouldn’t let me. Said the asshole might have a family to support.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It will.”
He found the translation within thirty seconds.
Anger rising, he went to find Kayla, passing Maddie his cell en route. His wife was in the laundry room folding clothes, with Rocco sitting in the basket on the floor, playing with pegs.
“Hé, la grosse, ça va là, fous-moi la paix,” he said grimly. “Who said it to you?”
Her welcoming smile faded, and she picked up a small onesie.
“Remember the day at the theme park in Paris? You showed up late with Simone and a photographer, and we argued over how much the kids should be in the public eye. I refused to go with you to a function that night.”
“I remember.”
“Zander talked me into changing my mind, only I was in such a hurry I forgot ID.” The onesie had been folded so many times it looked like a washcloth. “The security guy didn’t believe I was your wife and wouldn’t let me in. He said…” She shrugged, sorted through the socks.
“Get lost, fatty,” Jared said in a hard voice. His son glanced up. He crouched to pat his head, and Rocco offered him a peg. Kayla concentrated on her work. “I didn’t understand what it meant until I met up with Dimity in a bar and she translated.”
The peg snapped. He shoved it in his pocket. “Why di
d you never tell me? I could have gotten the son of a bitch fired.”
“I felt too humiliated.” The smallness of her voice only stoked his inner rage.
“Dimity would have fired him.”
Matching a sock with its mate, Kayla gave a humorless laugh. “Why single him out?”
“What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t just one incident that screwed with my confidence. I’m not that fragile.” Anger colored her tone for the first time. She shrugged again. “Though maybe I am. I keep telling myself I’m over it, but…” She reached for a towel and he flicked it out of her hands.
“Kayla, talk to me.”
She huffed out a frustrated breath, picked up another towel. “On tour, so few people could hide their surprise when they met me. They expected you to have a matching wife, leggy and beautiful. Then they’d learn we’d hooked up in high school and nod, as though that explained it.”
She added the folded towel to the neat stack on the washing machine. “I’m the chubby chick you married before you knew any better. Your starter wife. And before you get all enraged I know that’s bullshit and you don’t think that way, but—”
“It still hurts.” He added his folded towel to hers. “Kayla, I’ve been there.”
She snorted.
He folded his arms. “‘You’re a musician, Jared? Tell me a hit you’ve written that I’d be familiar with.’ With every passing year the guys we went to school with were making money, building real careers. I could see them wondering, ‘How did such a dynamic woman wind up with such a loser?’ I told myself it didn’t matter, because it didn’t matter to you. But it still fucking hurt.” He glanced at his son, who grinned at him and offered another peg. “Thanks, buddy.”
Kayla was staring at him. “You never talked to me about it.”
“And be a whiner in addition to a loser? Hell, no. Besides, you might have decided, ‘Hey, you’re right’ and divorced me. So yeah, I understand how you feel. Know how I dealt with it?”
He gave her the peg and accepted a third from Rocco. “I’d say to myself, ‘Yeah but she chose me. There’s something about me that beats anything these other guys have to offer, even if I can’t always see it.’”
She turned the peg, a lurid green, over in her hands. “I know I’m beautiful in your eyes. I know that it’s shallow and bullshit and I shouldn’t let it affect my confidence.”
Empathy drove out anger. She was really stuck in this.
“My opinion doesn’t matter if you don’t believe it.”
“I’ve read the studies, guys are visual.”
“One hundred percent,” he agreed. “When you glance at me through your lashes, when you dance, when you walk, when I watch you draw breath, I’m totally turned on.”
Her mouth curved in a smile, she shook her head. Mixed messages. Jared decided to go with his gut.
“I’m not going to be the understanding husband on this.”
“You’re not?”
“Nope, I’ve been telling and showing you that you’re gorgeous practically from the moment I set eyes on you. So get your head together, because I want the old Kayla back—the bold, beautiful woman who skinny dips in our pool in summer, who enjoys sunbathing naked and who believes she’s sexy in sweats because she fucking is.”
Rocco held out a peg. Maybe this was his version of a swear jar. I’ll stop now, buddy, I promise.
Kayla’s face was inscrutable.
Jared resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she saw sense. Instead he kept his tone stern. “You have me on the leash, woman, always have. Stop trailing it behind you and tug it.”
He didn’t allow her to speak. “Okay, that’s all I have to say. I’m leaving for Moss and Seth’s house to write songs, and then I’ll see you at the hotel. Bring your A game.”
He kissed his son lightly on the head, kissed his wife hard on her mouth, and walked out to say goodbye to Maddie, hoping to hell he hadn’t blown all his good work of the past nine days.
Chapter Fourteen
“First off,” Kayla began when Jared’s cell went to message. “I’m okay. I was in a minor car accident.” Her voice wobbled, which surprised her, because she really was okay.
“An elderly lady outside the drugstore hit her accelerator instead of the brake and banged into my car.”
A miracle, the tow truck driver called it. Kayla’s door had been so crushed that she’d had to wriggle her hand free from the steering wheel.
“I’m in the ER waiting for X-rays on my wrist, but they’re pretty sure it’s only a sprain. The good news is that our insurances are up-to-date for car and medical.” A joke would make up for the wobble in her voice.
“The bad news is this is going to take a while so you’ll have to attend the awards party without me. And yes, I insist you go. The publicity is hugely important for your career.”
She stepped to one side of the hospital corridor to let an orderly wheel a gurney past, trying to think of anything else he needed to know. “Don’t panic when I don’t answer my cell. It was damaged in the accident and I’m on a borrowed one. I’ll catch a cab to the hotel when I’m done.” She stopped and swallowed. That wobble wasn’t going to sneak up on her again. “I’m bringing my A game, so bring yours. I love you.”
Cutting the connection, she returned to the waiting room and gave the cell to the middle-aged woman who’d lent it to her.
“Thanks, Dawn, I appreciate it, and for watching my suitcase.” She resettled in her chair. “Any update on your mother?” Dawn was the daughter of the old lady who’d caused the accident.
“They think her new medication might have had something to do with her confusion.” Dawn laid her hand on Kayla’s arm, the one in the makeshift sling, and she tried not to wince. “Listen, do you need anything before I go back to her? I could buy you a coffee, food.” She was a nice woman, terribly apologetic about what had happened.
“No, I’m good now I’ve made that phone call.”
She had stopped at the drugstore for a new pair of tights and was checking her cell’s GPS for the best route to the downtown hotel, when the other car slammed into her SUV.
She was starting to shake again remembering it, and she didn’t want Dawn upset. So she said goodbye and wheeled her suitcase into the bathroom, where she splashed cold water on her face. Soon as she got to the hotel, she’d call the babysitter and check on the kids. Briefly, she closed her eyes and gave thanks. It could have been so much worse.
Her situation improved forty-five minutes later, when a tech took an X-ray. “No fracture. A nurse will strap up your sprain and you’re free to go.”
She returned to the waiting room. Now she knew her wrist wasn’t broken, she felt comfortable wiggling her fingers inside the sling. She glanced at the wall clock. Six p.m. The limo would have collected Jared from the hotel and be transporting him to the events center for the party, where he’d meet up with Dimity, Moss and Seth as support crew.
Happy anniversary, babe.
He’d texted her the message an hour after he’d left her, obviously remembering he hadn’t said it yet. And she’d returned it, though she’d still been ambivalent about his tough love approach. But none of that mattered a damn now.
A red-headed nurse came to get her, apologizing for the delay. “Is there someone with you? You’ll need a driver once I’ve strapped you up.”
“I’ll be taking care of her.”
Unable to trust her ears, Kayla turned. Her husband stood there in a tuxedo, handsome and pale. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I rang the number you called from and Dawn filled me in.” He put his arms around her, being very careful of her swollen wrist. “Oh, honey.”
The rough tenderness in his tone made her throat tighten. “I’m okay.” But her uninjured arm snaked under his dinner jacket and around his waist, mainlining into comfort, into warmth, holding tight. Pressing her cheek against his starched dress shirt, she could hear his heartbe
at, too fast. “I’m okay,” she reassured his heart.
He said nothing, kissing the top of her head, her forehead. Smoothing her hair. His intensity spoke for him. It wasn’t bad. But it could have been.
She let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “I’m so glad you’re here.” No pretense. He’d given her a gift and she was accepting it.
He gave her a little shake. “Of course I’m here.”
“Right.” The nurse smiled at them. “Let’s bandage that wrist.”
“Wait.” Kayla checked the wall clock and made calculations. “If you leave now, Jared, you’ll still make it.” She’d knocked his bow tie askew. She straightened it with her good hand. “How long does it take to get to the Milo Center from here?” she asked the nurse.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Are you crazy?” Jared growled. “I’m not letting you wait in a hospital alone.” He was genuinely pissed.
Her heart lifted. “You’re right, what was I thinking. Where else would you be? At a Grammy nominee’s party? Phh, this is way more fun. At something that could help your future music career? Phh again. Way more important to hold your wife’s hand while she gets a wrist sling.”
“You need me,” he said with total conviction.
“I didn’t know I needed you until you showed up.”
“You need me,” he prompted, arrogant, certain. “Say it.”
“Yes, I need you.”
He stroked her hair. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I love you,” she said. “And that doesn’t describe even a little bit of how much I feel for you.”
He smiled. “Kayla, have they given you drugs?”
“Only Advil.”
Bad things would not happen if she showed him she needed him, if she revealed her insecurities sometimes. When it mattered most, he would always put her first. She knew that.
“Oh my God,” the nurse blurted. “You’re Jared Walker…and you’re the Kayla he wrote about. That’s my favorite song. My fiancé and I are using it at our wedding. I have to get your autograph.”
