by J. A. Huss
Chapter Thirteen
“Don’t glower at me,” Ford says.
“I’m not glowering,” I say back. But it comes off as defensive, and irritable, and glowering. “I’m just saying he should know better.”
“Spencer,” Ash says. “We’ll talk to him, OK? He doesn’t mean any harm and I’m sure they were never in danger or they’d have called. All of them know that we’re on their side, no matter what happens, and they can call us for anything.”
“That’s not—” I soften my tone with Ashleigh. Not just because Ford won’t tolerate me taking out my anger with Five on her, but because Ashleigh is a soft sort of woman and shouldn’t be spoken to the way I started speaking to her. So I take a deep breath. “It’s not that I think she’s in danger, Ashleigh. It’s that my daughter is fourteen, she looks like my wife, and I’m getting the urge to keep a shotgun on my person.” I sigh. “If you get my drift.” I catch a small chuckle from Veronica, which makes me stop and smile at her. It might be the first sign today that she’s feeling better. “Right, Ronnie?”
She sighs heavily, reminding me that things are not OK. “I think they’re fine. I think Five was wrong to take them so far away, but Five is Five. And his last name is Aston, so even if something did happen, he’d know what to do about it. I think Oliver probably had the time of his life and Rory finally got a chance to say what’s on her mind. What’s been on her mind for months now.”
“What?” I ask. “What’s on her mind?”
“OK,” Ford says, looking at his phone. “I just got a text. They’re getting off the freeway now and they’ll be here in a few minutes. I’ll talk to Five.” With that Ford takes Ashleigh’s hand and they walk out of the library and back to the party going on in the great room.
“Come on, Spencer,” Ronnie says. “You know what’s going on. Five is leaving in a few weeks and she’s sad.”
I scrunch up my brows. “Define sad.”
“Sad,” Ronnie stresses. “Like first crush, broken-hearted kind of sad.”
“Sad like you,” I say, not even meaning to.
She frowns so heavily, it makes me sad too. “I’m not really… sad, Spencer. I’m just feeling… undesirable. And tired. And this is new for me, you know?”
When she lifts her eyes up to meet mine, I see tears. “Ronnie,” I say, crossing the few steps that separate us so I can bring her into a hug. “I fucking hate this. You’re so goddamned desirable to me, it drives me crazy.”
“I love being a mom, Spencer. You know I do. But six kids…” She shakes her head. “It changes a person. I feel lost. I feel like I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I feel… old. And then Ashleigh is sad about not having any more babies, so that makes me feel ungrateful.”
I hold her tight. I have all the words ready to say. All the words she needs to hear. But words might not be enough. “I love you. I know that’s not what will fix the way you feel, but Veronica, I love you. And if I knew how to take this feeling away, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“I know that, Spence.” She sniffs away the tears and rests her head against my chest. “It’s just a little setback. I just need to find myself again, that’s all.”
We hear the bustle of activity as Rory, Oliver, and Five come home and the dogs go crazy. Then the booming voice of Vic as he greets Ford and Ronin.
“I’ll send Rory in so you can talk to her before dinner, Spencer. But don’t be harsh. It’s Christmas Eve and I just want everyone to be happy.”
She tries to pull away, but I keep a tight hold. “That’s all I want too, Veronica.”
Her head tilts upward and she smiles. “I know.” She pulls away and walks out, leaving the library door open behind her.
I turn to the windows and look out at the snow. It’s just starting to fall, but the flakes are the big, heavy kind that pile up quick and make perfect snowballs for a fight.
“Daddy?” Rory says, a few minutes later.
“Close the door, Princess,” I say, without turning around.
The door squeaks and then taps closed. “I’m sorry, Daddy. We shouldn’t have gone off like that.”
When I turn she’s standing straight and tall, her head tipped up to look me in the eyes. Her long blonde hair is slightly wet from outside, the big heavy flakes nothing but spots of water now. She smiles.
I laugh.
“Really, Daddy. I’m sorry. But I’d like you to know…” She takes a deep, deep breath and a smile lights up her face. “I had the most perfect day with Five.”
But just as quick as the smile appeared, it disappears. And then she looks just like Ronnie did a few minutes ago. Sad.
“What did you guys do?” I ask, waving her towards the couch and taking a seat. She follows, sitting down next to me.
“I caught a bouquet of flowers at a Saint Joseph’s wedding, and we went to eat at Anna Ameci’s, and then…”
She tells me about her whole day. Every last moment of it, right up to the part where she thought Five was going to kiss her as they stood in front of the city Christmas tree in downtown. She smiles for every second of her tale. Until that last part. She swallows hard and the silent tears stream down her face. “I always thought things would stay the same, you know?”
I know. I thought that too.
“I always thought that no matter what happened, Five Aston was my knight. And all I had to do was press his face on my phone and he’d come rescue me. But he’s not going to be here anymore, Dad. He’s going to be so far away, he’ll forget everything he loves about me before next summer.”
I pull her into a big Daddy hug and hold her tight. “He won’t, Princess. I promise. Five Aston is your forever guy. He’s always going to be your knight, I promise.”
“I want to believe it, Dad, but I just don’t.” She pulls away, sniffing just the way Veronica did. “I just don’t have it in me to pretend that this is a fairy tale and love is magic. It’s not. It’s real life and he’s leaving. And he’s a genius. He’s going to go to Oxford and do all these important things, and he’s never coming back.”
Maybe she’s a little bit dramatic, but maybe she’s a little bit right too. It would be one thing if Five was normal. If he was in high school with her. If he took her to all those high-school things and they grew into adulthood together. But he’s not. He’s Five. And he’s been an adult since he was… well, born. I almost laugh at that thought.
“Well,” I say, letting out a sigh of defeat, “you two still have a few weeks together. So don’t give up on that kiss, OK?”
She tips her head up to see if she heard me correctly.
I shrug. She knows what that means.
“I got a present for Mommy. To make her feel better. Do you want to see it?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’m desperate to make her happy tonight, Princess. So if you can help me do that, I’d even let Five take you on another date.”
“Really?” she almost squeals.
“With Oliver as chaperone.”
“Deal! I’m so going on that second date. Because I know exactly what Mommy needs.” And then she gets up and takes my hand, pulling me to my feet. “But let’s sneak out the library door so I can show you. It’s in Uncle Vic’s truck.”
We walk out the doors, down the pathway to the front of the house, and she stops at the truck door, smiling like she’s got the secret of the century.
And when she opens it up and shows me the present, I smile that way too.
Because my daughter’s unauthorized date with Five Aston just might fix everything.
Rory Shrike is a genius.
Chapter Fourteen
Sparrow is… like a bird flying in the wind. That’s how I pictured her when she was born. Some free-flying spirit with her mother’s beauty and her father’s… well, I’m not sure she’s got anything of value from me. That makes me smile as I watch her flit around on stage, playing the part of one of the party kids in act one of The Nutcracker.
She’s danced in this product
ion up here in Vail since she was four and down in Denver since she was seven. Well, it wasn’t dancing way back then. It was sitting on stage dressed up like a piece of candy. But she stuck it out. She did the work, took all the classes, and got the pointe shoes.
So this year it pays off. Party kid in act one and a Chinese dancer in act two. That’s one of the songs everyone thinks of when you say Nutcracker.
Sparrow was beyond thrilled.
Hell, I’m beyond thrilled. Even if I didn’t realize it until this very second.
During intermission we get up and mingle, but I know Rook’s mind is only on Sparrow. I walk up to her and Starling with drinks from the bar. Ford and Spencer come with us to this show every year. It’s become a tradition. Like decorating the cookies afterward. Like coming up here to the mountains for Christmas every year. We only stay the two nights. Spencer and Ronnie take the kids to the grandparents down in Park Hill on Christmas Day. Rook and I see Elise, Antoine, and their three kids, who are all the right ages to play with my brood. And Ford and Ash take their kids to Mrs. Aston’s where Sasha and Jax turn up with Lauren and little Matthew for the family party at night.
But Christmas Eve has always been a day in the life of the Team. An epilogue to the stories we wrote all year. A time to just be ourselves. To take stock of what we did, how big our kids got, where we’re headed.
I know where I’m headed. Home.
I don’t know if I work too much, but clearly I’m not paying enough attention. Clearly I’m taking for granted the one thing I have as an adult that I never had as a kid.
A traditional family.
How did it become so easy to take it all for granted?
After intermission we all pile back into the Team row in the theatre.
Rook is practically crying before the lights even go out. But it’s a happy, happy cry. I reach over and squeeze her hand just as the second act begins. She looks up at me and breathes in deeply. “God, Ronin. How did she get so big, so fast?”
I shrug and give her hand another squeeze as my answer. She leans her head against my shoulder as we watch, eagerly waiting for Sparrow to come on stage again.
Starling climbs over the armrest, leaving the bouquet of roses we brought for Sparrow in her empty seat, and settles in my lap. She’s tired from skiing. Ballet is not her thing. Oh, she loves to see Sparrow do it. But she doesn’t dream of sugarplums. She dreams of, well… skiing, I guess.
“Tired, Star?” I ask.
“Mmm-hmm,” she moans into my tux.
Sparrow’s dance goes perfectly in my eyes, but I know her well enough to anticipate the critique of her performance afterward. She’s a perfectionist.
Maybe that’s what she gets from me? Maybe that’s what drives Star to that daredevil stuff she does out on the slopes? Maybe I did have a hand in all this success even though I let work become a priority and I’ve missed some of it the past year.
Rook squeezes my hand this time. “She looks just like you, Ronin. Just like you.” Her eyes find mine and she leans up, ever so slightly, and her lips brush my cheek. “Mr. Flynn,” she says in a deep throaty voice. “I think we should skip out on cookie decorating. I have a surprise for you.”
I waggle my eyebrows at her. I know what that means. I laugh out loud a little and Starling wakes up long enough to say, “Shush, Daddy.”
We watch the rest of the performance and when an exhilarated, but very tired, Sparrow comes out the lobby after all the post-show festivities are done, we give her the roses and then walk hand in hand as a family back to our car.
The mansion comes to life after the show, even though it is almost midnight. There are dozens of cookies to be decorated before bed. There’s hot chocolate, and hot cider to be consumed. There’s the customary Christmas Eve gift to be handed out.
It’s always been like this. It’s like we never want this day to end. And if we could pack even more stuff into it, make it last longer, make it last forever, we would.
Rook and I stay just long enough to get everyone settled, and then I take her hand and lead her upstairs. I catch a wink from Ronnie that says, We’ve got your back, and then the noise from below recedes.
“We could’ve waited,” Rook says breathlessly as I close our bedroom door and twist the lock.
“No,” I say back. “We’ve got hours of things to do, and Mrs. Flynn, I’d die if I didn’t have a moment alone with you right this second. I just want to say, I’m sorry I’ve been working so much.”
“Ronin,” she starts.
But I put a finger to her lips to keep her quiet. “Shh,” I whisper, my hands sliding underneath her shirt and up her back.
She buckles away from me, squealing, “They’re cold!”
“They won’t be cold for long,” I say, biting her lip and giving her a kiss. “Now what sort of surprise did you have in mind?”
“One second,” she says, holding up a finger. She turns and goes over to the refrigerator we keep for adult drinks. Her dress is red tonight. Rook always wears something red on Christmas Eve. Sometimes it’s just a scarf, sometimes it’s her coat, sometimes it’s a ribbon in her hair. But this Christmas Eve, it’s a dress. A very fucking sexy dress.
That she starts to take off. She slides the straps slowly down her arms and I untuck my white dress shirt and start unbuttoning it from the bottom up.
She grins at me, a small squeak of delight escaping her lips as she shimmies her dress over her hips and stands there in her black bra and panties.
I grin back as I take my shirt off and go for my belt buckle.
Her eyes never leave my fingers as I tug the zipper down and step out of my pants.
We stand there in our underwear for a few moments before we take that off too.
We stand there naked, looking each other up and down, appreciating each other the way we always do on Christmas Eve, and then Rook gets the bottle of champagne from the mini fridge and grabs two glasses from the side table. Her walk towards the terrace is seductive as fuck.
“What?” I laugh.
“Remember when you took me to the zoo for that charity event?”
I can’t help but smile. “We’d just met and Antoine and Elise gave us their tickets so we could have a date together.”
“That was the best night of my life, Mr. Flynn. Well, up to that point. But every night since then has been the best night of my life. Every night I climb into bed I think, How did I get so lucky?”
“It’s not luck, Rook. It’s love.”
“I know. Humor me,” she says, popping the cork on the champagne and pouring it into the glasses. “Every morning when I wake up I think, God, I can’t wait to get back in bed with him tonight. I just can’t wait. It’s the very best part of every single day since we met. Even after fifteen years, I still think that, Ronin.” She grabs two coats off one of the chairs next to the door and hands me mine. “Don’t ask, just put it on.”
We slip them on at the same time, our eyes glued to each other. I want to kiss her so bad, but she’s got a hand on my chest as she holds out a glass of champagne for me to take.
I take it. Reluctantly. I just want to take her. Every part of her.
She holds her own glass of champagne in one hand, then takes my free one in her other and pulls me over to our balcony. She opens the door and the softly falling snow comes in as we go out.
She closes the door behind us and then we’re in the dark. Only the lights from Vail Village leak up to our little piece of the mountain to illuminate us.
“That very first Christmas we spent together. Do you remember that present Ford gave me after church?”
“Eric Cartman.” I laugh.
“Yeah,” Rook says, like she’s remembering it fondly. “Well, I was talking on the phone to Ford to say thank you, and I was telling him that story about what I was doing on Christmas Eve the year before. And I told him I was wishing on a star to make my life change. Just anything, you know. I just needed to leave that bad situation and start fresh.�
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“Yeah,” I say, thinking back to that first year we were together. It was tough. We all had a past that was catching up with us.
“Well, every Christmas Eve since then I go out into the night after everyone is asleep and I wish on my star again. Only instead of begging for a change, I beg for more of the same.”
God, I love her.
“I don’t ask for perfection, Ronin. I don’t ask for more money or a bigger house. I don’t ask for pretty things or gifts. I don’t ask for anything but more of the same. Because every moment with you is perfect, even when it’s not.”
I open my mouth to talk, but she shushes me again. “I don’t want you to apologize for providing for us, Ronin. I don’t want you to feel like you’ve missed things. I don’t want you to be anything or anyone but who and what you are. Because you’re perfectly imperfect and I don’t need perfection. I just need more of the same.” And then she raises her glass and says, “Cheers to us, Ronin. We made it. We started this life with everything against us, but we made it.”
“Cheers to us,” I say back, gazing into those blue eyes that electrified me so long ago. “I wouldn’t change a minute, Gidget. So cheers to us.”
“And I love,” she says, just before she’s about to take a drink, “that you let me call you Larue, even though everyone knows you wanted to be Gidget.”
Yes, I think as I laugh. I might not be perfection, but she certainly is.
She’s certainly perfect for me.
“I have a present for you, Larue.” She hands me her glass of champagne and walks over to the hot tub and flips the lid over, then eases it all the way off. The steam rises up in waves and swirls as it mingles with the cold mountain air.
“Get in,” she says, walking back over to me and taking both glasses from me. I take off my coat, drape it over a chair, and then get in, hissing as the hot water comes in contact with my skin. She hands me back both glasses and then walks over to the little black case and produces a portable projection machine. She inserts a flash drive and smiles at me over her shoulder.
