by Quinn, Cari
Michael gripped his phone to keep from pitching it at the wall. “You have no idea about my relationship with Lila, but I can guarantee we have more of a real one than you ever did with her—or any of the other females you trot out like fancy pet poodles.”
His father chuckled. “Right. Your relationship is so real that she didn’t even do her due diligence to help you out of an unfortunate mess. She just stepped back and let you live your own life, as she called it. Well, son, be grateful I’m not the same kind of person as your former stepmother. You’re always my first concern, not my own personal life.”
The irony of that made Michael choke out a laugh. There was absolutely no humor behind it whatsoever. “Right. Your personal life never mattered to you. That’s why you’re having baby number two with a woman you barely know while your sons are practically strangers. And why is that? Because you’ve proven where your priorities lay, and it’s never with your sons.”
“Speaking of babies and women you barely know, I want to reassure you. You’re not stuck, no matter how much you think you are.”
“I’m not fucking stuck. I’m right where I want to be. Axl is going to be mine, and Chloe is my wife—”
“Wrong answer. That baby is her brat, and not your responsibility. And Chloe Adams is not your wife.”
Michael barked out another laugh. “Because you say so? You weren’t fucking there. I have the marriage license and I have the rings—”
“You filed for a license, but you never married her. You got to the aisle, and you stopped it at the last minute. She never said I do, and neither did you.”
Pain slashed through him so fast that he nearly doubled over. Of course he’d said “I do”. He had to have said it. But of course he didn’t truly know.
Because he couldn’t fucking remember.
“You don’t know that. You can’t,” Michael breathed.
“I have proof. I have the video from the so-called ceremony. You didn’t know they did those, did you? Insurance for the ridiculous chapel that took your money and gave you nothing in return. No refunds. But they make sure to cover their own asses with video proof, in case the brand new bride and groom come back the next day and don’t remember taking their vows.”
Michael sucked in breath after breath, but the oxygen didn’t clear away the dots forming in front of his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’d be surprised.” His father’s tone turned taunting. “That wouldn’t be you though, right? After what your mother and I have done with our marriages, you would never be like us. You’d never get married on a whim. Isn’t that what you always said? I’m sure you loved your bride so much that you remember every single little detail. Isn’t that right, Michael?”
Michael clicked off and threw the phone against the wall just as he’d wished. When it hit the ground, he stomped on it with the heel of his boot, slamming down on it again and again until it was in pieces.
It didn’t matter. He could still hear his father’s sly voice echoing in his head.
“She never said I do, and neither did you.”
Twenty-Eight
Three days.
For three days, he’d known he wasn’t married.
Might as well have been a lifetime.
First, he’d struggled with the fact that he’d married a stranger. Who does that? A drunk asshole, that was who. Then when he’d begun to come to terms with that possibility, he’d had to face the reality that Chloe came with a baby. Axl was more of a toddler now, but still. He was damn small, and he had tons of needs, and Michael had never been around kids. Had never felt a huge draw toward them either. They seemed like too much trouble.
Loud. Impatient. Demanding.
Turned out they were all of those things. At least Axl was. And it didn’t seem to make a bit of difference, because they were other things too.
Sweet. Loving. Soft.
Everything about Axl was so damn soft. His skin, his hair, his tiny fingers when they curled around Michael’s. Sometimes he pushed and shoved, but for the most part, he wasn’t too much of a wrestler.
At night, when Chloe gave him a bath and shampooed his hair into a mini fauxhawk like Michael’s, he was pretty damn cute. And he smelled so good. Now and then, he was even quiet.
Somewhere along the way he’d decided he liked having a wife and a child. Instead of feeling scared by being counted on, he’d discovered he enjoyed it. Life had more meaning when someone needed you. When you needed them right back.
And fuck, even beyond that, he wanted them around. He could live without them, sure. He’d gone through twenty-plus years without Chloe and Axl in his world. He could carry on if they were gone. But why should he? Chloe’s smiles made him feel like Superman. Axl’s laughter triggered his own every damn time, no matter what kind of a mood he came home in. And band shit ceased to be quite as important.
Like Lila’s not-so-subtle concern about Malachi’s whereabouts.
“Donovan’s talking about a full EP. He thinks the success of the ‘In Your Arms’ mix is a positive sign and that if you had more room to showcase your songs, you’d do even better. He’s even mentioned a real tour. Across the US, Michael. His goal is to put together a package concert with a couple of the Ripper acts to get you all more exposure.”
Michael scraped his fingers through his hair and leaned forward on the leather sofa in the studio. They’d been at it for hours to prep for tomorrow’s show at The Troubadour. After Guns ‘n Roses had played one of their reunion shows there, artists had been clamoring to get in. Lila had managed to book them a slot, but they were still working without a healthy drummer.
Ryan was back on the drums after the latest studio dude had split, citing creative differences, but he had to take lots of breaks. His failure to heal as fast as the doctors had hoped had sent him back to be checked out again, and they’d discovered he had a partial ligament tear. It wasn’t bad enough to warrant surgery—yet—but the splint he put on as soon as he was off the kit didn’t seem to be doing much.
All Michael could hope for was that Ryan would make it through tomorrow’s set, and then he’d try harder to reach Malachi. Even trying to find a dude who clearly didn’t want to be found was better than imagining what might be occurring behind the scenes with his father.
Martin’s cryptic texts certainly hadn’t reassured him.
I told you the marriage hadn’t gone through so you wouldn’t find out on TV. People are digging into what happened besides me. It’s going to come out.
Knowledge is a weapon. You can be proactive. Come up with a story now. That’s one thing Lila is good at, at least.
This is the best ending for this story. In time, you’ll see. You’re free now.
Free. Right. That was exactly what he was. He was free to not be married, though he liked it. He was free to not be tied to Axl and Chloe, though he ached for it with a fierceness that made no sense.
He’d wanted to keep the marriage going for two reasons—to save his shaky rep and because he didn’t believe in divorce. In no time, he’d stopped thinking about his rep and started thinking about the man he should be. One worthy of having a kid like Axl and a sweet, smart, beautiful wife.
Drinking wasn’t a part of his life anymore. Sleeping around absolutely wasn’t. His idea of trashing a place now meant building a fort of boxes with his son. In the process of becoming a decent man on paper, he’d become one in reality too.
And now he was supposed to be glad he was free. Christ.
“Maybe I can drive out to Encino tomorrow,” Michael said, popping the top on his cup of takeout coffee. “See if Mal’s still living in the last address I had for him. I don’t want Ry to get any more hurt because of all this.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Ry leaned across the back of the couch and jabbed a knuckle into Michael’s back. “Just worry about your situation.”
Michael shot his best friend a glance over his shoulder. He’d confided in Ry that mornin
g after about the twenty-third time Michael had fumbled the bridge to “Exile,” despite the fact he’d nailed it flawlessly for months. So of course Ry had to blab in front of Lila.
Why not? His life already sucked.
Lila crossed her legs and set aside her iPad. “You spoke to your father, I’m assuming.” She kept her voice low, and her blue eyes were surprisingly gentle.
Michael was so used to anything involving Chloe bringing out Lila’s claws that he was immediately on guard. “Yeah, so?”
“I didn’t tell him anything.”
Michael stared into the little hole on his cup lid. He needed a refill. His coffee had gone cold.
No, what he needed was a real drink. Why the hell was he being so careful with everything if he was just going to lose it anyway?
Just tell her. Don’t let her find out from someone else. You don’t know that she’ll leave.
He didn’t. They were making progress. The other day they hadn’t said “I love you,” but they’d gotten close. At least he had. Then the thing had happened with his father, and he’d locked down his emotions and shut her out. Even knowing he was doing it hadn’t been enough to cause him to stop.
That morning, she’d mentioned maybe coming to rehearsal again with Axl. She’d come on Monday, and he’d been so on guard after his father’s phone call that he’d scarcely been able to get through practice. Somewhere around the fourth unsuccessful run-through of “In Your Arms”—thanks to Michael bungling his part each time—Chloe had finally made some excuse and escaped with the baby.
She was no better than Michael. She blamed herself every time stuff went wrong with them. Just like he did.
But cripes, he wasn’t going to lie to himself. If she wasn’t married to him, she definitely wouldn’t stay in his apartment. He knew that without a doubt. She’d tell him it was best if she found her own place, and she’d get a job, and both of those things would be great for her if they made her happy. But he had a sneaking suspicion if she didn’t have to stay around him, she wouldn’t. She’d go back to her own life, and the distance would grow between them until she convinced herself they’d been some flash in the pan based on necessity.
And he would lose the family he’d only just begun to feel like he had a chance to have.
It wasn’t like he didn’t know all the Oprah advice. His mother was big on all that BS.
Just let people go. If they don’t come back, they weren’t yours to begin with.
Stuff that sounded just awesome on paper but not nearly as great if it meant you’d end up fucking alone.
He’d practiced that with Mal. How long had he let him do his own thing and let him be? Felt like frigging forever. Sure, Mal had eventually shown up again when he needed something. He’d left again just as quickly.
Now his older brother might as well be in the witness protection program. And Chloe would saw off her own tongue before she came to him for help if they didn’t have those signatures binding them together. Even with them, she’d barely managed it.
So what the hell was he supposed to say to his stepmother? Yes, he’d talked to his father, and yes, he was denial, and no, he didn’t want her advice.
As the silence between him and Lila extended, Ryan cleared his throat. “Okay, so that’s my cue to leave. I’m going to grab a couple of drinks from that café down the street. Need the walk to clear my head. You guys want anything?”
“Whisky would be good,” Michael muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You’re not drinking again,” Lila said. “You’re never going to hold on to Chloe if you self-medicate. You know that, right?”
Michael stared at her. “Self-medicate? Is that the California term you’re using now? I didn’t self-medicate. I drank because I needed—”
Not to think.
“It helped me to have an even better time. Is that so wrong?”
Ryan cleared his throat again. “Guys, I’m going to take off. See ya in a few.”
“No. You’re an adult and you’re free to make your own choices. But with Chloe’s past with Snake, there is no way in hell she’d be with a man who abused any kind of drug or substance. Trust me, I know. After your father, at the first sign that Nick might be with someone else, I split. He wasn’t, and I jumped the gun. My psyche was sitting on the trigger because of my past.”
“No more Oprah, all right? I get enough of that in my own head.”
Lila’s brows knitted. “Oprah? Hardly. Try Lila Crandall. I’m just saying you’re going to make happen exactly what you don’t want to happen if you scurry back into a bottle.”
“How do you know what I want to happen?”
“I’ve been with you these past weeks. I’ve seen how you’ve changed. Just because your father threatened you doesn’t mean you have to use a grenade on your life first.”
“What do you mean he threatened me?”
She gripped her iPad until her fingers went white around the knuckles. “You know how Martin operates. He was never going to let you share his money with Chloe. Even if it’s your money by rights, thanks to the trust. That’s just not how he operates.” Briefly, she shut her eyes. “I’m sorry I ever appeared to be siding with him. I was just worried about you. I’m sure Chloe is a lovely girl. We just got off on the wrong foot because of Snake, and because of Nick.” She opened her eyes and stared directly into Michael’s. “Because I was jealous of her.”
Michael tightened his hand around his cup. “You’re admitting it?”
“She said some things to me on the plane ride back from Vegas that struck too close to home. I’ve had time to examine myself and my motivations. Talking to your father helped remind me of who I am—and who I’m not, and don’t ever want to be out of a misguided idea that I could possibly know what’s better for you than you do. I don’t. And even if I still believed I did, I’ve seen you these last weeks, Michael.” She leaned forward and squeezed his wrist. “You’ve been better with her. More yourself, like the boy I used to know.” She sat back and sighed. “You were always too sweet. I worried about you.”
He started to argue the sweet label. What man wanted to be labeled sweet when you could be called badass like Malachi would be called? But he wasn’t badass. And drinking too much and being careless with people and possessions wouldn’t make him so.
“I didn’t know I’d want this.” He ground the heel of his hand into the ache in his temple. “I like having a family, L. My own family. How was I supposed to know how good it would feel, when I’d never had one like this before?”
“You weren’t. You couldn’t.” She sat forward and slid her arm around his shoulders. “You have no reason to beat yourself up for that. Your mom and dad and me—we all gave you horrible examples. You did the best you could with what you had available.”
His eyes were so dry that they burned. He’d cried after the phone call with his dad. He’d sat right on the fucking floor and buried his head in his hands, knowing full well he wasn’t going to have enough balls to be honest. The idea of spelling everything out to Chloe and facing the repercussions—fuck, he wasn’t man enough.
Would he ever be man enough to deserve them?
“I don’t want to lose her,” he said hoarsely. “He keeps telling me that I’m lucky to have a loophole, but it’s not a loophole. He searched for a way so his money wouldn’t be on the hook, and because I was drunk enough to get married to a near stranger, I was also drunk enough not to seal the deal.”
Lila rubbed his back, just like she had when he was twelve and pissed about getting cut from the JV football team. “You know that statement doesn’t make any sense.”
“I do.”
“But I still understand it.”
He turned his head and smiled. “Because you’re my mom.”
Her eyes sheened and he held up a hand. “Don’t. Do not cry, especially not because I’ve been a jerk to you for so long and now you think I’ve seen the light. I always saw it when it comes to you. You were the only
good thing that came out of my father’s relationships. The only thing,” he repeated over the soft snick of the door opening. Ryan must be back from the café already. “Even when I hated them, I loved you.”
Lila didn’t respond. Probably some sort of mom sense made her turn around and drop her arm from his back. But it was too late.
Not because Chloe—and he knew it had to be Chloe, because he smelled her, for fuck’s sake—had witnessed something she shouldn’t. But he’d ripped the lid off his emotions, and the truth was right there, staring him in the face. He couldn’t tuck it away and pretend. He loved her too much, and she deserved honesty.
She deserved for him to grow up and be the man he’d never been capable of being before this very fucking second.
“Can you leave us alone?” he asked Lila. The rest of the band had scattered before their break, so for the next few minutes, he and Chloe would have studio B to themselves.
Handy that the walls were soundproof.
“Sure. Of course.” Lila rose and clasped her iPad to her chest, facing Chloe over the back of the sofa.
He still hadn’t looked yet. He couldn’t.
“Whatever you think you heard, you didn’t.” Michael shut his eyes. Chloe’s expression must have been every bit as stricken as he’d feared. “He’s my son.”
Chloe didn’t reply for so long that he pressed his fist into his forehead. If the whole Lila thing raised its head again—
“I know that.” Chloe’s soft, certain voice made him drop his fist. “He explained how things are between you, and I believe him.”
Michael shifted to face Chloe, but she wasn’t gazing his way. Her focus was solely on Lila.
“I also know you’re not happy about us being together, and as a mother myself, I understand why you’d be concerned. You think I’m a gold digger.”
Lila squared her shoulders. “No, I do not. I had my doubts, yes. I worried he wouldn’t make a good choice. Now I see in you a maturity I didn’t have at your age, and probably not even two years ago.” She let out a huff of laughter. “You don’t need my interference. You’re both doing just fine.”
