We walk up behind Aya as she’s still struggling with the key, so we put our conversation on pause. “What’s wrong with this stupid lock?” she asks.
Denver takes the key from her hand and slips it into the lock. “You were locking it,” he says. “There we go.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Aya argues.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s okay. Go on in,” he says.
Aya jumps in through the doorway and flips the light on.
The room illuminates with an unfamiliar woman sitting on the couch, and while I don’t know for sure who she is, it appears his ex-wife figured out where he lives faster than I probably would have. This move of breaking into Denver’s house really suggests she’s batshit crazy. She looks crazy. Her hair is all over the place, and she’s wearing sweatpants that are too small, slippers over socks, and an oversized t-shirt with a poop emoji. She doesn’t strike me as Denver’s type, nor does she look anything like Aya, so I’m really confused. Of course, it feels like twenty minutes have gone by since we spotted her on the couch, and no one has said a word until now.
“Who’s she, Dad?” Aya seems confused as she looks the woman up and down with a snarl on her face.
If Aya doesn’t know her, this might be a larger cause for concern than I thought.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Denver
“How sweet. Look at this happy little family,” Isla says. I haven’t spoken to her in so long, I forgot about the trashy way she sounds when she talks. It’s as if she tries to sound tough, but she just sounds stupid.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. It’s going to be hard to remain calm, but for Aya’s sake, Kai, and me, it’s what I have to do.
“I want my daughter back,” she asserts.
I glance over my shoulder at Kai, giving her a look I hope she understands. I’m very thankful that she comprehends immediately. She takes Aya by the hand and leaves the house, closing the door behind her. I can only imagine the questions Aya is going to have for Kai and me, but I have a hunch Kai will be good redirecting her for the time being.
“How do I say this in a way that makes you understand?” I begin, leaning against the wall separating the foyer and open kitchen. “No.”
“You don’t get to just keep her, Denver. I’m her mother.”
I take my phone out of my back pocket and open my web browser. “Let’s see here. I’m just searching for the definition of the word ‘mother.’ Ah, yup, just as I thought. ‘A woman in relation to a child; one who brings up a child with care and affection.’ Which part of that definition do you fit into?”
“Don’t be an asshole, Denver. She’s not even yours, fucker.” I’d love to give her the reaction she’s dying to see right now, but since one of us had to be responsible and intelligent, I had a paternity test done early on. I needed the facts regardless of my devotion to love and raise Aya, especially in case a day like this ever came. I am her father, and there wasn’t a doubt about it on the test.
“Would you like to see the paternity test records? I have them if you’d like.” Aww. It looks like I might have burst her stupid little bubble of hope.
“I want her back.”
“Why?” I ask.
“She’s my daughter, Denver. Don’t ask me why.”
“Why did you leave?” I remember now, Isla always hated that I was able to remain calm in arguments, whereas she can’t.
“I wasn’t ready to be a mother then. Now, I am.”
“No, you’re not,” I argue, simply.
“Who the fuck are you to tell me that?”
“Aya’s father.”
“I’ll take you to court,” she spits out. I was expecting this argument to carry on a little longer before she pulled that card because I assume the only reason she’s hear is for money.
“You must have come into some serious cash if you’re able to afford that, but sure, let’s go. I’ve already secured my attorney, in fact.” I haven’t yet, but I will be tomorrow. Thanks to Brielle’s call and the text I received from Molli a half hour ago warning me that Isla found my location through means I’m still unsure of, I’ve had time to gather my thoughts.
“Those twats ratted me out to you?” she says through a gravelly laugh.
“Nice language. Make sure you refer to your ex-sister-in-law and stepsister that way in court too. That’ll surely win you your case.” She’s at a loss for words, and I take the second to scan her appearance, wondering how she was able to let herself go so badly. I hardly recognize her, though no other psychopath would be sitting in my kitchen waiting for me to get home. “Are you taking drugs, Isla?”
“Fuck you,” she says.
She was never the classiest woman, but she wasn’t like this. She’s clearly gotten into some trouble.
I haven’t had much time to consider my thoughts on this matter, but the one thing I have lingering in my head is the pain I consoled Aya through after Isla left us. There’s nothing in this world that would convince me to chance putting her through that again.
“How much money do you need?” I ask her.
“What are you talking about?”
“Answer me, Isla. It will take over a year to save up just a few grand through poaching child support if you were to win custody by some miracle. So, if it is money you’re after, tell me. I’ll literally pay you to go away.”
Isla thinks for a minute, biting her bottom lip and bouncing her knees. I can see that’s what she wants. It’s all about money. Always has been.
A tapping sound on the window beside me causes me to jump since I was deep in thought. I turn around, finding Aya with her nose pressed up against the glass, blowing her cheeks out like a walrus. Then I see Kai, lifting her up and pulling her away from the window. I can hear Aya laughing hysterically from in here, which tells me she doesn’t know this is her mother sitting in here. She didn’t recognize her, and Kai has obviously distracted her well enough to avoid her curiosity and questions. Thank God.
“Four thousand,” Isla says.
I saved up my deployment checks over the years, making a nice nest egg of almost two-hundred grand. I was saving it for college and other expenses for Aya, and this is one expense I’ll gladly pay to protect her.
“I’ll give you the money, but it’s going to be attached to a signed agreement.”
“Fine, whatever,” she says without asking about the terms I’ll have on this agreement.
“For your knowledge, the agreement will state that you are never to show up again. You are never to look for us or trespass again. Aya will not know who you are today or anytime between now and when she turns eighteen. Then, at eighteen, if she wants to know who you are, I will tell her, with a warning.”
“I can’t believe you,” she mumbles.
Please. Her words are merely air going in one ear and out the other. “If you break the agreement, I will supply the police department with the video footage I have of you breaking and entering my home. I will show them the records that reveal you ran out and abandoned your daughter with no financial support. I have records of the therapy bills I paid to help our daughter move past the trauma of her mother leaving her without a goodbye. I will provide all of this information to the authorities. I will also put a restraining order against you for attempting to cause harm inside of my property. Do I make myself clear?”
“Can I see her for a minute at least?” Isla asks.
I know my decision on this matter is right, though it feels so wrong. “No. You can’t. You gave up those rights.”
“Fine, whatever. Give me the money.”
“Meet me tomorrow morning at Cafe Lona downtown, and I will have the agreement printed out and a bank check for my records.”
“Jesus Christ, are you kidding me?”
Stay calm. I have to stay calm. “Does it look like this is my kidding face?”
“Fuck you,” she says, snarling.
“Go out the back door. I will see you at nine tomorrow morning. I’ll be waiti
ng there for five minutes, and if you don’t show, the restraining order will still go into effect.”
She stands up from her seat, and I notice the extra weight she put on, the odor, and her filth. All I can wonder is how I ever felt attracted to this woman. I was in a dark place when I met her after my first deployment. Now I know how dark it really was.
She scuffles through the living room, following my pointed finger to the back, sliding-glass door. “Don’t trip on your way out,” I tell her. Cunt.
As soon as the backdoor closes, I open the front door, pulling Kai and Aya inside, locking the deadbolt behind them. “What was that woman selling? Dirty laundry?” Aya asks.
I laugh hard because even though I’m pretty sure she has no clue who that was, that is exactly what she was selling. “Actually yes,” I tell her through my fit of laughter.
“What a quack,” Aya says. “I would have left on my own even if Kai didn’t make me. It smelled like your gym socks.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, shushing her to be quiet.
Kai looks like she’s trying not to laugh and cry, both at the same time.
“I couldn’t hear what was happening, but it sounded like a Jerry Springer show,” she says.
I smile coyly. “Yeah, that’s one one way of putting it. Certain people should know not to mess with me. That’s all,” I spit out, along with a quick wink.
“Are you okay?” Kai mouths to me so Aya doesn’t hear.
“I’m fine,” I respond in the same manner.
I feel relieved in a small sense. I’ve been anticipating the day something like that happened, knowing I wouldn’t have much notice to protect Aya. I’m not sure I’ll ever be in the clear with her, but I bought some time at least, hopefully, and this is the perfect time to put my worries about Isla behind me.
“I’m going to go put myself to bed,” Aya says. “You two should probably kiss and live happily ever after or something like that.”
“Aya!” I snap.
“Oh please, I’m almost eight. I’m not stupid, Dad.”
“It doesn’t quite work that way,” Kai helps me.
“You’re telling me if my dad kissed you, you wouldn’t be happy forever?” Aya continues.
“I mean—” Kai is stumped on this one, and my dad look toward Aya isn’t working like it should.
“Go to bed,” I tell her.
“Story first,” she argues. “Then you two can kiss.”
Kai covers her face, which is turning red beneath her hand. “Aya Rossdale. Get your butt to bed.”
She rolls her eyes at me, like she’s gotten great at doing, and stomps up the stairs. “I’m so sorry,” I tell Kai.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that with your ex, or at least that’s who I’m assuming she was. I wouldn’t think you’d be paying off someone else stay away. I hope.”
“Oh my God, yes, that was Isla,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I wish you didn’t have to see that. I wish I didn’t have to see that.”
“I wish I weren’t even more attracted to you at this particular moment,” Kai says under her breath. “The way you handled that was incredible. Your ability to stay calm in heated situations is sexy, Denver.” His composed demeanor is like a fetish to me.
“Kai,” I mutter. “Knock it off.”
She fans herself. “I can’t help it.”
“Damn you. I need a minute to cool down before I get worked up again, and for a completely different reason.”
“I’ll go read Aya that bedtime story, and you go take a cold shower. How about that?”
“Who are you?” I ask her. The woman with daggers in her eyes who would let no one think they had an effect on her has completely transformed into this ravenous woman on the prowl for more of what she’s only had a taste of.
“A woman with a desperate thirst,” she says as she walks past me, scratching her fingernails against my stomach on the way. Why do women keep trying to torture me? What am I doing so wrong? God.
Chapter Twenty-Four
KAI
I’ve obviously known about the wedding for the last six months now, but um, the venue was a “secret” until last week. At least, Lea thought it was a secret, but if the location is a secret, it wasn’t hard to guess what she was hiding. My sister—my flesh and blood—is getting married at Man Buns. How, just how in the universe is this real? And why would Noa request his waiters be groomsmen in their “Man Bun” uniforms? What man wants this for his wedding day?
The pictures are going to look ridiculous. “Is this not the best wedding you’ve ever seen?” Lea asks me with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen her have.
Be nice, Kai. Be nice. “How could it not be? My baby sister is getting married here.”
“You’re walking back down the aisle with Denver after the ceremony. Hint, hint, nudge, nudge. Maybe that’ll spark an idea for you two,” she sings.
If it sparks any idea for us, it will not take place here, and he will be wearing more than underwear, I hope.
I wasn’t aware Noa even had this many waiters working here. Nothing like being saluted by a bunch of dicks as you walk down the aisle.
“You look beautiful, Lea.” This isn’t perfect, and it’s making me crazy.
It’s not my day. I have to keep my mouth shut.
“Look,” Lea says, turning around to face me. As perfect as any woman could look on her wedding day, she fits the mark and beyond. Lea places her hands on my shoulders and releases a satisfied sigh. “Would I have preferred the bed-and-breakfast on the cliff? Yes, but then I realized how many memories were associated with it, and I didn’t want sadness associated with today. I want to be happy. I want to smile and laugh. I want silly memories attached to each and every moment of today. I want to think back and laugh, not cry, at the thought of missing sentimental traditions.”
All I can do is smile because she’s right. She’s completely right. Though I may have chosen to dress half of the wedding party more appropriately, I will always remember this day and laugh. “I can support that,” I tell her.
“Good, now walk me down the aisle,” she tells me. With one last Lea smile, she pulls her veil over her face and reaches her hand out for mine. “Let’s get me married.”
The moment Lea takes my hand, a rush of emotions pours through me, and my throat swells. Tears threaten to erupt, but I stop them because I’ve learned to make them halt on my internal command. I take a deep breath, I squeeze her hand, and selfishly wish I didn’t have to let her go. For almost eleven years now, I’ve been taking care of her, and now it feels like my job is done.
We walk in silence out of the locker room and through the swinging door, facing the crowd. Noa had the restaurant rearranged to make space for rows of chairs, which are filled with hotel staff and a spattering of very distant relatives from our side and a few of Noa’s. Thank God, Noa is dressed.
We walk slowly down the aisle, and I cup my other hand over our already clasped hands. I can’t let go. How do dads do this? I feel like I’m giving Lea away to someone after I fought so hard to keep her.
The aisle ends faster than I wish, and Noa is standing in front of us, waiting to take Lea’s hand from my death grip. I release her but throw my arms around her neck and squeeze to match the tightness in my chest. “I love you so much, Lea. It hurts. It hurts to let you go.”
“I’m just getting married,” she chokes out. “I’m not leaving you. You’re my sister. Forever. Unless you continue to strangle me right now.”
Lea’s long-stemmed flower is placed in my clenched fist as hands curve around my waist, pulling me off of Lea. “Sweetie, come on,” Denver whispers in my ear. “Everyone is watching. It’s okay.”
Denver’s words soothe me as they usually do. He has a calming effect on me like no one else has ever had. I move to my designated spot, forced to face the line of men in their tight black shorts and protruding stuffed pecker pops. Except for Denver, of course. He doesn’t need to stuff. I try to blur my vision to av
oid most of the sight, so I can listen to the exchanging of their vows.
I catch the looks on their faces, finding pure bliss and happiness, and everything else seems to fade into the background. All I’ve ever wanted is for Lea to be happy. I put myself aside, gave myself that job, and knew if I could accomplish that everything would be okay.
The words, blessings, vows, and exchange of rings seems to happen within a blink of my eye, and before I know it, they’re already exchanging their first kiss as man and wife. Everyone is cheering, and a single tear involuntarily falls from the corner of my eye. She belongs to someone else now. I’m done.
Lea takes back the long-stemmed bird of paradise flower from me as she places a kiss on my cheek, whispering “Thank you,” before shouting, “I did it!”
Music blares from the speakers above and the song “My Humps” from Black Eyed Peas plays.
What the hell?
I cover my face, confused by my weirdo sister and my new weirdo brother-in-law. Dear God. There’s two of them. How? Denver grabs my hand that’s still over my face and loops it through his arm. He kisses my knuckles and holds my hand against his bare chest. “You did a great job,” he says beneath his breath.
“‘My Humps?’ Seriously?”
“She wants everyone to laugh. That’s what we need to do for her today.” When my eyes focus on the aisle in front of us, I notice everyone dancing in their seats, some even inappropriately. It does, in fact, make me laugh. “Kai, come over here with me for a minute. You need to breathe.” When we reach the end of the aisle, we break away from the crowd and leave the restaurant.
The fresh air feels good to inhale.
We walk over to Denver’s truck. He opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“Putting clothes on,” he replies with laughter. “Noa will pay for that in some way. Just not sure how yet.”
Denver slips on a pair of black board shorts and a breezy, baby blue, button-down shirt. After six months, my heart still palpitates when I take a minute to look at his flawless, natural beauty. I’m not sure how he ended up mine per-say, but I haven’t complained once. He’s my other half, the butt of my jokes, the period to my sentences, and the sun that was missing from my sky.
Man Buns Page 19
