“I don’t know the first thing about toddlers,” I confessed. “They terrify me.” I wondered how my mother had done it and why I wasn’t more like her.
“Ain’t nothing to know. Most everybody figure it out when the time comes they have to. I expect you be the same.” He laced his hands behind his head and leaned back on the thin grass with his eyes closed.
I bit my pinky nail to the quick, then attacked another finger. After mauling that fingernail and three others, the logjam inside me broke.
“Well, crap. What are we doing talking? I’ve gotta go pack.”
Rashidi met my eyes. A ghost of a smile swept across his face, then disappeared. I raised one eyebrow, and he nodded, three times, slowly. “And I got to find a woman.”
It seemed someone had accepted the inevitability of Ava being Ava.
I ran to get my suitcase.
I stood in line at the ticket counter the next day waiting for my turn. When I reached the counter, the former Mrs. St. Marcos glared down at me, tall and scary in her tight navy-blue uniform. By night, pageant diva. By day, fearsome guardian of American Airlines’ gates.
“So, Katie Connell,” which she pronounced Con-NELL, “it hot and the line long. State your business.”
“Good afternoon, Jackie,” I said, and bowed my head forward with a brown nose. “I want to purchase a ticket to Dallas.”
“You know you can do that on the computer. Or even the phone if you old school.”
“Yes, but I want to go right now. Today. This saves a step.”
Her eyes rolled.
Here it comes, I thought.
Jackie let out a loud, five-second-long chuptz. I couldn’t generate half the spit on a day’s notice that Jackie just had instantaneously. Impressive.
She held out her hand. I stared at it.
“Passport, credit card.”
“Right.” I dug, found them, and slapped them into her hand.
My phone rang and Jackie withered me with a glare. I admired how seriously she took her job. Really, she wasn’t better suited to any role I could think of, except maybe warden of a women’s prison. I looked at my phone.
It was Nick. I picked it up.
“Hi, beautiful,” he said. “What are you up to?”
“Hi, baby.” Had he guessed I was coming? I hadn’t told him. “Nothing much. You?”
“I need a ride.”
Prickles raced up the back of my neck. Nick could be anywhere in the world, but all of a sudden, I didn’t think so.
“Hold on.” I put my hand over the mouthpiece. “I changed my mind,” I said to Jackie.
I’d just thought her earlier chuptz was impressive.
“You for real?” she asked.
“Sorry. Plans changed.” I held out my hand for my documents.
“Like I got nothing better to do. Get on with you, then. Tell people dem you sorry and move on out the way.”
“Thank you.” I turned obediently, gave a little wave, and mouthed the word “Sorry” at the line of people. To a man, woman, and child, they ignored me.
I took my hand off the mouthpiece. “Where are you?” I asked.
I pushed my way through the crowd. A phalanx of big, meaty men was blocking the way between me and the entry gate. Every eye in the ticket area joined mine as we swiveled our heads to catch a glimpse of whoever it was that merited this much muscle.
“Three guesses,” Nick said.
I was scared to jinx it. “The grocery store?”
A hollow-cheeked man was strutting behind the behemoths. Aviator shades covered his eyes and his expensively layered black hair hung in strings past his shoulders. Somehow he looked handsome, even as malnourished as he was. His clothes suggested that he’d come straight to the plane from whatever club he had graced with his presence the night before: self-consciously frayed jeans and an untucked shiny gray long-sleeved shirt rolled up at the cuffs and unbuttoned halfway up and halfway down.
“Slither,” a teenage girl behind me breathed.
I looked closer. She was right. The singer made it to the curb, where an Escalade with tinted windows was waiting. The passenger’s side front door opened and a tall blonde got out, her bones straining against the confines of her spandex dress. She opened the back door and got back in. A face I knew leaned toward the open front door from the driver’s side.
Trevor. Of course. Ava had said Trevor produced for Slither. The musician slunk into the passenger seat and closed the door.
Nick said, “Wrong. Next guess.”
“Your office.”
Excitement over, the walkway cleared. If Nick was here, he was sure to be through the gate already. I trotted toward baggage claim with my rolling suitcase trailing behind me and my carry-on bouncing back and forth against my hip. My back was sweating under my laptop backpack. I tucked my pocketbook under my arm and clutched my iPhone in one hand. I weaved through the surprisingly large throng, wondering who they were and whether they were aware it was hurricane season. I looked around for Nick and couldn’t find him. My skin was tingling. My body knew he was there.
“Wrong again,” Nick said, but his voice was in stereo. His warm hand touched my shoulder and I smiled. When I turned around, I nearly combusted at the sight of him.
I tried to rein it in. I was no Meg Ryan, and this wasn’t Katz’s Deli. I threw my arms around his neck and leaned my head back. My eyes loved this face, the sharp cheekbones, the sparkling brown eyes, the crooked nose. I pushed my nose into his chest just to get closer to his smell, a musky-woodsy scent uniquely his.
“You’re here,” I said. “You’re really here.”
“I really am.”
We beamed, unable to tear our eyes off each other. Until a certain small person interrupted us.
Chapter Nineteen
Strapped into a complicated-looking car-seat/stroller thingy, and yelling that he wanted “down, down, down” (at least that’s what I think he was saying) was a large baby. Or a small toddler. I didn’t know which. A young boy of some sort, anyway, presumably named Taylor.
I don’t know why it surprised me. Nick had told me he had to keep Taylor, but, still, I gaped. Here I was, and here he was. I waited for my maternal instinct to kick in and tell me what to do. Nothing happened.
Taylor flailed his legs and tore at his shirt. The Velcro straps on his sneakers had come undone somehow. He blinked big brown eyes under a tousled mop of hair. There were still crease marks on his cheek, probably from sleeping on the plane.
Nick said, “Taylor, this is Ms. Katie. Can you say hi and blow Ms. Katie a kiss?”
Taylor whipped his face away. This shifted the burden of communication to me. Was it normal to feel nervous about talking to a toddler?
“Hi, Taylor. Welcome to St. Marcos! I’m so glad to meet you.”
“DOWN!” he yelled at me.
Nick laughed. “In a minute, buddy.” To me, Nick said, “We’ve got a lot of bags. If I set him free, we’re going to have a hard time handling everything.”
“How old is he?” I asked.
“Sixteen months. Why?”
I guessed that meant he could walk. “Because I think I can watch him while you get the bags.”
I immediately regretted it. Who was I kidding? But I put my game face on.
“If you’re sure, that would be great,” Nick said. “He’s been cooped up all day.” He unharnessed Taylor and set him in front of me. Before I could reach down to grab hold of him, Taylor was wobbling full tilt through the crowded baggage claim area. It was shocking how fast he could motor.
“Slow down, Taylor,” I called as I chased after him in my stylish yet suddenly impractical strappy sandals.
Taylor toddled on, giggling.
I ran, apologizing. “Excuse me, pardon me.” I pushed my untethered waves of hair back and wished for a ponytail holder. “Sorry, oops.” Tourists surged back from us like a school of parrotfish. I caught Taylor by one plump arm just as he was about to climb onto the baggage carous
el. I scooped him up and he turned his laughing eyes onto me. He smiled beatifically with red bow lips that would have cost a fortune in Hollywood. I wouldn’t say my heart melted, but it softened a lot.
“Hey there, speedy. Want to come to my house and meet my doggies?”
His eyes lit up at the word “doggies.” “Ruff ruff.”
“That’s right. Doggies. Ruff ruff. But we have to get your bags and go ride in my truck to get there.”
“Vroom, vroom.”
“You are such a smart boy. Yes, let’s go to the truck with the bags and go see doggies.”
I put his feet on the ground, but this time held tightly onto his hand as he continued to chant “ruff ruff” and “vroom vroom.” We made our way slowly back to Nick, whose shoulder muscles rippled under his shirt as he hefted a bag from the carousel. My stomach fluttered in response.
Down, girl.
I buckled Taylor back into the stroller with a promise of vroom vrooms and ruff ruffs.
“Cute kid,” a deep voice said behind me.
I whipped around and saw a dark blue uniform. I looked above it into a broad and familiar face. Jacoby. Being friendly. I was too startled to reply.
Nick walked up, pulling two rolling suitcases with soft-sided bags perched on top of them.
Jacoby said, “Who your friends?”
“Oh! I’m sorry. Jacoby, this is Nick, and Nick’s nephew, Taylor. Nick, this is Jacoby, Officer Darren Jacoby.”
“Nice to meet you, Officer Jacoby,” Nick said, extending his hand. Jacoby swallowed it whole with his. They shook.
“Nice to meet you. You know, she not half bad,” Jacoby said, gesturing at me with his chin. “A good afternoon to you all,” he added, then headed toward the ticketing area.
I gaped after him. Jacoby had complimented me. I felt a warmth in the center of my chest.
We started walking to the truck and Nick asked, “So why are you carrying bags? And how did you get here to pick us up so quickly?”
“I was bringing Mohammed to the mountains,” I said. “I didn’t know the big mountain and the little mountain were en route.”
“But what about Annalise?”
“Just a house,” I said, and we locked eyes and smiled, until I stumbled over a curb and nearly went down.
“Nice, Lucille Ball.”
I curtsied.
Between mine and theirs, there were a lot of bags to load into the back of my truck, but Nick wedged them all in, then put the car seat in the center of the bench seat. “Up you go,” he said, lifting Taylor in. Nick and I settled on either side of him.
And baby makes three, I thought. I sucked in a deep breath.
Nick reached over the car seat and took my hand. “Hey, beautiful, how are you over there?”
A lump formed in my throat. “Happy,” I said. “Very, very happy.” It was not a word people had used to describe me for most of my life, but I realized it was true. I was happy.
“Happy is good. I’m happy, too.”
I turned the truck’s big red nose up the bumpy road to Annalise. “How long can you stay?”
“Same as we’d planned.”
“Are you serious?”
We had planned for Nick to commute virtually and leave his return as open-ended pending never. I felt like bouncing up and down in my seat.
“If you’re OK with having us both here.”
I tore my eyes off the road for a moment to look at him. “Anything to have you here. Anything.” He squeezed my hand. “What does Teresa think about it?”
“Whoa, there,” Nick said as I veered toward the center of the road.
Woopsie. I steered us back to the left.
Nick continued. “She thinks it’s great I have Taylor out of the reach of his sperm donor.”
“Will Derek try to make you bring him back?”
Nick shook his head. “He won’t even realize he’s gone. He just wanted to control her.”
We neared the final turn into the gate, which I’d had installed on a rush job the day after my first night alone at Annalise. “Here we are.”
“I can’t wait to see your progress,” Nick said as I sped up the lane.
I didn’t answer. We both saw Bart’s car at the same time.
Nick’s face darkened. “What the hell is Bart doing here?”
“I have no idea.” I parked in the driveway. “I’m sorry, Nick. Give me a second and let me get rid of him.”
I walked over to Bart’s Pathfinder, but he wasn’t in it. I turned back toward Nick, shook my head and raised my hands outward, shrugging. I pointed at myself and then the house, then went to the side door. It was unlocked, but I’d double-checked the locks before I left. I opened the door.
“Hello?” I called into the kitchen. “Is someone here?”
No answer.
My stomach churned. “Bart, I know you’re in here. Please answer me.”
Silence. I walked through the kitchen. I could feel static emanating from the floors and walls around me. So my moody jumbie had returned, and she didn’t like whatever was up. I went into the great room and threw the balcony doors open.
“Bart?” I leaned over the rail and saw Bart below on the backyard patio. He had his feet up on the table next to red roses tied with white ribbon. His profile was to me and he didn’t turn my way at first, just sucked hard on a hand-rolled joint. Even from twenty feet above him, I could see that his eyes were blood red and his hair was, frankly, disgusting. Greasy. Dull. Kurt Cobain in his heyday, and I’m not a Nirvana fan.
“Hey,” he said, and turned toward me.
I heard the side door open behind me, then Nick’s voice, Taylor’s happy squeals, and the panting of Oso. Half of me wanted to shout for them to wait outside. The other half wanted to yell for Nick to hurry up. I did neither.
The static from the house intensified. Footfalls sounded behind me.
“You need to leave, right now,” I said to Bart.
Nick stopped beside me. He called down to Bart in frighteningly calm voice. “Hey, buddy, why don’t you get the hell out of here and never come back.”
I felt a tiny thrill. Something about the bad-boy protector in Nick turned on the bad girl in me. Or at least the girl who wanted to help him find the fastest way out of his clothes.
“Who the hell are you?” Bart asked.
“I think you can figure that out.”
Bart’s face registered the dawning of realization, which only made him look more stoned. “Hey, I thought you weren’t coming.”
Nick shot me a look.
“I haven’t talked to him in weeks,” I said. “But it’s a small island. Word gets around.”
Bart sneered. “Tell him any lie you want, Katie.”
He stood up, threw the roses into the pool, and strode toward the driveway. A few moments later I heard his engine start, then tires spinning against the rocks as he drove away.
Chapter Twenty
I turned to Nick, ready to apologize again, but he didn’t look upset.
“You forgot to tell me your crazy ex-boyfriend is a stoner,” he said, and swiped my nose with his thumb.
I shook my head and sighed. “It’s a new development.”
“Two words: restraining order.”
“You may be right.”
And that was the end of it, which totally caught me by surprise. My previous really serious relationship before Nick had been the year after I’d made partner at Hailey & Hart. My boyfriend’s ex couldn’t get over him, and I couldn’t get over her. Eventually, I drove him away, not back to her but on to someone new. Was Nick really that much more centered and rational than me?
I shuddered. The last time I’d gotten all wonky, he’d stayed away for nearly a year. Maybe wonky was bad and unwonky good.
Restraint. I could learn to exercise a little restraint.
We turned around and went back into the great room, where Taylor was running around the legs of the scaffolding.
“This house is named
Annalise,” I told him.
“Reese,” he said, and tumbled to the floor. His head hit the tile with a loud thwack, followed by two beats of silence, then an ear-shattering wail. I felt a keening rise up around me.
“Do you hear that?” I asked Nick.
“Hard to miss,” Nick replied. “The boy has some lungs.”
“Not Taylor. The other sound.”
“Nope. What is it?”
I smiled at him. “Annalise,” I said. “She’s wailing along with Taylor.”
Nick picked up Taylor and was rocking him back and forth as the boy screamed. “Maybe I just can’t hear her over this.”
Maybe. But I didn’t think so. Most people couldn’t. Did I care that he couldn’t? I let the thought brew for a moment. My own answer surprised me. No, I didn’t mind. I kind of liked having Annalise to myself.
When Taylor’s cries subsided, Nick said, “I need to feed him some dinner.”
“I’m not sure what I have for a little boy.”
“No problem. I packed enough for tonight. We’ll have to shop tomorrow.”
Nick brought the car seat stroller thingy into the kitchen and buckled Taylor in. He pulled out a tray attachment.
“My God, does it play ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,’ too?” I asked.
Nick laughed and spread an assortment of Cheerios, green beans, and bits of string cheese in front of Taylor. I thought the cheese might be a little stale from the trip, but I exercised my newfound restraint and didn’t say so. Taylor gobbled it down with Oso stationed close by. Taylor threw a Cheerio on the floor. Oso snapped it up. Taylor laughed and kicked. Another Cheerio hit the floor. Oso wagged his tail and ate it, too. Taylor squealed. A game.
“Uh oh,” Nick said. He put his hand over the pile of food. “No, Taylor. This is your food. Oso has his own food.”
Taylor stuck out a fat lower lip. Nick held out a Cheerio, but Taylor jerked his head away.
“This will go bad in a hurry,” Nick said to me. “Oh well, he’s not going to starve to death.” He unstrapped the boy and set him down again.
Leaving Annalise (Katie & Annalise Book 2) Page 11
