Here Without You (Between the Lines #4) Paperback

by Tammara Webber

  ‘Oh. So you’re going through with the adoption?’ She sounds confused.

  I grit my teeth. Janelle is a determined I will never, ever have children sort of woman. I was, too, not long ago. An aversion to parenthood was something we had in common. I can’t expect her to suddenly relate to my new priorities – though I do expect her to work around them.

  ‘Yes. Reid has agreed to keep him while I’m filming in Australia. He’ll be between films in June.’

  ‘Huh. Impressive. You two are behaving better than most of my divorced-with-kids cohorts – and they’re in their thirties and forties. Those poor kids are like the rope in their parents’ I-hate-you-now tug of wars. Thank God I don’t have to ever speak to either of my douchebag exes again.’

  I know instinctively I’ll never have that sort of issue with Reid. Whatever his past or present faults, he’s stepped up in a way I never could have foreseen him doing. If he wasn’t in love with Dori, I could fall for him all over again.

  But he is in love with her. And I need his friendship too much, for River’s sake, and for my own. I learned my lesson with Graham, whose friendship I’m determined to earn back. Some day. If Emma allows it.

  ‘Heads up, Janelle – Rowena is getting an exclusive photo op of Reid and River and me. She’s going to “catch” us doing our first custody swap. Expect the story to break by the end of the week – I’ll need you to consider who to give the print story to. It’ll be jointly done.’

  ‘Wow. You’re using Rowena for this?’ she says. ‘So, it will be a breaking story – photos only, instead of an official announcement. That’s ballsy. But why am I surprised? Of course you’d approach this the way you do everything else: head on.’

  Can’t argue with that. ‘I’ve gotta go. River will be here any minute.’

  ‘Thanks for the great news!’ she squeals. ‘I’ll be in touch!’

  I have got to get some earplugs.

  I’ve never made so much queso in my life, and I’m from central Texas. River seems to like to dip everything he eats in a bowl of cheese, and given the fact that we’re trying to get his weight up, his paediatrician has given the green light to unlimited amounts of it. To my son, everything is better dipped in cheese – except fruit. But hand the kid a chicken nugget or a green bean or a stick of celery, and into the queso it goes.

  I also did something that Kris was none too sure about: I bought a dorm-room sized fridge for his bedroom. ‘Maybe not the best precedent …’ Kris said, but I know she was thinking what I thought when I bought it: at least the food he hoards won’t spoil. And it may get him to do it more openly, which could result in his no longer feeling the need to do it at all, at some point.

  He also likes to sit in his closet occasionally, with the door almost all the way closed. So we constructed a little tented-off area in the back with blankets and pillows, and a safety light, though he sometimes sits in the dark. If I can’t find him, I know that’s where he is. I sit on his bed and call to him nonchalantly, telling him it’s time for lunch, or bath, or pyjamas and a book. Eventually, he emerges, always holding Hot Dog … who is going to need a bath of his own soon. His fur is sporting all sorts of random stickiness and, unsurprisingly, cheese.

  ‘Hi, River,’ I’ll say, as though it’s perfectly normal for a kid to want to sit in a dark closet.

  He climbs up beside me, and I smile as though it doesn’t break my heart that he needs to hide. That he still gets that scared. That he still doesn’t speak.

  ‘He’s had one bad dream this week,’ I tell Reid quietly, as River stands at the hiking barricade, checking out the big Hollywood sign in the distance. He holds a finger out, tracing the letters in mid-air. I’ve had him for three days, and he’s going home with Reid now. ‘He yelled, “No” and “Don’t hit Mama”. But he stayed solidly asleep.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Reid says, watching him. We’re both smiling, because Rowena is a small distance away, taking photos. My smile has never felt so unnatural.

  ‘I’ll call you if I have any problems.’ He looks down at me, and the worry in his eyes is plain. ‘You might want to keep your phone on twenty-four–seven.’

  I smile up at him. ‘You’ll do just fine. But yeah, I’ll have my phone on and on me for the next four days straight.’

  River’s second favourite place is the huge sandbox on my enclosed patio. Daddy sent it, along with a note: Brooke, I got Evan one of these and he loves it. I thought River might too. Evan is the starting forward on his soccer team, which I’m now assistant coaching. Rory’s interested in cars, so we’re taking a long weekend to go to the auto show in NYC. Thank you for your advice. It was spot on. Love, Daddy.

  Reid plans to take River to the private beach owned by John’s parents. ‘John thinks he’s become an uncle,’ Reid says. ‘I had to talk him out of buying River a kid-sized sports car.’ I shake my head. John. ‘Did you pack that bulldozer you said he likes?’

  I nod. ‘And the crane. So you can both play.’

  We laugh and River turns to look at us. His sweet little face is so serious, but at least he isn’t frowning.

  ‘Ready to go, bud?’ Reid says, squatting down. River walks over and straight into his arms, and I bite my lip and keep my face turned from where I know Rowena is until my fake smile is back in place. I watch as Reid straps River into a booster seat in the back of his dad’s SUV, and hands him Hot Dog. ‘I’m guessing Immaculada is gonna get hold of that dog some time in the next few days,’ he murmurs, ‘and send it through the wash.’

  ‘Good,’ I murmur back. ‘I think we could stick him to a wall and he’d stay there right now.’ I run a hand through River’s soft hair, wavy and the perfect beach blond, like Reid’s. ‘Goodbye, River. Have fun with Reid, and I’ll see you soon.’ When I lean to kiss his forehead, he turns his face into mine. Not quite kissing me back, but accepting my kiss.

  I’ve always said I would never need a man, and no boy would ever save me.

  I was wrong.

  DORI

  Me: I’m ready to talk, if you’re free.

  Reid: River is here for his second overnight. His bedtime is 8. Mom is reading to him now, and he’s looking pretty sleepy.

  Me: Oh! I don’t want to interrupt your time with him.

  Reid: Come at 9. He’ll be in bed – you won’t be interrupting. Please come.

  Me: You’re sure it isn’t too late?

  Reid: No such thing, Dori. I’ll open the gate – just park in your usual spot.

  I have a usual spot, even if it’s been over two months since I’ve been here.

  I take a deep breath and stare at the house where Reid grew up. It looks like a castle to me – a beautiful architectural monstrosity. But to him, it’s just home. He doesn’t see the world as I do – not because he wilfully refuses to, but because this is his reality. His celebrity is his reality. His career. His reputation. His son.

  And he wants me to be part of this life of his.

  Unbeknown to me, Mom was eavesdropping on our conversation on Sunday afternoon. I didn’t know until the next day. When she appeared at my bedroom door and asked if I had a moment to talk, I was separating the last of my clean laundry – hanging what I need for the coming week at home, packing what I’ll take back to Cal next weekend.

  ‘Sure, Mom. Kayla and Aimee aren’t coming to get me for a couple more hours.’

  My friends planned a night out that included a movie: Hearts Over Manhattan, having no idea, of course, that it starred the mother of Reid’s child – whose existence was still a secret.

  Mom perched at the end of my bed and glanced around my tidy room. ‘I’ve missed you, Dori. When Deb first left for college, it was difficult to watch her go, but her leaving didn’t silence the house – though it certainly quietened it.’

  Deb, as tone-deaf as she could be, was the one who sang at the top of her lungs in the shower. She howled with laughter when talking on the phone or watching television. She banged pots and pans while cooking. It was impossible
for her to enter or leave a room quietly. But she was so sweet and constantly happy that Mom and I, naturally more restrained, couldn’t criticize her innate exuberance.

  Those memories are bittersweet now – rare moments that bring both laughter and tears, and leave my emotions a tangled mess.

  ‘You were only ten when she left for college,’ Mom said, smiling. ‘You still wanted to tell your dad and me all about your day, or help make cookies, or play with Esther. The house still felt full with you in it, and now, it’s so quiet.’

  I slid a hanger through another shirt and hung it in the closet, unsure how to respond.

  ‘I was listening to some of your conversation yesterday. With Reid.’

  I turned to face her, stunned. My mother had never been the purposefully overhearing, snooping around sort of parent. Neither of my parents was. Of course, that was before I spent the night with Reid last fall.

  ‘What he said – that you don’t think we know you, that you don’t think God cares about you – it’s true, isn’t it?’

  I shrugged – because it was unerringly true. How can you tell a parent who’s always loved you that she doesn’t really know you at all? But I couldn’t lie to her, either.

  ‘You’ve been very patient with me while I figure some things out. Like the fact that you’re a smart, loving young woman, and it’s time I trust your decisions about who you choose to love. If my interference in your relationship with Reid is what’s caused you to think I don’t know you, Dori, I’m even sorrier. You’re my daughter, and I want what’s best for you. But that’s for you to decide, as hard as it is for me to admit.’

  I crossed the room as she stood to hug me. ‘I’m sorry, Mom.’

  Shaking her head, she said, ‘You have nothing to apologize for.’ She pulled back and took my face in her hands. ‘If you see something good in that boy, then there’s something good in him. I trust your judgement, Dori. I always have.’

  ‘There’s a lot of good in him, Mom. And I want to tell you about all of it. Well – most of it.’ I blushed, knowing Reid would laugh at that accidental disclosure.

  A tap on my window breaks me from my reverie. I blink, because Reid is standing right there, waiting for me to exit my car.

  As I release the seat belt, he’s opening my car door, and the hinges protest as they always do, though I’d swear they squeal louder when I’m parked in his driveway.

  ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I’m glad you came.’ I fall in beside him and we walk inside. ‘He’s asleep. Would you … do you want to see him?’

  I nod, chewing my lip.

  Tiny lights line the baseboard along the hallway between River’s partially open door and the steps up to Reid’s room, like the aisles in nice theatres. Reid pushes his son’s door open and enters, barefoot. I slip my flip-flops off in the hallway and follow him.

  The room is dark, but there are two nightlights, and after a minute, our eyes have adjusted well enough to cross the room. Along with shelves of toys, I spy a television and game console, a huge overstuffed chair, and a perfectly proportioned desk.

  The bed is raised, with a ladder at the end, but isn’t quite high enough to be a bunk. His small body curled around a stuffed dog, River is wearing pyjamas covered in cartoon ants, of all things. Unmistakably blond, his hair is longer than it was in the picture on Reid’s phone. His lips are parted, the lightest snore emanating from him.

  I’ve always loved kids, but knowing this little boy is Reid’s takes that appeal a step further. I have to clench my hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. ‘He’s beautiful,’ I say.

  Reid stares down at me with dark eyes, his hair almost as light as River’s – no colour, as though he’s a black and white version of himself in his white T-shirt and dark jeans. He takes my hand and leads me from the room.

  Instead of taking me to his bedroom, he steers me to a small parlour off the main living area, and we sit on a sofa, side by side. He turns to me and seems to brace himself for what I have to say.

  I pull my Mary Poppins bag from my shoulder and reach into it, pulling out a gift bag. ‘It’s a belated birthday gift. I had to get creative, since you have everything. Or, you will now – after you unwrap that.’

  Surprised, he opens the bag and flings the tissue paper to the floor. When he pulls out the T-shirt, he laughs. Aimee, Kayla and I scoured the local thrift stores for the last two days to find a MADD T-shirt similar to mine. They were horrified that I’d give Reid something ‘used’, but once I had the idea I couldn’t let it go. They forced me to swear I wouldn’t tell him they had any part in finding it.

  ‘Should I try it on now?’ he asks, one eyebrow quirking up.

  Good golly, he’s hot, and I’d love for him to strip off his shirt and not put anything back on. But we’re not done.

  ‘I have one other thing to give you.’

  He pushes the shirt and wrapping materials to the side while I reach into my bag and pull out the small velvet box. His eyes flick from the box to my face, and he doesn’t move.

  ‘What you said the other day – you were right. I’ve been disconnecting myself. I haven’t believed my parents know me. I haven’t believed that God cares about me, or my sister. I haven’t been sure he exists at all. And I haven’t had faith in a future with you.’

  I take a deep breath and hold the box out to him. He swallows, jaw clenched, and opens his hand. When I place the box in his palm, he closes his fingers over it.

  I lick my lips and take a deep breath of my own. ‘You said you have faith in us. You told me to come to you when I was ready to be fearless. The truth is, I don’t know if I can be fearless. I’ve lost myself, Reid, and I’m still so scared. But I’m ready to try. If you still want to, I’m ready.’

  He blinks, stunned, and opens the box. Taking my left hand from my lap, he pulls the ring from its silk-sheathed slot and slides it on to my finger. The dark blue stone and surrounding baguettes fill the space below my knuckle, and somehow, it fits perfectly. He leans closer, his lips a whisper over mine at first, and then he kisses me deeper, gathering me closer, our breaths mingled and shared until we’re both winded, chests heaving like we’ve each run a mile uphill.

  He stares at my hand in his for a long minute, his thumb caressing the edges of the band on my finger, before his eyes lift to mine. ‘When do you have to be home?’ His voice is low and tinged with an ache that echoes back from my heart.

  ‘I told them I might be a little late …’ I say.

  Before I can say another word, he grabs my right hand, jumps up and strides through the house to his bedroom. He programmes an intercom system inside his door – the display reads: River’s room: ON. ‘I can hear him; he can’t hear us,’ he says.

  Elbowing the door shut, he tugs me into the circle of his arms.

  The second his mouth crashes into mine, I’m on fire. Engulfed. I open my mouth and he kisses me harder as I press against him, locking my arms around his neck. His hands are hard on my back, fingers digging in, sliding down to my hips, gripping me tight as his tongue thrusts deep into my mouth, stoking the fire at my core until it’s raging through me.

  One knee slips up the outside of his thigh and he immediately grasps my leg, wrenches it higher and around his waist. As the other follows, he lifts me effortlessly, and I hook my ankles at his low back. Cushioning my head with his hand, he slams me into the wall. His lips leave mine with a loud pop, sliding down my jaw, raining kisses down my neck as I’m gulping in air. Seizing handfuls of his hair, I pull him back to my mouth, kissing him urgently, our tongues tangling.

  Shoving my tank up, his hands cup my breasts, thumbs teasing beneath the smooth satin, and I can’t get close enough to him. Without his hands bracing my weight, I’ve slipped just low enough to feel him hard against me, too many layers between us. Panting, he unhooks my front-closure bra and shoves the cups to the sides, and despite my determined muteness so far, I cry out when he sucks a nipple into his mouth, hard. Arching into him, I bit
e my lip until it stings, and I’m rewarded with his growl as he swings me around, strides towards the bed and drops me on to it.

  I’m transfixed by the sight of him jerking his shirt over his head without bothering to unfasten the buttons. He slings it to the ground, inside out, as I shrug out of my tank and bra. Stepping up and unzipping my shorts, his dark gaze is on my face. My heart thuds as I return his stare and begin unbuttoning his jeans slowly, brazenly.

  Seconds later, he’s tossing my shorts to the floor and pressing me to the mattress. As soon as our mouths meet again, my heart cracks open, and the memories are a tidal wave, beginning with that first spellbinding kiss in the pink closet. He seems heavier, bigger, harder all over than he was even those few months ago, but his beautiful face is still all angled symmetry, except for his full mouth and the thick, curving lashes ringing his dusk-blue eyes.

  His kiss is the same – hot and demanding, but never stingy. Perfect. I’m good for you even if you don’t know it yet, he told me, and then he waited months for me to know it. To believe it. To stop doubting him.

  Tears seep from the corners of my eyes to snake into my hair, and I hold on and kiss him back, measure for measure. ‘I love you,’ I say, finally, and he freezes and pulls back, watching me. ‘I love you,’ I repeat, ‘and I’m so scared, Reid. But I have faith in us.’

  Fingertips stroking the edges of my face, he shifts his weight from me, pulling me into his embrace. ‘That’s what faith is, right?’ he says. ‘Believing in what can’t be known? Fall into my arms, Dori. I’ll catch you, every time, and I won’t let go.’ His lips brush over mine, feather-light. ‘Say it again, please. I’ve waited so long to hear you say it.’

  ‘I love you.’ I push him gently to his back and lean over him. Stare into his eyes. ‘I love you. Please don’t let go.’

  ‘I’ve got you. And I’m not letting go. Again. Please.’