I nod and feel something inside me shred. "Sure," I murmur. "If that's what she'd like."
Sara nods, not meeting my gaze, and leans into Carly's embrace.
"I'll stay and help clean up," Quinn offers.
Ali and her husband walk Carly and Sara out, and I robotically begin to fold up chairs and remove centerpieces from tables. Craig and Quinn are silent guards at my side. When we've filled the trash bins and the recycling bins, and folded all the tables and chairs, I say subdued goodbyes to the guys in the band.
"Thanks so much for coming," I tell my friend.
"It was a great party, Ross. Your girl will see that tomorrow, when the shock's worn off." Then he pauses. "And just for the record, no one I know will ever walk into a studio or onto a stage with Stone again. You have my word on that."
I thank him, then turn to Craig and Quinn.
"Thanks for staying to help out, you guys."
Craig grabs my hand and reels me in for a hard backslap. "It's a setback. You haven't lost the war."
I nod, because I appreciate his reassurance, but we both know this was bad. Incredibly bad.
I turn to Quinn. "Did you ride here with your mom?" I ask.
"Yeah, but Craig says he's going my way."
"I'll walk the kid home." Craig gives him a soft shove toward the gate.
I watch them walk out, standing beneath the festive lights that now only seem to illuminate everything that's worn and dirty about my life.
"Ross?" Quinn leans back over the gate, his face only partially visible in the inconsistent light.
"You forget something?" I ask, moving closer.
"No. I just wanted to say that she's wrong. Sara, I mean."
I give him a wan smile, because as much as I'd like to believe that, we all know it's not true. I'm a crap father. I always have been, and I couldn't protect her from my crap world.
"I don't know about the rest of her life, but I know that since you guys have been here, you've been exactly the kind of dad you should be. I've watched you with her, you're like all the good dads I know. You didn't do anything wrong. There are assholes everywhere, not just when you're a rockstar."
Then Craig calls for him to hurry up. "Come on, kid, I've got slobbering, snot-nosed brats to get home to." And Quinn is gone.
Everyone is gone.
And I'm all alone again.
It's not quite eight a.m. and I've just snapped a pod into the Keurig when my phone rings.
"What the fuck happened, Ross?" Christine nearly shouts as I answer.
I lean back against the countertop, and squeeze my eyes shut for just a moment, as I replay that scene in my head. Strumming my guitar, watching Carly's beautiful face as I sang words to a song written years ago that finally had real meaning to me, because it has become about her, like all my songs now seem to be.
Then that awful flash, and Sara's tearful protestations.
"Apparently, Stone decided to bring along a paparazzi friend," I tell her in a weary voice.
"And why was Stone there at all?" Christine snaps. "I know Sara sure as hell didn't invite him, and wasn't this supposed to be her party? Not some excuse for you to play rockstar with your buddies."
"No one invited him," I correct. "Well, not really." I go on to explain to her how Stone ended up at the party in the first place.
"I swear, Christine, if I'd had any idea he was only there to hurt us, I'd have never allowed him within a hundred miles of Grove City. You have to know, as imperfect as I am, I would never set up something that I thought would harm Sara."
I can hear her breathing for a few moments, then her voice comes down an octave or two. "Yeah. Okay. But this is your life, Ross, and it's not one that'll work for our daughter."
I don't respond because she's right. What else can I say?
"I need you to bring her home now."
"Okay." My chest feels like someone just split it wide open. I want to howl at the moon, rip the skin from my body, tear the world to pieces with my bare hands.
Instead, I agree to charter a plane and return my daughter to the mother who loves her, and the only life she's ever really known.
"We'll see you tonight, then," I say, as we wrap up the arrangements.
"I'm sorry, Ross," she tells me. And I believe she really is. "I hope you'll consider staying in L.A., like we talked about last time, so you can see her some more. We can work past this, but not if you're on the other side of the country."
After we hang up, I stand with my cup of coffee that now tastes like regret and loss, and stare out at the remains of the party. The rental company has already been here to pick up the tables and chairs, the lights hang dark and cold in the morning air, the coolers and garbage cans are dirty and scuffed in the light of day.
And my insides are as wrecked and forlorn as the backyard of the house I bought, that I'll no longer need. Because I know what I have to do, and it's going to be the most painful decision I've ever made. But when you've spent your kid's entire life only making the choices that benefitted you, there's only one way to prove that you've changed, that you love them more than you love yourself, your life, your ambitions, or your dreams.
For once, I have to put Sara first.
34
Carly
"Hush, Chuck," I scold as he coughs and hisses from behind his gate upstairs. I know who I'll find before I open the door, and fear has my hands shaking and my heart racing, before I plaster on a smile and greet my fate.
"Hey," he says softly, his eyes sadder than I've ever seen them before.
"Hi. She's just finishing up some breakfast, why don't you come on in?"
His gaze drops away, and I know then and there that this is it. I spent an hour last night getting Sara to settle down, reassuring her that her photos and name won't be plastered all over the tabloids, telling everyone that she's pregnant at fourteen. But she was adamant she wants to go home immediately. The best I could do was ask her to wait until she'd had a good night's sleep to call her mom. She did both things.
"Can we talk for minute?" he asks, gesturing to my porch.
"Yeah." My voice is hardly more than a whisper as I walk outside and shut the door behind me.
In unspoken agreement, we sit on the porch swing, and I notice immediately that he puts distance between us. Both physical and metaphorical. He stares out at the early morning street, empty of cars and activity.
"Christine called first thing this morning."
I clasp my hands in my lap and try not to look at the man my heart is crying out for. "I was able to get Sara to hold off on calling her until this morning, but there wasn't much else I could say."
His lips curl ever so slightly. "Of course. She has every right to call her mother." Then, he finally looks at me, and it nearly stops my breath. There is so much pain in those beautiful hazel eyes. "Thank you, Carly. For everything you've done for both of us, but mostly for being here for Sara."
I nod rapidly, my eyes burning as I struggle to hold it together.
"Sara wants to go home to L.A. right away, and there won't be any more talks about her staying here with me." He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. His gaze moving back to the empty street. "I never should have done this. I was an idiot to think I could make something so different work."
I can't help it when my hand reaches out to touch his arm. But I notice how he flinches, and I quickly withdraw it.
"Don't say that, Ross. Stone's interference was something no one could have predicted. It was working. You were building a relationship with her, and as soon as she calms down and sees that the worst-case scenario isn't going to happen—"
"It won't happen. I've already taken care of it." There's a steely quality to his voice that frightens me.
"What did you do?"
"Gave them what they really want—the exclusive on me leaving Odyssey—which I am. It’s done. I can’t ever work with Stone again. But I have an ironclad guarantee the tabloid won't ever use my daughter's name or
likeness, ever. I got the lawyers on it the minute everyone left last night. We were up until three a.m. hammering out the details."
"Well, that's fantastic, isn’t it? She's safe now, so there's no need to worry."
"Carly—babe," he says, his voice rough and low. "I can't stay."
And there it is. What I knew was coming. The three words that rip out my heart and leave me empty inside.
"You're going back to L.A.," I say flatly.
He nods. "Neither Christine nor Sara are going to agree to her being here now, and it's time I did what any decent parent would have done fourteen years ago. I have to put her first."
The tears gather in my eyes and I cast my gaze upward, trying desperately not to let them fall. As much as it hurts, though, I can't be angry with him, because if he didn't do this, he wouldn't be the man I love. And in that moment, I have to follow my personal policy—total honesty with myself, always. I love Ross Macalester. I'm not sure if it started in the high school gym twenty-five years ago, or in that same gym last month. But either way, I've fallen in love with this man, and now I've lost him, as well.
"I understand," is all I say.
"Fuck," he whispers, turning to face me and cradling my face in his hands. "I didn't know it was possible for something to hurt this much."
The tears finally overflow my eyes and begin to track down my cheeks.
"I could come back on weekends, maybe?" he offers. But we both know that would never work.
"She'll have soccer games on the weekends, and dates, and she'll need rides places, and you'll want to be there for the Saturday morning pancake breakfasts and the homework on Sunday afternoons."
He bows his forehead to mine. "Maybe when Quinn graduates high school next year?"
"I have a business, and family and friends," I answer with a hitch in my voice. "And I really hate L.A."
"Me too," he says with a bitter chuckle.
We stay like that for a moment, or ten or twenty, foreheads touching, his hands on my face, our breath mingling one last time.
"I'm so sorry, Carly."
"Don't be. I knew what kind of man I was getting involved with—a good one. Raising Quinn has been the greatest joy of my life. I want you to have that with Sara. And it's not too late. Go."
I pull away and look at him, trying to convey the determination he needs to have for what's ahead. "The first rule of Mom club is never give up, Ross. Don't ever give up. Not on her, not on yourself."
"And what about on us?" he asks, bitterness lacing his words.
I stand and smooth my hands down my clothes, taking a deep breath and doing what mothers do—making it seem like everything is all right. "There never was an us. But it was a really great reunion."
35
Ross
Six Months Later
"How'd that feel?" I ask Sara as she jogs off the field and high fives me.
"So good! I can't believe just that one little move gave me the ability to get around her and make that shot!"
"Told you," I say with a smirk. She never wants to listen to me, but the old man still has some tricks up his sleeve. "You start incorporating some others like that and you're going to be unstoppable."
I cross my arms as I watch one of Sara's teammates hold on to the ball just a split second too long, giving the other team's center mid a chance to take it.
"Roxy!" I call out. "You can't take that extra step! They grab it every time."
Sara stands next to me, mimicking my crossed-arm, wide-legged stance. "She loves to dick around with the ball," she says seriously. "How can you break her of that?"
I try not to grin at her use of language. She's been hanging out with me too much. She's starting to sound like a middle-aged dad.
"I don't know, but I wish I could put an earpiece on her and yell, 'release it' at the crucial moment."
She laughs and together we watch the last few minutes of the game. When the buzzer blasts, we're the winners by one goal—scored by Sara.
"Coach!" some of the girls shout at me as everyone is locating their belongings.
"Yo!" I answer as I grab my clipboard and the warm-up pennies from the bench.
"We want ice cream!" the entire team yells in unison.
I shade my eyes to look at them, where they've gathered in the middle of the field, all of them giving me sad puppy eyes at once.
"Fine," I grumble. "Load up the gear and get three other drivers."
After the post-game ice cream, Sara and I make our way back to our place in Laurel Canyon. The first thing I did when I moved here, was to ditch the cold, anonymous mansion I'd owned for a decade, and Sara and I picked out a new house for the two of us. It's not huge, it's not fancy by L.A. standards, but it's filled with us—soccer trophies, Grammy awards, and pictures of us with my parents, and Sara as a little girl. Christine and I trade off weeks, so while I miss Sara when she's at her mom's, at least our home is like having part of her with me all the time.
"Hey, Dad?" she asks as we enter the road that winds up the hillside and into the canyon.
"Yeah, hon?"
"It's only a month until school's out."
"Yep. Believe it or not, I have that on the calendar on the fridge. And you still haven't answered me about where you want to go for a vacation, and what classes or camps you'd like to sign up for. Your mom's got that promotional tour for work all during July, so we need to figure out what you want to do."
Christine has been taking on different projects at work since I came back. Things that require travel. I think part of the reason is, she's been seeing a guy in one of the bands the record label signed. It seems like her work travel always coincides with his band tours, but that's more than fine by me. She's put in her time and deserves whatever independence she wants. I'm here now, and Sara and I are doing really well. When I’m not coaching her team, or helping her with homework and driving her all over the damn L.A. basin, I’m working on a solo album that I hope to put out next year.
"I've been thinking, maybe we could spend the whole summer somewhere special," Sara suggests.
"Yeah? Like where?"
She bites her lip for a moment. "What about Grove City?"
My poor heart stutters for a moment, and I have to swallow around the thickness in my throat before I can answer her.
"What made you think of that?" I ask, trying to sound casual.
"Quinn and I Snapchat, and he sent me this thing the other day about how they're going to rent a boat and go up and down the river on the weekends this summer. And he said there's a girls’ soccer retreat that the team from Grove High is doing, and a couple of the team members can't do it, so they're looking for replacements. It just sounds, I don't know...kind of fun?"
She gives me her hopeful look, batting her eyelashes like some cartoon character.
Fuck. This is a terrible idea, but I'm not sure how to convey that to her.
"I don't know, hon. We have a lot of commitments here, and Grove City in the summer is really humid. I'm not sure you'd like it all that much."
"Also, Uncle Craig and Aunt Dee need a babysitter. Rob has all these summer camps, but Mandy's too young to go to them, and she'll have to spend the whole summer with her grandmother if I don't come and help out."
I look at her in surprise. "You've been talking to Uncle Craig and Aunt Dee, too?"
She shrugs as if it's no big deal. "I missed them, so I texted."
Okay.
Huh.
"And any other communications you've been having that I should know about?" I ask, more than a little suspicious now.
She seems to think about it for a moment. "Well, Ali said that if I come for the summer, I could do an internship at the catering shop. She'll let me help in the kitchen and even sit in on client meetings when they're selecting the menus."
I press the button to the gate at our property, because while I don't need lots of rockstar trappings these days, a certain amount of security is something I don't forego anymore, for Sara's sake
. The last thing I want is a repeat of our party in Grove City.
As we roll down the long driveway, my mind can't stop picturing the one person in Grove City Sara hasn't mentioned. The woman who holds my heart in her hands and always will, no matter how far apart we've become.
We pull up in front of the house and I turn to her, my ‘dad is serious’ expression on.
"And what about Carly? Have you been communicating with her, too?"
Sara stares back at me. The kid should be a poker player.
"And what if I had?"
I take a deep breath and release it. Trying to calm the pounding of my heart.
"What's going on, Sara?"
"It's time for you to go home, Dad."
My brow furrows in confusion. "What do you mean? This is home—" I gesture to our house. "The home you and I made together."
She nods. "And I love our home, but it's missing the right people."
"Are you saying you're not happy? Because we can look for something closer to your mom, if that's what you want." My mind is spinning, trying to figure out what clues I've missed. And frantic that she's saying she doesn't want to live with me part-time anymore.
She puts a hand on my arm. "Dad. When you quit the band, you wanted two things—to be my dad again, and to live in Grove City—with Carly," she emphasizes. I start to shake my head, but she keeps talking. "You're my dad again. One hundred percent, and I'm really happy and really lucky. You and Mom are the best parents ever. But you're not as happy as you could be—as happy as you deserve to be."
"Oh, hon. Where did you ever get that idea? The last six months have been the best of my life. I don't regret a single moment or a single thing we've done together."
She smiles indulgently, like I'm the child here and she's the adult.
"Dad. Do you love Carly?"
I'm caught off guard, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"I...I..." I shrug in frustration. "What difference does it make? She has a life there. I have a life here. We're grownups, we have responsibilities."
Encore: A Standalone Rockstar Novel Page 18
