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“Too busy for ducks?” she asks incredulously, looking at him with disbelief. “You don’t wanna feed them with me?”
I’m screwed. That’s it. I know it instantly. The way she asked that, the way she worded it? There’s no way he can say no.
He mumbles something, not answering her question, and looks to me for help. It’s strange, seeing him so vulnerable. He’s drowning right now.
“We’ll be over at the park,” I tell him. “If you want to come by after you drop the milk off.”
“Are you sure?”
He’s asking me, but Maddie answers. “Duh.”
He laughs. “Well, then, I guess I’ll see you.”
After a moment of hesitation, a moment of staring at Maddie again, he finally leaves. Maddie watches until he slips out of sight. Turning to me, she grins. “Mommy, it’s Breezeo. He’s here!”
She’s got stars in her eyes, my dreamer girl, and I return her smile, even though I’m terrified that all this is going to inevitably crush her. He’s here, and he’s trying, but how long can that last? How long until he blows out of town again and goes back to his life, leaving everything behind? How long until my lovesick little girl becomes an inconvenience to him, too?
Chapter 10
JONATHAN
The park is quiet this early in the afternoon, a few families hanging out, minding their own business. Nobody pays me any attention as I stroll toward the picnic tables, hat pulled down low, sunglasses on to avoid eye contact.
I’ve done live press conferences and walked red carpets, sat through depositions with high-powered attorneys who never hesitated to tear me apart. I went to rehab once... twice… okay, more like five times, sat through countless AA meetings and spilled my soul to the best goddamn shrink over on the west coast. Audition after audition, meetings and negotiations, interviews on press junkets where reporters seemed to not understand what ‘no personal questions’ meant. I’ve been around some important people in my life. Even met the president once.
But never, through all that, was I ever as nervous as I am at this moment.
My palms are sweaty. My arm is itching. My wrist hurts like a son of a bitch—I can feel it throbbing along to the beat of my heart.
I think I’m going to be sick, but I suck it up as I head toward the water, where Kennedy lingers with our daughter.
I feel like shit, yeah, but nothing’s going to get in the way of this… whatever it is. I’ll take anything I can get.
“You’re here!”
Madison’s voice is loud, excited, as she runs up to me, still lugging around bags of kale. Her dark hair falls into her face, her braid coming undone. She blows it away, shoving it out of her eyes, smiling up at me.
“Of course,” I say. “Couldn’t miss seeing these ducks.”
She shoves one of the bags at me, damn near punching me with it. I wince when she hits a bruised rib. It hurts like hell, but I make not a sound as she says, “You can feed them that one, ‘cuz I got this one.”
I take the bag, hesitating, before pulling the sling off my arm. I’m supposed to keep wearing it for a few more days, but fuck it. Can’t do this one-handed. I toss it on the grass, watching as Madison rips her bag open, splitting it down the side and damn near losing all her kale. It starts to spill, and instinct kicks it. My hand darts out, and I grab ahold of it, wincing again as pain stabs up my forearm. “Careful.”
“I gots it,” she says, matter-of-fact, although she doesn’t, leaving a trail of kale around us like Hansel & Gretel with breadcrumbs. None will make it to the ducks at the rate we’re going.
“Here,” I say, struggling as I open the second bag. “Let’s trade.”
She shrugs, like she doesn’t see what the big deal is, but she trades bags with me before heading toward the water. “Come on, I’ll show you!”
Met her less than an hour ago and she’s already bossing me around. I follow her to the riverbank, where a family of ducks swims in the water.
“What about your mom?” I ask, feeling guilty, like I’m stealing Kennedy’s morning.
“Mommy doesn’t like the ducks. She says I can feed them but I gotta keep them over here ‘cuz they might eat her.”
I laugh at that, my gaze seeking out Kennedy as she sits at a picnic table, watching us. “Guess some things never change.”
“Like what?”
I look at Madison. “Huh?”
“What things never change?”
“People,” I say. “Or some people, anyway. Your mom hasn’t changed much.”
Still the beautiful, savvy woman she always was. Even at seventeen, when she first came into my life, she felt so much more put together than everyone else, but her quirks are still there.
“You know my mommy?” Madison asks, her brow furrowing.
