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- Does she still hate me?
- Breakfast?
I have the perfect one in mind: I'll make pancakes. That was always her favorite brunch food - and I even have frozen wild blueberries to top it off.
My stomach growls happily. Pancakes sound damn good right about now, but first I need... sleep. Yes.
Some nice... sleep...
**
I wake up cold. The Egyptian cotton sheets are around me and yet... My eyes snap open. My arms are empty.
She's gone. Left.
I check my phone, then the en suite bathroom, but there's nothing.
Fuck. She's gone without so much as a goodbye.
Chapter 8
Kyra
I'm making Madison some melted cheddar cheese on a cinnamon raisin bagel when his first call comes.
"Mommy, do you have a big case?" she asks, before I finally turn off my stupid phone.
"You bet," I say.
The two of us are at the park, me pushing her on the swings - "Wheee! Look at me, Mommy!" - when the second call comes.
By the time the third one comes, Madison is playing Beanie Baby war in her room, and I pick up.
"What?"
"Good afternoon to you too," Landon says.
"OK. I'm a bit busy right now."
"What about later tonight?"
"Yeah, I'll be free."
I can't let myself think - about last night, about him calling me up today. I just have to get off the phone. Get back to my daughter.
"Great - see you then," he says easily.
"Hold on, what?!?"
"I'll swing by," he says, as if my agreement is a given. "There's this thing I'm planning on booking for us..."
"Landon."
"What?"
"Last night was a mistake."
"That's one way of putting it."
Despite myself, I smile. God, the man can be a stubborn bull sometimes.
"Another way of putting it," he continues, just as confidently, "would be: awesome. Amazing."
"OK." I roll my eyes. "An awesome, amazing mistake."
He chuckles. "Can anything that's awesome and amazing really be a mistake, though?"
"Listen, Landon," I say. "I'm not going to sit here and argue semantics with you. You said that after the date you'd leave me alone - so are you going to keep your word or not?"
Madison lets out a laugh so delightedly loud that I can hear it through her closed door. I find myself smiling again. I've really never met a kid who enjoys playing alone as much as she does.
I drum my fingers on my wrist absently. Landon still hasn't answered.
The silence is unnerving. After waking up in his arms on his office couch, I hurriedly got dressed and rushed home, and I've been with Madison ever since. It's been good. Perfect. No time to think about it. What I've done. But now...
"So that's it," Landon finally growls.
"I've got a case against you," I say. "This complicates things."
"Then don't make it complicated."
"It's not that easy, and you know it."
"All I know is that I want to see you tonight."
"Well, you can't."
"When can I see you, then?"
"The next court date is Monday. I'd advise you to bring your A-game. We're finding more evidence every day."
That part is a bit of a stretch, but there's no harm in putting a bit of fear in him.
"When can I see you, outside of court?" he insists.
My finger twitches - I've been gripping my phone so hard that my fingertips are red. Shit, how can this be happening? How am I getting involved with Landon again, after all the promises I made to myself, after how he hurt me?
"Kyra," he says, "just come out with me again. See where it leads."
I sink to the floor, staring straight ahead of me. How am I supposed to say no? How can I, when every part of me is screaming yes?
"Kyra," he says, more softly. "Please. Just one more time."
Just one more time - famous last words. And yet ones I can't seem to disagree with.
I open my mouth to say no, and what comes out is: "Fine."
"Lunch?" he asks.
"Sure. We can see if we can do it like normal people."
"Challenge accepted," Landon says before hanging up.
I sit there for too long and feel sick and tired and excited and energetic all at once. I want to smack my head against the wall and skip down the hallway. I'm a grown woman, a mother - and I'm being an idiot.
But then Madison peers her head out, and I get up.
The rest of the day is more fun and activities with Madison. We make paper lanterns together, whip up some chocolate chip cookies together, go to the pet store and enjoy the funny-looking fish together. She really brings out the best in me.
She's got her father's eyes and my sass and... Stop it. I'm not going to go down that mental road.
At night, I'm relaxing in front of an episode of Planet Earth with some Orville Redenbacher's when the phone rings. It's Pamela.
"Something's up," she declares.
I groan. Sometimes I really do think she's psychic.
"You haven't returned my call," she continues, and I groan.
