Chapter 23 #2
“Not too bad, huh? You never know what you’ll get when you try a new place, but really, how far wrong can you go with pizza?” I ask, trying to go for a light tone.
Tempest blinks at me with that Mom, you’re so cringe look, and Raiden takes another bite of his pizza, finishing the slice up to the crust.
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over the soft Chanel leisurewear I’d thankfully remembered to pack.
Taking in both kids, I know we’ll have to talk about the huge, life-changing events that happened today.
I owe them that much.
“Tems, Rai,” I start. “About earlier today…meeting your father.” Raiden grabs another slice of pizza, dropping it on his plate with a fraction too much force before taking a sip of his lemonade.
“What questions do you have?” I ask, looking from Tempest to Raiden and back. Raiden bends over his plate more, pulling the cheese off a slice and leaving behind the sauce-covered dough.
“I have a question,” Tempest says, sitting up straight. “When can we go home?”
She would ask that question.
“I’m not completely sure, honey,” I reply honestly. I’d given them a super sanitized version of the car chase to explain the slight bruising on my cheek. “Since I was in the car accident, your dad wants to make sure everything is completely safe before we discuss next steps.”
There. That’s a solid answer.
Tempest tilts her head to the side and stares at me, and the move is so much like her father, I almost wish he were eating with us to see it.
Nope. No time to want domestic shit like that.
“Is he a drug dealer?” Tempest asks, her expression unchanging. I choke on my spit, coughing to clear my airway.
“What? Tempest, what in the world kind of question is that! No, your father is not a drug dealer. Where did you even hear of such a thing?” I reply, and she rolls her eyes—a move that would have gotten me beat if my daddy were still around.
“YouTube Kids,” she says, and my eyebrows go up. Time for stricter parental controls. “And I’m just asking. He has a gun and has a lot of people around who carry guns, so I didn’t know…” The crack in her armor shows as her words fade away.
“I understand, Tems,” I say.
“Did he leave because of us?” The question startles me, and not just because Raiden asks it while still looking down into his plate.
“ No . He didn’t—” I stop myself, because I don’t want them to know that he just found out about them, but maybe I should tell them that part? Then they’ll know their father didn’t purposefully stay away.
He didn’t reject them.
He simply didn’t know…and I chose not to make sure he did.
“It’s complicated, but I promise you, he didn’t leave because of you two. He’s now able to…be here more. For you two. And he’s so excited to get to know you.”
Tempest’s face goes through a few emotions before she pushes back from the counter.
“Can I go to bed now, Mom?” she asks suddenly. But she’s already out of the kitchen before I can give her permission.
It’s just Raiden and me, and the silence is even more uncomfortable. I don’t know what to do about his sudden attitude change or how to reach him.
I wish I had a child psychologist on call. Or a psychologist for my own damn self, because I’m making as much sense as a football bat.
“Rai…will you talk to me? You seem so sad, honey.” There. That’s a good way to approach things.
Raiden eats another slice of pizza, and I wait for him silently.
After a few minutes, he mumbles something into his plate of discarded pizza crusts.
“What’s that?” I ask.
He goes silent again, his shoulders coming up to his ears.
I try to soften more.
“Just tell me how you feel, baby. The truth.”
He sucks in a shuddering breath before asking his heartbreaking question in a voice so low I almost miss it.
“Did he not want us?”
My heart clenches, stutters as a wave of guilt so potent nearly knocks me off the chair.
“Raiden…” I choke up, completely at a loss for what to say. “He is so excited to be your father, honey. He couldn’t do so before now.”
That’s the truth.
“But why has he been gone for so long. If he’s excited now, where has he been?” I press the sides of my temples, still giving him my full attention as I rest my elbows on the expensive countertop.
“Raiden, I promise you. It’s complicated, but?—”
“Whatever, Mom,” he says, infusing an amount of attitude that I’m completely unprepared for. I mean, he’s seven . Shouldn’t I have a few more years on this shit?
“Raiden Alexander Rivers,” I press. “Fix yourself, son.”
I immediately see that taking the disciplinarian track is the wrong move, because his face goes hard and tears fill his eyes before he pushes away from the table and runs in the direction his sister went.
That went well.
“Good job, Shae,” I say, groaning and pushing the tepid pizza aside.
I sit at the table with my head tucked into my folded arms for about five minutes after he storms off.
I’m not equipped to deal with this primarily because I never expected to have to deal with this. I’d planned for what I’d say when the kids were older and wanted to meet their father, or what I’d say if they had questions about him.
I didn’t plan on having completely wrong information, or him not knowing about their existence, or him wanting—no, demanding—to be in their lives.
I’ve had all of two days and some change to absorb the seismic shift in our lives and come up with a plan.
The phone Storm, or whoever, left in my room while I was sleeping, buzzes across the marble countertop.
A text message with a link to an encrypted medical file. Even though I knew all my results would come back clear, it’s a relief to open them up and see the clean bill of health.
I bet Storm got a first look, too.
An indelicate huff streams from my mouth as I remember his words.
Fucking often, fucking raw.
“Jesus Christ,” I grumble, unsure what the hell to think. We’ve already crossed that line. Hell, we crossed the line in my foyer when I demanded he make me come. Storm Sandoval’s hands shouldn’t have been anywhere near my cooch.
But he’s kissed me, fingered me, fucked me—and I let him. No, I required him to. I can’t hide from my complicity. I’ve chosen to be reckless when it comes to Storm, so now the answer is: Will I go deeper down the path of sure destruction?
My phone buzzes again in my palm, but it’s a call this time.
Melissa.
An edge of anxiety filters in through the guilt. I’d earned a vacation, but it wasn’t exactly fair that I’d left my assistant to handle everything while I ignored the world.
“Oh, thank God, Liv! I was beginning to think you were dead,” Melissa says as soon as I answer.
I jolt when she calls me “Liv,” since no one in Storm’s circle has called me such in days.
But I also cringe for two reasons—one, because that almost was a true statement, and two, I’ve been completely off the grid and haven’t checked in since the day before I left for France. How was that only three days ago?
“My phone got damaged, and I’ve just gotten a new one.” I rub my forehead.
A rustling sound like paper on paper comes over the line, and Melissa pauses briefly before saying, “It’s fine. Things have been uneventful over here, which I suppose is good, all things considered.”
I pause at that.
“Right,” I reply. After more silence, I say, “What aren’t you telling me?”
Melissa makes a noise that sounds a lot like a grunt.
“Just tell me.”
“Okay, so. Zane is becoming…a problem,” she says, and yup, I should have foreseen he’d be an issue.
“God, what’s he doing now?” I put my cheek on the cool stone, wishing I could go back in time a few months and keep my legs closed to goofy men.
“He’s been having meetings with the Keystone folks,” she says, her tone dark and angry. “And he’s called a meeting with our executive board. They’re supposed to meet in a few weeks.”
I grind my teeth so hard my eye socket starts to ache.
“Any news on the subject of the meeting?” I ask slowly. Melissa makes a displeased sound.
“Nothing concrete in writing, but I have it on good authority it’ll be a vote of no-confidence about you.”
Now it’s my turn to grunt. I should have expected this.
“How do you know?” I ask, even though the allegation tracks.
Melissa snorts. “You know how I got this info.”
In general, I do, but I still raise an eyebrow.
“You’re gonna have to say more than that,” I shoot back, and Melissa sighs.
“His password is laughably breakable, so he gets what he gets.”
I shake my head, feeling my headache turning into outright migraine territory.
“Has he approached you?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Melissa says, sounding pissed off. “He’s been looking for you, even though everyone knows you took a vacation. I told him he didn’t need to know where you are.”
“And how did that go over?”
Melissa sniffs. “He didn’t like it.”
I bet he didn’t.
“Other than Zane drama, the office has been relatively quiet, though,” Melissa says.
“Ugh, don’t say the ‘Q’ word. You’ll call in chaos,” I rush to say, and Melissa chuckles.
“Fair enough,” she replies. “I just….”
I feel her hesitation.
“Tell me,” I prod.
“I just…I worry about you. About this. You haven’t been yourself since that meeting.” She doesn’t have to say which meeting—she means the one where Storm showed up and exploded my entire world.
“I’m overstepping,” she rushes to say. “Please know that I’m here for you if there’s anything you need. Stay…stay safe, Liv.”
With those words, I get a sense that she knows more than she puts on.
Can I trust Melissa?
My throat tightens as paranoia sets in. I hate that I have to look at everyone with guarded suspicion.
And it’s all because I let Storm Sandoval back into my life.
I’m so stupid. I allowed myself to be taken in by him again, but the truth is: I don’t know this man. And I truly believe that maybe…I never did.
“I’ll check in later,” I say, my voice scratchy. Melissa murmurs her goodbyes, and in the next moment, I’m alone in the kitchen, staring at the island and the pizza remnants.
Who can I trust when the world is on fire? Who can I trust when Tempest and Raiden depend on me to keep them safe?
“Goddamn it,” I mutter into the ceiling, tilting my head back and sliding my eyes closed.
This is all…so much. Too much, really. But when I think about who on this planet I can trust without question, the answer is simple.
I can trust myself.