7. Clint
The radio provided most of the conversation as I drove Dee the distance between her mom’s house and mine. Regina should have dropped her off this evening, but because Dee can’t play, come get her, so I can get some work done.
I’d been furious about the call, but given Dee’s sullen mood, I was glad I hadn’t made her sit up there the rest of Sunday.
It had been a week since Aubrey and I got married, and nothing much had changed, including this type of tug of war over Dee’s welfare. Not that I expected a big shift, and things with Aubrey going way better than my first marriage.
Everything was a competition with Regina. I’d loved her once, or I wouldn’t have married her. We clashed hard, though. That kind of passion could burn with flames that consumed everything.
Especially when Regina had decided I was the reason she wasn’t landing headlining roles, and she torched my career in retaliation. I dreaded the day when she told Dee that momma only got pregnant because your dad’s an asshole.
I thought Regina was as interested in having children as I was. That was what she’d told me at the time, but during the divorce…
“Did you do anything fun this weekend?” I asked Dee, trying to draw her out of the shell she’d been in since we got in the road.
She sank lower in her seat. “I watched movies in my room. Mom was busy.”
God damn that woman.
“Did you see anything good?”
“Step Up. Flash Dance. Showgirls.”
Wait. What? “Say that last one again?”
“I’m kidding, Daddy. I didn’t watch naked people movies.” Dee laughed.
The joke was reassuring. Hearing her poking fun at me being a dad was normal. I did wonder though, “How do you know what Showgirls is?”
“I have the internet and unrestricted access at Mom’s.” Dee sounded like the duh was implied.
She was supposed to have some sort of parental controls at both houses, but she wasn’t the one I should bring that up with.
Regina and I had shared custody. During the summer, Dee spent weeks at my house and weekends with her mom, aside from anything dance related. That all took place by Regina. During the school year we’d swap, and Dee would be up there during the week, so she could go to school with her friends, and because I was a teacher.
A short while later, we got back to town, and I took us to Kingu Kafe instead of home. We headed inside.
“Can I get coffee?” Dee asked as we headed inside.
“Absolutely not. You don’t even like the taste of coffee.”
Dee wrinkled her nose. “But mom says it’s good for me.”
She said what? “It’s not good for your heart.”
“Mom said my baby fat is why my heart is broken.”
My anger spiked. When I picked Dee up earlier, Regina had asked when I was moving all of Dee’s things to her place, so she could move in full time.
I’d told her absolutely not, and that we had the doctor appointments covered. I refused to tell her how I pulled off paying for all of it, but I could promise honestly that I wouldn’t skimp on care.
Now I was wondering, was sending Dee back to her mom’s at all a good idea?
I didn’t have a choice—custody and all that—but I didn’t like it.
I pointed Dee toward the register. “Get a hot chocolate and a muffin, like always.”
“No.” Dee stopped in the middle of the room, and the people behind us grumbled a few choice words under their breath as they cut around us.
Your mom is a cunt sometimes, and she’s wrong when she says you need to lose weight. You’re a scrawny ten-year-old, for fuck’s sake. I swallowed the retort. There was a fine line between trying to undo her mother’s brainwashing and not badmouthing Regina, and I didn’t always land on the right side of it.
“Hey kiddo. Clint.” Aubrey’s voice came from behind.
Dee’s bad mood vanished in an instant. “Bree.” She squealed and spun to hug Aubrey. They were Dee and Bree because Dee liked the way it rhymed.
Aubrey returned the hug then pushed her toward the register again. “What kind of muffin are you getting?”
“I don’t want a muffin,” Dee said.
“No? Can I have yours?” Aubrey asked.
I was grateful she showed up when she did. She was so good with Dee. “We’ll have the usual,” I told the cashier. We came here at least once a week, and it was always the same. Hot chocolate and blueberry muffin for each of us.
“Make that three.” Aubrey chimed in. “But ring mine up separate.”
“Put it all together.” I corrected her.
The cashier looked between the two of us, as if trying to decide who to listen to. I handed over my debit card first, so I won.
“Did you eat muffins when you were a dancer?” Dee asked Aubrey.
Aubrey nodded. “Of course.”
“Did your heart ever break?”
A frown flashed across Aubrey’s face. It vanished quickly, but not fast enough that it stayed hidden.
Dee’s scowl was back.
I took my drink and hers, and Aubrey grabbed her own plus the bag of pastries. We found a table near the window, and settled in.
“My heart didn’t break the way you’re thinking,” Aubrey said. “Muffins have never made me sick, and I eat them all the time.” She pulled one from the bag and handed it to Dee.
One of the longer-term worries I had for Dee was that her mother was going to drive her into an eating disorder. Aubrey knew what my concern was, and she was great at following my cues and helping me make sure my daughter got enough food while she was here.
Dee looked reluctant to take the food, but she did. “Did a boy break your heart?”
“Yes.” Aubrey’s answer was deceptively simple.
Aside from Dee being my priority, the way things ended with Regina was the reason I hadn’t gotten involved with anyone since the divorce. Aubrey was different though. I hadn’t probed the edges of my relationship with her, to see if we could have more, because I wasn’t sure she was over Deacon.
She insisted she was. There was a look in her eyes I didn’t understand though, every time he or the topic of relationships came up.
“Hey, guys.” Rohde, one of our friends, paused at the table. His deputy uniform said he was on the clock right now. “Congrats on your engagement, Aubrey.”
“Thanks.” She smiled brightly.
Her what?
“Is it true? Is it really him?” Rohde asked.
The cheer didn’t reach Aubrey’s eyes. “Don’t know why anyone would make that up. Yup, it’s Brodie.”
“No sh— kidding.” Rohde corrected himself after a glance at Dee. “Cool. Good for you. I gotta run, but catch you all around.”
With that, he walked away.
What did I just hear? Aubrey was…? To…?
No. “Congratulations.” I tried to keep my tone neutral. “How did I not know you were getting married?” A hint of accusation slipped into my question.
“Does that mean your heart isn’t broke anymore?” Dee asked between bites of muffin.
Fortunately, once we got her eating, the protests tended to die.
Aubrey nodded. “It does.” She was looking at me. “We’re keeping it quiet. I don’t want to overshadow Sylvie’s big deal.”
“If you’re getting married, who will be my weekend mom?” Dee asked.
She couldn’t get married, she was my wife. Weekend mom. That was new, and the phrase clenched around my heart like a fist.
“I’ll still be your weekend mom,” Aubrey said. “Brodie’s pretty understanding or I wouldn’t be engaged to him.”
My Brodie? “Brodie Watson.” I didn’t know any other Brodie’s, but I still couldn’t wrap my brain around the news. “You?”
“Can you believe he’s back in town after all these years?” Aubrey’s smile had definitely gone flat.
I actually was struggling to believe exactly that. “Since when?”
“Since yesterday afternoon.”
I had so many questions, and I didn’t want to ask most of them in front of Dee. Especially not the what the fuck that was surging in my throat. And I was pretty sure you’re my wife wouldn’t fly either. It lingered on the tip of my tongue.
Dee washed her food down with hot chocolate. “Who’s Brodie?”
“We went to school with him,” Aubrey said.
“Ah.” Dee sounded like that explained everything. “Back when Daddy was still pretty.”
At least that was familiar. “Hey now. I’m still gorgeous and talented.”
I got about three words into belting out the first Madonna song that popped into my head, and stopped with a grin when Dee huffed, “Dad. Embarrassing.”
“Your daddy is still pretty.” Aubrey grinned. “And he looks way better in tights than I do.”
That would offend a lot of men, but I didn’t care. Dee wouldn’t be fazed by it either, since she’d grown up around ballet dancers. Tights were as normal as any other clothing, regardless of a person’s gender.
She was making a face now, though. “Gross. Daddies aren’t pretty.”
Aubrey laughed. “That’s all a matter of perspective.”
Brodie. Back in town. My first boyfriend. The man I lost my virginity to—though we’d both been teenagers at the time. The guy who would watch me jerk off in the locker room when no one else was around.
And he was engaged to the woman I’d always wanted but never dared cross that line with. Even though we were married now.
I had so many questions, and all of them would have to wait because I was spending the day with Dee. I wouldn’t shove her in her room and forget about her the way Regina did.
Aubrey looked between the two of us. “Sylvie is trying on some dresses this afternoon. Do you want to help, Dee?”
“Wedding dresses?” Dee had been so excited when she heard Aubrey’s little sister was going to get married here. That there was going to be a fairy tale wedding. “Can we, Daddy?”
If it meant Aubrey and I had a chance to talk, and I didn’t have to sacrifice Daddy-Daughter time, absolutely. Besides, Dee would love it. “Of course.”
“You have to finish your food and drink first, though,” Aubrey said. “So we don’t get chocolate on the dresses.”
“Okay.” Dee shoved half a muffin in her mouth at once.
I grabbed the rest of it away before she could choke. “At a normal speed.”
She looked frustrated, but slowed down with her eating. It was barely, but I gave her food back.
When we finished our muffins, Dee ran into the bathroom to wash the chocolate from her hands, and I gave Aubrey a questioning look. “Brodie.” I repeated flatly.
She shrugged. “I’ll tell you at the shop.”
I couldn’t wrap my brain around it.
When we got to her store, we headed into the back room, where Sylvie was already waiting. There was a rack with several dresses hanging from it, and a portable screen, to change behind.
Not all of the dresses were white. “Are you going non-traditional?” I asked. Not that I had any issue with it. She should wear what she wanted.
Sylvie huffed, as if I’d just asked the stupidest thing ever.
I raised my brows. “Not an answer.”
“I told her to pick out anything, and I’d make it work,” Aubrey said.
Aubrey was a talented seamstress. I’d seen her do alterations and adjustments and morph multiple pieces of clothing that should never be together, into a single, unified outfit. But there was no way she could make Sophie a wedding dress in less than three weeks, on top of the rest of her life.
I opened my mouth to say so, and Aubrey clapped. “Pick where you want to start, Sylvie, and Dee will help you with doing up the back.”
I expected Sylvie to protest or question Dee’s qualifications to work a zipper, but she reached for Dee’s hand instead. “Come on, hon.”
They grabbed a dress that was minimalist, with clean lines, and ducked behind the screen.
“What’s the deal?” I asked softly as they vanished. I didn’t want to say more, but Aubrey would know I was talking about the engagement.
“It’s not real.” She was quiet, too.
I let out a sigh as relief filled me.
“No whispering unless it’s about how amazing I’m going to look,” Sylvie shouted.
“You’re a freaking supermodel,” Aubrey called back. “We all know you’re going to look amazing.”
“Unless the dress isn’t amazing.”
I bristled on Aubrey’s behalf, even though Sylvie had picked out the dresses, and sang out loudly, “There she is, Miss America.”
“Save it till you see me, show-off.” Sylvie didn’t sound impressed.
I shrugged. “Everyone’s a critic.”
Sylvie emerged a moment later, with Dee a few steps behind. The dress looked amazing—a sleek silhouette that highlighted Sylvie’s figure—though I couldn’t help but imagine how much better Aubrey would look in it. “You’re stunning,” I said.
Sylvie rolled her eyes. “You’re going to say that about all of them.”
“No. My dad is honest.” Dee jumped to my defense.
Except for that whole marriage thing I haven’t told her about. Hello, guilt.
“Clint’s right. You look incredible.” Aubrey approached and made a spinning motion with her finger.
Sylvie obliged us with a twirl. “Am I a princess?”
“You’re a queen.” I assured her.
Sylvie stopped and fixed me with a scowl. “Queens are the villains. Hello—have Disney movies taught you nothing?”
“Yeah, Dad.” It was clear to see whose side Dee was on.
I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll be the queen. Leave the dress for me on the rack when you’re done with it.”
Sylvie shook her head and grabbed her next choice, then she and Dee disappeared behind the screen again.
“Why?” I settled back in my seat, going back to the Brodie conversation.
Aubrey twisted her lips. “He met Grandma on the plane here.”
Ah. I’d need details, but I could guess at some of them. I hated the way Aubrey’s grandmother treated her.
And if she’d bad-mouthed Aubrey on the plane…
Brodie was my first boyfriend, in high school. He was also everyone’s knight in shining armor. He hated to see people suffer or be misunderstood.
He was a lot like Aubrey that way.
Except that Brodie left. He walked away from Haddarville—from me—when we graduated, because this wasn’t the place to pursue his dreams.
Yeah, I remembered Brodie, though I’d managed to keep him out of my thoughts for a long time. These weren’t memories I wanted rushing back. I didn’t want to think about how infatuated with him I’d been, or that I was heartbroken when he was gone.
Nope. I wasn’t focusing on any of that. Not even because he was engaged to my wife. Brodie was the past, Aubrey was now, and he was welcome to walk away again when this was all over.