Chapter 14
Guy
The smell of frying bacon and fresh coffee drags me out of bed. Fox is already gone, and I find him in the kitchen next to Motor, both staring up at Gable cooking.
“Morning.”
Gable doesn’t even turn. “Coffee’s on the counter, creamer’s in the fridge.”
I make us both a coffee, and he grunts a thank you.
It’s always been this way with Gable and me. We rarely speak, and this chasm between us keeps filling up with resentment from his side and frustration from mine. What I did to him was terrible, yes, but I can’t change it. I’m trying to make up for it now by not avoiding the asshole.
“Where are the kids?”
“Gray sleeps in. Asha is eating her breakfast in the living room,” Gable says. “She’s getting too obsessed with her iPad, though. I need to restrict her time on it. I worry about the things she might stumble across.”
This is conversation, so I leap on it. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Ella used to steal my case files all the time.”
“And look how she turned out.”
“True, she married you.”
For fuck’s sake, Guy.
I pause the coffee cup at my lips, and Gable turns to glare at me. “You know, I’m a good fucking husband.”
I sigh, guilt swarming me. “I know.”
“And a great dad.”
“I know that.”
“Then quit giving me a hard fucking time every two minutes. If I’d known I was going to marry Ella, I’d have taken a different path, but I didn’t.
In fact, if I hadn’t been as fucked up as I am, I’d never have met her and we wouldn’t have them.
” He points at the living room doorway. “I know I’m not up for son-in-law of the year, but I love your daughter, and I would do fucking anything for those kids, so back off. ”
Silence falls as he washes a plate aggressively, almost smashing it when he returns it to the cabinet. He continues with breakfast, and I struggle with what to say.
I know why I’m on his back. It’s the cop in me.
He’s a criminal, everything wrong with the world, and he married my fucking kid.
He’s the last man I ever wanted Ella to be with, but at the end of the day, she chose him.
She loves him. And he’s right. From what little I see, he’s a great husband and father, and Ella has never even suggested otherwise.
While she writes, he’s been a stay-at-home dad—and clearly a good one, because the kids are well adjusted and happy.
But before I can broach an apology and an explanation, Ella appears.
She’s in pink pajamas and hugs Gable’s side. “Morning, Gibson,” he says, kissing her head.
“Morning.” She yawns. “Morning, Dad.”
“Morning, baby,” I say, sipping my coffee, cowering away from apologizing in front of her because then I’d have to explain what we were arguing about.
She climbs onto the stool beside mine. “What are we eating?”
Gable keeps his back to us. “You two aren’t eating here. I reserved a table for you both at a café in town so you can spend some one-on-one time together.”
Of course he did. As if I don’t feel bad enough.
“Really?” Ella squeals and hops off her stool again to hug him. She smothers his face with kisses, and he wrinkles his nose. “You’re the best husband ever.”
“I’m well aware,” he says, throwing me a pointed look. “Go get dressed, you’ve got an hour to be there.”
An hour later, Ella and I are at the café, and it’s like old times. She talks about her books, what she’s thinking of writing next, and runs some ideas by me, including some police procedures to make sure she’s accurate.
I’m drinking it all in. We’ve rented the cabin for a month, but it’ll fly by, so I want to remember every single second.
“So.” Ella pierces a sliced strawberry with her fork. “What were you and Gable fighting about?”
I try to look innocent. “When were we fighting?”
“Please, I know my husband, and I know you. There was more tension than usual.”
This girl should’ve been a cop. Ugh, my life would’ve been so much easier if she had. She’d have arrested Gable and not married him.
“I was being hard on him,” I admit. “It’s like a reflex at this point.”
She sighs. “Dad.”
“I know, I’ll apologize. I just—”
There’s a crash, a scream, something smashes—and a woman falls into my lap. Her silk shirt is stained with red wine, her beige skirt is, too, and she’s sitting on my knee, eyes wide with mortification. Auburn hair is stuck to her face, and she peels it off, gaping with me with doe-like, brown eyes.
“Oh … my God,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.” She goes to stand and loses her footing. I try to catch her but tumble out of the chair—and now I’m lying on top of her.
The entire thing is like a fucking fever dream.
“Are you all right?” I ask, getting up. Ella is covering her mouth, clearly hiding a laugh and failing. I help the woman to her feet, and she’s beetroot red.
“Madame, I cannot apologize enough—” A waiter rushes over with a towel. “That cart shouldn’t have been left there. Do you need medical attention?”
The woman in question looks down at her ruined outfit. “No, it’s fine … a new glass of wine would be nice, though. Maybe I can drink enough to forget that I just gave a lap dance to a total stranger …” She looks up at me, pausing for a moment. “I’m really sorry.”
I smile. “It’s fine. Accidents happen. Not often ones like that, though.”
She laughs, snorts, then slaps her hand over her mouth, her flush deepening. Ella fully cackles, and I’m grinning too.
“Come on, I’ll help you get cleaned up,” Ella says, and they both head towards the bathroom.
Well, that was eventful. I’m spotted with red wine, but it could be far worse. The waiter delivers another drink, apologizing again, and I tell him not to worry.
When Ella returns, she gives me an enthusiastic thumbs-up before sitting down.
“Kate, forty-three, divorced, was just on the worst date of her life. Go,” she whispers.
I blink. “Go? Go for what?”
Kate reappears, her clothes now dry, but still stained. “Thank you so much, Esme. You’re too sweet.”
“No worries,” Ella says, then looks pointedly at me and back at Kate.
Kate picks up her wine. “Enjoy the rest of your—”
“Antiques!” Ella shouts, and we both stare at her. In fact, I’m fairly sure most of the restaurant is staring at her. “This town is known for antiques. Didn’t you say you were looking for some, Dad?”
I frown. “No, why would I—”
“I like antiques,” Kate interjects.
It dawns on me what Ella is doing, and I don’t want her to. After the disaster with Lina, dating is the last thing on my mind, but now both women are looking at me and I can’t think of a way out.
“Would you like to …” I glance at Ella, and she gives me such aggressive eye contact that I frown. “… go antique shopping with me?”
Ella slaps the table. “What a fantastic idea, Dad! I’ll take the car; Kate can drop you off later!” She hops up, kisses my cheek, and whispers, “Don’t fuck this up.”
I guess I’m going on a date.
An hour later, Kate and I have covered the basics. She’s a divorced mom of two, and is trying to date again. She’s a lawyer, hates it, but it pays the bills, and she plans on retiring soon, anyway.
She’s beautiful, clumsy as all hell, and she’s nice. Normal. Not a murderer.
“Anyway, the date I was just on was set up by my sister. It was godawful. The guy kept referring to himself in third person.” She cringes and licks her ice cream. “What about you? Do you date much?”
“Not at all,” I admit. “I recently got a dog, so that’s my excuse.”
She smiles. “What kind?”
“A German Shepherd. He’s called Fox and takes up all my time. Do you have any pets?”
I inwardly cringe at the question. It’s like a check box for a first date—pets, siblings, goals. This is the part I hate. I want chemistry, heat. This conversation should be had in bed after hours of fucking, not over ice cream where we’re both trying desperately to fill in silence.
Fuck. I need to stop being so negative.
“A cat called Friday. He’s a senior cat I adopted and he hates me.” She says, and I smile. “But I think he enjoys hating me, so as long as he’s happy …” We walk through the picturesque little town, and soon it’s midday and the sun is beating down on us. “Should I take you home?”
“God, Ella is so presumptuous to assume you could, I’m sorry—”
“Ella?” She tilts her head.
Shit. Esme. Not Ella.
“That’s her middle name. It was the name we used most for her when she was younger,” I say. “A ride home would be great.”
We talk a little more in the car, and I ask her to stop at the end of the drive. I don’t need Ella inviting this woman in. She seems sweet, but I want to spend the afternoon swimming with the kids.
“This was nice,” Kate says.
And awkward as hell. “It was. Definitely a memorable meet cute.”
Silence falls. Painful, uncomfortable silence.
“Look …” Kate sighs, the rubber of the steering wheel squeaking in her grip. “I like my life. I enjoy living alone, not answering to anyone, not having to share bank accounts or split chores. My sister keeps saying I shouldn’t be on my own, but honestly, I prefer it. But what I do miss is sex.”
A noise leaves my throat, but I’m not sure what it’s meant to convey. So, I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.
What the hell do I say to that?
“You’re hot,” she says. “I think you find me attractive. So, I am so down for a make-out session in the car if you are.”
A laugh bursts out of me, and she grins. “Sorry, I’m just absorbing all this. You want no-string sex.”
“Well, no-strings kissing so I can test the waters.” She laughs, too, her cheeks pink. “Aren’t you bored of pretending we need someone? Honestly, if vibrators could cuddle, I’d never date again.”
She has a good point. I am happy with my life, my routine with Fox and my day to day. Am I a little lonely? Sometimes. But that’s more from missing Ella than needing a partner. I was a single dad for so long before meeting Vivien that it never occurs to me to lean on anyone.
I’m available; Kate’s attractive.
So, why do I feel like I’m betraying Lina?
She’s the one who left. She’s the one who promised us everything then disappeared not hours later. I owe her nothing, and she clearly didn’t care, so why should I?
And would it be such a bad idea to have some sex while I’m away? I’m sure Ella will want some time with just Gable and the kids, and Kate seems nice. A no-strings arrangement could work out pretty damn well.
“Am I about to get royally rejected?” Kate asks with a wince.
Fuck it. And fuck Lina.
Tucking my hand behind her neck, I shake my head. “No, you’re not.” Her eyes flutter closed, and I lean in.
Flashes of green eyes and flushed cheeks invade my memory. Of Lina laughing in the car as we shared stories, of her dreamy, satisfied expression after she comes. Can I do this?
“Private property,” Gable snaps as he knocks against Kate’s window. I never thought I’d be happy to see him, but I am. “Get the fuck—” He notices me, and a devilish smirk stretches across his face. “Sorry, Chief. Didn’t realize this was a lookout point. Isn’t this kind of behavior illegal?”
“Fuck off, G…arrett.” Remembering these names is not easy. “My son-in-law,” I say to Kate, and she blushes, nodding.
Gable gives us both a jaunty wave. “I hope you have protection! Don’t be silly, wrap your—”
“Fuck off, Garrett!”
He grins and strides back up the drive. I sigh, pressing my forehead to Kate’s, and she rests her hands on my chest. “Moment’s gone, isn’t it?”
It is. But I need to do this. Tear off the fucking band aid and go on a real date.
“I think so. But we could do something later? I could pick you up, take you out.”
She grins. “Sounds perfect. I’ll pick you up around seven?”
“Shouldn’t I pick you up?”
“It’s the twenty-first century. Get with it.” She kisses my cheek, and I get out of the car.
I’m still mulling over my hesitation as I stride up the long path, the humming of crickets and the stones crunching beneath my boots the only sounds. That and the kids giggling in the distance.
This could end up being a pretty perfect month if I just let Lina go. It’s not like anything could ever come of Kate and me; that would mean telling her at some point that Ella faked her death, and that seems very unlikely, so it’s a win-win. Something low-key and casual, and time with my family.
If only I could forget the murderer that wormed her way into my head.
A burst of giggles reaches my ears, and I grin as I reach the entrance to the floating patio. The twins are on floaties, Ella holding onto Gray’s, and they’re all smiling as they splash around.
“I hope you’re all thirsty!” someone calls from the kitchen, and I halt in place as a woman comes into view.
I can only see the back of her, blonde hair and a tight-fitting T-shirt and white bikini bottoms, but I’d know that ass anywhere.
Because the last time I saw it, I was fucking it.
“Papa!” Gray shouts, waving excitedly.
Monty turns and lowers her sunglasses, grinning at me. “Well, hello, Chief.”