CHAPTER 70
Finn
“Sonofabitch!”
“Daddy! You sound like Uncle Declan again!”
“Sorry, sweetie.”
I grab a dish towel and try to retrieve the prime rib from the floor. I’ve burned the hell out of my hand. Smoke curls up from the oven.
“Maybe I’ll eat chicken nuggets,” Jasmine says, looking at the floor.
I can’t blame her. My dinner has literally exploded. There are mashed potatoes on the ceiling. Declan and Evander deserted me when they got an eyeful of what was happening in the kitchen, and when they heard that Emma was still at Dad’s and that her cooking was not on the menu tonight.
In the horse world, we call it “food-motivated” behavior.
Jasmine and Special K stayed, though, and I’m glad.
My brother’s sitting at the island counter with his hands steepled, patient as a Buddha. I manage to get the prime rib off the floor, and I drop it on the counter.
“You better not be taunting me,” I tell him. “Because I’m not in the mood to be mocked. Why aren’t you over at Dad’s like everyone else? Aren’t you afraid of my cooking? That you’ll get botulism or something? Don’t you think I’m helpless without Emma?”
“Hey, man. Meat’s meat. I came for meat. You have meat. I don’t do drama, and Dad’s house is drama. Is the meat almost ready?”
“Knock yourself out.” I gesture toward the prime rib and hand him the carving knife.
K cuts himself several thick, rare slices, arranges them on a plate, and then carries the plate to the island. He sits. He snarfs it down.
Jasmine eyes the whole scene with her mouth turned down. “I’ll put the chicken nuggets in the microwave. You don’t have to help me, Daddy. But I’ll have some of the mashed potatoes that aren’t on the ceiling.”
Two hours later, Special K has taken the leftovers home, and I’ve finally finished cleaning up the disaster in the kitchen. Emma is still at my father’s, and I assume she’s going to stay there. She’s probably already looking for another job.
I take an armful of kitchen towels into the laundry room. I throw them in the washer, choose a setting, and add everything that needs to be added.
I don’t need Emma. Not to wash the kitchen towels anyway.
For every other thing, yes. I want her here with me.
I need her with me.
I fight the urge to pick up something else and break it. Special K had to fish the bistro chair out of the deep end. He also cleaned up the broken pottery.
That damned woman. That damned beautiful, sweet woman. I went to that meeting today to tell the world how important she was to me, that I trusted her.
I screwed that up too, apparently. She’s avoided me since.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I need a distraction. Any distraction. A distraction from the truth.
Whatever the fuck that is.
Without thinking, I find myself marching up the stairs. I find Jasmine playing with Barbies in her room. Sitting on the floor with her, I pick up a book and crack it open.
“Have you read this? Harry Potter?” I wave the book.
She frowns at me, suspicious. “Not yet. Why?”
“Oh, look at this sentence,” I say. “What do you think of this sentence?”
I put it under her nose. “I’m busy, Dad. I’m playing Barbie.”
“How about this one?” I pick up an easier book, one about a family of bunnies in a meadow or some shit.
“I’m playing.”
“Jasmine. Please just read this one sentence. It’s important to me.”
She looks down at the floor for a long minute before finally picking up the book. She takes a breath and tries to read, but she stumbles over the words. After a few tries, she closes the book.
“I’m in the middle of playing Barbie.”
“Since when have you had trouble reading?” I make my voice as gentle as possible.
She doesn’t answer, and that’s all the answer I need. “Get over here, Pinkie.” I pull her into my lap. “Do you know you’re my favorite girl in the world?”
She nods.
“Do you know that you’ll never get in trouble with me because of something that challenges you or is hard for you to figure out? That I’ll always have your back and be here to help? That I’ll move heaven and earth for you?”
Jasmine looks sideways at me, but I see a little smile play on her lips. “I know, Daddy. I just never want you to be ashamed of me.”
Talk about a knife to the gut.
I stroke my baby girl’s hair and look right into those pale blue eyes of hers, so much like Amy’s. “Never. I am so proud of you that I want to stand on the mountain and yell out to the whole world that Jasmine MacLaine is my daughter and I am the proudest papa there ever was.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s kind of dramatic.”
We laugh together.
“Dad? Why is Emma at Grandpa’s house? Is she mad at me?”
“Oh, honey, no.” I pull her tight to my chest. “She’s mad at me. But I’ll get it sorted out.”
Jasmine’s gaze looks right through me. “Promise?”
I sigh. “I promise.”