They high-five, and Cailin’s giggle brings a huge smile to my face as they rejoin us at the table.
“The lyrics talk about making your hands clap, not seeing your butt crack,” Linda deadpans as she raises her eyebrows to me.
I almost spit out my drink and cover my mouth to make sure nothing flies out.
These two really are something special together.
Adam talks about how Cailin’s kept him on his toes all these years, and I think back to the time I first started following him. I had already liked their music for a while when I first saw the bad-boy rock star on the front of a tabloid magazine.
His eyes caught my attention first. I’m not one to long after famous people or even lust after hot guys, but there was something about him that made my heart pound and my stomach flip. I used to imagine what his life was like, and knowing now that he was home with a baby—and actually being a dad to that baby—blows my mind.
It’s making me even more curious how there’s no mention of her mom. I’ve heard stories of nannies, maids, and even Linda helping out, but nothing about the woman who gave birth to her.
Linda places her napkin on her plate. “Well, this has been fun, but it’s getting to be my bedtime. Why don’t I help you clean up before we head home?”
Adam stands and grabs her plate from her. “It’s no big deal. You’ve already done so much for me. I’ve got this.”
He grabs Wayne’s plate and then his own.
I reach for the others and stand. “Here, I can help.”
“Come with me. Let’s get you ready for bed before I take off.” Linda holds out her hand, and Cailin grabs it, skipping into the house.
Adam and I meet at the sink, and he takes the plates from me.
“What can I do?” I ask.
He gives me a quick peek. “I’ve got it, but you can stay here and keep me company.”
I lean up against the counter, keeping my hands behind me on the granite. “You’ve done an amazing job with her. I’m impressed.”
“Coming from a teacher, that means a lot. Thank you.”
I chuckle under my breath. “Just because I’m a teacher doesn’t mean I know how to raise a child. I only get them for a few hours a day. You’ve had her for years.”
He grabs a cup while glancing my way. “You do better than you know. Cailin tells me all about her day, and every sentence has something to do with you.”
I’ve gotten compliments from other parents, but hearing it come from him means something different, something more. It makes me proud of what I’ve become, knowing I’ve made a difference in his life similar to the way he’s made a difference in mine through his music.
“She’s a joy to have,” I say, putting the salad dressing in the fridge. “The potato salad was good. Did you really make it?” I say, covering it with the tinfoil that was sitting next to it.
“Does that surprise you?” he asks with a smirk on his face.
I shrug. “A little. I guess I never pictured you as a cook.”
He places the last plate in the dishwasher, closes it, and grabs a towel. As he dries his hands, he leans against the counter. “So, you’ve pictured me then?”
My face instantly flushes. “I mean, by the pictures I’ve seen online, you don’t look like you’d be at home, dicing eggs.”
He laughs and places the towel on the handle of the dishwasher. “There’s a lot about me that people don’t see.”
I tilt my head as I ask, “Why not?”
He pauses. Our eyes meet, and I see so much more than a rock star, a father, and a cook. I see a man who hides a lot from the public. I see a man who has a private persona that he keeps guarded closely.
Butwhydoes he hide?
“She’s all ready for bed, but she wants a bedtime story,” Linda says as she enters the kitchen.
