“I don’t understand how you could enjoy kicking around a bit of plastic filled up with some air,” Ellie says.
“Beats me,” I chuckle. “Your father and Sonny probably don’t get the fascination with styling hair.”
“How can anyone not understand looking presentable?” Ellie pauses the braid for a moment, watching the boys outside with me. “I have to say—Dad takes much better care of his hair with you in the house.”
“Does he have visitors around much?”
“No.” Ellie resumes the braid. “Grace comes sometimes, but it’s only ever just been the two of us. Dad likes to call us inseparable. That word came up in spelling the other day and I was the only one who knew what it meant.”
“It’s a good word,” I say absent-mindedly, focused on Caleb’s smiling face as he plays with the son hestilldoesn’t know is his.
I can’t risk introducing Sonny to his father when Caleb has a track record of leaving. Sometimes I get the urge to blurt out the truth. Other times, I stay quiet and inwardly applaud myself for resisting the temptation. I’m weak in other areas when it comes to temptation, but this is different. My son becomes involved if I tell him the truth.
“Score!” Sonny shouts from outside, zooming through the lawn, mimicking either a plane or a famous soccer player with his outstretched hands.
He’s at an impressionable age, and everything is rubbing off on him. Including Caleb. Seeing them having fun soothes one part of me and breaks another.
“All done.” Ellie fetches the mirror and slots it in front of my face. “Ta-daa!”
“If you don’t set up your own salon when you’re older, I’m gonna be very disappointed.”
“You better be the first person to come in!” She beams down at me with the same onyx eyes as her father. They even sparkle in the sun the same way as Caleb’s.
I’m hit with a wave of grief, knowing that I’ll someday have to say goodbye to this gorgeous girl. Forever.
The boys wrap up with the game. As they come inside, Caleb kicks off his shoes, a tad breathless from the running around. A bead of sweat drips down his delicious brow, his hair even more disheveled than before. He’s wearing a simple tee, but the fabric sticks to his body in all the right places, outlining each one of his abs. Even from the other side of the living area, I’m able to count each one.
“Bedtime!” Caleb announces, asserting his dominance. “I want the two of you in bed by eight thirty. The first one tucked up in bed wins.”
“What’s the prize?” Sonny asks.
“Bragging rights.” I mess up his hair and signal him upstairs.
“You know, some other kids in my class get to go to bed at nine.”
“Comparison is the thief of joy.” Caleb snaps his fingers in the direction of the staircase and doesn’t turn to me until the kids are in the bathroom brushing their teeth. “The station,” he tells me. “We’ll find time tomorrow and go together.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
I expected Caleb to be more mad about me not telling him sooner, but he seems to be taking this well. Better than I thought.
“James Taylor paid me a visit before you returned from work.”
Oh. Here we go.
The slightly grave look on Caleb’s face isn’t very promising. “Give it to me straight. How many days do I have left?”
“He’s not the one following you around, Hart.” Concern is etched into his face, deepening some of the fine lines.
“Of course he’s gonna say that.”
“It wouldn’t be in his interest to stalk you. Think about it—he could lose his business, plus all of his money. And I think it goes without saying that James loves to milk as many bucks from people as possible. He’d be self-jeopardizing. As much as I hate the bastard, he’s smart and knows what he’s doing.”
My stomach turns over. “Then who could it be?”
“Have you gotten into any other trouble over the years?”
“No.”
