The words had been a relief. She’s only fifteen, after all. And while I knew that when she turned eighteen she could make the decision to go on her own, for at least three more years, I could still keep her close. I could make sure she was ready.
Honestly, I didn’t trust anyone else to do it.
I nodded, then started for the kitchen. Because Eric was right. There was a lot to figure out, and coffee was on the agenda.
Stuart’s voice pulled me back. “I think this is a conversation that can wait until tomorrow.”
I turned, frowning, and saw that Eric’s expression matched my own.
“She needs to train,” Eric said. “And if Kate and I are going to do that, we need to start working out the details.”
I cocked my head. Until now, Eric hadn’t specifically said he was going to be part of her training. I’d expected it, actually, but he’d kept quiet during the back and forth at the Vatican. Now, I couldn’t help but wonder what he had in mind.
Not long ago, he’d come close to killing both me and Allie when he’d lost himself to a powerful demon. After, he’d packed up and moved to Los Angeles. If he thought that I was going todo some split training schedule where Allie worked with me here during the week and him in LA on the weekends, then we really did have some serious talking to do.
“I’m thinking I can use Cutter’s studio,” I said, both because it was true and because I wanted to make it clear right off the bat that ultimately I was calling the shots. “After school and then longer weekend sessions there.”
“That’s workable,” Eric began, “but?—”
“Tomorrow,” Stuart repeated, in the kind of voice that reminded me he was not only an attorney but had once planned on running for public office. His focus was entirely on Eric. “You can come by after Mass,David.” He emphasized the name, reminding everyone—as if we could forget—that my first husband, Eric Crowe, had died years ago. He might be alive again, but it was in the body of high school chemistry teacher David Long. And David had no claim over me or my family.
A muscle in Eric’s jaw twitched, and I stiffened. The demon may have been expelled from him, but all that meant was that he wouldn’t fly into a murderous rage or try to raise hell here on earth. Even without the demonic influence, the man had a temper.
Right then, though, he was holding it in, and all I could think about was long fuses and apocalyptic explosions.
“Whatever the devil you’re doing,” Eddie put in as he ramped up the volume on aFriendsrerun, “do it in the kitchen. You’re screwing with my morning routine.”
Eric kept his focus on Stuart. “Fair enough,” Eric finally said. “I have things to take care of today, anyway.” He shifted to look at me, his expression softening. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I watched him go out the front door, then jerked my head toward the kitchen before turning on my heel and heading that way, hoping that Stuart was following.
Since I wanted both caffeine and something to occupy my hands, I started to scoop the coffee into the basket. “I thought you two had reached a detente,” I said, once I’d poured the water into machine. “So why are you shutting him down?”
“Detente, yes. Best friends, no.” He leaned back against the counter, looking both casual and completely in control. “He doesn’t live here, Kate.”
“Of course he doesn’t,” I said, starting to realize some of what was driving his reaction. Eric had followed us in his car from the airport to the house. There’d been no discussion, no invitation. It had simply been a given since, after all, there were demony things to talk about.
But I was Stuart’s wife, not Eric’s. Not anymore. And after already having traversed a rather rocky marital road on which Eric had been one of many stumbling blocks, I could understand that Stuart would want our home to simply be our home for at least one day. A day to decompress. To hang out. To just be a family.
“I get it,” I said with a gentle smile. I pulled two coffee cups down and started to fill them even though the coffee maker had barely started brewing. “Eddie’s commandeered the living room TV, but we could spend the afternoon in the bedroom watching something. Or not watching something,” I added with a suggestive lilt. “Timmy’s still zonked from the time change, and Allie will be gone for a least a couple of hours.”
“Not a bad idea,” he said in the kind of voice that made clear he was only being polite. “But I really need to take care of a few business things.”
I blinked, then slowly closed my mouth once I realized it was hanging open. “You’re leaving? Right now?”
“It’s past ten. I need to go see Bernie before noon.”
“Then why the hell did you send Eric off? We need to figure this out. I need to know what?—”
“Didn’t you tell me you needed to dive in with planning Timmy’s birthday party? We havetwokids, Kate.”
I tightened my jaw, the tension in my face reminding me of what I’d just seen in Eric’s. Stuart was right—I needed to get the invitations out or we’d have more kids saying no than saying yes. We’d stayed in Italy longer than we’d planned, and as a result there was only a week between the invitations going out and the actual party. And while I might not be a social butterfly, my little boy was not going to be the kid who was outside the pre-school neighborhood loop.
But that didn’t mean I needed my husband holding my hand and micromanaging playdates and parties.
I opened my mouth to say exactly that, but then shut it tight again as reality smacked me hard against the face.
This wasn’t about Timmy. It wasn’t even about Allie.
