A Thousand Starry Nights

  I swing open the watery glass door. It’s Ford and Cash. They look as if they could be twins with the way the sun washes out their features just enough. All four of us Cannon boys have the same dark hair, same light eyes within a shade of one another. My mother had the dominant genes and generously gifted them to her children before vanishing into thin air.

  “Double teaming me already?” My brothers have made it a point to come by and visit with Abby at least once during her week with me. It’s a nice gesture. I’d like for her to at least be able to say she’s met them by the time she’s eighteen. Family is important to me. It always has been and always will be. That’s why I need Aspen back in my life so damn bad.

  “We come bearing food.” Cash holds a bag from Sholtz Deli, and my mouth waters on cue.

  “And libations.” Ford hoists in a twenty-four pack.

  “Nice. Where’s your better half?” Selfishly I enjoy Stevie’s company just a little bit more because she’s only one degree of separation from the one who holds my heart, her sister.

  “Apparently with your better half.” He frowns a moment before socking me in the arm as they head on in. “She went to the studio with Aspen. Stevie’s mother just opened her own art studio with a few investors. They wanted to check it out. Heard she gave Aspen a space in the back to use as her studio.”

  “That’s fantastic.” My heart thumps at the thought of Aspen finally getting a break. I’ve never seen anything like Aspen’s colorful, mind-bending explosions. Mostly they’re oversized acrylics, but she dabbles in watercolor, too. At least she used to. For all I know she could be painting in blood now with human hair. But if I’ve missed anything, craved it more than breathing, it’s the day-to-day interactions with her. And even now having her this close to me, I still miss that fiercely. I hope over the next two weeks, she’ll realize she misses it too.

  “What’s that goofy grin for?” Cash nods as he lays out the sandwiches over the counter and digs for a knife.

  I let the smile glide off my face as Harley and Abby bustle back in. My brothers spend the next few minutes greeting both her and the dog before I settle Abby at her miniature table with a few inches worth of a sub and a juice box. She picks out the lettuce and cheese, slopping it on the floor for Harley.

  “Say tant you, Harley girl!” She screams at the happy pooch before indulging in her own food.

  “Thank you.” I enunciate before nodding to my brothers. “So where’s Carson?”

  “Beach house.” Cash smirks at his food while knocking his beer back a moment. “Big, beautiful blonde.” He glances over to make sure Abby isn’t listening. “Tits to here,” he whispers holding his hands three feet from his chest. “Having one of those lucky bastard weekends.”

  “How about you?” I nod to him. “You’re usually lucky that way. Where’s your big, beautiful blonde?”

  Both Cash and Carson like to play the field.

  “Young, dumb, full of come,” Ford says the words low, just this side of a whisper. “You need to find a good woman before your dick falls off.”

  “It’s not going anywhere.” Cash slides a beer my way. “I think you’re the only one around here without a good woman. Let me set you up.”

  “No thanks.” I watch as Abby trots off to the living room with Harley. “I’m on a self-imposed moratorium.”

  “Until?” Cash looks both worried and afraid for me.

  Ford lets out a disproving groan. “Until Stevie’s very married sister comes around.” Unlike Ford, Stevie is strangely tolerant of my pursuit of her very married sister.

  “Aspen.” Cash shakes his head, genuinely sorry for me. “Look, she’s hot. She’s got a great body on her, and she seems sweet—but, dude, even I draw the line at the wedding band.”

  “I gave up my marriage for her.” The words drift from my lips catatonic. “That’s not entirely true. There never was a marriage because of her.” And that, my friends, is the truth.

  “Shit.” Ford grinds his palm into his eye. I distinctly remember him trying to talk me out of marrying Cher. Even then he knew we weren’t right together. “Dude, you need help. I know things aren’t great with Aspen and her husband—for sure, Stevie doesn’t like the guy, but they’re still together. Don’t tread on their wedding vows. When Stevie and I say I do next month, it’s forever. I’d hate to think there’s some idiot out there who’s busy throwing away his marriage just hoping to weasel his way into Stevie’s life again. I’d hang him by his balls.” He tips his beer, flashing that homicidal smile.

  “I’m not an idiot.” I close my eyes and grimace as the thought of him being right. “I might be, but, Aspen”—I swallow hard and focus in on the apricot tree budding in the backyard as I try to hold my shit together—“she’s worth making an idiot of myself. My marriage was doomed before I ever walked down the aisle. The only good that ever came of it is that little girl.” I look to Abby in the next room as she tries to ride Harley like a horse. “Careful.” I call over, and she abandons the effort.

  “So what’s next?” Cash blows out a breath somber as shit as if we were making funeral arrangements.

  “Next up is lunch.” I fill them in on my two-week proposition. “As far as Stevie goes, you didn’t hear this. Besides, Aspen liked the fact she had an easy out.” Just speaking the words is a knife to my chest. It’s true, though, she seemed a touch too elated, and I can’t say it didn’t dent my ego. I knew she wouldn’t want to hang out for sixteen weeks, so I took the situation into my own hands. Had I done just that four years ago, Aspen would be wearing the wedding band I put on her finger.

  “Take her to RUSH.” Ford nods between bites. “Stevie loves the shit out of that place. Lot’s of people. Great atmosphere for a platonic friendship to flourish.”

  “You should bring her here.” Cash chooses to ignore Ford, as do I. “Cook for her. There’s nothing more intimate than preparing a meal together.”

  Ford grunts. “Things will not get intimate.”

  “Maybe take her shopping,” Cash continues. “Give her the full monty.”

  “No full monty.” Ford is quick to assert. “All clothes stay on. I repeat all clothes stay on when Aspen is around.”

  Abby speeds into the room airplane-style with her hands extended, her little feet carrying her around in a dizzying pattern.

  “Clothes stay on!” She shouts at the top of her lungs. “Aspen Daddy’s friend! Aspen Daddy’s friend!”

  I look to Ford and give a shit-eating grin. “Perfectly platonic.”

  But intimate would be good, too.

  For a brief moment, I envision Henry getting intimate with Aspen. His meaty hands on her naked body, his head buried between her thighs.

  I push my food aside.

  I may never eat again.

  * * *

  Sunday, just after three, I consider a moment if what I’m about to do will one day be filed under deep regret.

  “He-yo?” Abby points to the white block of a building with a large silver spear out front made of stainless steel reflecting the sun like a mirror. The words Terri Eaton Community Gallery are sprawled out on a temporary vinyl banner.

  “Yup, right here.” I let Abby know we were going on an adventure to an art gallery. If she’s going to mention Aspen’s name to Cheryl, I might as well give her a reason. “Whiskey tango foxtrot am I doing?” I whisper to myself.

  “Whiskey tango fox-fox.” Abby does her best to parrot.

  It’s code for “what the fuck.” Carter came up with it after I scolded him for cussing up a storm in front of Abby. Now it’s sort of a family thing. Whiskey tango foxtrot has become something short of a mantra of mine.

  My heart does a few jumping jacks as we head up the walk. A pair of double doors sit wide open, and we stride in with Abby snug in my arm like a koala.

  “Hey”—I whisper in her tiny ear—“I’m not to sure this is the right place to bring a three-year-old, so I might have to hold my squirmy worm. That okay?” I land a kiss on her chee
k as my adrenaline skyrockets. We’re so close to Aspen—I can feel it. I’ve always had a pretty good barometer that lets me know when she’s near, and right now the needle is jumping off the charts.

  “Squirmy worm is almost four!” Abby roars the words in my face.

  “Yes.” I touch my finger to her lips as we head inside. This might be more of a disaster than I anticipated.

  A young brunette sits behind the counter, looking bored while clicking into her phone. “Can I help you?” she murmurs without looking up.

  “Yes, actually. Um—can you tell me which staff are on duty today?” I groan inwardly. On duty? What is this the E.R.?

  “Exactly which staff are you inquiring about?” She clicks into her phone still playing fast and loose with the eye contact.

  I blow out a quick breath before leaning in and whispering, “Aspen O’Tool?”

  “Aspen O’Fool! Aspen O’Fool!” Abby screams the words so loud they vibrate over the hollow reserve. I’m not sure if she got the O’Fool from me or Cher.

  Shit. I offer a passive smile to my riotous baby girl. As much as I love her, I wouldn’t mind a muzzle right about now.

  “Excuse me, Becca. I’ll take over from here.” A woman’s voice resonates from behind, and before I can turn around, the earphones hanging on the girl’s neck, buzz like a pair of mosquitoes.

  A tall woman appears with a squared off face, tan. Her hair hangs to her neck, short bangs fringing her forehead. Her eyes glow a pale, china blue, and something about her general appearance gives her an air of insanity.

  “Terri Eaton.” She extends a hand. “Whom may I say is calling?” She nods to me with a slight sarcastic edge. Of course, Stevie’s mother. Ford filled me in on her briefly. From what I can tell, she’s just living up to her reputation.

  “Cannon”—I extend my hand in a friendly gesture—“Carter Cannon. Ford’s younger brother.”

  “Ford’s younger brother.” Her eyes widen like moons. “Yes. The one with an affinity for our Aspen. Stevie has mentioned you a time or two.” Her lips purse as she examines Abby. “And who is this angel?”

  “My daughter, Abby.”

  “Aspen, Daddy’s friend.” She tugs on one of her pigtails, and I can’t help smile at how adorable she is.

  “Let’s just see about that.”

  We follow the ice queen down the length of two corridors. A few sparse displays sit in a cavernous room to our left. A smattering of people make their way around the room taking in the twisted iron sculptures as if they were alien beings. We exit the building in the back as we head into a studio that sits just behind it. The smell of turpentine and something less familiar permeates the air. Another arid-white room opens up, and there she is. Aspen stands on a stool at the base of a canvas that must be at least ten feet by fifteen. A wash of navy blue covers every square inch of it as Aspen carefully applies her brush to canvas. A million speckled stars pepper the backdrop as a shadowed couple emerge on the lower right.

  Aspen balances herself delicately. She has her headphones on and hums a slow, melancholy song as she strokes her brush over the navy sky, soft and light, as if she were combing the fur of some exotic animal. She turns slightly and startles, nearly falling off her perch. I lean forward as if to catch her, but she jumps down and yanks off her headphones before I get a chance.

  “What’s going on?” Her eyes dart wild from mine to Stevie’s mother.

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” Terri gravels it out while giving me a disapproving eye. “I’ll be just outside should you need me.” Her lips rise at Abby as she strides past us.

  “This is a surprise.” Aspen’s chest heaves as she takes her next breath. “So this is Abby.” Her voice sinks with an unexpected sadness, and it pains me to hear it. I’m not sure what I was expecting bringing the child of the woman I left her for here to showboat like some carnival prize Aspen didn’t win.

  “Yes.” I’d introduce them properly, but it feels as if someone shoved a fist down my throat. There’s so much pain I’d die to alleviate it for her, so much of my heart I want to gift to Aspen. A desperate part of me wants her to like Abby. To love Abby as much as I do.

  “Hi.” Her eyes shine like shards of glass. I’ve done this. I’ve broken her. Something in Aspen softens as she offers a genuine smile. “My name is Aspen.” Her brows furrow as she touches her finger to Abby’s little hand. A single finger as if she were touching a delicate starfish in some marine display.

  “Aspen, Daddy’s friend.” Abby ducks her face in my chest after making the declaration. Her little limbs tighten around my body as Aspen and I share a laugh and I freeze. Aspen laughed. She’s smiling. First genuine one I’ve seen in four long years. It feels good. The glacier we’ve erected is finally starting to thaw.

  The clip clop of heels emits from the door as Terri stomps back with that same icy glare on her face. Why do I feel as if the warden just came in to tell me my time is up?

  “Abby, I have a project for you.” She holds up an old white dress shirt. “Do you like to paint?”

  Abby bucks and kicks until I land her on the floor.

  “Paint!” She runs quickly to the door without an ounce of fear.

  It’s becoming obvious I have a lot of territory to cover regarding strangers before someone in a panel van makes the same offer. She looks back a moment as if waiting for approval, and I feel just a hair more relaxed.

  “It’s fine.”

  They take off in a blink, and soon it’s just Aspen and me.

  “What’s this about?” Aspen sighs, folding her arms over herself as if it’s her last defense. “A little young for art lessons don’t you think?”

  “I don’t think you believe that.”

  Her mouth falls open because we both know it’s true. When Aspen finally does have a child of her own, I’m sure she’ll have the baby working with pastel hours after giving birth. My chest tightens because I want desperately to be in the room holding her hand when the time comes. I want to be the one to put that baby in her belly.

  “You’re right.” She shakes her head as she puts down the brush in her hand, her body surrendering its armor. “What’s going on?”

  “I wanted Abby to meet you.” I take a step in toward her behemoth project, the stars. The couple. They feel so alive, I resist the urge to touch them. “I wanted to see you in your element.” I turn toward her again, taking her in fully this time, my eyes drinking her down in large, thirsty gulps.

  The light shines down, perfectly cast, as if there were a portal to heaven in the ceiling. Her pale skin, that dark, glossy hair. Aspen is an angel that’s for sure.

  “I miss this.” The words tumble out before I can stop them.

  A choking sound emits from her throat. Color surges to her cheeks as she takes me in. Her tongue does a quick revolution around her lips, and, for a brief moment, I entertain the idea of covering her mouth with mine.

  “When you say things like that.” She swallows hard. “When you bring your sweet baby girl to meet me.” She shakes her head unable to speak as if the rest of the words are damming up in her throat. “When you text me goodnight and drive by my house in the middle of the afternoon. It all feels a little inappropriate.”

  The room is quickly swallowed up in silence. Ford is right. Aspen is married. What the hell am I thinking? Just because I’m single that she should be, too?

  I try to force myself to hit the exit, but I end up taking a full step toward her instead. My hand gravitates to her cheek, and I gently touch her soft, beautiful face for the first time in far too long. A part of me dies in that small action knowing it could well be the very last time.

  “I wish I could turn back time, Aspen. I would never blink Abby out of existence, but I’d walk through a thousand fires to have made you her mother.”

  Aspen carefully lifts my hand from her face and instead of throwing it back at me, she does the unthinkable—threads her fingers with mine and rests my hand over the wild thump of her hea
rt, her softness conforming to it like a pillow.

  “I think this present version of you believes that.” She blinks back tears and everything loosens in me at the sight of them.

  Aspen lays my hand down by my side before wrapping her arms around herself, tight, like I’ve wanted to do to her from the moment I walked in. I’d sell my soul to hold her one more time.

  “Every version of me believes that—because it’s true.”

  “Carter.” She presses her fingers to her forehead for one exasperated moment. “What brings you here?” The words drip out in sadness as her features melt like wax. “What makes you think you can just step right back into my life because you choose to?”

  “Because a very selfish part of me wishes you’d choose to right along with me.”

  “And what about Henry? Does he get a choice?” Her eyes widen, demanding I not look away. “I can call him now and see what he thinks.”

  Aspen is as cutting to the bone as ever, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

  A part of me wants to call her on her bluff. Call him now. Tell him to pick on someone else.

  Stevie says he’s an utter ass to her sister. How can Aspen be treated as anything but a queen?

  “No, that won’t be necessary.” I stuff my hands into my pockets and hang my head. “I guess this is the part where I tell you I’m sorry and that it’ll never happen again, but I think we both know it would be a lie.”

  A tiny mewl of a laugh builds in her throat. “I think those kinds of lies are acceptable.”

  Aspen. She’s lowering her defenses—melting like snow in a warm, spring shower. She’s coming back to me in pieces, as someone who’s willing to share a smile with me, as a friend, and I’ll gladly take it.

  “Tell me about the painting.” I turn into the giant blue expanse, hopeful that it will swallow us both and lock us in that romantic nightscape.