Eight Days a Week

  When we woke up the next morning, the television was off. Gwen must have done it when she’d gotten home from her date.

  Her date was not the first thing I wanted to think about in the morning.

  Brady asked to help cook breakfast, and it must have been the smell of burnt bacon and the sound of the fire alarm going off that made Gwen race down the stairs and through the glass doors to the backyard, where I was dumping the remains of charcoaled pig into the vegetable garden. She was yelling and rushing toward me in a panic, when I looked up and my eyes went wide.

  “I swear, I turned around for one second and Brady twisted the burner to high.” I looked her body up and down. “Your nipple is hanging out.”

  She glanced down and flushed bright red then shoved her breast back into the tank top. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  I laughed and headed back toward the kitchen door but stopped just by her ear. “You look sexy in the morning. Even with the Lindsay Lohan eyeliner.”

  “Stop it.” She popped me on the back of the neck.

  “What?” I asked as we walked inside. “Miss me last night?”

  “Like I’d tell you.”

  “Am I getting my clothes back?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t like them anyway.”

  She slid the door closed behind us, and we both looked at Brady, who was hiding in the corner.

  “You’re learning,” I said. “Don’t look so sad. We’ll try again.” I pulled the fire alarm down, emptied out the batteries, and walked to the fridge.

  Brady nodded and came around the island to hug my leg. I dropped a hand and ruffled his hair before chuckling and pulling out some more bacon. Thank God for the extra bacon reserves I always kept in the fridge. A man needs meat.

  “Where’s Bree?” Gwen asked.

  I smiled. “She’s at Jennifer’s.”

  Grinning in satisfaction, she climbed the stairs to her room. When she came back down, she was wearing a robe. I assumed it was to prevent another peep show, which was a little disappointing.

  She joined me at the table, where I was sitting alone, drinking coffee, and scrolling through the news on Brady’s iPad.

  “Now where did Brady go?”

  I didn’t even look up. “He’s in his bedroom picking out his clothes for the day.”

  “Wow. Big steps happening around here, huh?”

  I lifted my head and smiled. “Yep. It’s pretty cool.”

  Staring at the plate of food I’d made her, she leaned on her hand and sighed.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I want to be part of this, too.”

  I put the iPad down and turned to look her dead in the eyes. “Then stop working so much. And don’t go out with douchebags.”

  She leaned forward and stared at my lips. “But you’re so sexy when I date douchebags.”

  “Am I, now?”

  “Yep. Cro-Magnon.”

  “And how did that work out last night?”

  She pursed her lips. “He made me pay for my half and then tried to feel me up during the movie, so I dumped buttered popcorn on his head. That’s why he’s keeping the clothes—because he won’t be back.”

  “Hmm.” I leaned over until her lips were out of view because they were so close to mine. “I can’t say I’m upset it didn’t work out.”

  “You say my name in your sleep,” she whispered, lifting her eyes to mine. “I heard you when I came home and turned off the TV.” Her eyes widened and then narrowed into slits. “Makes me want to—”

  “Dee!” Brady yelled from the door.

  Gwen startled, and I jerked, my knees colliding with the table.

  “Shi—” I bit down on my lip and could feel my face turning bright red from the pain in my knees and from holding in expletives.

  “Sowwy,” Brady said.

  “You’re okay,” I said with a gasp.

  Brady set a stack of cards on the table. “Daddy’s.” His voice was so soft as he pointed to the baseball cards. “Fow you.” He smiled and patted me on the thigh, right above the pulsating pain I was fighting against. Then he leaned up and gave Gwen a kiss on the cheek. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too, little man.”

  He beamed at her before retreating to the living room to watch cartoons.

  I stared at the cards. “I can’t take these.”

  “You can. He wants you to have them.”

  They were Brady’s most prized possession. But giving them to me wasn’t just a show of friendship or affection. I knew what giving away a favorite thing meant to a boy his age. It meant he expected me to be around forever.

  Chapter 12

  Carry That Weight

  I couldn’t bring myself to talk to Xander or Cece yet, because the two of them being together made me so angry it stirred up emotions inside me that I’d sworn didn’t exist. I didn’t disapprove of them—I was just blindsided by their believing I didn’t have the right to know. My brain was so twisted up I didn’t know if I wanted to kill Xander for keeping everything from me and bury his body in the backyard, or if I wanted to thank him for taking care of my sister while I was gone.

  As for Cece, I was pissed she hadn’t told me anything. She’d known about Gwen’s situation, and she’d never said a word about dating my best friend.

  It probably wouldn’t have bothered me if they’d been honest upfront. It must have been pretty damn hard keeping that shit quiet while I was in her apartment. I was racking my brain to think whether or not there’d been any signs I might have missed, but the truth was I hadn’t been paying attention to anything at the time.

  What other things had I ignored?

  I couldn’t stand the way it made me feel. Because it was doing just that—making me feel, like an emotional, pansy-ass sad sack. Now I had these kids who depended on me and a woman I didn’t just want to screw anymore.

  I hated every second of this new ability to “care.” I wanted my old life back. I wanted to walk around with a stick up my ass and drink and shirk responsibility. I wanted to hate my family and not care about anything or anyone other than me, and Don, and my inheritance.

  Then my thoughts turned to Brady and Bree, and I threw myself onto my couch, my face hitting the cushion with enough force to make me grunt and bounce.

  How had I fallen in love with some kids? It was ridiculous, and I felt antsy, fidgety in my skin. My fingers itched. I had to focus. I had to do something. Running my fingers through my hair, I let out a long breath. The kids had another half hour before bed. And I needed a release.

  Maybe Gwen wouldn’t mind.

  I charged up the stairs, sat down at the piano in the sitting room, and pushed the lid back to stare at the keys. I hit a couple of notes and sighed in satisfaction, my muscles relaxing and my head clearing out just a little.

  With my eyes closed, I felt along the keys and began to play a song I’d written years before, when I’d had every intention of making the piano my life’s work. I’d written it to make myself feel better after Geoffrey and I had gotten into a particularly intense fight one night. The notes had flowed in an aggressive torrent, and I’d never forgotten them. I’d played it over and over until the sound created a sort of scab over the gaping hole in my chest, made by my father’s intense disapproval of everything I’d wanted to do.

  I wasn’t Cece. And if she was honest, Cece wasn’t Cece either. I wondered if my parents knew about Xander. It seemed obvious that my best friend, a guy who worked in a bar, wasn’t exactly who they’d have pictured my sister with. But then it occurred to me that maybe they knew and it didn’t matter, because Cece was perfect and they approved every last thing she did, no matter what.

  I yanked my hands from the piano keys and pressed them to my face in frustration.

  “Dat was weally good, Dee.”

  I laughed. “Thanks, little man.”

  He stared with awe at the keys and then at my hands. Then his mouth pursed. With tentative fingers, he plinked out a
couple of notes, a huge smile crossing his face.

  “Do you want to learn?” I asked.

  He turned his face up to mine, a look of adulation in his electric-blue eyes. Then he nodded.

  “Okay, we’ll do this instead of T-ball. If Gwen’s okay with it.”

  “I’m more than okay with it,” Gwen said from the doorway.

  I took a deep breath before lifting my eyes to her. She was leaning against the door frame, and Bree was pressed against her hip, both of them gazing at me. Everyone was in their pajamas, and I chuckled at how much we looked like a real honest-to-God family right then. With a soft click, I closed the lid over the keys and leaned down to scoop Brady up.

  “I’ll help you tuck them in tonight.”

  Gwen nodded and followed us up the stairs. Once the kids were brushed, watered, and tucked, Gwen and I shuffled down the stairs, our feet padding softly on the carpet.

  “Dee?” she called before I turned the corner into the kitchen. My shoulders slumped and I held my breath, turning warily to face her.

  “I was wondering if you’d be interested in going to Bree’s school dance on Friday. It’s for parents, but . . .” She couldn’t finish because her eyes were welling up. What was it about this woman that made me want to take her upstairs and run a bath for her? Brush her hair and hum her to sleep?

  Get a grip, Lyons.

  “Of course,” I said.

  Her face was pained, her eyes downcast, and for the life of me I had no idea what I was supposed to do there anymore.

  “And?” I asked.

  She looked like she was struggling, and I was starting to get tired of the hesitation.

  “What, Gwen?”

  She closed her eyes and looked down at the floor. “I have a date on Saturday night.”

  What. The. Fuck.

  I blinked. “Okay.”

  Her head flew up to gauge my reaction. My face was an expressionless mask, and she looked disappointed.

  “I’m not doing this to hurt you. Please know that. I have reasons.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I just want to know if what we’re doing is going to be best for everyone involved.” She stared at me, wringing her hands like even she knew that was bullshit. “Tess said—”

  “I don’t care what Tess said.”

  “—maybe we’re doing . . . what we’re doing . . . just because we’re together by circumstance. And if the kids were to find out—”

  I cleared my throat loudly. “It was one night, Gwen. Is there anything else, or can I go now?”

  She sighed. “No. You can go. We’ll be ready to go to the dance Friday night by six.”

  “Great.” I stared at her, watching her chest rise and fall, her mouth twitching like there was something else, but she kept her lips pressed together. Not willing to wait any longer, I went back downstairs to my room to try and sleep through the deafening echo of emptiness I felt in my heart.

  Manny Log

  Monday:

  What the hell is going on with my life?

  Tuesday:

  Bree is becoming more social. Letting Jennifer come over to do homework for an hour has made her seem less like Wednesday Addams.

  Brady is stuck to me like gum to a bus seat. Must remember to be a good example.

  REALLY want to scream “shit” . . . just because.

  Wednesday:

  Do none of these cartoon kids have parents? Max and Ruby—do they live alone? And why won’t she EVER listen to what Max says? Damn goody-goody know-it-all. Reminds me of Cece.

  Thursday:

  Brady’s first piano practice: I need more patience.

  Bree sat with us and did homework alone. Pretty sure this is the first time she hasn’t corrected every last thing Brady tried to do. Maybe she’s learning to be a kid instead of a parent. She’s a good sister.

  Don wants to know what he did to make Gwen want to hang out with other dicks.

  Chapter 13

  I’m Happy Just to Dance with You

  By Friday night I had cooled off enough to concentrate on my duties at hand. Bree knew I was taking her to the dance, and I had to do my best to make her feel special. I couldn’t let my feelings about Gwen’s decisions affect that.

  At five forty on the dot, I knocked on the bedroom door and pushed it open to see Bree staring in the mirror with distaste. I raised my eyebrows at Gwen as we appraised each other, trying not to show any sign I thought she looked beautiful. Because she did. And I thought maybe she felt the same way about me since her eyes were fixed directly on my black suit. Or maybe it was the little daisy corsage I was holding in my hand.

  I raised it up, and my mouth twisted in embarrassment. “I wasn’t sure about this, but—”

  “It’s perfect.” She tore her eyes away from me and looked over her shoulder. “Bree? Your escort is here.”

  Bree huffed and ran her hands over the front of her dress. Her shiny black little-girl heels caught the light and shone as she stepped forward like she was walking to her imminent death. Then her mouth opened in an O as she set her eyes on me and flushed.

  “Hello, date.” I had to stop myself from chuckling as Bree opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out but a squeak. I knelt to give her the daisies, and she extended her wrist and watched as I slipped on the corsage. Then I stood and held out a hand. “Shall we?”

  Her light-yellow dress shifted about her legs as she kept up with my strides. We descended the stairs, and when we got to the garage, we all stared at the Instant Vasectomy that was the Hyundai.

  “Do I sit in back?” Gwen asked, smiling as she threw Bree’s overnight bag in the trunk. Bree shook her head and crawled into the backseat, so Gwen took the passenger seat while I started the car.

  The school gymnasium had been filled with balloons and converted to a dance floor. Parents were sitting all along the bleachers watching their elementary school kids dancing or, rather, jumping up and down to the beat that filtered through the air.

  Bree stood off to my side and scanned the crowd before a cluster of little girls screamed her name and came running over, fawning over her dress and talking about the decorations. Bree nodded and pretended to care.

  Jennifer was among the group, and she tugged on Bree’s hand, begging her to come out onto the dance floor.

  Bree looked up at me. “Is that okay?”

  I smiled and waved my hand. “Go. Have fun.”

  She rolled her eyes and pulled her hand from Jennifer’s. “Are you going to dance, Dee?”

  “You are her date, you know.” Gwen’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

  I ran my hand along the back of my neck. “Yeah, okay. You go dance now, and I’ll come get you in a couple of songs.”

  She seemed appeased and turned back to her fan base.

  I tilted my face a fraction of an inch toward Gwen, and she laughed.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re just good to her, that’s all.”

  I looked away and set my jaw. “She deserves it.”

  We bought a couple of drinks and watched the girls from the sidelines as they flailed awkwardly to the music and sang along to the songs. Bree was smiling and laughing, but every few minutes she’d check to see if we were still in our places. Satisfied we weren’t going anywhere, she’d resume dancing.

  “Brady will be excited when Bree shows up tonight at your mom’s,” I said.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because he said it’s so boring there.” I smiled and pointed to my chest. “I mean, after you hang out with me, anything will seem less fun.”

  Gwen laughed and finished her drink. “Yep. Nobody is as fun as you are.”

  My face fell, and then hers did, too.

  “No, I mean it,” she said. “I don’t know anyone else who would put in as much time and effort to get Brady and Bree up and out. You’re perfect for them.”

  I looked at the floor and cleared my throat. “Perfect for them. Good to know.”
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  “Dee!”

  Gwen and I looked up to see Bree running at us full force.

  “Come on!” She tugged on my arm.

  I handed Gwen my cup, followed Bree out onto the floor, and was immediately surrounded by little girls. They gaped at me like they’d never seen a grown man before. It completely freaked me out.

  I stood in the middle of the circle and turned at the waist to see Gwen. She gave a small wave, and I grinned wide, shrugging. Bree started to sway and jump, just like the other girls, and pretty soon it looked like a sea of prairie dogs around my chest. I screwed up my face at all the underage female attention, but once the song changed to “Shout,” I pushed my way out of their circle and went along with it. The other parents watched, and the more I danced, the more other adults moved out onto the dance floor.

  When the music changed again, I walked over to Gwen and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Slow dance. Don’t look, but I think Bree has a boyfriend.”

  She whipped her head in their direction, and a slow smile spread across her face. The blond boy was a little shorter than Bree, but he was staring at her with wide eyes and an almost dazed expression.

  “I told you not to look! His name is Trey,” I said. “I got his social security number and an address before I let them dance.” With a serious face, I pointed two fingers toward my eyes and then at Trey and mouthed, “I’m watching you.”

  The little boy froze, then slowly returned to dancing with Bree.

  “It’s started already, hasn’t it?” Gwen couldn’t hide the amusement in her voice.

  “It had to start somewhere.” I smiled and shook my head. “Would you like to dance?”

  She took my hand, and I pulled her to my chest, dropping one arm around her waist. Her touch sent shivers up my spine, and I concentrated on the heat from her body coming through my clothes.