Star Promise (7 page)

Her little shoulders lifted. “Just playing with Treasure.”

She sounded casual but wasn’t, and her terror amplified when I reached under her bed and grabbed the discarded doll. Bridget fell apart, with good reason. The ridiculously lifelike doll had had a makeover. Half of its face was covered in red scribble. “What did you do?”

She whimpered an answer. “She was too scary before.”

Smudging my thumb across the inky stain did nothing. “And she’s not scary now, Bridge?” I asked, waving it at her. “She’s hideous.”

“Don’t tell Mamie,” she begged.

I was at a loss. My eyes darted between my daughter and the Halloween prop in my hand. The easiest solution would be to throw the doll back under the bed and pretend nothing had happened, but Bridget would learn nothing and continue honing her skills in terrorism.

“I’m not going to tell Mamie,” I told her. Pure relief washed over her, but it was brief. “You’re going to tell her.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t want to visit you in juvie,” I retorted. Bridget frowned, forcing me to elaborate. “Jail for little girls.”

“Mamie will send me to jail for this?”

“Probably,” I replied, walking out of her room. “That’s where little crooks belong.”

Bridget followed me, slamming into the back of me. “I’ll tell Mamie,” she assured me. “Take me there now, please.”

I could understand her urgency. Like getting out of Dodge, confessions are best made quickly. I peeled her off my legs and sent her back to her room to bag up the evidence.

She reappeared a minute later, dragging Treasure behind her in a pillowcase. “She won’t fit in my bag,” she explained. “It’s still got all the money in it.”

I nodded, resigned to the notion that my world turned on a different axis to most. Some days were stranger than others, and this was one of them. My angelic little daughter looked like a serial killer gearing up to dump a body. “Let’s do this, Daddy,” she ordered. “I don’t want to go to jail. I don’t think they have good toys there.”

If Bridget ever did end up on trial, I was confident she’d be able to defend herself. The child was a born defender. She sat her grandmother down, admitted to her crime, and then gave her shady version of why she’d done it.

“I’m sorry, Mamie, but it’s a really scary baby,” she said, slapping her hands down on her knees. “I had to make her pretty.”

My mother’s eyes drifted away from Bridget and locked on me. “How bad is it?”

Bridget answered for me. I almost thanked her. “It’s bad, Mamie,” she said seriously.

When Mom demanded to see for herself, Bridget whipped Treasure out of the pillowcase and waved her in the air.

My mother gasped but didn’t say a word. I’d never seen her rendered speechless before. She looked so distraught that I wondered if she was about to cry.

“I coloured her mouth red,” announced Bridget.

“And her cheeks, ears and eyes,” added Mom, futilely trying to wipe it off with her fingertips.

“Bente has red lips and she’s lovely,” reasoned Bridget. “And now Treasure is too.”

Mom dropped the doll in her lap and stared at her granddaughter. If Bridget found it unnerving, she did a good job of hiding it. She bounced around, swinging her little legs as if she didn’t have a worry in the world.

“Do you still think Treasure is frightening?” Mom asked curiously.

“No.” Bridget wildly shook her head. “I told you, Mamie. She’s lovely now.”

Mom stuffed Treasure back into the pillowcase, just as roughly as Bridget had pulled her out. “Well, darling, that’s the main thing I suppose,” she told her. “As long as you think she’s lovely.”

“That’s it?” I asked incredulously.

“What am I supposed to say, Adam?” she snapped. “Charli warned me that she wasn’t old enough to appreciate such a gift. It was my mistake.”

Treasure looked like road kill and Bridget had gotten away with it. “I told her that she’d end up in juvie if she carried on like this.” I stared at Bridget as I said it. “Jail for little girls.”

Mom surprised me by backing me up. “It’s true.”

“And it’s not nice to ruin toys.”

“No, it’s not,” agreed Mom.

Bridget’s bottom lip fell, which was magnificent. It gave me hope that I was back in control.

“I won’t do it again,” she promised.

Mom reached across and pulled her in close. “That’s a good girl,” she murmured, kissing the top of her head. “No more drawing on faces.”

I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure that the apartment was empty when I arrived home. It seemed perfectly plausible that Adam and Bridget might’ve perished in the toy explosion that had happened in the living room. I was just about to sift through it for bodies when they walked in the door.

Bridget ran to me and I scooped her up, kissing her. Adam moved slower. “Hey.” He kissed my cheek.

I lowered Bridget and she took off to explore the mess. “We need a bigger apartment,” I muttered.

Adam’s arms slipped around me. “No, junior needs less toys.” He rested his head on my shoulder. “But for now, we’ll make her clean these up.”

When Adam lays down the law, he sticks to his guns. He made Bridget cart every single one of her toys back to her room and put them away neatly. The only break she had was for dinner, which she dragged out for an hour before heading back to the rough conditions of the toy mine. She finished a little after eight.

“That was too much work,” she complained. “I’m a very tired girl now.”

“That’s good news, princess,” Adam replied, scooping her off her feet. “Because you’re going to bed.”

She wriggled in his hold to lean down and kiss me goodnight. “Love you so much, baby,” I whispered.

“I’m not working tomorrow, okay?” she demanded.

“No,” I agreed. “The day is yours.”

They disappeared down the hall and the small room fell silent. I sat on the couch feeling slightly less agitated now that things were back in order. At that moment, Jean-Luc’s concept of a private office didn’t seem so arrogant. Small children infiltrate every part of a household. If we had a bigger home, I’d probably push for a room of my own too.

Staying in Gabi’s apartment had originally been a temporary measure. We had planned to find something bigger once we arrived in New York, but life had got in the way and neither of us had time to find anything new.

If our plan of having another baby panned out, we were going to have to make some quick arrangements, but nothing about that worried me. That’s how we worked best: our plans changed when our circumstances did.

Adam was gone for ages. I was just about to check why when he ambled back and flopped down beside me.

I shuffled closer, finding my way into his arms. “Is she asleep?” I whispered.

“Out for the count,” he replied wearily. “Today was hard.”

His rundown of the afternoon’s events wasn’t an explanation; it was more of a debriefing. Bridget had taken arts and crafts to a new level by giving Treasure a makeover.

“I warned Fiona not to give it to her,” I grumbled. “I knew she’d maim her somehow.”

Adam shifted slightly, sinking us further into the cushions. “I took her to Mom’s and made her confess,” he explained. “But it fell short.”

I wasn’t surprised to hear that Fiona forgave Bridget without question. She could do no wrong in either of her grandparents’ eyes. It was a dangerous attitude that we constantly battled.

“So where is Treasure now?”

“She relinquished custody to Mom.”

I patted his leg, laughing at his choice of words. “It’s for the best.”

Adam’s head lolled back and he let out a sigh. “It’s not funny, Charlotte,” he chided. “She played Mom like a fiddle. The only time she looked remotely remorseful was when I threatened her with juvie.”

My laugh got louder, which earned me the nicest kind of punishment. He stood and threw me over his shoulder. I gripped the back of his shirt as he marched down the hall. “Where are we going?” I asked, pretending not to know.

“To bed,” he replied unapologetically. “I’m a glutton for punishment. I want to make another smart-mouthed, quick-witted little criminal.”

He nudged the bedroom door open with his foot and abandoned the caveman act by lowering me to my feet.

“Damn,” I grumbled, tugging the hem of my blouse. “I was just getting into it.”

A smile crept across his face. “I haven’t finished yet.” His hand found my hip and pulled me forward. Even as it deepened, the kiss remained soft and tender. But I knew he wasn’t completely with me. I broke away and leaned back. “What’s the matter?” I asked, studying his sapphire eyes.

Adam shook his head infinitesimally. “You know those parents who say ‘my child wouldn’t do that’ when their kid gets into trouble?”

“Yes.” Meredith Tate and Carol Lawson came to mind.

“Let’s not be those parents,” he said. “We can’t put anything past our kid. She’s too smart.”

Adam had a tendency to over-think things, especially where Bridget was concerned. Determined that her childhood would be different from his own, he encouraged her to make decisions without influence. The problem was that Bridget didn’t always decide well, and it bugged the hell out of him.

The best way around it was to put things into perspective.

“You know those parents who wear matching sweat pants and sensible shoes?” I asked in return.

The dimple in his right cheek deepened. “Yeah.”

I held his hands to steady myself as I stretched up and murmured against his mouth, “Let’s not be those parents either.”

He kissed me again. It wasn’t slow and soft like before. It was hard and fast and over much too quickly.

“I love the way your mind works.” He breathed the words against my neck, sending a hot rush of desire right through me.

“Forget my mind,” I urged, tugging at the buttons on his shirt. “Concentrate on my body.”

Our house was usually mayhem in the mornings, but for some reason I seemed to be the only one in a rush that day. When Adam’s alarm went off, he hit the snooze button and turned over.

I took it as a win. I managed to get the first shower and dry my hair without interruption. Not even Bridget made an appearance.

I quickly worked out why when I returned to the bedroom. She was tucked up beside her dad having a very one-sided conversation about dogs that swim in the ocean. “They’re called sea dogs,” she explained. Adam grunted in reply, which wasn’t good enough. “You have to listen, Dad.”

“I am listening,” he mumbled. “Sea dogs.”

“That’s right,” she praised, patting his head.

“Bridge, please go and get dressed.” He threw back her side of the covers. “We’ll go and see Ryan.”

The promise of visiting Ryan was as powerful as the cake box. She disappeared in a flash.

Adam’s alarm started blaring again. I walked around the bed and thumped the off button. “Why are you going to Ryan’s?” I asked. “Mrs Brown will be here shortly.”

I took his hand when he reached out to me. “No she won’t. I gave her a week off.”

A hundred thoughts spun through my mind, namely how we were going to manage full time jobs with no childcare. “And you didn’t think to tell me last night?”

His hand moved to my stomach. “I had other things on my mind.”

I brushed him away and moved out of reach. “I can’t take any more days off, Adam.”

Bronson was very generous when it came to giving me time off when I needed it, but it didn’t look good. I hated that I’d become so unreliable.

“I’ve got today covered,” he insisted. “I’m going to see if Ryan can watch Bridget this morning. I have a meeting at eleven and that’s it. I’ll take the rest of the day off.”

“And tomorrow?”

He leaned over and grabbed me. I stumbled as he pulled me forward and he took full advantage by pulling me down on top of him. “Tomorrow is a new day.” He gently kissed my lips. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I hope you come up with a plan, Boy Wonder.”

“Nope.” He grinned at me. “I’m winging it.”

The morning was bright and sunny. We weren’t in any hurry so I decided that we’d walk to Ryan’s. Bridget didn’t complain. It gave her more talking time, and her topic of choice was still sea dogs.

“Why are they called sea dogs?” I asked. “Why aren’t they just dogs who like to swim in the sea?”

Bridget tugged on my hand as she jumped over a crack in the sidewalk. “Because they make different noises,” she explained. “They go ‘squeep, squeep, squeep.”

Even over the sound of the passing traffic, she sounded like a wounded cat. I laughed, which didn’t impress her.

“It’s true, Daddy,” she huffed.

“I’m sure it is,” I replied. “When we get back to the ocean, I’ll be sure to check out the squeeping sea dogs.”

Bridget looked up at me. “Are we going back to the ocean soon?”

I wanted to tell her yes, but that would’ve been a lie. For now, we were New Yorkers – but that felt like a lie too. We just didn’t belong here any more.

“We’re going to go back and visit at Christmas,” I told her. “To hang out with Alex and Gabi and Jack.”

“I have lots of big things to tell Jack,” she crowed. “I hope he has nice ears for hearing.”

I adored conversations with my daughter, even the confusing ones. It was the biggest reminder of all that it didn’t matter where in the world we lived. Happiness wasn’t geographical.

Before I knew it we were outside Ryan’s building. I punched in the access code and held the door open for Bridget.

“I want to turn the key in Ry’s door,” she insisted.

It would’ve been good manners to knock, but I let her have her way – then wished I hadn’t.

My brother wasn’t expecting us – or anyone else, by the look of it. He stuffed something under a cushion and punched the remote, trying to turn the TV off. “Can’t you people knock?” he snapped.

“I put the key in and turned it,” chimed Bridget. “It’s easy.”

I wasn’t listening to her. I was too busy being disgusted and horrified. “What did we just walk in on?”

“Nothing.”

I didn’t buy it. I grabbed the nearest cushion and whacked him with it. “What are you watching?”