The Distance Between Us (21 page)

X
ander curses under his breath. “Man, Caymen, I’m sorry.” That’s all he says for a while. His fingers create a trail on my back: across, down, over, up. They repeat the pattern over and over. “When did you find out?”

“Tonight.” I sigh. “Or maybe she’s not. And I’m wishing so bad she’s not. But if she isn’t that means something else is wrong with her and that I’m a horrible daughter for thinking even for a split second that I’d rather her be anything but pregnant.”

He pushes me out by the shoulders and I let him. When we meet eyes he says, “What can I do?”

“Make this all a dream that I can wake up from tomorrow.”

He pulls on his bottom lip. “I feel like I took advantage of you tonight. I’m sorry. Had I known I would have never—”

“Stop,” I interrupt. “Don’t say that. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for weeks. Way before I found out about my mom, back when you used to walk me to school.”

His eyes flicker to my lips then back to my eyes. “You wanted to kiss me?”

“‘Want’ is the correct word. I
want
to kiss you.” I lean forward and brush my lips against his.

He pulls back a little. “Now I’d really be a jerk if we kissed. Come on. Let’s talk.” He leads me down the hall by my hand to a large theater room. Several overstuffed recliners set on different levels face a big white screen.

“Wow,” I say, spinning in a circle. “This is where we need to watch
The Shining
.”

He lifts one side of his mouth into a half-smile then goes to a bookshelf full of DVDs and pulls out the one with Jack Nicholson sticking his creepy face through a gap in a door.

“You got it?”

“I did. You said we were going to watch it so I got it.”

I plop down in a recliner. “Well, put it on, then.”

He shakes his head. “Not tonight. Tonight we talk.” He replaces the movie and settles into the recliner next to mine.

“What were you doing before I got here?”

“Let me rephrase that: tonight we talk about
you
.”

“Can we just work up to it first? I’m not good at things like this.”

He nods. “Okay, before you got here? Let’s see, I was working on a history assignment.”

“Do you go to Dalton Academy or Oceanside?” They’re both private schools. I’m sure he goes to one or the other.

“Dalton.”

“Dalton . . . that’s your grandma’s last name.” Before I even finish the sentence I feel stupid for saying it. “Duh. That’s not a coincidence.”

He laughs. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me what it’s like to be treated like a normal person. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around someone who didn’t know who I was.”

I tilt my head. “Wait, who are you?”

He tugs on my hair with a smirk.

“Your parents are really nice.”

“When they get what they want, yes they are.”

“So have you been working on the website for your dad, then?”

He draws out a sigh. “That’s the thing. I have. I know, I know, I shouldn’t.”

I hold up my hands. “I said nothing.”

“So I had all these great ideas for the website to make it fresh and exciting and my dad completely disregarded all of them. He said, ‘No, clean and classic.’”

“For your clientele that’s probably better.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s not like teenagers are going to book rooms at your hotels. It’s businessmen and wealthy people. Clean and classic work for them.”

He closes his eyes for a second then says, “You’re right. Why didn’t he just say that?”

“Maybe he tried. You don’t listen to your dad very well.”

“Because he wants to shape me into this perfect little version of him and I feel smothered. I’m not him.”

“Isn’t it funny that you want to be nothing like your dad and I wish I knew if I am even a tiny bit like mine?”

“I’m sorry. I’m being insensitive.”

I touch his shoulder. “No, you’re not. I get what you’re saying. You don’t want to be defined by your father. Especially when from the outside you are so similar to him. But you aren’t him. You’ll always be different.”
You’ll always be amazing
. Why is it still so hard to say that last sentence out loud?

He takes my hand in his and runs his thumb along the back of it. “Your father would be so proud of you. Of who you are.”

My entire throat closes with the comment and my eyes fill with tears. I keep them at bay but am surprised by the strong reaction. By how much I needed to hear someone say that. “He lives in New York. He’s some fancy lawyer there.”

“You’ve looked him up?”

“I had to. I might need a kidney one day.”

He laughs.

“When I was twelve I read this story about some guy who hadn’t seen his father in years and then he ended up getting cancer. His father was a bone marrow match. Saved his life.”

Xander stares at me for so long I start to feel uncomfortable. “You don’t have to be on your deathbed to reach out to your father, you know.”

I rub at my forearm. “He walked away from my mom.”

He nods slowly. “You feel like wanting to see him means betraying your mother?”

I look up at the light but another tear escapes anyway. “He left her.”

“Her relationship with him doesn’t have to define yours.”

“He left me, too.”

“I’m sorry.” He runs the back of his knuckles along my cheek. “And what about your mom? Why is her possible pregnancy so devastating?”

“You think I’m overreacting?”

“I did not say that at all. I know I’d be upset if it were my mom. I just don’t want to project my reasons onto you. Tell me what’s going through your head.”

“I’m angry and hurt and ashamed all wrapped together into one emotional mess. I just don’t believe she would do this again.” I pull my knees up onto the chair and turn sideways to face him. “I feel guilty and selfish for wishing a person out of existence but I don’t want this change.”

“You’ll work through those feelings. You’ll melt when you hold the baby in your arms.”

“No, I won’t. I don’t like kids and kids don’t like me. We’ve come to this general consensus long ago.”

He smiles. “Well, at least you have a long time to get used to the idea.”

“If it’s true.” I sigh and squeeze my eyes closed.

His thumb makes small circles on the back of my hand. “It’s so nice to have you here. In my house. You should come here every day.”

I laugh. “I’m best in small doses. Speaking of, I should probably get going. We have school tomorrow.”

“No way. You have to stay at least another hour.” He pulls me into the chair with him. “Thanks for talking to me. I know it’s hard for you.”

I rest my forehead against his. “Thanks for listening.”

“We still on for tomorrow night?”

Tomorrow night? Oh! Career night. My mom supposedly going to the business association meeting. There is no way I’m going to miss that now. “We’re still on.”

“And what about tonight?” he asks, wrapping his arms tightly around me.

My stomach seems to take flight without me. “What about tonight?”

“What should we do for the next hour?”

I pretend to consider. “Work on your website?”

“Ha-ha.”

I make my face serious, which is hard considering the smile that wants to take up permanent residence there. “No, really, you should get it done.”

He tilts his head, studying my face. “Are you being serious?”

“No,” I say against his lips.

Chapter 33

I
open the shop door while holding the bell steady and yank Xander inside.

“What the—?”

“Shh.” I listen for several heartbeats to make sure my mom didn’t come back inside through the back door. She had just left . . . late. I had told Xander to come at six thirty, a whole half an hour after she was supposed to leave, but as the minutes ticked by I realized it would be a close call. It actually worked out better this way because now we can follow her. Before, I was just thinking we’d have to find her.

When I finally take a breath and look up at Xander, he’s staring at me in the dark room. I have one hand on his chest and have him pushed up against the wall just inside the store. My breath falters.

His breath shouldn’t smell so familiar already. I let it wash over me, closing my eyes. Then I feel his lips brush against mine. I want to get lost in his kiss but I know we don’t have time.

“Come on.” I grab on to the front of his shirt, pull him to the back door, then open it a crack. Luigi’s is one block behind us, and I see my mom round the corner at the end of the alley.

“Caymen,” Xander says from behind me. “Can you fill me in here?”

“A little detective work. Private investigators or something.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out the few pictures I had taken of Matthew with Xander’s camera. I’d printed them out. The quality is really bad since our printer is ancient, but the image is clear enough.

“What am I looking at?”

I slip outside and he follows. “I need to find out everything there is to know about that guy.”

“Okay . . . what do we know so far?”

“Nothing.”

He clears his throat. “Miss Scientific Observer has no concrete facts?”

“I have a feeling.” That if my mom is pregnant I need to know everything I can about the potential father.

“Do feelings prove theories now?”

“Shut up.”

He laughs and grabs hold of my hand. It surprises me and I must jump because he squeezes it with a chuckle. It’s weird holding his hand. I think about the picture I saw in the magazine of him and Sadie holding hands and wonder if someone is waiting in the shadows now to take a picture of us.

Almost as if he read my mind he says, “We moved here to get out of the spotlight. Los Angeles is awful. We had no privacy there whatsoever.”

I nod, not sure what the proper response to that is.

“But considering this isn’t exactly the thriving metropolis of California and how spread out our business is, we travel a lot. My father drags me along on some occasions. Like tomorrow. I have to go to Florida until Friday and then I have the benefit on Saturday.”

He’s not asking my permission . . . is he? He’s just telling me because . . . because why? We’re together now?

“I guess my point is when can I see you again?”

“Oh. Next week?”

“You’ll pencil me in on the really big calendar?”

“I don’t know. It might be booked solid. My super busy life and I will have to check.”

When we round the corner I can see the red and white awning of Luigi’s Italian Restaurant . . . and the back of my mom as she closes the door behind her. Hmm. That’s not what was supposed to happen. She was supposed to meet up with tall, dark, and creepy.

“What now?” Xander asks.

“We wait.” I walk to a small patch of grass on the corner of the block that gives us a good view of Luigi’s but isn’t in full view of the window. I sit down. “Worried about ruining your jeans?” I ask when he hesitates. “It’s not wet.”

“No . . . it’s just . . . are we spying on your mom?” He sits down next to me.

“Yes,” I admit with a wince.

“Caymen, I know you’re upset, but is this really the right way to go about it?”

I point to the pictures he’s still holding. “I need to know about him.”

He flips through the pictures again. “Is this him? The father of . . .” He can’t even finish the sentence. It’s like he’s as ashamed as I am. I wonder if he’s ever known anyone who got pregnant out of wedlock.

“Yes.” I lean back on my palms.

He nods once then looks around. “So how long are we going to wait here?”

I glance toward Luigi’s. “I don’t know.” Maybe she’s going to see Matthew after the meeting. I take the pictures he’s still holding back and look through them again.

“So you think I’d make a good detective?”

“What?”

“Tonight. Your ‘career night.’” He actually does air quotes and manages to make them look somewhat classy. “That’s what you said tonight was, right? You’re supposed to be finding me suitable options to explore. Is detective work something you think I’d be good at?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Because I’m so good at observations and reading into clues and interpreting signals?” He picks at the grass, pulling a few blades free. He looks so hurt.

My warning light goes off, telling me to back up, fix this; tell him, “No, it was about me and my mom and I just needed your help.” I open my mouth, but it’s too late.

He stands up and brushes off his hands then holds one out to me. “I’ll walk you back.”

“I’m staying.”

“Okay.” He starts to walk away.

“I’m sorry,” I say to his back. He stops. “I’ve been so self-absorbed and lame. You’ve done all these amazing things for me and I haven’t done anything for you. I took you grave digging. You took me to UNLV.”

He turns to face me.

I point up the street. “I was going to take you to Eddie’s. He was going to teach us how to make his famous muffins and tell us how he started his business and stuff. I thought you might like it because you love food and I could see you owning your own restaurant or something. But then this happened and . . .”

He closes the distance between us, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me.