I let out a long, tired sigh. “I reported the car stolen. Lucky for me, I happened to be hanging out with a criminal defense attorney when the cops showed up.” I wiped at my eyes with my palm. “You know, this stuff is public record, Dad. It can hurt my image. You have to be more careful.”
“Is that the hot guy from the hallway?” Brent asked.
I nodded wearily.
“Good-looking guy,” Dad said. “Good job too. Lawyers make money,” he added. “It would be nice to have a lawyer in the family.”
I snorted quietly. How convenient.
Dad and I didn’t have the kind of relationship where his opinion of the men I dated mattered one ounce to me. Not that I was dating Adrian or ever would. That man wanted nothing to do with my hot mess. And that just made me want to cry too.
I liked him. He was sooo my type. If things were different, if he was even remotely interested and I wasn’t staring down my expiration date, I’d jump on that body like a trampoline.
The very idea of what Adrian probably thought of all this made me cringe. It was like every single day something humiliating had to happen to me in front of him, just because the universe needed a good chuckle. I did another choking laugh-cry and put my forehead to my knees.
I had to get this family independent. I had to. I couldn’t enable any more of this irresponsibility. Soon I wouldn’t be here to help them clean it up. But I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t help Annabel unless she wanted to help herself. Brent was dead set on chasing rainbows. And Dad…
I’d hoped the city’s intervention would have been a wake-up call. He was fined and placed on six months’ probation for the cluttered state of the yard. I know he was humiliated by it. But he wouldn’t stop collecting things. It had moved on from some sort of deep frugality to something else. He was saving trash. Some of the stuff he hung on to was literally garbage. And he was bringing it in faster than I could take it out.
I sniffed and put my forehead into my hand. “Go take a shower. We’re going to a Nar-Anon meeting. Brent, you too.”
They didn’t argue. Probably because they knew if they wanted me to keep paying for things they’d have to at least appear to be cooperating.
I followed Dad to the living room and gave him two Aleve from my purse. We’d have to get another prescription—and a safe to put it in. He’d need a new phone too.
When the water in the shower started, I did a quick clean of the house. Made Brent run the vacuum while I mopped. Threw a load of laundry into the washer. It wasn’t even one-hundredth of what needed to be done, but it was a start.
A half hour later, Dad got out of the shower and came down the hallway dressed and clean as I was turning on the dishwasher.
“Can we go to Perkins for lunch?” he asked, pushing up the sleeves of his sweater.
I sighed. Dad was a good-looking man. He wore a white button-down shirt under his V-neck vest and he’d shaved. He had his glasses on. He looked like the kind of guy who lounged in a leather chair by a fire, thumbing through a novel. He looked like an educated, sophisticated gentleman who was ridiculously smart and too charming for his own good—which in reality, he was.
Sometimes I thought Dad’s intelligence was why he was the way he was. He was too smart to be blissfully ignorant, hyperaware of everything around him, absorbing the world like a sponge. He could have been anything. A doctor. A scientist. An accountant, like he used to be.
Instead he was this.
I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather eat at less than Perkins.
And I took him there anyway.
* * *
I was gone for almost five hours. It was 2:00 when I got back. I’d checked in on Grace half a dozen times while I was out. Adrian kept assuring me he was fine and not to rush. When I finally got back to his apartment, I knocked on the door, and Adrian called from inside for me to come in.
He was at the sink in the kitchen, running the water. He had his briefcase open on the kitchen table and some paperwork strewn about like he was trying to get some work done. I felt even worse now for stealing half his day off with my bullshit. He probably had things to do.
“Hey,” I said, closing the door behind me. “How was she?” I glanced at Grace’s swing, but it was empty.
“Good, until about twenty minutes ago,” he said, looking down at whatever he was washing. “She had a pretty bad diaper.”
I came around the kitchen counter and saw that he had Grace in the sink.
He was giving her a bath.
My heart melted.
He had a rolled-up towel in the sink to support her and a wet washcloth was balled up on the counter. He was rinsing her with a cup. He’d taken the travel-size baby shampoo from the diaper bag, and it was half empty.
He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “It went right up her back. It was even in her hair. I didn’t know they could do that. I almost threw the whole baby away and started over.”
A laugh burst from my mouth, and I covered it with my hand. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny. I shouldn’t be laughing.”
He smiled over the sink. “It’s okay. You did promise me adventure and excitement today.” He nodded at a trash bag on the floor. “Her dirty pajamas are in there. I was going to wash them.”
I moved next to him and rolled my sleeves up. “Let me help you. She can be really slippery when she’s wet.” My arm pressed into his as I leaned over the sink with him.
He smelled good. Really good.
I thought about how he’d stood so close to me earlier in front of Officer Sanchez and my heart fluttered a little.
It had been way too long since I’d had sex. I didn’t date, but I didn’t object to the occasional one-night stand now and then. But as I got more famous, that got harder for me to do. I’d meet men and they’d know who I was and then it just made things weird. I was afraid they’d tell some torrid sex story about me online or take pictures of me while I was sleeping and sell them. Nothing sucks the romance out of a situation like an NDA.
My fame was isolating. It was almost as isolating as my own reasons for being alone.
And then it occurred to me that maybe the last time I’d had sex was the last time I’d have sex.
I let out a puff of air as this realization washed over me. If I was really sick, a lot of the things I was doing, I might be doing for the last time. Maybe I’d just had my last Thanksgiving. This would be my last Christmas. Then my last New Year’s. This might even be the last time I stood shoulder to shoulder with an attractive man.
I forced myself to stop thinking about it. To do what I always did—find gratitude in what I’d gotten instead of dwelling on what I’d lost.
Adrian had distracted me and helped me when I needed it. He’d given me that one video, content for my channel so I could keep earning money for ALS research. And now I had the chance to know him, something I never imagined I’d ever get to do. A few days ago we’d been strangers. All things I could be thankful for.
But I felt myself sinking deeper anyway.
Maybe it was everything hitting me at once and I just couldn’t rebound from it like I usually did. My hand acting up and what it probably meant. Dad, Brent, Annabel. Exhaustion, Mom’s ring.
There was something terrifying in thinking that I might be losing my resiliency. That I might finally be hitting my limit on how much tragedy and despair I could handle.