can even still bear to call her that.
"Goodbye, Kyky," she says, leaving.
A glance at my phone finds that it's almost noon. Mom and Maddy will be back around seven tonight. That's when I'll have to sit Madison down and tell her.
I have a long day ahead of me.
**
When Madison comes home, she's sunburnt, sleepy and delighted silly from her trip, trying to tell me about five things at once. I get her some KD, and Mom recounts the rides they went on, the food and fun they had, but I only half-hear her. My mind's on the task at hand. What I have to do once Mom leaves. She already knows what I have to tell my daughter, anyway.
Sitting on Maddy's bed after I've read her Babar book a little over an hour later, I know it's far from the best time to tell her. Even half-asleep as she is, she's radiating happiness, still riding high from the Disney trip.
There'd be a lot of better times to tell her than now. But I've been putting this off for too long. Years too long.
She deserves to know.
Afterwards, she cries and yells and barricades herself in her room. But before half an hour is up, she's turned off the Avril Lavigne and I can hear soft snores coming from her room.
I'm nodding off on the couch, half-scrolling through job postings online, when a call wakes me.
"Hey," Landon says.
"Hey," I say.
And then I say the rest of it. "Can you come over? There's something I should tell you."
Although I don't say all of it: It's something I should've told you years ago.
Chapter 25
Landon
What can it be?
The question plagues me as I get into my burrito-smelling car. As I toss aside the wrapper from my recent takeout, I scowl.
My head's still reeling from that model Nolan let into my place. His version of a 'present'. Of course I told her to fuck off, booted her out. I really need to talk to that guy. And take back my keys.
Anyway, now I'm headed back to Kyra's, for whatever she has to say.
There's no point in trying to guess at it; that woman is about as predictable as the weather. Maybe even less.
Just when I think I know where we stand... boom. She wants nothing to do with me. Or, whoops, she has a kid. A kid who's actually pretty cool, but still.
No sooner have I knocked on her front door, then it's opening. Almost like she was standing right by it waiting.
What can it be?
She sits me on the couch and then she starts talking, words all odd and prepared-sounding, like she memorized cue cards for this.
"So," she says with a nod, "remember how when we were in college and I had that pregnancy scare you started freaking out, looking up abortion clinics?"
No fucking way.
"Hold up," I say, trying to keep my voice calm. "Are you pregnant?"
"No," she says, a smile that isn't as relieved as it should be.
"Then what's the problem?" I ask.
As far as I'm concerned, any day you don't find out about an accidental pregnancy is a good day. And Kyra looks nervous and wired as hell.
"Can you let me finish?" she snaps.
I shrug. "Sure."
"And remember how you were vehemently against having kids?" she continues.
Why do I feel like this is leading somewhere weird?
"Kyra." I frown at her. Maybe I wasn't a star dude when I was younger, but she doesn't have to keep throwing my doucheness in my face. "We were in our early 20s, and I didn't even have a decent job."
"Yeah, but..." Kyra trails off.
I never been some kind of emotional magician, but is that guilt on her face?
"You said you didn't want kids, period," Kyra reminds me, crossing her arms over her chest. She's changed into something comfortable looking... but still sexy. "We almost broke up over it a few times."
"Yeah, well."
"Yeah, well, what?"
I shrug. "The only experience I had of kids was my cousins, little demons who lit our Storm extended family cabin on fire because they weren't allowed to play Game Boy one afternoon."
"OK," Kyra says hesitantly, "But now?"
I stare at her.
No way can she be getting at what it seems like she is. No fucking way.
I rise. "Why are you asking me all this? One second you don't think we should be together, the next you're trying to discuss kids with me?"
"That's not what I'm trying to do," she says quietly, looking to the wall.
"Then what are you trying to do?" I find myself snapping,