head, one side of his mouth moving up as s flash of Keeana as a bossy teenager ran through his head. “Not that I know of,” he told her, pulling out his cell. He got to his gallery, stopping on an image of Kee and their girl from the week before, offering it to Gia. “Keeana was my high school sweetheart. The first real family I ever had.”
“She’s beautiful,” Gia said, moving her fingers over the screen to enlarge the image. He liked the way her gaze seemed to soak up the details of those faces, how she seemed genuinely interested in them. “And your daughter…my God, she’s gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” he told her, his chest constricting with pride. “Keola is almost nine.” He pushed his cell back into his pocket.
“But you weren’t an asshat to her?”
“Never,” he said immediately, looking down to catch Gia’s gaze. “She pretty much kicked me out of Maui after college, told me I needed to make my way in the world. It’s what I wanted. She was happy being there. Her whole world is always going to be as big as that island, and she’s fine with that. We both knew it.” Kai nodded to a group of older men, a couple sporting Steamers caps who stopped to stare at him as they passed him. “Three months into my first contract she calls to tell me she’s pregnant.” He laughed, remember falling bare assed on the locker room floor with his fellow Panthers looking at him like he’d grown antlers. “Had to be that last goodbye send-off booty.” Kai shrugged, wiping his hand on his jeans. “I’ve never been sorry about it. Keola’s my whole world. And Keeana is still my best friend.”
“That’s good,” Gia said, her smile warm, like she enjoyed hearing his story. “You two should teach lessons on co-parenting.”
“Well, it helps when neither one of you are assholes.” She made a face, like she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she’d agree with that, then laughed at Kai’s mock insult as he released an exaggerated gasp. “How dare you!”
Gia laughed, hand against her chest as she looked down the sidewalk, that smile stretching. “Oh!” she said, grabbing Kai’s hand as she seemed to spot something that got her excited. “These are my boys.”
Gia dragged him to a large group of street performers, and the crowd surrounding them. They were all decked out in matching red T-shirts with yellow lightning bolts across the front and each kid wore black jeans or shorts and black sneakers with spoons attached to the soles that clicked against the pavement when they danced. Kai had seen them perform before but had never taken the time to stop for the entire act. Gia, though, knew all the jokes, laughed at the right moments, nodded and pointed at spots for Kai to watch when certain acrobatic elements were particularly impressive.
“That little one is Donovan,” she said, motioning to a kid who couldn’t have been more than fourteen. His limbs were stunted, shorter than his torso, as were his legs, as though they hadn’t caught up to the rest of his body. But his face looked older and there was a small patch of hair growing from his upper lip and around his cheeks, as though he might have some sort of growth disorder, but he still kept up with the other performers in his troupe, flipping and dancing, doing handstands and twirls right alongside them. “He proposes to me every time I tip them.”
“Probably because you tip him.”
“No doubt. Never remembers my name either, the little capitalist.”
“If he was a real capitalist, he’d make a point to remember your name, nani.”
She turned, looking over her shoulder at him. “You do know I’m familiar with a few Hawaiian words, right?”
Kai tilted his head, not sure if he believed her. “So, when I call you nani…”
“I already know you think I’m beautiful, but I’m sure you use that word a lot.”
“I don’t. When I call you that, I mean it.” He leaned forward, resting his arm behind her on the stone half wall that ran along the steps where most of the crowd had congregated. “And if I said ‘Kala’?”
Gia snorted, immediately shaking her head. “I’ve never been anyone’s princess.”
“No, ma’am. You strike me more as a queen.” Kai liked how she grinned at him, how that pleased smile became wider, as though she liked the compliment he’d given her, though she’d likely never admit it. He thought of another word, equally ridiculous