Well, maybe a little of my father.”
“You must’ve been so fuckin’ cute.”
She taps my chest. “Language.”
I snort. “She’s sound asleep. Besides, I’m sure she hears much worse at home.”
She glances down at Trinity again. “Think we should put her to bed? I forgot to ask Bishop her bedtime and stuff.”
“Yeah, probably. I hope she doesn’t freak in the middle of the night or something.”
“I’ll leave our door open.”
“How are we supposed to start on our own babies, then?”
She slaps my chest. “Help me carry her upstairs?”
The next morning, my father calls while the girls are making pancakes.
“What’s up?”
“Uh, I need you to get over here. And bring Trinity.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Her mother’s looking for her and she’s pissed.”
“Sweet Jesus. Are you fuckin’ kidding me.”
“Ooooo. Chather said a bad word,” Trinity says to Mallory.
Mallory throws a scowl at me and I shrug.
“All right. We’ll be there in a few. We’re in the middle of breakfast.”
“What’s wrong?” Mallory asks.
“Her mom’s looking for her.”
“Oh.”
“I want to stay.” Trinity pouts.
Mallory’s eyes shimmer with tears but she pastes on a bright smile. “It’s okay. Maybe you’ll get to come over and visit next time we’re home.”
Trinity sits at the table and picks at the plate of pancakes Mallory sets in front of her. After breakfast, Mallory packs up her stuff, tossing the dolls, coloring books, and other toys she bought in Trinity’s bag.
“You’re bummed too, huh?” I ask, watching her gather everything.
“A little.”
It’s a whole big scene at the clubhouse. As soon as Nora sees Trinity holding Mallory’s hand, she kicks up a cloud of dust racing over to us.
“Are you sleeping with my husband?” she demands, getting up in Mallory’s face. “You can have him, but you’re not taking my daughter too.”
“Whoa.” I hold my arm out, pushing her back and blocking her from getting any closer. “Ease up, Nora. Bishop asked if we could help him out. That’s all.”
She squats down and yanks Trinity into her arms.
The entire situation is fucked up.
As soon as Nora burns rubber out of the parking lot, my father storms inside the clubhouse. His thunderous voice shakes the building while he yells at Trick once again for fucking around with Bishop’s wife.
I squeeze Mallory to my side. “What a way to cap off our vacation, huh?”
She swipes a tear off her cheek. “Almost as crazy as L.A.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mallory
Somehow when our plane arrives in L.A., people already know about our engagement.
The crush of reporters vying for a peek at my ring or yelling questions, leaves me shaking.
“Who did we tell?” I ask Chaser when we’re finally enclosed in the car he arranged to pick us up.
“Alvin. I might have mentioned it to Thom. The whole entire club—but none of them would ever talk to the press. That’s it.”
He asks our driver to stop and dashes out of the car to a curbside news stand, returning a few minutes later with a handful of papers. He shows me the first page of one of the more vile tabloids.
Rock Royalty, Ready to Take the Plunge!
“Are we the ‘rock royalty’?” I ask, reaching for the paper.
“Apparently.”
Accompanying the headline is a photo of Chaser proposing. As far as tabloid articles go, it’s tame and celebratory for a change.
“This isn’t so bad.” I tear out the article and fold it up, tucking it away in my purse. “It’s actually a nice memory.”
Chaser growls. “Had to be the boat attendant. Hope he got paid well for it. Jackass.”
I reach over and pat his leg. “It’s okay.”
“This better die down before I have to leave for Vancouver. I don’t want you putting up with those vultures while I’m away.”
“I don’t plan on going anywhere except the set and home while you’re gone.”
“You shouldn’t have to live like a shut-in. I want you to do stuff. Go where you want when you want.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll ask Cindy to come over or something. I’m sure Marilyn has auditions for me.”
Marilyn does have auditions for me. In fact, while we were gone, she left about a dozen messages on our answering machine. I stare at the phone for a few minutes and Chaser must sense my reluctance.
“Honeymoon’s over. Back to the real world, little dove.”
“Promise me our real honeymoon will be longer.” I stare down at my ring and then the stack of newspapers. “And somewhere no one can find us.”
He steps closer and skims his knuckles over my cheek. “Promise.”
Tears sting my eyes but I blink them away. “I hate that you’re leaving again.”
He swallows hard, then shrugs.