Walk Through Fire (Chaos, #4)(133)

Cleo was alert, responsible, almost adult. She rushed in to help her dad any time there was even the minutest thing to assist with, like carrying our drinks and munchies at the theater or collecting the menus to hand to the waitress.

That in itself was concerning.

I didn’t know kids too well, especially girls her age, but she seemed way too young to be that deeply in tune with what was going on around her and that deeply keen to try to smooth out any edges. Most especially her knowledge that her mother and father never really were together and the fallout from that, most notably Zadie.

I knew kids were sharp, they noticed things, those things affected them and they behaved accordingly, in bad ways and good.

But they were still kids.

Cleo should just be a kid. Or if she couldn’t just be a kid, there should at least be times when she was a kid. Not a peacemaker or a helper, existing only to smooth out those edges, which was all it seemed she could be.

But when Logan said his youngest lived in her own world, what he meant was that she owned the world and we all lived in it with her.

I could see this as partly his doing.

He poured devotion on Cleo for being all she was, helping her dad out, sticking close, being attentive, smart, thoughtful.

He poured affection on Zadie for being Zadie and gave her her every heart’s desire, including her own bucket of popcorn because she didn’t like to pass while watching the movie, and three different kinds of candy, all of this only hours before we headed out to a late lunch.

“What are you gonna do?” Dot asked, and I looked to her.

“First, I’m calling off tomorrow,” I answered. “They’re supposed to come over for breakfast and then we’re supposed to spend the day lazing around, watching movies, eating and getting to know each other before we head out for dinner and they head back to the RV. But I’m thinking the girls need a break from me.”

Or, at least, Zadie did.

But possibly Cleo did too.

Three days straight having to put up with your dad’s new woman was two days too many.

On this thought, I threw back the next shot.

“I’m designated driver and your ass is in our car,” Veronica declared.

“You’re on,” I replied.

“Girl,” Elvira called, and I turned to her. “That’s givin’ Zadie her way,” she noted.

“It’s giving them some time just to be with their dad so they can be themselves and not have to put up with me, in Zadie’s case, or try to take care of their dad by finding reasons to like me, in Cleo’s.”

“I see the wisdom in this,” Dottie remarked. “Logan’s taking things too fast.”

“I see that,” Elvira returned. “If Princess Zadie didn’t pull that shit. Now a message needs to be sent that she can’t act up and get what she wants.”

“I hate this for you,” Kellie cut into the exchange, and I looked to her. “The big reunion with Low should be all hearts and roses.”

This surprised me coming from Kellie. Nothing since we were kids was hearts and roses for my friend. She wasn’t a romantic. She loved life and lived it by her rules, but she never expected hearts and roses, not for her, not for anyone.

“She’ll come around,” I assured her.

“What’ll you do if she doesn’t?” Justine asked.

I shook my head, lifting my cosmo and taking a sip.

Then I answered, “She will. Eventually. With this start, it might take years but she’ll get how much I love her father. And if she doesn’t, well...” I shrugged. “I have her father and he and I have learned the hard way that life can suck.”

I felt something coming my way from directly across the table, so I looked to my sister.

When I caught her eyes, she didn’t try to hide the disappointment edged with pain she felt for me that Logan’s girls didn’t fall head over heels in love on sight.

They weren’t all I was going to get. I had Katy and Freddie that I could love and adore and spoil rotten.

But we both knew just how wonderful it would have been if I also had High’s girls to do the same.

“I’m okay,” I mouthed.

She nodded but didn’t look much like she believed me.

So I gave her a reassuring smile and looked to the table.

“Right,” I said. “Enough of that.” I turned my attention to Elvira. “Wedding with soft and bling, wrap your head around this...” I paused for dramatic effect, then threw out, “Velvet.”

Elvira stared at me a second, then smacked her hand on the table and hooted, “I knew you’d deliver!”

“You’ll need a late fall or winter wedding,” I told her. “But an ivory velvet wedding dress with some strategic diamanté placements would look stunning on you. Nothing off the rack. I know a local designer who makes unique gowns and she’s fabulous. Velvet bridesmaids gowns, perhaps in champagne. Bunched swaths of velvet adorning the reception tables or covering the chairs. You’d have to give up on peonies but I see calla lilies with silvered Christmas berries. Or ivory roses bunched with crystals. If you pick winter, we can do a Winter Wonderland theme and incorporate blinged-out pinecones. Glittered twigs. Fur. Marabou or chandelle feathers. Anything, really. Snow glitters. It’s also soft. Winter is made to be soft and blinged.”