Desperately Seeking Epic(24)

Neena deflates a little, her tiny mouth curving into a frown. “What an *.”

“Neena!” I scold, even though I can’t help smiling a little.

She cracks a little grin. “Sorry. But he sounds like one.”

I pat her leg. “Do you think less of your mother now?”

She shakes her head animatedly. “No, Mom. I want to know more about you.”

“I think I revealed all of my skeletons today,” I say, as I open my car door.

Neena climbs out as well, and as I unlock the office door, we both turn at the sound of a van pulling in the parking lot. I sigh loudly. This little girl, Ashley, is relentless. I got us in two hours early in hopes of missing any reporters.

“Hurry up and get inside,” I tell Neena. But Ashley practically hops out of the van while it’s still moving and rushes in behind us.

“Ashley,” I say her name firmly. “Enough of this. The answer is no.”

“Actually,” Neena says. “I want to give her the story.”

I freeze as I stare at Neena blankly. “What story?”

“The story of you and Dad and your lives and how I came to exist.”

Ashley, to her credit, remains silent, but I can tell she’s fighting a smile. She thinks she’s won. “Neena, you don’t—”

“I’m dying,” she snaps, shutting me up instantly. She’s never spoken to me this way. “Maybe if I had a lifetime I’d get to hear the story of my parents bit by bit. Even if you don’t want to tell me now because I’m young, you might have one day when I was older. But that’s not going to happen, Mom.”

“Neena, please—”

“I want to share this story, and I want to hear yours and Dad’s.”

“We can tell you the story. We don’t have to make this public knowledge.”

Stepping gingerly toward me, my heart nearly stops when she looks up at me and I see the tears brimming in her eyes. Neena hardly ever cries. Through all of this, the treatments, the sickness, the bad news, she’s been strong. “Please do this for me, Mom.”

Pulling her into me, and pressing her head to my shoulder, I exhale shakily. My sweet child wants our stories. She wants to know the path that led to her existence. But she’s too young to understand how reliving the past can be painful. It doesn’t matter though. Not anymore. I have so little I can give her right now other than my love and attention. If this will make her happy . . .”Sure. If Paul agrees, we’ll do it.”





Of course, Paul agreed. Neena has him wrapped around her finger. With one phone call, all it took was a simple pretty please and he’s on board. I think he’ll do anything for her. After the call, he passed by Sky High and picked up Neena before heading to my place to get settled in. The two are two peas in a pod. They’ve been spending a lot of time together. Even when she appears worn out, she wants to be around him a whole lot. I’ve learned to give them space. And he’s been super patient and delicate with her, especially when Neena pushes herself, so I’m starting to feel better about their time together. She’s just so happy when she’s near him. How can I not love that?

It’s the first free weekend I can afford to sit down to be interviewed, a month after Paul gave it the go-ahead. “You’re doing great,” Ashley assures me. Mills gives me a thumbs-up from where he stands behind Zane and the camera. Marcus is holding down the fort up front, and Ashley and her crew and I are in one of the more spacious offices, which is usually occupied by both Bowman and Larry, while the guys are out with clients. We’ve already discussed how Paul and I met that terrible day many years ago when I failed to jump. But now she wants to know the gritty stuff. Stuff I haven’t thought about in years. Stuff I hadn’t realized I’d have to talk about.

“What happened when you went home to Texas?” Ashley asks. I hate talking about this. It was one of the worst days of my life. But Neena asked for this one thing. A true story of how it all came to be . . . how she came to be. So I start talking.



The flashbacks of thirteen years before, and my first interactions with Paul, coursed through my mind. My attempt—and fail—at jumping left me angry. What a horrible experience. Paul James was an arrogant ass and I wanted nothing to do with him ever again. The whole thing upset me so badly I went straight to my hotel, packed my bag, and headed to the airport. It’s official, I would gladly sell my half to Paul after that experience.

In the cab ride to the airport, I called Kurt, but it went directly to voicemail. He must be in a meeting, I’d thought. Shocker. I’d call him later.

It took eight hours to make it home with layovers and such, and by the time I’d hit that blessed Texas soil, I was beat. The only thing I wanted was a warm bath and my husband. So I really hoped he was home. Through the hours of the long journey home, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. No matter how terrible life could get, I had my health, my friends, and Kurt. Our marriage wasn’t perfect, but I loved him and I knew he loved me. He was extremely busy, but I could always count on that. Always.

After paying the cab driver, I drudged my achy feet up the stairs to our apartment, dragging my gigantic suitcase behind me, wondering what in the hell I packed. Unlocking the door, I pushed it open, yelling, “Babe!” It wasn’t until I was inside that I bothered to look around and saw candles lit. Then I saw Kurt standing near the love seat, hands in the pockets of his slacks, watching me.