Desperately Seeking Epic(42)
“Neena,” I gasp. “Would you mind turning that off, princess?”
She quirks a warning brow, something she definitely learned from her mother. I called her princess. I’m not supposed to do that. At least not in front of other people.
“I mean, please.”
She flips the screen closed and clutches it to her chest. “You guys are funny.”
“They’re something, all right,” Clara murmurs. “You guys are taking her home and cooking dinner, yes?”
“We will have it ready by the time you get home,” Marcus assures. “Mei-ling is coming over too. We have big plans for tonight.”
Clara eyes him inquisitively. “Please elaborate.”
“I can’t.” Marcus winks at Neena. “Paul and Mei-ling have been working on this for a few days.”
Clara’s dark eyes dart over to mine, a look of uncertainty and excitement mixed in them.
“You’ll like this,” I assure her. “But Neena will like it more.”
She bobs her head once in compliance before she kisses the top of Neena’s head. “Good luck with these two knuckleheads.”
As Clara leaves to be interrogated by Ashley and crew, Neena smiles, and it’s sincere, but something is off. Her usual smile that lights up her whole face isn’t quite there. And now that I’m really looking at her, she’s paler.
“You okay, hon?” I ask as I roll on my stomach preparing to stand.
“Just a little tired,” she answers, and I center in on the small dark circles forming under her eyes. No matter how much she sleeps, her skin has paled considerably, making her appear as if she’s hardly sleeping.
“We don’t have to do what we have planned tonight if you’re not feeling well,” I tell her. Entertainment be damned if my little girl isn’t feeling up to it.
“I’m fine, Dad,” she replies, raising her voice an octave as if by doing so she will sound peppier.
“Okay,” I answer uneasily. “Why don’t you sit down for a bit?”
“The guys should be back any second now. It’s an early day. We’ll be leaving in twenty,” Marcus tells her. She nods and flops down on the couch, sitting cross-legged, flipping her camera lens open again, and watching what she’s just recorded.
“Get up,” Marcus grunts as he passes by, giving me a hard kick in the ass.
“Asshole!” I groan after him, earning a little chuckle from Neena.
“Paul told us about the first time he saw your house,” Ashley chuckles, pushing some of her dark hair behind her ear as she folds her legs beneath her, sitting cross-legged.
I huff out a little laugh at the thought. “Did he tell you he accidentally fired the gun, too? At a poor cat.”
She grins. “Yeah, he did. That night seems to have been a pivotal point in the dynamic between you two, at least as far as he’s concerned.”
I tilt my head in thought. “I think . . . it was the first time we really ever laughed together. Laughter is like the old grandmother in every family,” I note, “it brings everyone together. Even people that hate each other.”
“Did you really hate Paul?”
I wince with her question. “Hate is a strong word,” I surmise. “I hated him as a business partner, I guess. As a person . . . he was okay.”
“Were you attracted to him? I mean, I know physically you were, but . . . otherwise?”
I exhale loudly, widening my eyes. “Truthfully . . . I was a mess at that time. Thinking about Paul or anyone else that way seemed impossible. I was still very hurt with the loss of my marriage.”
Her brows perk up. “You still wanted Kurt back?”
Adjusting in my seat, I answer her. “I wanted my life back. I wanted him back. But at the same time, I really didn’t. I wanted who I thought he was back. Having people ripped from your life is hard.”
Her brows furrow as if she doesn’t understand. As if she thinks Kurt didn’t deserve any consideration whatsoever from me. And she’s probably right. But I didn’t feel that way back then. “He was my husband. Life was comfortable, familiar. I knew him, or I thought I did, and I felt safe knowing he mostly knew me. He knew how I liked my coffee, how I’m grumpy when I first wake up. He knew how I cried at sappy movies or sad stories no matter how many times I’d seen them. He knew I liked fountain Coke from 7-Eleven with lots of ice—he had my habits down to a T. Once upon a time, he loved me and all my quirks. That’s hard to let go of.”
“So . . . you didn’t want him back?” She cocks her head to the side in question.
“I wanted the man I married back. But he’d left me long before then. You’re so young, Ashley,” I explain. “This probably doesn’t make any sense to you. I was grieving. Marriage feels like a living and breathing thing, and when you lose it, it’s like losing a family member. There are all these memories you’re left with, good ones that you can’t really look back on fondly because you know it’s ended. And just like death, once it’s gone . . . really gone, you can’t get it back. My marriage was gone. I wanted it back. But I knew, no matter what, it would never return. Even if he’d come back crawling on his hands and knees, too much had happened. He’d lied and disrespected me too many times; betrayed me too much. And even though I knew that, that still didn’t make it any easier.”