Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(76)

I nodded, feeling like a blundering heel for being so cavalier about something so personal. I turned away as the coffeemaker mercifully beeped it was done. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t go, anyway. It’s…private business.”

I started to pour the coffee, heard the chair scrape, and then he was beside me.

“Hey.” He laid a hand on my arm, turning me gently. “The real reason I asked you to come meet my dad, is not for him. But for me. I’m…I’d be proud to introduce you to him. Since I sold the business, I don’t get too many opportunities to try to make him proud. Not anymore.”

I swallowed the jagged lump in my throat. “Saving the lives of fifty people seems like a pretty good one to me.”

“That’s too complicated a story to tell,” he said, his dark eyes like brown velvet. “But you…All you have to do is walk into the room.”

My heart fluttered in my chest. He leaned closer, cupped my cheek in his large hand. He’s going to kiss me, I thought. I couldn’t pull away, couldn’t move at all. I was mesmerized by him. “We have to be careful,” I managed. “I have to be careful.”

“I know.” He smiled ruefully, his thumb following the contour of my cheekbone. “It’s not as easy as it looks. We’ve already…been close.”

“That’s why we have to be careful,” I breathed.

His cell phone rang from the back pocket of his jeans. And then again, into the silence between us.

“You should answer it,” I said.

Cory nodded sadly and released me. “Georgia,” he answered dully. “Hi.”

I watched him walk to the living room, and then slumped against the counter. I’d always thought the weak-kneed feeling was a cliché, but Cory’s nearness, his touch…I felt it in my whole body. He’s been traumatized by the robbery, same as me. He’s suffering the same anxiety, the same attachment. I clung to these pathetic excuses as if they were lifelines.

I was pouring the coffee as Cory returned. He hung up the phone and ran a hand through his hair. “So that was Georgia. She needs me to pick up Callie. For the night.”

“Okay.” I frowned at his troubled expression. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all. I just didn’t know if you’d be cool with it.”

“Cory, the entire reason you’re here is for Callie. It’s fine. I’m actually kind of excited to meet her.”

“You are?” Cory’s smile was brilliant, wider than I had seen it in a long while. “That’s nice to hear. I’m sure she’ll love you. Love to meet you, I mean.”





Chapter Twenty-Eight


Alex



We drove in silence, in Cory’s truck, to Culver City. He wore a faint smile the entire drive, which wilted the closer we got to Georgia’s place. We pulled into the cracked lot of a dingy, olive green stucco’d complex: two-stories with rickety, rusted railings and a cement fa?ade design dating back to the seventies.

“You’d better wait here,” Cory said, and stepped out of the truck, his expression the grim mask of someone about to go into battle.

I waited, surprised at how nervous I felt. She’s just a kid. Relax. But I’d never been good with kids. Or so my mother was fond of reminding me. Come to think of it, I’d never actually been around them enough to know.

I smoothed out the skirt of my blue designer sundress and checked my reflection in the rearview. My hair was too severe, I decided. I pulled it from the tight ponytail and let it fall around my shoulders in soft waves. I returned to the mirror to its position just as a little blonde girl came bounding down the cement stairs from a second-level apartment. My strange nervousness ratcheted up a notch. Calliope Bishop was the spitting image of her father. Her long pale hair was tied in messy pigtails and she regarded me with dark brown eyes and a crooked smile.

“Are you going to come out?”

I fumbled the door open. There was no sign of Cory or Georgia. Only Callie, blinking up at me, a doll clutched under her arm and a small duffel over her shoulder.

“Are you the lady my Daddy saved at the bank?”

“Uh, yes. I’m Alex Gardener.” I put out my hand. “Pleased to meet you, Callie.”

The little girl shook it with a giggle. “Alex is a boy’s name.”

“Callie!” Georgia and Cory approached, the woman fixing her daughter with a pointed stare. “That’s not polite.”

“It’s okay,” I said to Callie. “My real name’s Alexandra. Alex for short.”

“Like Callie is short for Calliope.”

“Exactly.” I turned to Georgia. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Not officially.”

“Not officially. Hospitals and hearings.” Georgia said, crossing her arms over her chest, precluding any idea of hand shaking. She was skinnier than I remembered, her arms bearing full sleeves of elaborate tattoos, her long blonde hair braided and beaded. During the hearing, Georgia had been across the courtroom. Up close, I was struck by the woman’s wild beauty. Her eyes were green and sharp with intelligence, and met mine with stony coolness, like chips of jade. “You put on quite a show.”

“Georgia,” Cory warned. “Don’t.” He took Callie’s bag from her and tossed it into the truck bed. “Let’s go, sweetie. Say goodbye to your mom.” But Georgia had already walked away. “I’ll bring her back tomorrow around four.” Georgia waved her hand over her shoulder, not looking back. Cory sighed and I quickly looked away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.