Page 83 of When Stars Fall

I straighten when Wyatt comes into the kitchen. He grabs a glass and gets water from the fridge without speaking and then disappears out the door.

“Has he said anything to you since you came up from the beach?” Nikki asks, eyebrows raised at the frosty air that entered the room with Wyatt.

“Does ‘do you want any?’ count? He was making lunch at the time.”

“The only person he should be mad at right now is himself. You gave him a choice, and he chose wrong.”

“Bit of a false choice when I don’t tell him everything, though, isn’t it?” I say.

“You did go back. He doesn’t remember.” Nikki runs her hands along the granite island. “Says a lot.”

“I’m not throwing that in his face. I knew he wouldn’t remember. Again, it’s not a real choice when he doesn’t understand what’s happening.”

“You’re being too easy on him.”

“I’m trying to be fair. Telling him when I knew he wouldn’t remember wasn’t the right thing to do. Made me feel better at the time, but it wasn’t the right thing to do.” Wyatt and I know each other too well for either of us to accept one visit when he was wasted as being a genuine effort to offer him a choice.

“Fine. I want you to close your eyes and think about how things might have been if you’d stayed. Tell me about that.” Nikki leans back.

“So many things. Too many things.” I hold up a finger. “And not all of them bad, Nikki. You see him now. He’s great with her. With very few exceptions, he treated me like the most precious person in the world.” He cherished me, and despite the fame and the women, and everything else that could have doomed us, I trusted him. He never gave me reason to doubt.

“Getting back together with him when he’s been in your life less than a week is a mistake.”

“He’s so angry with me right now, he doesn’t want me. He might never want to be with me again.” My voice catches, and I swallow my anxiety.

“What if he does? What if he tells you he wants it all with you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d do.” Other than Anna’s presence in his life, I trust him. He’s not the man he was. But I don’t trust her or her habits. I really don’t trust the drug addicts and pushers she likely hangs around with. Maybe Wyatt doesn’t knowingly let her use in the house, but it doesn’t mean she isn’t hiding needles, powder, or pills where kids can find them. I left Wyatt to keep Haven away from the drug abuse, the violence, the unpredictability of an addict. Letting him take our daughter into a situation where those things exist nullifies the ten years I stayed away.

“He leaves tomorrow. What’s the plan for tonight?”

“I’ll drive him back to his hotel after dinner, when Haven’s in bed. I don’t want to talk about any custody or visitation things with her around. Sometimes we say things that aren’t always . . . kind.”

“You’re having those discussions when you take him back to his hotel?”

“I have to. We’re out of time.” I’d prefer not to get lawyers involved if we can be adults about this. I rub my face. “Haven can’t be around Anna. It’s a hard line for me.”

“Not sure how you stop that.”

“If Wyatt takes me to court . . .” I can’t finish my thought.

“It’ll get nasty,” Nikki agrees and rises to stand beside the island. “He’s led a very public, very messy life.”

“I’m not sure I can do that to him or Haven—drag him through the mud.”

“Maybe you won’t have to. You say he’s changed. I guess we’ll see if that’s true.” Nikki walks out of the kitchen and back into the living room.

Every time my thoughts drift to Anna, I’m not sure how we’ll ever solve our custody problem—if she can’t stay away from drugs, and he won’t abandon her, we’re at an impasse.

He’s on the back of my bike, and we’re taking the alternate route off my property. The path is too narrow for a car. When I first bought this place, I paid to have this tiny road carved out as an escape route from the paparazzi in case they came calling. They never did, but I’ve kept it cleared in case. Now they are camped out in droves by the security hut. I checked with Jerome before taking the secret exit.

Wyatt’s dinner reminded me he can make delicious food with very few ingredients. Haven helped him in the kitchen, learning alongside him as he talked about flavors, cuts of meat, spices, ways to cook things, and anything else she asked. My heart melted like butter in a pan. His patience was limitless.

When he put her to bed, I stood outside the door, listening as he read her stories and answered her questions. I rushed back down the hall when I heard him getting up to leave.

The rhythm of my life with him is something I could get used to. I have no idea how he’s feeling. He hasn’t said two words to me on the ride back. Not about the path, not about Haven, not about custody arrangements. Nothing.

When we left the house, I texted Calshae, and she suggested the employee entrance. The fewest paparazzi were there, and she could use her workers as an excuse to move people along without raising suspicion. We’re arriving at shift change.

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