Page 29 of The Parent Pick-Up
“New girlfriend?”
“No comment.”
“Whoever she is, she’s not staying over. It’s in our agreement.”
I don’t bother arguing. It’s late and I need to get Hannah inside.
I pull open the door and unbuckle Hannah from the backseat. She’s so tired, she barely wakes up as I tuck her into my arms.
“You’re home,” I whisper in her ear.
She stirs and snuggles against my chest.
“Give me her bag,” I say to Emily, shifting Hannah in my arms to take it.
“I’ve got it,” Emily says.
I grab the bag. “No, you don’t.”
“That woman better not stay the night.” Emily follows me.
I ignore her and carry Hannah up the steps, closing the door in Emily’s face before I say something I’ll regret.
Ivy grabs the overnight bag from me and heads up the stairs. “Which one is her room?”
“To the left.”
Ivy puts Hannah’s bag in the room, then backs away toward the door.
“Don’t disappear,” I tell her, slipping off one of Hannah’s shoes.
Ivy lingers at the door. “I’ll see you later.”
My heart plummets as my plans for the night disappear like fog on the bay on a sunny morning, and I only hope later isn’t too far away.
Chapter Eleven
Ivy
Hannah sitsbeside me on my battered old piano bench, her small shoulders hunched like she’s bracing for a thunderstorm. She’s so tense, her fingers smash the keys instead of pressing them.
“Don’t forget,” I say gently, nudging her arm with my elbow. “You’re the boss of these keys. They don’t get to tell you what to do.”
She giggles, just a tiny sound, but it’s enough. Her shoulders loosen. She presses down. Gently. The melody drifts out, a little hesitant at first, but so sweet it takes my breath away.
This kid has talent of the pure and simple kind. She reminds me of someone.
Me.
Before I became a teenage pop star, I’d been an eleven-year-old with music in my soul. Piano had come naturally to me. I could lose myself in the song without worrying about who was listening.
There had been a time when music brought me happiness and peace. Hannah reminds me of that time.
Olivia comes barreling into the living room, stomping her feet and humming along completely off-key. She throws herself across the floor in a dramatic leap and somehow manages to stick the landing.
“Hannah, you have to add a twirl right here!” she says.
“What?” Hannah’s fingers pause. “You want me to get up in the middle of the song?”
