Page 48 of Sangria

“Their mama wasn’t much of a cook so I can’t imagine they’ve been eating very well. . .” she trails off, almost as if she remembers a different time. She clears her throat and gives me a curt smile. “It’ll be early, so I imagine they’ll appreciate French toast. It’s Stormy’s favorite, and from what I can gather she’s not very thrilled that you’re here.”

“It’s my favorite too.” I ignore the jab about Stormy not liking the idea that I’m here.

Barbara nods. “As far as me working for you. . . Levi told me about your publicist. That’s not how I work and would gladly take you on as a client.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Just don’t hurt my boy,” she says, her demeanor back in place. I nod and turn my attention toward my lunch without saying another thing.

levi

Twenty-Six

It’safter we land that I bring up the text from Zara telling me that she’ll have breakfast ready for us as a simple reminder of what’s waiting for us when we get home. The fact that she’s concerned about my girls and me, at this early hour, really hits home for me. Normally, I’d feel bad about not texting her right back, but I was busy with the girls and my mom, plus she indicated she was shutting her phone down, and I feel like she would’ve let me know that it was back on. I’m fairly new at this dating thing and could be completely wrong on the whole subject matter.

The girls are tired, yet oddly hyper for it being this early in the morning. I want to say it’s because they’re back where they belong, but I know that’s not true. I have a feeling that while I was sleeping, they were ingesting copious amounts of caffeine. Flying the red-eye is great in some cases, except right now all I want to do is go home and sleep. Actually, I want to crawl into bed and hold Zara. I know it’s ridiculous to think that I’ve missed her after one day, but it’s true.

All throughout the day while I was helping the girls pack and settling everything up at their schools, Zara was never far from my mind. I felt like a giddy schoolboy with his first crush, wondering when I was going to run into her again “by chance.” Knowing that she was in my house, treating it as her own only sent my feelings into overdrive.

I can’t tell if we’re moving too fast or not. We’ve both had limited love lives, both having married high school sweethearts, and both have suffered because of them. Granted, I casually dated—if you can call dinner out—dating, but stayed away from the hook-up game. That wasn’t a road I wanted to travel down, especially having two daughters. I didn’t want to set a bad example, even though I have no doubt that Iris did.

Which makes me think that I need to ask Zara to sleep in the guest bedroom. As much as I don’t want her to, I don’t want the girls to see the same lifestyle that they saw with their mother. Something tells me that Zara will understand.

With some of our luggage in hand and the rest being pushed on a trolley by a porter, the two chatty Kathy’s trail behind me as we make our way out of the terminal and into the parking garage where my truck is waiting. The girls haven’t stopped yammering since the plane landed, both going on about all the things they want to do.

“What about taking the horses out sometime today?” I suggest as I load their luggage into the back of the truck. I don’t bother looking at them to see their expression, but their quick silence has me wondering what they’re thinking. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve ridden, but I can tell you that Abby and Blaze will love it if you take them out.”

“What about you, Dad? Will you take Night out?” Stormy asks. I can’t say I much like her tone though. I brought up Stormy’s attitude with my mother, and while she didn’t experience anything teenagerish with her while I was gone, she did say that Stormy’s demeanor changed about an hour before I arrived at the house.

It’s unsettling to know or even think that your daughter has an issue with you or maybe it’s not with me, but with parental guidance. The more I think about her life, the more I realize that Iris let Stormy do whatever the hell she wanted, and Stormy has to know that she’ll have rules that must be followed.

“Of course.” My back is still to them as I continue to load the suitcases.

“And Zara? What will she ride?” This time I look at Stormy and shrug.

“I’m sure Zara is busy doing her own thing, Stormy. It’s not like she’s attached to my hip.”

Stormy scoffs and finally opens the truck door and climbs inside. I try not to let her attitude rub me the wrong way, but it pisses me off. I take a deep breath and climb out of the back of the truck, tip the porter, and make my way to the driver’s side where Willow is standing.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. Her face is pensive. Sad.

“I don’t want you and Stormy to fight.”

I crouch down so that I’m looking up at her. “Stormy and I are just butting heads right now. She’s mad because she’s here. Her life in California is important to her, but she can do that here too. Everything will be fine, Willow.”

“Okay,” she says, quietly.

I help her climb in and send Stormy a glare that should tell her that I’m not happy with her attitude. I get being angry and hurt because of the situation, but taking it out on me, Zara, or her sister won’t fly.

The drive home is fairly quiet with only Willow asking questions about new buildings that have been constructed since the last time she was here. She asked about going to her grandparents, which I thought was a bit odd considering she just left my mother until she told me that Pop told her they were going to go shooting. Hearing her say that solidified my decision to bring them both back to Tennessee. They need a place where they can grow up with their family around them.

As soon as we pull in, I half expect the front door to open. When it doesn’t, I don’t let it bother me too much, but damn if I didn’t want to see Zara there, looking domestic. Willow rushes to the front door and pushes it open. I’m hot on her heels with Stormy dragging feet behind me.

It’s Willow’s gasp that has my eyes opening wide. The living room is completely decorated with balloons, streamers, and a giant sign welcoming home Stormy & Willow that is strung over the hearth, along with the smell of cinnamon wafting through the air.

“What’s all this?” Stormy asks.

I shrug and look from her to Willow, who has a beaming smile on her face. “I don’t know.” Out of the corner of my eye, Zara appears. She looks shy and reserved as if she’s testing the waters.

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