Callan hesitates for a second, but when Kaitlyn comes bounding over, grabbing both our hands so we can swing her, he relaxes. We grab a couple of hot dogs and find a seat at the table. I nibble on mine. I don’t want Callan to think anything is wrong, even though seeing Brad again has really thrown me off. I changed my number again after the family gathering, and I’ve not been back to my small townhouse in ages. Is it possible that he’s been looking for me? As a police officer, he’d have no trouble finding out where Callan lives.
That thought gives me pause, and a huge stomachache. Surely to God, Callan and Kaitlyn aren’t in any danger, right? Brad has a temper, but he never laid a hand on me before. He might not have left any physical evidence of his abuse. But there was abuse. Still, I don’t think he’d go after Callan.
“Gemma,” Callan says. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I say quietly. No sense in hiding this or trying to change the subject again. Callan can read me like an open book. “I guess…it was weird seeing Brad.”
“Weird how?”
“I don’t know. The way he looked at me seemed almost…threatening.” His jaw clenches with an audible click. “I’m sure it’s nothing, though. Maybe I’m just imagining things.”
“How about I have a talk with him? Find out what he’s really up to.”
I give a fast shake of my head. “No, I am not dragging you into this.”
“I’m already in it, Gemma,” he says.
I take a big breath. “I’ll call Mom and Dad later. Just see if he’s been coming around, or asking about me.”
“Okay,” he says, even though he doesn’t seem satisfied by that suggestion.
I take a big bite of my hot dog, chew it and force it down. I follow it by a big drink of soda, the carbonation actually helping a bit to settle my stomach.
“Daddy, can we have ice cream?” Kaitlyn asks.
“Of course,” he says, and pushes from the bench. We both take Kaitlyn’s hands like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like we’re a little family, and head over to the table where they’re scooping out big cones for the kids.
Mason comes up to us. “After the fireworks, the guys are headed to shoot some pool, why don’t you come along?”
Callan briefly hesitates, and I nudge him. “Go ahead.” Honestly, it’s been so long since he’s been out with his friends, I sort of feel guilty for hogging all his attention. “I’ll take Kaitlyn home after the fireworks, and get her ready for bed. We could use some girl time anyway.”
“You sure?” he asks.
“Unless you’d rather her paint your nails tonight.”
He grins, and makes a move to kiss me when he remembers Kaitlyn is standing there staring up at us.
“Are you going to be my mommy?” she asks, and as Callan and I go still, Mason gives a low, slow whistle and slaps Callan on the back.
“On that note…I’ll see you tonight, bud,” he says and walks away.
Callan opens his mouth and closes it, clearly not knowing how to answer so I come to his rescue. One thing is for certain, the shock of her suggestion—written all over his face—is a good indication that me being his daughter’s mommy is something he’s not interested in.
“No, Kaitlyn,” I say, and swallow against the rawness in my throat, because when it comes right down to it, I would love to be a permanent member of this family. But Callan is not interested in a wife, or more children. “We’re just friends.”
She thinks about that for a second. “All my friends have a mommy. Why can’t I?”
Callan puts his hands on her shoulders. “Your mommy—”
“I know she’s in heaven,” she says. “But Gemma can be my stepmother.”
“What do you know about stepmothers?” Callan asks.
“Brooklyn has a stepmother. She doesn’t like her, though. She’s a mean stepmother.” Kaitlyn glances up at me. “She’s not nice like you.”
“I’m glad you think I’m nice.” I tap her nose and note how shaky my finger is. “I think you’re nice, too.”
“Then you can be my stepmother,” she says, like the matter is simple, when it’s anything but.
Callan rakes his hand through his hair and glances up at me, an apology in his eyes.
“It’s fine,” I say my voice low for his ears only. Maybe Callan and I shouldn’t be playing house. Maybe this was a bad idea, for so many reasons. Maybe I should put an end to this now, before I too am asking for more, for something he can’t give. “Kids her age go through phases. She’ll probably forget by tomorrow.”
“You think?”
I nod. “Come on.” I swing Kaitlyn’s arm. “Let’s head back and check on Gilbert the guinea pig before we get changed for the fireworks.”
“I love Gilbert,” Kaitlyn says and hugs her free arm to her chest and rocks. “He’s so snuggly.”
We make our way to a side street where Callan parked his car, and we all climb in. Kaitlyn talks nonstop on the way home and Callan shakes his head.
“Too much sugar,” he says.
“I see I’ve been a good influence on her,” I tease and he reaches across the seat, takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.
“You have been,” he says and looks straight ahead, like he has something on his mind.
“I’m glad you’re going out with the guys tonight,” I tell him.
“Why’s that?” he asks, sounding distracted.
“I’ve been monopolizing all your time. It will be good for you to get out.”
We pull into his driveway and he scrubs his face. His thoughts are clearly elsewhere. “Yeah, I guess,” he says and unbuckles.
Kaitlyn jumps from the backseat and makes a beeline for the front door. We follow her up and my stomach is tight. What does Callan have on his mind? After his daughter asking if I was going to be her mother, is he thinking maybe we need to end this?
