Fast Forward (5 page)

An hour later, and after a stop in a bar for a night cap, Peter got into a cab and
Andy
got into his chauffeured car. I started to walk to the next metro station. I knew D.C. pretty well from the Georgetown years, but this was my first time there as a proper adult.

It’d been a busy week, but I couldn’t bring myself to go back to the apartment where I was staying just yet. I needed some fresh air, or as fresh as Downtown D.C. could offer. I also needed to give my brain a break after the last two weeks of hand-shaking, fake-smiling, and speech-writing. Plus, the night was hot and sticky and, while most people hid in air-conditioned rooms, I loved the warmth.

So I started out on my own personal tourist trail. First I headed toward the Capitol Building. All the neighboring buildings looked overwhelmed by the imposing dome. I knew how they felt. My life back in Kansas hadn’t prepared me for this world, but the four years I’d spent hobnobbing with Lenor’s family had at least given me a hint of what was to come.

Was it fair to ask Cassie and Lucas to follow me here?

Working on the Hill had been my goal since my second year at Georgetown. But being a junior staffer for an up-and-coming senator wouldn’t fit well with being a father to a five-year-old. The long hours wouldn’t leave me with much family time. I chased those thoughts away and passed the Supreme Court, then the Library of Congress.

I was seven the first time I’d come to D.C. My father had brought me for the Memorial Day weekend. We’d visited Arlington Cemetery and I could still see the sea of flags that decorated the graves that day. That was when I’d decided that, one day, I’d do something for my country too. Kids have big dreams, or so should they.

After Arlington, my dad and I had continued on to The Mall and ended at the Lincoln Memorial. That was where I wanted to be tonight. Not because of any precious memories I had of my
beloved
father, but because I wanted to feel like the boy I had once been. A boy not much older than my own son was now.

I strode along Constitution Avenue and reached the Reflection Pool. Behind me, Lincoln gazed down. As I sat on a bench, my feet were throbbing: I’d walked too far in my stiff business shoes. My cell vibrated in my suit pocket. For the beat of a second, my heartbeat quickened in the hope it was Cassie. But she would be on stage about now.

“Darling! I hope it’s not too late.”

“Mom! It’s always the right time for you.”

She giggled and I enjoyed hearing the youthful echo of her laugh. I’d rarely heard that over the last decade and I hadn’t even noticed it was missing.

“I’m just your mother, sweetie. Now that you have a wife, I should take a back seat.”

“Even if I were the worst son in the whole world, I doubt my wife would let me leave you by the wayside. Cass is your biggest fan.”

“What can I say? That’s my reward for baking her apple pie every Sunday for ten years.”

I smiled, but the line went mute. “Has he moved out?”

“Yesterday.”

My father didn’t deserve her, had
never
deserved her. “Was he sober?”

“We did it in the morning. He was too hung-over to be his usual aggressive self, which was a relief.”

I shook my head and my hand curled into a fist. “I hate him.” I hated him for treating my mom like shit for years. I hated him for manipulating Cassie into giving up our son behind my back.

“Don’t. Please, don’t waste your time on him. Don’t let what he did to me, you or Cassie spoil all the good coming your way.”

I wished I could be that mature. I clearly wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to let my mother down, so I moved on. “Thanks again for lending me the money for the attorney. Give me two months and I’ll start paying you back. I promise.”

“I don’t want to see that money back. I gave it to you, Joshua.”

“We’ll need cash to pay for the deposit on our apartment. So that’s where my first pay check will go.”

“Josh!”

“Mom, I really appreciate you helping me, but I want to cover the legal costs for the adoption. It won’t make up for being out of his life for six years, but….” I let my sentence hang.

My mother and I were masters of the stretched silences. It never felt awkward between us. She finally gave in. “You do what you have to. You’re his father.”

“I don’t really know where to start. If only there was a user guide or something. I mean, how do I become a father? His dad.”

I’d finally asked the question I’d been dying to ask from the moment I’d told Cassie I was all-in.

“You’re already his father,” my mom whispered.

I chuckled. “Your love for me blinds you. I didn’t make Lucas laugh once when he was with me two weeks ago. I tried but it was all awkward. That’s how a first date must feel like. I don’t remember ever being that self-conscious.”

“You have to let it happen. Don’t force anything, darling.”

I bent over and rested my elbows on my thighs. I let out a heavy breath. “I’ll try.”

“I should let you go. It’s late.”

I wasn’t tired, but I heard the strain in her voice. “I wish I could be there for you. I’m letting you down.”

“Now stop being silly, Joshua MacBride. Knowing you’re out there making a life for yourself, that’s what keeps me going. That and knowing I’ll meet my grandson soon.”

Mom phone-kissed me and for a moment I was six years old. After I hung up, I kept staring at the lights that sparkled against the Reflection Pool. I lost track of time and I let my mind go on stand-by. The break was welcome. When I finally made a move, it was ten p.m. I hailed a cab and resigned myself to a hefty cab fare all the way back to Alexandria. The subway would take ages.

I was staying at my friend’s condo. Jack and I had met in our junior year at Georgetown. The guy was low-maintenance and, as a corporate lawyer, he was home even less than I was. I climbed the stairs to the apartment building and entered the elevator. When I made it to my floor, voices and laughter filtered through the door. Jack had visitors? Judging by the high-pitched giggle, one of them was a girl.
Good for him!
I made my way inside, loosening my tie as I went. Maybe I could slip past quickly. The last thing I needed tonight was any more socializing.

“Hi! So here he comes, my illustrious roommate.”

I forced a smile and turned toward the living room where the greeting had come from. Jack was doing me a favor by letting me stay at his place. The least I could do was be polite to his guest. His one guest.

“Hi!” I waved.

The girl made me do a double-take. Wavy blond hair, bright blue eyes, tight sexy body. She was a replica of the girl who owned my heart. A completely soulless replica.

“Joshua MacBride!” She stood up from the sofa and, in a couple of strides, had wrapped her arms around me. I tripped forward awkwardly, pulled by her embrace. Her perfume—like half of a flower shop up my nose—triggered memories.

“Meg… Alistair.”

She jumped back, the wine in her glass threatening to spill over the edge. “So you do remember me.” She took a sip and her eyes gave me the once-over.

Megan Alistair had been my fuck-buddy during my first semester at Georgetown. Not my only fuck-buddy, but definitely my ‘favorite’ one. The memory made me wince. I’d chosen her because she’d looked so much like Cassie. I’d been truly screwed-up back then. A whore too. The only difference was that I didn’t charge for my services.

“I’ve been trying to catch up with Meg since we graduated.” Jack sat on the edge of his chair, all curly hair and round-rimmed glasses.

He hadn’t yet lost his childlike pudginess. He used to have a massive crush on Meg. Entirely unrequited, unfortunately for him. I didn’t think lovely Meg was here tonight because of Jack and I felt sorry for him.

“So… how’ve you been?” I asked.

She started wriggling her small body, bouncing a curve here, another one there. “I work here in D.C. Same kind of job as you actually.” She threw out the name of a very distinguished senator. Meg might act like a bimbo, but she wasn’t one. And her family had connections snaking back to the Founding Fathers.

“Awesome.” I passed my hand through my hair and gave them what I hoped looked like an exhausted smile. “I need to hit the sack. Second week at work and all that. Have fun guys.”

I waved at them and headed towards my bedroom.

“So I’ve heard on the grapevine that it’s over between you and Eleanor Carrington.” I froze. “Rumor has it that it ended up pretty ugly between the two of you.”

The look I shot Meg over my shoulder couldn’t have been friendly because she flinched, her wine almost spilling again. In my peripheral vision, I noticed Jack straighten up in his chair.

I’d been a gigantic ass to Lenor, but I wouldn’t let Megan Alistair bitch on a girl who’d been a true friend to me from start to finish. “You shouldn’t pay attention to idle gossip.” It sounded more like a warning than advice. “We split up, but it was amicable and we are still friends.”

Meg gave me a knowing look and went back to the sofa. She curled herself in it with her legs underneath her. She was working the feline angle, but it was lost on me.

“I’m sorry for Lenor. She seems to be the type who is always unlucky in love. After the way Zach Murdoch dumped her way back when…” She tsk-tsked and shook her head in fake commiseration.

I’d never heard the name Zach Murdoch before and I’d dated Lenor for four years. Maybe she had her own secrets after all. “As I said, you shouldn’t listen to gossip.” I swirled around. “Good night, Jack.”

I showered and crashed under my duvet five minutes later. Jack’s guest must have taken her leave quickly, because I couldn’t hear her fake laugh anymore. I took my cell from the bedside table, pushed a button and the display screen lit up. I didn’t want to call Cassie because she was either backstage or on the bus.

So that left texting as the only option. I loathed texting. The word-shortening, over-emotional punctuation and deliberate misspelling: not my thing. Give me a piece of paper, a proper pen, and I might be able to write something decent. If push came to shove, I could even put it into an email. But expressing myself on a tiny screen, telling Cassie how much I missed the scent of her skin, the softness of her hair, how much I needed to hold her in my arms again and hear her simply breathing.

Telling Cassie that every day without her left me vacant and void inside.

These things didn’t text well.

Still, there was no way I was letting her go to sleep—in a bus buzzing with testosterone—without her knowing she was mine and I was hers. I let out a frustrated groan.

I typed, “
Going to sleep. Will find you in my dreams.”

Pathetically lame and corny.

I kept staring at the screen of my cell, even after the light had gone off. The cell beeped. Cassie’s name on it.

Cassie (23:28): Hiding in my bunk-bed. Writing a song about my love for you.

My heart did some weird dance-move in my chest.
Damn
, Cass was right; I could be such a chick sometimes. I put the cell back on my bedside table and curled my arm under my head. I could feel the stupid, satisfied smile curving my lips.

Modern technology wasn’t that bad after all.

CHAPTER 8

Cassie.

It was my first ever day apartment-hunting and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to recover.

My flight had landed at Ronald Reagan Airport after midnight following a three-hour delay. That had meant we’d crashed into bed at around two. But we were still up at eight a.m., racing out the door to find a place to live. It was a flash-visit anyway: Josh was flying to Europe early on Sunday morning. That meant we only had Saturday together.

After the three weeks I’d spent sleeping on a bunk-bed in a bus shared with guys and all their B.O., sex and bodily functions issues, I wasn’t at my freshest. Plus, I got car sick, so touring on a bus was like going sailing during a force ten hurricane. But the nights I spent on stage made it all worth it.

At the end of the day, the sore feet had paid off. We had our house. Or our portion of a house. And not any old house, but a Georgetown row house. I felt like I’d made it.

“This is just so freakin’ perfect.” I clasped my hands over my chest as I gave the apartment a final look. The realtor had left us on our own. The place wasn’t big, but had a second bedroom. That would be perfect for Lucas. The cherry on the cake was the small backyard. “This is really a dream.”

“Are you sure?” Josh was eyeing me, his forehead in a frown. “This isn’t what I had in mind. It’s not really modern or anything.”

“I’ll put on a new coat of paint—the realtor said we could do that—and I’ll clean up the garden.”

“You mean the ten square feet lying outside the back door?” Josh pointed at the glass door leading from the kitchen into the yard.

My shoulders drooped. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself. It would be Josh’s home too, our first home together. It had to work for both of us. “It’s different from what you wanted.”