Love of a Rockstar (8 page)

Luke stared intently at Nil. “Can I kiss her good night?”

My words got swallowed in a sea of emotion as I nodded. He stepped over to her and placed a light kiss against her hair.

Pulling back, he laid his hand on her head. “I am sorry sweet girl, I’ll never leave you again,” he murmured.

The next morning after a restless sleep, I had come to a decision about Luke and what part he would play in Nil’s and my lives. It was obvious he wanted to get to know his daughter. However at the end of the day, her welfare was the highest priority. I couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t walk out of our lives again, but fifteen years from now if Nil asked why she’d never met her father, I didn’t want to say because I was scared of the unknown. Grabbing my cellphone off the nightstand, I dialed Luke’s number. To my relief, I got his voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me. Meet Nil and me at Pancakes Etc. in an hour.”

WHEN I OPENED the door to the café, the smell of roasting coffee beans wafted out, and I was hit with a strong sense of déjà vu. Back in high school, I spent every Sunday morning at Pancakes Etc. with Camille in the corner booth. We’d stuff our faces with cinnamon rolls and gossip about everything under the sun. Once Luke landed in the picture, my visits became less frequent until I stopped coming all together. During grad school, Camille turned our high school spot into her new study lounge. She spent four days a week here, which didn’t usually include today, but after I called her and told her about Luke, Camille made an exception. Nil tugged on my t-shirt, directing my gaze down to her.

“Can I have chocolate chips in my pancakes with extra whipped cream?” she asked.

“Sure, you can have extra chocolate chips, too.”

Her eyes lit up. “You’re the best mommy ever.”

My daughter’s comment sent the guilt I was feeling into overdrive. She had no idea her dad would enter her life today, because I didn’t tell her. I figured we would deal with it when Luke showed up at the café and the sugar rush Nil felt by that point would take away some of the confusion. Honestly though, I was swimming blind. We walked over to the back booth and joined Camille. Closing her textbook, she gave us her undivided attention.

“I can get pancakes with chocolate, whipped cream, and caramel sauce,” Nil announced.

My best friend shot me a questioning look over my daughter’s head. “Is that so?”

“No caramel sauce, just chocolate chips and whipped cream,” I corrected.

My daughter wiggled in her seat, anxious for sugar. Flagging over the waitress, I ordered Nil breakfast and made the pancakes whole wheat. I didn’t want to put her in a diabetic coma.

“Mommy, can I get some crayons?” she asked.

“Sure, but come right….”

As soon as she heard the yes part, Nil jumped out of the booth. Her little legs propelled her to the front of the café where a waitress handed her the colors she wanted.

Camille placed her hand on my arm. “How you doing?”

“Not so good. Somebody should write a book on how to properly handle this. I mean, there are books for everything, even how to poop.”

“Hey, that’s a good book. I wouldn’t have survived being one without it,” she joked.

A smile flashed over my face, and for a moment I forgot my troubles. Until, I glanced over at Nil who was busy comparing a blue crayon to a purple one. Groaning, I buried my head in my hands.

“A latte with soy milk and a cinnamon roll.” I looked up to see a waitress set the pastry and the steaming mug on the table.

Confused, I glanced up at the waitress, then to Camille. “Did you order…?”

My question trailed off when I noticed the goofy smile Camille was wearing. I followed her gaze to behind the coffee bar. A man with wavy blonde hair and a lip ring was the recipient of her affection.

“You have a crush,” I shrieked.

She looked sideways at me as a bright red blush heated her cheeks. “No I don’t.”

“Don’t lie. Why haven’t you said anything?”

Popping a piece of cinnamon roll in her mouth, she shrugged. I patiently folded my hands in my lap and waited for her to swallow. She wasn’t going to get off that quick.

“You’ve been busy with Luke. Besides, it’s nothing,” Camille said.

I’ve only seen that lovesick look once from my best friend. Back in college, she dated a guy named Rick who was a complete d-bag. He treated her as if she were nothing better than the bottom of his shoe. Camille, however, was smitten. They were a couple for two months until she found him in bed with her roommate. He claimed he didn’t do anything wrong, because they weren’t exclusive. That fateful night three years ago was when she went out and bought
Romancing the Stone
. Fantasy killed the pain.

“Does he have a name?” I asked.

“Jonathan.”

The way she said it all breezy like, further convinced me Camille was a goner.

“And you’ve gone out with him?”

“No.”

Extracting information from her was like pulling teeth. I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek.

“Why not?”

Camille lowered her voice. “He’s a barista. I need a man with a career. Not a job.”

I scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe to you, but not to me.”

Nil climbed into the booth, brushing her thigh against mine. She held a dozen crayons in her fist with a look of pure joy.

“Mommy! I got one of each color.”

“That’s so great, sweetie.” I pushed the tablemat, which was paint by numbers, in front of her. “Can you figure out the picture?”

Her mouth set into a hard line. “I’m not a baby. I want to draw.”

I flipped the tablemat to the blank side. “Go for it.”

With her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth, she set to work.

“You know, not everybody has it figured out by the time they’re twenty-four,” I said to Camille.

Her attention flitted to the entrance. “Luke is here.”

Not ready for what was about to happen, I asked her to repeat herself. She nodded to the front door. Luke’s long brown hair was slightly damp from the rain, and it clung to the back of his neck. His blue eyes searched the cafe until they landed on mine. No matter how many times I saw him, he always took my breath away. The man was gorgeous with a capital G.

“Oh,” I breathed.

“I’ll leave you three alone,” Camille said.

At the sound of her voice, the spell broke. I couldn’t be left alone with Luke. I needed my best friend. Reaching out to grab her hand, my eyes went wide with panic.

“No, don’t leave.”

“You’ll be fine. If you need anything, I’ll be right over there.” Camille pointed to a table near the window.

I gave her a shaky nod. “OK.”

As soon as she left, Luke approached our booth and smiled tentatively at our daughter. “Hey Nil.”

In the four years I’d raised her, I’d played this moment over a million times in my head—what Nil would say, how she would react—but nothing prepared me for the reality of what was about to happen.

MY DAUGHTER, ABSORBED in her drawing, didn’t glance up. Luke shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for a response that clearly wasn’t going to happen. It was our fault; Luke and I should have planned out this meeting. As I was about to ask if he wanted to step outside for a moment, a woman with long blonde hair approached the table. Even though it was the middle of November, she wore a low cut top and jean shorts with bright red rain boots. Groupie was written on her forehead. Before she could open her mouth, Luke cut her off with a sharp glance.

“What do you want me to sign?” he asked.

The groupie gave me a look under her fake eyelashes before returning her attention to Luke. “Why don’t you come to the bathroom and I’ll show you?”

Seriously? I looked around to see if anybody else was witnessing this. This blonde slut didn’t know Luke from a hole in the wall and yet she was propositioning him for sex just because he was famous. My hands balled at my sides ready to punch her perfect little nose.

Luke shook his head, disgusted. “I am with my daughter. Please leave.”

Her gaze slid over to Nil and me then back to Luke. She shrugged. “OK, your loss.”

I shot daggers at her back as she flounced away, probably in search of another famous musician to latch onto.

“Does that happen often?” I asked Luke.

“No, they usually aren’t that bold.”

Thank god because if that did happen often, I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions. Luke wasn’t mine anymore but he was the father of my child. That had to count for something, right?

Nil suddenly stopped drawing and titled her head up at Luke. “Who are you?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, he stared at her, panicked. He was just as much at a loss as I was on how to reveal he was her father. Like my mother always said, when in doubt, ease into the situation.

I leaned in and laid my hand on Nil’s arm. “This is mommy’s friend Luke.”

“I thought Camille was your only friend.”

Leave it to a four year old to reveal the harsh truth. When I was in high school, there were a couple of girlfriends I called my best friends, but they fell out of touch when I got pregnant.

“He’s a new friend. Why don’t you scoot over so that you guys can talk and maybe become friends as well?” I suggested

Already her interest in the conversation had waned. She grabbed a pink crayon and resumed coloring in the princess she had drawn.

“No, thank you,” she said politely. “I have enough friends.”

Luke flinched as grief shined brightly in his eyes. My hands yearned to reach out to comfort him but that wasn’t my place anymore.

“You can never have enough friends Nil,” I said.

Absorbed in adding yellow hair to the princess, she didn’t hear me. Sighing, I leaned back against the booth and shot Luke an apologetic look.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, he gave me a defeated nod. “I am going to order a coffee.”

I watched him walk to the counter with his signature stride. No matter how badly he was hurting, he never let his emotions show outwardly for more than a couple of seconds. He had an image to maintain. Nil quietly hummed to herself, completely unaware of the consequences her words had.

“Nil, can you please stop drawing for a second?” I asked.

She glanced over at me with a serious expression. “There’s no stopping when it comes to art.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back the laughter. I had a pretty good idea where she’d heard that. Her kooky art teacher, Mrs. Boyd, believed artwork had living souls.

“Picasso, put down your crayons,” I said.

She did as I said, deeply sighing in the process. Easing into this conversation was harder than I thought. How can you make a four year old understand that her father has re-entered her life? Stories about magical busses were over. It was time for the truth.

“You know that man who I said was my friend?” I asked.

Nil nodded earnestly. “He has long hair like a girl.”

I laughed at her observation. When I first met Luke, his hair was buzzed due to a bet he lost. He was the only guy I knew who could rock either hairstyle. My preference was on the long side though.

I stole a glance over at Luke. “He does, but I think he’s rather handsome.”

“Boys are yucky.”

Luke handed the money to the barista who giggled at something he said. A hot poker of envy stabbed me in the gut. I wanted to be the recipient of his smile.

“Mommy.” Nil whined. “I want to draw. Can I draw?”

Focusing my attention back to the matter at hand, I wiped my sweaty palms onto my jeans. “Yes in a minute but I need to tell you something.” I took a deep breath. “Remember when you told me that the papa bear comes home when the snow has melted?”

“Yes.”

“Right, well look outside and tell me what you see?”

Her little body flung itself over the table as if her father was outside, unaware he was a few feet from her. Disappointment registered on her face when she saw there was nothing on the other side of the window but a liquor store.

“Do you see any snow?” I prompted.

“No.”

“Because you were right Nil, your dad did come home when the snow melted and he is right over there.” I pointed to Luke at the counter.