Eight Days a Week (9 page)

I fought an overpowering urge to grab Gwen and Cece and swing them over my shoulders, kicking balls and asses as I dragged them from the building. That was my sister, for God’s sake.

Ian shuffled over to me, a huge grin spread across his face. “I heard I’m being set up with the friend.”

My rage was making me see red edges in my line of vision. I’d finished my third beer and was getting a little pissed.

Scratch that. Livid.

One of Xander’s waiters shimmied his way up on stage with the girls, and he wrapped his fingers across their throats and angled their heads back to deposit a melon ball shot concoction into their mouths from a strainer while they danced. Gwen choked a little, and the guy got clumsy and spilled the majority of the drink on her shirt.

Her nipples shot out, tenting the fabric of her blouse, and she laughed.

I found no humor in it whatsoever.

The song came to an end, and I glared with narrowed eyes as the girls climbed down and returned to the bar.

“I’m so sticky,” Gwen said into my ear then laughed.

I kept my eyes straight forward on the stage.

She snuggled in against my neck. “What? Why are you grumpy all of a sudden?”

I turned to her, all humor gone from my face. “I’m just not interested in watching you make a fool of yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a
mom.
Maybe you should act like one.”

Her face turned crimson, and she held her breath before her hand flew out and slapped me across the face.

I turned back to look at her, rubbing my jaw.
 

“Don’t act like you know anything about me, Andrew.”

“I know you should have more respect for yourself than to dance around like a desperate college girl when you have two kids at home who call you Mommy.”

Her eyes tightened, and I saw tears well up as she bit her lip to stop from crying. “I’m a grown woman, and I can do whatever the hell I want to.” Her breathing went shallow. “And I’m not their mother, you asshole!”
 

Chapter 8

Do You Want to Know a Secret

Her words hit the ground in front of me like they were made of lead.

The air was oppressive, and I was having trouble breathing. She was shaking, her fists clenched and her face bright red. My hand was still rubbing my jaw, which appeared to have taken its rightful place on the bar floor.

“I’m their damn godmother,” she said. “So you can go to hell.”

“Godmother.” It was all that would come out of my mouth. Then, “I can’t even
believe
you would keep that from me.” I dropped my hand to my side and frowned. “You were wrong for that.” Pulling the Hyundai keys out of my pocket, I looked at the small group that had assembled around us. “You all knew?”
 

My angry gaze landed on Xander, who had his arm wrapped protectively around my sister, and my jaw lowered again.
 

“
Cece
? Xander, are you screwing my
sister
?”

Cece narrowed her eyes and stomped over to me, then pushed against my chest. “Maybe if you weren’t such a selfish prick, you’d have figured it all out by now.”

“I lived with you for two weeks!” I yelled.
 

She took a step back, and Xander lunged forward to grab her waist.
 

“And you,” I said to him. “You knew all along about 
everything
? Because nobody bothered to let me know. Even though I’m the one person who should have.” I looked each one of them in the eye. “I’m leaving. Screw all of you.”

Xander reached for my arm, and I pushed him away so hard he almost lost his balance.

“Don’t touch me,” I said. “You’re lucky I don’t rip your fucking head off for pulling this shit on me.”

He crossed his arms. “Since when have you cared?”

I ran my hand over my face, trying to keep it together. “Since now.”
 

I tossed the Hyundai keys into the air, and they clanked to the bar counter as I barreled through the doors and into the night. Looking left and right, I stumbled to the street, searching for a cab to take me home.

I didn’t even hear her come back. I went straight to my apartment and started throwing all my shit into my suitcase. Once again, I was reminded just how little I had. But this time I also realized I had nowhere to go.

No Cece. No Xander. No parents. No Gwen.

I got into the shower to try to organize my thoughts, but they were flipping through my brain too fast for me to form a cohesive plan. I could stay in a hotel for a few days. I could sleep in a cardboard box on the side of the road. Whatever. I was getting out of there.

How could Gwen have omitted that piece of information? It made so much sense now. She’d told me almost nothing about their family when she hired me.
 

I heard the shuffle of curtain rings and winced when Gwen pulled the plastic back and cold air hit my ass.

“Seriously, you have
got
to learn to knock,” I said.

“We need to talk.”

“Now? You want to talk
now
?” I laughed while I rinsed the remainder of the soap off my body. It had been a fantasy, Gwen and me in the shower. But now all I could see was a liar, and I wanted her out of the apartment so I could leave without incident. “I’m done talking, Gwen. You should have told me sooner. You should have explained what the hell happened to those kids. It’s completely unfair to ask someone to come into the middle of . . . whatever this is . . . and take care of a family that isn’t a real family.”

“We
are
family!” She crossed her arms over her chest, and her eyes searched my face to see if I was listening.

I wasn’t.

“Let me explain, okay?”
 

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I stepped out of the tub and brushed by her. “You can talk while I finish packing.”

There was a choked gasp from behind me, and she hurried to my side. “You’re leaving?”

“Did you expect me to stay? You
lied
to me.” I yanked open the top of my suitcase and grabbed a pair of jeans. After pulling them on, I dropped the towel to the floor and turned to face her. “Talk or leave.”

Her face turned bright red. “You want to know about the kids’ parents? How they died and left me to be the caretaker?”

I reached for my hair, and my hand froze midair. With a solemn nod, I sat on the edge of the bed. “Yes. Yes to all of it.”

“We don’t ever talk about it.”

“Then I can’t help you.”

She sank to the floor, and I maintained my position, fighting the urge to comfort her until she explained herself.

She took a deep breath.
 

Then another.

“I have to tell you about a few things first so you understand how all of this became what it is.”

“I can keep up.”

“Right. Of course you can. Here’s the rundown. I grew up a few miles from here. My dad was a truck driver, and he died on the road when I was eight. Massive ten-car pileup.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. So it was just me and my mom. She had me when she was right out of high school, and after my dad died, she kind of lost it. She figured out just how little she had without him. No college education. No income. Nothing to call her own, except me.

“She pushed me to be better. Said I needed to be smarter and more independent so I wouldn’t have to depend on anyone. I was shoved into all of these honors classes, and she would drill into my brain that I needed to study and get a good job, I needed to be a career woman and make my own money. Which made me laugh even then, because she remarried less than two years later after meeting Kevin in an AOL chat room or something.”

I tried to block the mental pictures of a small, sad, broken, little eight-year-old Gwen losing her father and then having him replaced so fast. I was beginning to hate Debra. But I put on my stone face and said, “What does this have to do with Bree and Brady’s parents?”

“I’m getting to that,” Gwen said, fidgeting with her hands. “With my new stepdad came new friends. And that’s how I met Bryan Pope. His mom became my mom’s best friend. He was a year older than me, but we were inseparable. He never had a dad, so we bonded over being raised without one. Bryan was kind of my everything. He was like a brother-dad.” She chuckled. “He was the first guy to tell me I was pretty. The first one to say he loved me.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “He was probably the only guy to ever mean it, too. Besides my dad.”

I swallowed back a protest. There was something seriously wrong with Gwen having been told she was beautiful only by her dad and this Bryan guy.

“By the time I got to high school, Bryan and I were in all of the same classes because of my fast tracking. He walked me to and from school and protected me from bullies. Bryan wanted me to have fun, and he made sure I did. Then, during our junior year, Anna Lawrence moved to town, and Bryan fell in love with her. She was my exact opposite—blond and bubbly, personality for days. Bubble-gum pink-princess Barbie.” She smiled. “I loved her, too. They were my best friends.”

She shook her head as if to clear it. “They got married out of high school, and Anna got pregnant with Bree. It was amazing . . . I’d never seen the kind of love they had as a family. I came home from college on the weekends to help them out. When Bree was born, I was the first to hold her, outside her parents. She stole my heart, and I never got it back.” Her eyes glazed over. “We were all a big happy family. It was perfect.”

I felt a stinging behind my eyes, thinking of my own family.
Perfect
had been light years from what it had been like, and despite sensing Gwen’s story was about to turn, I still felt the slightest bit envious.

“When Bryan’s mom died, she left him some money, and that’s where this house came from. My mom would help out with Bree when they needed it. And when Brady was born, we all chipped in and helped with both kids. Bryan appointed me godmother. It had gone unspoken before then, but he made it official. Paperwork and all. I promised if anything happened to them, I’d take care of their babies.”
 

Her voice grew soft, and I held my breath.
 

“Bryan ended up having to take extra hours at work, and my mom couldn’t help anymore because my stepdad’s health got worse, so they had to find a nanny for the kids. She was young and right out of college.” Gwen lifted her chin and sniffed.

“She neglected them. Never walked Bree to the bus. Never waited for her. Sometimes Bree would come home and the house would be empty and locked. She never said anything—she just picked up the slack in taking care of Brady. Until one day she came home from school and found Brady under the bathroom sink. He’d been in there for God knows how long, screaming. The babysitter said he was being bad and needed to be punished. She’d been putting him there for time-outs. In the dark. Lights off.”

Her eyes grew fierce. “My mom picked up the kids for T-ball, and Bree told her what happened on the way. My mom freaked out and called Bryan. He and Anna were on their way to T-ball, too, but Bryan was so upset he made a U-turn to go to the nanny’s house. He was sideswiped.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that . . . both of their parents were gone. Everyone I loved, gone in a wreck.”

I winced at the tears streaking down her cheeks. A chill snaked down my spine as I thought of Bree and Brady.

“So, here I am, doing the single-mom thing. And my mom . . . she loves those kids and insists on keeping them a couple of weekends a month.”
 

Her mouth tightened into a grim line, and my expression mirrored hers. My mind was racing with all the information she was giving, but I had no idea what I was supposed to say so I just let her get it all out without interruption.

“She probably figured making Brady play T-ball would get him to focus on something positive, but I guess he connects it to Bryan. Dammit, I should have known better.” She sighed and threw her hands in the air. “And he freaks out about bath time with you because the last person to care for him left him under the sink, so the bathroom scares the shit out of him. And I didn’t know that until you came along because he’s all right with me. It wasn’t right to keep that from you, but I didn’t know how to say it or when it would be the right time. This is so new to me, and I’m still grieving, but I can’t because I have to be strong for the kids. And I needed help.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell them.”