Games of the Heart
Page 58
“Yeah and do you like it? Whatever you’re doing with Fin?”
Clarisse nodded maybe a bit too enthusiastically but it only made Dusty’s eyes light in an awesome way. Dusty’s smile got huge so Clarisse figured her nodding that way was okay.
“Then just keep doing it except maybe…more,” Dusty suggested.
“More?”
“Let him in,” she advised. “Let him know you.”
Clarisse wasn’t sure about that.
“What if he doesn’t like what he knows?” she asked cautiously.
“Oh, he will.”
“You’re sure?”
“Honey, you’re a girl, I’m a girl and in the girl club we were both born into, if I gave you bad advice on something like this, I’d be flogged,” she grinned and finished, “deservedly.”
Clarisse couldn’t help it. That was funny, real and totally true. So she giggled.
And when she was done she saw Dusty wasn’t smiling.
She was looking at Clarisse with a look on her face that made Clarisse’s heart stop and she whispered, “There she is.”
“Who?” Clarisse whispered back.
Dusty leaned in and answered, “You. Thank you for giving her to me.”
Ohmigod! That was so nice.
Clarisse bit her lip then murmured, “Uh…you’re welcome.”
Then Dusty Holliday did something beautiful. The kind of thing she felt from her Dad all the time. Sometimes from No. Sometimes from her grandparents. Rarely from her mother.
She lifted her hand, cupped Clarisse’s cheek and said gently, “You should let her out more often. Your Dad misses her.”
It was then Clarisse knew what she couldn’t figure out for the longest time. She knew what had gone weird between her and her Dad. Why he was watching her. Why he’d sigh a lot around her. Why he’d do the worst and get that look on his face when he was disappointed she brought home bad grades or she’d sat in front of the TV all afternoon instead of doing her homework.
She pressed her lips together and tried not to cry because it would ruin her makeup.
But, honestly, she missed her Dad too.
They heard the garage door go up.
So Clarisse whispered, “Dad’s home.”
But she knew that Dusty knew and she knew because she’d already seen Dusty’s eyes get warm and her mouth get soft. And Clarisse saw on Dusty’s face what she’d read in Dusty’s diaries.
Dusty Holliday loved her Dad. Bunches.
And Clarisse Haines loved that. Bunches.
“Yeah,” she breathed then she got up and said, “Let’s go say hi.”
Clarisse took one last look at her awesome makeup job then she got up too.
And with Dusty Holliday, she went to say hi to her Dad.
*
“Can we talk?”
Mike looked to his side, down and to his unhappy surprise saw Audrey standing there actually speaking to him.
And he wanted to say no. He really f**king wanted to say no.
Because he’d spent the day working. And while he worked he hoped things were going all right with his daughter and his woman spending the day together. Not that he’d get home to a shut down Clarisse and a Dusty who was wondering what the f**k was up with his girl.
He didn’t get home to that.
He walked in from the garage to see Clarisse bounding down the steps looking like a f**king model.
He was not blind. He knew his daughter was beautiful and that wasn’t entirely prejudice. But her makeup was stunning, fortunately in a way that didn’t make her look too adult. But she did look too good.
And this was unsettling seeing as he was already dealing with a lot of teenage daughter shit that was seriously f**king unsettling. But he couldn’t commit to that feeling since her eyes were alight, her smile was dazzling and she was bouncing down the stairs with a light step he hadn’t seen in a long f**king time. And she was doing all this after a morning where she’d pitched a hissy fit and lapsed straight from that into silent melodrama all in the expanse of half an hour.
Dusty, grinning and following her, helped his mood. This was simply because Dusty was walking down the stairs of his house, comfortable, natural, like she’d done it a million times before and he liked that a f**kuva lot. It helped that it was clear she’d enjoyed her time with his kids and especially his daughter.
His mood lightened immensely when he walked into the huge back room and saw what Dusty wrought.
Massive bunches of silvery white, glittery purple and glossy black balloons flying from long strings positioned everywhere. Purple and black expertly twisted streamers criss-crossed the ceiling. A glossy black, plastic tablecloth covered the dining room table and this was dusted with silver and purple confetti in the shapes of moons and stars. On the table was an elaborately fashioned centerpiece made of shoots of silver, black and purple foiled wire. Purple, silver and black plastic trays and bowls were already filled with snack foods sitting on the dining room table and scattered around the room. Stacks of plates and napkins following the color scheme were situated around the table. And there was an extortionately tall cake, expertly frosted in creamy swirls. It was decorated with a scattering around the sides of tiny silver candy balls, deep purple whirls of icing borders and there were thin, artistic curlicues and tiny dots of black all around. Finishing it off, in Dusty’s unusual, intricate handwriting that included a lot of swirls, “Happy Birthday, Rees” was written on the top in black.
Christ, if he bought that cake he’d have to pay a small fortune. And if it tasted half as good as it looked, it would be f**king sublime.
He found an hour and a half later, it didn’t taste half as good as it looked.
It tasted better.
Dusty didn’t lie. His woman could bake.
At the time, about half a second after he hit the room and hadn’t quite taken it all in, he heard Clarisse nearly shout, “The cake is five layers! Five! Each cut in half so it’s ten! Filled with frosting!”
He looked to his daughter and he hadn’t seen her that excited, heard her voice that chattering, seen that unadulterated happy light in her eyes in so long he didn’t know what he wanted more. To give her a hug. Or drive Dusty to the watering hole and give her something else.
He gave his daughter a hug.
Then he gave his woman a look that held a promise.
She didn’t miss it and she didn’t hide that she liked it.
Dusty then commandeered No into the kitchen so they could deal with the food that needed to be heated up and Clarisse took his hand and led him around the room giving him a blow by blow of her day with Dusty.
Clarisse nodded maybe a bit too enthusiastically but it only made Dusty’s eyes light in an awesome way. Dusty’s smile got huge so Clarisse figured her nodding that way was okay.
“Then just keep doing it except maybe…more,” Dusty suggested.
“More?”
“Let him in,” she advised. “Let him know you.”
Clarisse wasn’t sure about that.
“What if he doesn’t like what he knows?” she asked cautiously.
“Oh, he will.”
“You’re sure?”
“Honey, you’re a girl, I’m a girl and in the girl club we were both born into, if I gave you bad advice on something like this, I’d be flogged,” she grinned and finished, “deservedly.”
Clarisse couldn’t help it. That was funny, real and totally true. So she giggled.
And when she was done she saw Dusty wasn’t smiling.
She was looking at Clarisse with a look on her face that made Clarisse’s heart stop and she whispered, “There she is.”
“Who?” Clarisse whispered back.
Dusty leaned in and answered, “You. Thank you for giving her to me.”
Ohmigod! That was so nice.
Clarisse bit her lip then murmured, “Uh…you’re welcome.”
Then Dusty Holliday did something beautiful. The kind of thing she felt from her Dad all the time. Sometimes from No. Sometimes from her grandparents. Rarely from her mother.
She lifted her hand, cupped Clarisse’s cheek and said gently, “You should let her out more often. Your Dad misses her.”
It was then Clarisse knew what she couldn’t figure out for the longest time. She knew what had gone weird between her and her Dad. Why he was watching her. Why he’d sigh a lot around her. Why he’d do the worst and get that look on his face when he was disappointed she brought home bad grades or she’d sat in front of the TV all afternoon instead of doing her homework.
She pressed her lips together and tried not to cry because it would ruin her makeup.
But, honestly, she missed her Dad too.
They heard the garage door go up.
So Clarisse whispered, “Dad’s home.”
But she knew that Dusty knew and she knew because she’d already seen Dusty’s eyes get warm and her mouth get soft. And Clarisse saw on Dusty’s face what she’d read in Dusty’s diaries.
Dusty Holliday loved her Dad. Bunches.
And Clarisse Haines loved that. Bunches.
“Yeah,” she breathed then she got up and said, “Let’s go say hi.”
Clarisse took one last look at her awesome makeup job then she got up too.
And with Dusty Holliday, she went to say hi to her Dad.
*
“Can we talk?”
Mike looked to his side, down and to his unhappy surprise saw Audrey standing there actually speaking to him.
And he wanted to say no. He really f**king wanted to say no.
Because he’d spent the day working. And while he worked he hoped things were going all right with his daughter and his woman spending the day together. Not that he’d get home to a shut down Clarisse and a Dusty who was wondering what the f**k was up with his girl.
He didn’t get home to that.
He walked in from the garage to see Clarisse bounding down the steps looking like a f**king model.
He was not blind. He knew his daughter was beautiful and that wasn’t entirely prejudice. But her makeup was stunning, fortunately in a way that didn’t make her look too adult. But she did look too good.
And this was unsettling seeing as he was already dealing with a lot of teenage daughter shit that was seriously f**king unsettling. But he couldn’t commit to that feeling since her eyes were alight, her smile was dazzling and she was bouncing down the stairs with a light step he hadn’t seen in a long f**king time. And she was doing all this after a morning where she’d pitched a hissy fit and lapsed straight from that into silent melodrama all in the expanse of half an hour.
Dusty, grinning and following her, helped his mood. This was simply because Dusty was walking down the stairs of his house, comfortable, natural, like she’d done it a million times before and he liked that a f**kuva lot. It helped that it was clear she’d enjoyed her time with his kids and especially his daughter.
His mood lightened immensely when he walked into the huge back room and saw what Dusty wrought.
Massive bunches of silvery white, glittery purple and glossy black balloons flying from long strings positioned everywhere. Purple and black expertly twisted streamers criss-crossed the ceiling. A glossy black, plastic tablecloth covered the dining room table and this was dusted with silver and purple confetti in the shapes of moons and stars. On the table was an elaborately fashioned centerpiece made of shoots of silver, black and purple foiled wire. Purple, silver and black plastic trays and bowls were already filled with snack foods sitting on the dining room table and scattered around the room. Stacks of plates and napkins following the color scheme were situated around the table. And there was an extortionately tall cake, expertly frosted in creamy swirls. It was decorated with a scattering around the sides of tiny silver candy balls, deep purple whirls of icing borders and there were thin, artistic curlicues and tiny dots of black all around. Finishing it off, in Dusty’s unusual, intricate handwriting that included a lot of swirls, “Happy Birthday, Rees” was written on the top in black.
Christ, if he bought that cake he’d have to pay a small fortune. And if it tasted half as good as it looked, it would be f**king sublime.
He found an hour and a half later, it didn’t taste half as good as it looked.
It tasted better.
Dusty didn’t lie. His woman could bake.
At the time, about half a second after he hit the room and hadn’t quite taken it all in, he heard Clarisse nearly shout, “The cake is five layers! Five! Each cut in half so it’s ten! Filled with frosting!”
He looked to his daughter and he hadn’t seen her that excited, heard her voice that chattering, seen that unadulterated happy light in her eyes in so long he didn’t know what he wanted more. To give her a hug. Or drive Dusty to the watering hole and give her something else.
He gave his daughter a hug.
Then he gave his woman a look that held a promise.
She didn’t miss it and she didn’t hide that she liked it.
Dusty then commandeered No into the kitchen so they could deal with the food that needed to be heated up and Clarisse took his hand and led him around the room giving him a blow by blow of her day with Dusty.
