Page 24 of Kiss Me Like You Mean It

Lee blinks up at me, a dazed expression on her face. ‘Was I supposed to be somewhere else?’ she asks. ‘This is where Bud dropped me off.’

‘Bud?’ I repeat blankly. I realise that I’m still cradling her against my chest, and I ease her back, putting several inches of clear air between us. It’s more for my sake than for hers. Catching her had been an instinct, but the smell of her perfume – smoke and honey – hits my system like a drug, my mind going hazy.

I have no idea what she’s doing here, and I’m not sure how I feel about that sharp shock of gladness I experienced when I realised who had tumbled into my arms.

‘He picked me up from the airport,’ Lee says slowly. ‘Like you arranged?’

‘Like I—’ I break off, my gaze moving over her shoulder to where Magda and Phoebe are standing. Magda looks guilty and Phoebe looks the picture of innocence, which means she is also guilty of something.

‘What’s going on?’ I ask slowly.

‘Let’s go and sit down inside,’ Magda says, clearly flustered. ‘We weren’t expecting you back yet and there are a few things we need to discuss…’

‘What type of things?’ I look at Phoebe now, because whatever harebrained scheme this is, she’s probably the ringleader. ‘Phoebe?’ I lift an eyebrow.

She smiles back winsomely – only further evidence that she’s been up to no good. She’s never winsome.

‘Daaaad,’ she begins, her singsong voice cajoling, and Lee’s sharp inhale has me looking back at her.

‘Dad?’ Lee murmurs.

I want to wince, but I’m careful not to, not in front of Phoebe. Shit.

‘Lee, this is my daughter, Phoebe.’ I turn back to Phoebe. ‘This is my friend, Lee.’

‘I know who she is.’ Phoebe rolls her eyes.

‘You have a daughter?’ Even in the dim light from Magda’s torch, Lee looks totally stunned, and when her gaze meets mine I’m surprised by the hurt mingled with the shock there.

‘I do,’ I confirm quietly, feeling like a dick that she didn’t hear it months ago from me. We haven’t spoken for about a year, and while it’s not unusual for us to go a long time without contact, I have to admit that I thought about calling her more than once. The desire to do so caught me by surprise, and so I pushed it down. Way down.

Besides, what could I even say? The last time I saw her had been messy. And awkward as fuck. I didn’t even get the chance to apologise during my fleeting trip to London after Gran’s heart attack. I got the feeling she was avoiding me, which made me feel like even more of a piece of shit about how we’d left things. I’d obviously embarrassed her, put her into an awkward situation and she wanted nothing to do with me. If she wanted to talk, she’d reach out, I reasoned. I was surprised by how much it hurt that she never did.

‘I think you and I have a lot to catch up on,’ I say carefully now.

‘Yes.’ It’s Lee’s turn to look flustered. ‘Of course, and then with the wedding and everything—’

‘What wedding?’

She frowns. ‘Our wedding. Not that it was really a wedding. Of course, legally it was a wedding. That’s the whole problem.’ She’s rambling, her cheeks pink, her eyes darting between me and Phoebe. I’ve never seen Lee so ruffled before and it’s enough of a novelty that it takes several long seconds for me to register what she’s saying.

‘Wait.’ I hold up my hand. ‘Are you talking about Las Vegas?’

The line between her brows deepens. ‘Yes. What else would I be talking about?’

Lee takes a step towards me, clearly concerned by the look on my face, which I can only imagine is the look of a man suffering some sort of medical disaster.

‘Are you saying that we’re… that you and I…’ I trail off.

Phoebe makes an impatient sound. ‘She’s saying you’re married, Dad. Lee is your wife. Isn’t that great? You really needed a wife and now you have one!’

My daughter beams at me; Magda offers her own smile. Lee looks as bewildered as I feel.

‘You didn’t know?’ she asks, her face pale. ‘But what… The emails? The ticket?’

‘I really think now would be a good time for us to go inside and have a nice glass of my homemade lavender lemonade,’ Magda interrupts, and she takes Lee by the arm, guiding her up the steps towards the front door, muttering something soothing as though Lee has been involved in an accident. It’s not that much of a stretch – personally, I do feel like I’ve been hit by a metaphorical truck.

‘Come on, Dad.’ Phoebe tugs at my hand.