Page 75 of The Dating Charade

“Are you high right now?” He took a step toward her, knowing the familiar scent on her breath, seeing the dilated blacks of her eyes trying to swallow the celery color whole.

This time she retreated, pulling on the sleeves of her jacket as though hiding her fingertips helped conceal the truth.

His chest felt like it was going to burst at that moment. The world was insane. Everything, everything, about it was broken, and he was utterly powerless to change any of it.

Except right now he could do one thing. And everything within him pointed to that one thing. He could keep them safe. Tonight.

Jett forced his voice to remain calm. He took a step toward her. “Stay here. Sleep it off. And, for the love of God, yourself, and your kids, let us get you help tomorrow. Please. Your kids need you, the Trina I know. They need their mom.”

Jett held out a hand to her, prepared to usher her toward the bedroom. To the kitchen. To the shower. To wherever she needed to go.

And for a fleeting second he felt he saw the dilated pupils recede and the celery irises of her eyes fight to return.

His hand stretched out.

Dakota’s giggle floated down the hall, and Trina’s eyes flickered toward it. Her expression widened as though trying to peer down a hall that looked miles away. A single expression: longing. A single moment: contemplation.

He’d finally struck a nerve.

But then, quick as a wink, she was gone.

Jett stood in the open doorway and looked out for a long time on the parking lot below, the icy breeze billowing up the dark stairwell.

He heard Drew call out for Jett from the bedroom. He moved inside, shut the door.

Always love. Always try. But never, ever, raise your expectations.

21

Cassie

“It’s a . . . Grow Your Own Boyfriend,” Cassie said, speaking to Bree through her smile and gritted teeth. “Just what I always wanted.”

Frank Sinatra sang over the speaker on the fireplace mantel, trumpets interrupting conversations on couches and love seats, recliners and floor. Star, Deidre, Kennedy, and their soon-to-be cousins were huddled up beside the tree they had not so long ago called the fire department over, intently sorting through the presents for name tags they recognized, passing out—when prodded—ones meant for the adults.

Christmas morning at its finest. Well, technically two days after Christmas morning at its finest, given Cassie had learned the hard way why mothers everywhere dreaded winter and all its shower of germs. Even so, the family was all here at her house now. The stomach bug had finally been purged, and there were gallons of eggnog to go around. The sun couldn’t have shone brighter on her happy little home.

“What did you get, dear?” Cassie’s mother stood up from behind the couch, finding another shred of wrapping paper to squeeze into the overstuffed trash bag. “Show everyone. We want to see.”

Cassie bit her bottom lip and held up the package that looked like it contained a Ken doll. Only instead of a Ken doll, it was a purple blob of a figure. Directions on the box proudly directed the user to just drop the thing in water and see it grow overnight.

Bree stepped in.

“A Grow Your Own Boyfriend,” Bree declared loudly. “I got one for both of us.” Bree whipped hers out of her purse and held it up, either ignorant to the vapid smiles of Cassie’s family or, what was more likely, totally unconcerned about them. She wrapped an arm around Cassie. “I threw in a gift card. We’ll take ’em out for a night on the town.”

“That’s hilarious.” Star dropped her new burgundy jeggings in her lap and reached over Bree’s knees for it.

“Oh, my turn. Robby, give Cassie her gift, please.” Cassie’s mother grabbed another piece of wadded-up paper with the superior-quality aluminum reacher she’d unwrapped this morning—known by her mother as “the claw thingy that picks up stuff like those nice people do when picking up trash from the side of the road.” The reacher zoomed over several heads as she pointed it to the coffee table. “That one, with the big bow.”

Cassie’s brother-in-law grimaced as he pushed himself off the couch and handed her the book-sized gift. “Sorry,” he said under his breath.

“You don’t suppose this is a hammer to put me out of my misery?” Cassie whispered back, grinning as she took the present from his hands. The close-up of a woman in an overwhelming amount of pink winked on the cover titled: The Magic of Singleness: Live Your Best Life Now.

“Wow. Seems like this’ll be the year of reading for me. Thank you, Mom.” Cassie smiled politely to her mother, who was now reaching on top of the ceiling fan with her reacher. She set the book on top of the foot-and-a-half-high stack. At this point, she had enough titles to cover a shelf at Barnes & Nobles. Raising Them Alone. Living a Month on One Hundred Dollars. Crockpot Cooking for Families.

Waving hands caught her attention, and she looked above the crowd to see her uncle and father. They stood halfway down the stairs. Sweat matted her uncle’s salt-and-pepper hair. Her father lifted the hem of his red cardigan and wiped his face. Both grinned with triumph. Her dad gave her a thumbs-up.

It was time. The present she’d been waiting to give all morning.