My hand found the phone, and I managed to straighten myself without causing an accident.
“What was that?” Violet asked, anxiety coloring her words.
“I just dropped the phone,” I told her.
“Mom.” The word was chastising that time. “I told you how many accidents are caused by talking on the phone while driving. Why aren’t you using your Bluetooth? Did the car disconnect it again? I can talk you through how to connect it again.”
I smiled at my daughter’s concern, at her tone, how grown up it sounded. My goal had been to keep her a child for as long as possible, shield her from everything happening in the house, and protect her against anything that could make her grow up too fast.
I did my best to act strong and independent around her so she didn’t feel like she had to be the grown-up despite how young I had her.
But when it came to technology, Violet was definitely the grown-up.
My blood turned cold at her mention of Bluetooth. Of course, our top of the line SUV had Bluetooth. Reversing camera. Park assist. A middle panel that looked like a spaceship and made it impossible to find a way to turn on the radio.
The old Toyota I was driving still had a slot for a CD player. There was no reversing camera, and the air conditioning rattled. It was easy to tune the radio. The seats smelled faintly of smoke. There was certainly no Bluetooth.
As far as Violet knew, I was driving my car while in California, taking care of the aunt she’d never heard of or met. As far as Violet knew, her father and I were still together, and my trip was temporary. As far as Violet knew, she was coming home from her trip to her two parents who loved her, living in the same house, seemingly happy.
The reality of my deception was a pit in my stomach. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I tried to figure out what to say to Violet which wouldn’t catch me further in a lie. As I was figuring that out, I pulled into the parking lot of my motel. And what I saw there had all of those—very legitimate—worries melt away.
“Sweetie pie, I’ve got to go,” I said, trying my best to keep my voice even. “Be careful with Jacques, please. I want you to live your life to the fullest extent, but also remember not all men have your best interests at heart.”
I could picture her rolling her eyes as soon as I said this. My girl was intelligent, shrewd and dauntless.
But she was still a teenage girl. And for better or for worse, teenage girls believed in love and gave with their whole hearts because they hadn’t learned quite yet what men could do with them.
Even with what was happening in the parking lot, I hoped with my entire heart that my little girl would get the fairy tale. That her precious heart would stay intact. That she would escape that unique and soul crushing kind of hurt.
“Yes, Mom,” she replied dutifully.
“And call me more,” I demanded.
“I’ll try my very best. Oh, Jacques is here, and we’re going to meet some friends,” she said, already sounding very distracted. “I love you.”
“Be careful, I love you too,” I called, but she’d already hung up.
I might’ve stewed on that for longer if it weren’t for what was waiting for me in the parking lot.
Swiss.
He was here.
I could feel his eyes on me.
My first reaction to seeing him leaning against his bike was excitement. Second was desire. Third, nerves. Fourth, fear.
My legs burned as I walked up to him, hating the coldness at the base of my spine.
Heat quickly replaced that as he took off his black sunglasses and tucked them into the front of his gray tee. The gray tee that molded against the eight pack I knew was underneath.
His espresso gaze went down my body slowly, appreciatively—even though I was a sweaty mess with coffee stains on my shirt—and then back up to my eyes.
“Hey, baby,” he drawled.
My stomach skipped at both the gaze and the casual greeting. As if he leaned on motorcycles in the parking lot of my motel every day. As if that were a thing. As if we were a thing.
I stopped a few feet away from him, making a statement with the distance. The easy expression on his face faltered ever so slightly.