The Promise Between Us Read online

  “I didn’t! That’s not what I said, I—”

  I start to reach for him, but he holds up his palm in the universal sign for “Stop.” Shaking, he takes a breath. His fear sucks the air out of my lungs.

  “Callum, please . . .”

  He reels to one side and then staggers past me.

  My family has left me. Or maybe I left them first. The lock on our bedroom door clicks, and Ringo whines. A new thought settles, one I don’t dispute. One I know is the truth. After months of uncertainty, of dread, of fear over who—or what—I’ve become, I have my answer.

  My husband is terrified of me. I am a monster.

  ONE

  CALLUM

  Star Wars goggles perched on top of her head, Maisie glared at the lifeguard and cleared her throat loudly. The pimply teen finally turned his attention to the young girl waiting to intercept him as he approached the ladder chair for his shift.

  Callum, slathered in SPF50 and sitting under the shade of a huge umbrella, grinned. There was much to regret and second-guess in life, but not the last decade of fatherhood. Raising a confident, fearless child might be his greatest achievement. Might be his only achievement if he didn’t finish the manuscript before the school year started.

  “This is my friend Ellie’s first time at our pool.” Maisie reached behind for Ellie, who continued to stare at her toes. “And she’d like to take the eleven-foot test, please.”

  “You need to take it, too?” the lifeguard said.

  With a low laugh, Callum sat back to enjoy. For once he was the spectator in this chafing against every rule deemed unfair by a child flexing her newly acquired ten-year-old muscles. The lifeguard had no idea that he’d met his match.

  “No offense”—Maisie flicked back the long red hair she refused to have cut—“but I take the test on the day the pool opens evvvery summer, and since I turned ten a whole week ago, when my dad let me see Star Wars: The Force Awakens even though it’s PG-13, I don’t think I’ll need to take the test ever again.” Her eyes opened wide as they always did when she was constructing her concluding argument. “Actually,” Maisie continued, “I plan to start a petition to have it abolished for kids who have reached ten. We’re quite old enough, thank you, to swim in the deep end without taking an annual test.”

  Even though your dad wishes you weren’t. Callum swatted a mosquito on his thigh.

  Maisie cleared her throat twice. That throat clearing had become persistent. Allergies? He’d add it to the growing list for her ten-year checkup at the pediatrician’s.

  With a splash, Maisie and Ellie jumped in the pool, and Callum craned his neck to make sure they both resurfaced. As two small heads—one red, one blond—bobbed up, his mind ran through the afternoon chores: drive Ellie home, stop at Whole Foods to replenish his stock of melatonin, take their elderly neighbor’s dog for a walk, and hopefully squeeze in a couple of hours on the manuscript before relaxing into Saturday evening with his family. Relaxation wasn’t a chore, but it didn’t come instinctively. Other parents at the pool made it look effortless—by ignoring their kids. That was never going to be an option. He couldn’t even take his eyes off Maisie long enough to glimpse the headlines on his unopened New York Times. And with Ellie he had double the responsibility.

  Kids squealed, and across the blue water, so artificially happy, Jake made an entrance with the cooler that likely contained the usual supplies: two water bottles filled with screwdrivers—one weak, one strong—juice boxes, organic baby carrots, and slices of apple. Bathing-suit-clad moms followed his buddy’s progress across the concrete.

  “Morning, ’Mazing Maisie.” Oblivious to his audience for once, Jake walked to the edge of the pool, hooked a finger over his sunglasses, and slid them down the bridge of his nose. He blew Maisie a kiss, then pushed his sunglasses back into place.

  The woman on the chair one over sighed.

  “Uncle J.” Maisie scowled. “I’m actually quite busy helping Ellie prepare for the eleven-foot test.”

  “Which she will ace, as you always do, darlin’.”

  Callum swiped the towel off the chaise lounge he’d been saving in the sun. Two months into their Saturday mornings at the pool, and despite hiding in the shade, he was still a delicate shade of pink. Unlike Jake, who had a deep, even tan. “Hot enough for you?”

  Jake dumped the cooler on the ground and kicked off his slides. “Not until I start sweatin’ like a bug.” He flopped down, folded his arms behind his head, and raised his face to the sun. “Bliss. I could almost be back in LA.”

  “You better have sunscreen on, otherwise Maisie’ll give you hell.”

  “That she will. You realize my darlin’ goddaughter is the only female on the planet who bosses me around?”

  “Wait until the hormones kick in. You and I won’t stand a chance.”

  Before long he and Jake would be the enemy, but Maisie still said “Daddy” as if it were the best-kept secret in the universe. Unless she was pestering him for a phone, with the logic that everyone going into fifth grade at her year-round school had one. Maisie, however, was not getting a phone.

  “Talking of females, where’s Lilah Rose?” Jake always used Lilah’s full name, saying it was too pretty to shorten, but Callum knew the truth: Jake hadn’t been won over by her. Not yet. Hell, neither had Maisie. Team MacDonald was about to expand to four. And Lilah and Maisie weren’t wearing the same jerseys.

  “The excitement of the pool proved exhausting. My lovely wife was imitating Sleeping Beauty when we tiptoed out.”

  “It’s weird, man. Hearing you say ‘wife’ again.”

  “No weirder than when you slip back into that country accent after two decades of acting classes.”

  Jake shrugged. “Could be moving back here helped me find myself.”

  “Hopefully marriage the second time will do the same for me.” Although, old and new had started blending into a nauseating assault of doubt. After all, if history were about to repeat itself, how would he know? Pregnancy the first time around had also been stunningly normal.

  Jake rolled his head to the side. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

  “Absolutely not. You know how I feel about Lilah. The universe merely gave us a big heave-ho in the right direction.”

  “Pregnancy’s one almighty heave-ho,” Jake said.

  “It’s just . . .”

  “Been two men and one kid for a while?”

  “Something like that. How was your week?”

  “Outstanding. What’s not to love about summer? Kids on Film pulls in good money, and this week’s campers were rarin’ to go. Don’t even miss acting when I’m mentoring kids this fired up, and you’re changing the subject.” Jake lowered his voice. “Remember what I told you. Stay grounded, stay rooted in the present. It’s a beautiful day, you’re here with Maisie and me, and we’ve got vodka. Right there, that’s three reasons to be grateful. And here’s a fourth: you managed to drag Maisie away from organizing her new school supplies. Beats me how any kid can find back-to-school in July thrilling.”

  “She prefers the year-round model. You know how bored she gets if she’s home all summer.”

  “That magnet school is something else. Imagine if we’d had Quidditch on the curriculum. I could’ve been a straight-A student instead of the class dumbass.”

  “You weren’t a dumbass.”

  “You forgettin’ I was repeating first grade when we met?”

  “No, I’m remembering that your aunt was a useless guardian. She should have figured out you were dyslexic years before Mom did.”

  Jake’s aunt, who had begrudgingly taken him in as a seven-year-old orphan with no other family, branded him stupid even before middle school. When Jake was accepted into one of the premier acting programs in the country, no one questioned why Callum’s parents had hosted the party.

  A whistle blew, and Callum sat up to check that Ellie and Maisie were still in his field of vision. Satisfied the whistle had nothing
to do with either of his charges, he slumped back. The high dive vibrated with a loud crack as a young man bounced off the board, flew high, and sliced into the water headfirst without leaving a ripple.

  “I dreamed about her last night,” Callum said.

  Jake’s mirrored sunglasses failed to shield Callum from his glare.

  “Katelyn’s not coming back. Ever. And that is a blessing for you and Maisie.” Jake swung his legs around and planted his bare feet on the hot concrete. Resting his arms across his thighs, he leaned toward Callum. “And I’ve told you a thousand times, what happened was not your fault, so stop beating yourself up. You might have been blinded by love and lust, but Katelyn was always wound tighter than a dollar store watch.”

  “She was a good mother, Jake. At least until the end.”

  “And what—you can be a good mama if you abandoned your baby? That makes as much sense as tits on a bull. You, on the other hand, did what any good parent would do.”

  Callum knew what was coming next. He always knew.

  “You protected your daughter,” Jake said.

  “Which I couldn’t have done without you.”

  Jake raised his head to smile at the busty brunette walking past in a bikini. And kept watching as she disappeared into the changing room. “Yeah, well, that promise I made when we were kids didn’t come with an expiration date.” Jake popped open the cooler, grabbed the red water bottle, and slugged. “Here.” He handed over the blue water bottle. “You’re way too serious for someone who’s about to toast this beautiful July day with vodka—watered down enough even for you.”

  “It’s not beautiful, it’s inhumanely hot.” Callum took a sip and then another one. “I can’t wait for the fall.”

  “Now that’s plain sacrilegious. And for goodness’ sake, stop nipping at that thing and take a man-drink.”

  Callum gulped diluted orange juice that tasted as flavorful as seltzer water. “The dream’s got me thinking, that’s all.”

  “And I know where that thinking leads, so let it go.” Jake flashed the smile that a decade earlier had earned him $350,000 for one afternoon’s work on a hemorrhoid cream commercial. “And now you get your happy ending with Lilah Rose, your cosmic reward for being the patron saint of fathers.”

  “She’s the one in line for sainthood.” Callum shook his head. “Inherited all my crap, and I didn’t even give her a honeymoon.”

  Maisie clambered out of the pool and gave them a thumbs-up. What a treat to see those big hazel eyes minus the new black frames. He had worked hard to talk her into the green pair, but Maisie insisted on Harry Potter black, and he caved because it wasn’t a battle worth fighting.

  “She did it!” Holding up Ellie’s hand, Maisie stood in front of him, dripping chlorinated water. She gave Callum the smile that for years had been the only thing worth living for.

  “High fives all around, ladies,” Jake said.

  “I thought Lilah, I mean Mom”—Maisie shot Jake a look—“was going to join us?”

  “Pregnancy’s a tough job, sweetheart,” Callum said. “Your mom gets wiped out, and she didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “But everything’s okay? She looked quite pale when we left. Do you think we should check on her?”

  “Wake a sleep-deprived pregnant woman? Not without full body armor.” Callum smiled; Maisie didn’t.

  Her constant concern for Lilah’s health might have been endearing, if it wasn’t coming on the tail of endless worry about middle school—a year away. Maisie had always been a serious child, but this nervousness was new. Maybe it was part of her sudden desire to be a mini grown-up. Or maybe his little empath was picking up on his mood. Because what he hadn’t told Jake, had no intention of telling Jake, was that the insomnia and night sweats were back. And when he did manage to fall asleep, Callum shot awake, gulping through anxiety that clung like a low-grade fever.

  Maisie chewed on the end of her hair. Another new habit. Had it begun before or after he told her about the baby? So much had happened so fast in their world. The real question, though, was whether it was too fast.

  “Peanut,” Callum said, “please don’t do that.”

  “Yeah, it’s gross-oid,” Jake said.

  Ellie giggled, and Maisie stopped chewing her hair, but a deep frown remained.

  “How about you two splash Uncle J with a few cannonballs?”

  “Dad.” The frown vanished, and Maisie held up her arms as if they were exclamation points. “You know cannonballs are only allowed off the diving boards.”

  “Yeah, Dad.” Jake stood up. “Get with the program.”

  They grinned at him, Maisie and Mad-Max-Mama, as Jake had called himself when Maisie was a kindergartner and other parents labeled them an alternative family thanks to Jake hamming up his role at school events. Pretense, according to Jake, was the cure for real life. Callum wasn’t sure he agreed.

  “Who’s up for a game of ‘Let’s Sink the Unsinkable Jake’?” Jake held out both hands and glanced over his shoulder. “Let it go, man. All of it.” And then he disappeared toward the shallow end with the girls in tow.

  Let it go, but how? What if I fail Lilah as I failed Katelyn?

  A hummingbird buzzed toward some huge red flower. Katelyn had loved hummingbirds. She used to make up sugar water for them and clean out the feeders every week with tiny brushes. Callum tried to give the brushes and the feeders to her sister, along with the boxes of books and clothes, but Delaney lived in a small apartment and insisted he keep everything in the attic. It was the first of their many arguments. Delaney came to hate him surprisingly quickly, and he could hardly blame her. Katelyn hadn’t been of sound mind when she made her decision. He and Jake didn’t have any such excuse.

  Sweat dribbled down his spine, and Callum inhaled the scent of summers at the pool—fried food, sunscreen, and chlorine.

  His old shadow reappeared: the question that had slunk back to plague him despite his April wedding in a church filled with dogwood blossoms.

  Why, why me?

  TWO

  LILAH

  Lilah snorted awake to paint fumes and recycled warm air blowing from the fan Callum had angled in her direction. August was roaring at them with Sahara heat, and their air-conditioning was on the fritz, turning her into a cranky caricature of pregnancy. Of course, she’d already become a cliché:

  Former student falls in love with her thesis advisor and fails miserably to use her diaphragm or mother his daughter, who looks at her as if she’s a very large cockroach.

  Terrific. Now she was thinking of herself in the third person.

  Wiping drool from the corner of her mouth, Lilah stared at the walls of primrose yellow she had regretted before the paint dried. After slipping silently into Callum’s ready-made family that included the attack-dog best friend, she embarked on a redecorating binge as if nesting were an Olympic sport. Post-structuralism, however, made more sense than paint chips. And why had Callum not vetoed the white sofa? He stopped rubbing her feet.

  “I was snoring again, wasn’t I?” she said.

  Callum grinned.

  In the days before he woke her every morning with a mug of tea, she had been able to sleep through any alarm clock on the market. Now, pregnancy had dragged her into the subculture of the sleep obsessed. Lilah frowned. She should be working on her syllabi, not napping on the sofa.

  “Pissed off and pregnant’s a good look for you,” Callum said.

  The anger didn’t even stay around for the two-second mark. It was Callum’s deep-blue eyes that did it, along with the disheveled russet mane. Ditch the trendy glasses and put him in the family tartan, and half of America would mistake Professor Callum MacDonald for an extra on the set of Outlander. Her husband was, in one word, gorgeous. There it was again, the h-word. Husband. How did this happen? Two PhDs between them, and they couldn’t figure out contraception.

  She chewed her lip.

  “In case you’re interested, that’s also a turn-on.” Callum
’s soft brogue, topped up from a lifetime of summers in Scotland with his parents, became more pronounced when he talked sex.

  “You’re not so bad, either, my Hot Scot.”

  Dipping forward, he kissed her—slowly and gently. Lilah shivered and breathed in his scent: lemongrass and shaving cream. This life with Callum had been her fantasy, but not a year out from graduating and landing her dream job at Meredith College. Not before she wrangled her dissertation into publishable shape. Not before Callum finished the book that was his ticket to becoming a full professor. He had barely touched his manuscript all summer, spending every minute with Maisie, as if about to lose her forever.

  Lilah rubbed her belly. “You’re watching Star Wars Rebels without Maisie?”

  He grabbed the remote, hit the “Mute” button, and tossed it back down on the coffee table. “There’s nothing on, Maisie’s in her room, and you were—”

  “Snoring.”

  Callum eased her feet off his lap and turned with that quirk of a smile that was guaranteed to make her heart over-rev. “Did I ever mention my weakness for beautiful women who snore?” His index finger beckoned her, but after lumbering toward his end of the sofa, she toppled against him and groaned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Other than me moving slower than a centenarian? Nothing.” The morning sickness had long gone, but Callum still fussed over every twinge, every cramp, every groan. “What’s Maisie up to?”

  “Prepping for her quiz on Monday.” He was decent enough not to add, If you studied the kitchen calendar, you’d know. She’d given up because the month-at-a-glance pages told her nothing about how to become Maisie’s mother.

  “Don’t you find it strange that a fifth-grader’s doing homework on a Saturday night and not painting her nails, demanding you buy her skinny jeans, or hankering after the member of a boy band?”

  He sat up, leaving her no choice but to do the same.

  “Maisie takes pride in being a good student. Besides, she still likes Jamberry nail stickers, has no interest in fashion trends, and thinks all boys are annoying. Jake and I, despite being a pair of overgrown boys, are exempt.”