Thank you for the incredible response to the first chapter alone! It is much appreciated.
Long-ass chapter ahead, already. It just kept going.
WARNING: Tough subjects and several triggers ahead.
xx
Crumpled paper crunched under his shoe.
He pressed down harder, encouraging the heel of his shoe to rub out the libellous words typed across the paper.
"You wanted the results," she said, crossing her arms. "These are the results."
"These results are a fucking joke," he snarled, clenching his fists against his sides to avoid thrusting them into the wall.
He didn't need to cause a scene in the hospital where Donna volunteered and could tell Brenda all about his episode.
Brenda would think he was back on the bottle.
God, he almost wished he was.
"You've been telling anyone who would listen that you aren't the father of this baby," she said, cupping her rounded stomach. "Well, Dylan, the test says otherwise. Congratulations; you are the father."
"You did something," said Dylan. "Faked the results. Something."
"And how do you think I managed to do that when you had the test under lock and key and practically placed a bodyguard by the lab entrance like you're the freaking mafia?"
"I didn't fucking sleep with you, Gina!"
A passing nurse glowered at Dylan's outburst.
"Then how do you explain this baby stretching out my belly?" asked Gina Kincaid. "With your DNA!"
"I – you – you did…something…"
"I read Brenda's interview," said Gina. "She said you had talked about having a third kid."
"The interview she did when our girls were little?" asked Dylan. "You've been stalking my family since my girls were little?!"
She had not stalked them, said Gina. The interview had been in one of her magazines and until Dylan's name had popped up within it, Gina hadn't had a clue that Brenda McKay might have any connection to Dylan.
"For all I know, she still didn't," said Gina. "There could be hundreds of Brenda McKays married to hundreds of Dylan McKays."
"Bullshit," said Dylan.
"You should feel grateful," said Gina. "Some people aren't able to have any kids, and Brenda was telling the world about how you both wanted a third; which, now you are."
"I wanted a third kid with my wife!" Dylan gritted his teeth. "My wife! Not you."
He ambled away, seeking a more private spot from potential eavesdroppers.
Gina followed him.
"Your youngest is how old?" she asked. "Brenda could have early menopause, for all you know."
"Shut the fuck up about my wife."
"She couldn't give you the third kid you so desperately wanted, but I, Dylan; I can. I am."
"This kid may have my DNA, somehow, but it is not my kid," said Dylan. "My kids are Adrianna and Calista. That's it. That's all. They're the only kids I need. Bren and I gave up on having another a long time ago, and not that it's any of your fucking business, but I'm good. I have two. I'm good."
"You're going to deny your own flesh and blood?"
"I want you out of my life."
"You hired me," said Gina.
"My PR team hired you," said Dylan. "And they can just as easily fire you."
"You'd get a single mother fired? The woman you got knocked up? You're a rotten bastard, Dylan McKay."
"How'd you do it, Gina? Huh? How the fuck did you get knocked up? Because I know damn well however you did it wasn't consensual!"
"What exactly are you implying, Dylan?" Gina's eyes reflected a tumultuous thundercloud. "Are you implying I waited until you were alone in your office, somehow knocked you out from one drink, waited until you were deep in the throes of a sex dream, massaged you until I secured your sperm which I then had to somehow ensure stayed viable, magically knew the exact moment to inseminate myself so that I could become pregnant? Is that what you're implying?"
Bile flew up until Dylan thought he might asphyxiate.
"You jacked my sperm?" he asked. "You fucking jacked my sperm?"
He felt around his back pocket for his phone.
He'd left it in the damn satchel in his truck.
Where was Brandon with his fucking tape recorder when he needed one?
"Do you really want to think that?" asked Gina. "Because anyone who would do something like that would have to be crazy. Batshit crazy. Certifiable. Unhinged. Certainly not anyone I'd want knowing where my family is staying. Maybe I pretended to be Brenda. Or maybe you thought I was Brenda. Or maybe, just maybe, you found me so incredibly irresistible that you slept with me knowing exactly who I was and turned your marriage into shambles yourself."
"You bitch." Dylan charged towards her. "If you so much as speak to Bren or our kids, I swear -"
"Careful, Dylan." Gina clicked her tongue as she held up a hand. Her wide hoop earrings slapped against her neck. "Wouldn't want to be charged with assaulting a pregnant woman, would you?"
"I didn't touch you," said Dylan.
"Who do you think they'll believe?" asked Gina. "Me, the squeaky-clean successful manager of a nonprofit, the PR master with thousands of clients under my belt who can vouch for my probity; or you, the convicted criminal master of mendacity?"
"Those charges were dropped," said Dylan. "The accuser admitted they were bogus claims, just like yours is now."
"There is nothing bogus about this baby," said Gina. "It would be a whole lot easier for you to just admit you slept with me, wouldn't it? Instead of reopening old charges and spinning crazy tales?"
"I will never admit to that. Never."
"You'd abandon your child. You always were a piece of shit, Dylan, but this takes the cake."
"If you think I'm such a piece of shit, why are you trying so hard to convince everyone I slept with you? Huh?"
"I didn't have to try," said Gina. "They know it's in your nature. Like when you and Kelly used to sleep around when we were together. Remember that?"
"That…that was a long time ago."
"'Life's about love, faith, family. I don't have any of those,'" Gina quoted, the line a vague recollection in Dylan's memory. "You don't have faith," she said. "Your love? That's gone. And your family…"
"My family is none of your concern," said Dylan. "We ended on good terms, Gina. Didn't we? Before you left town, weren't we friends? Why are you doing this?"
It took every ounce of determination he had to not permit her to hear his voice croak.
"Thousands of dollars wasted, years of therapy spent over you and you think we were friends," said Gina. "You treated me like shit, Dylan. You passed me around like old garbage. You made me feel worse than worthless, like I was a worn heel, not good enough for the shelves of Goodwill."
"I'm sorry," said Dylan. "I was a wanker, alright? I'll admit it. I was rubbish to Bren, to you, even to Kel."
And Val; fuck, I was downright awful to Val.
"And this apology is just supposed to make it right, what you did to me?" asked Gina.
"You're tearing apart a family! You know that, right? Bren and I, we swore our kids would be raised in a loving, two-parent home, the kind of home I never had, and – and they have been, until – until you came along and ruined it all…"
"Do you believe in Karma, Dylan? Because I think she's finally bit you in the ass."
"I don't buy it," he said. "I don't buy your little act. I don't buy this is your revenge for shit that happened nearly twenty years ago. You were never this cruel, this vindictive. You were hurt, insecure, manipulative at times, but not cruel. And I definitely don't buy that after twenty years of being absolutely faithful to my wife," he emphasized Brenda's permanent position in his life, "I fucked you after one fucking drink because I, what, found you incredibly irresistible?" he mocked. "How could that be, when I find you so utterly repulsive now?"
"Lie to yourself all you want, Dylan. I'm irresistible. I'm a catch, and you'll give in every time. Like you gave in that night, when we reignited our flame and conceived our child."
Dylan thrust both fists into his pockets.
"Someone put you up to this, Gina, and I want to know who," he said. "What do you need? Money? Protection? You need protection from something? Someone? Tell Bren I didn't sleep with you and whatever you need; it's yours."
"Lack of protection is what got us here," said Gina.
"You fucking assaulted me!"
"That's a serious charge, Dylan. Are you sure you want to make it? With your history? Those addictions? Should I remind you that you were drinking that night? How a Judge will take one look at your record and conclude that drinking gave you a vivid imagination? I could tell them, you know; tell the court that you used me to get drugs."
"Then you'd admit to possession."
"Not if they think I was forced."
Dylan scrolled through the mental list of enemies that he and Brenda had compiled over the years.
One specifically came to mind, but it couldn't be.
That person hadn't been seen since shortly before Adrianna's fifth birthday.
He had to have taken a hint when Bren slammed the dressing room door on his leg, thought Dylan, remembering the satisfying snap of a broken bone.
Right before we conceived Callie.
How badly he wanted to return to that West End dressing room, with Brenda's magenta bustier the only obstacle blocking him from her skin.
Or had it been fuchsia? He could never tell those two apart.
Seven weeks, six days, eight hours, thirty-two minutes, nineteen seconds since he had touched her.
Seven weeks, five days, twelve hours, twenty-eight minutes, six seconds since she had spoken to him.
Seven weeks, three days, four hours, fifty minutes, twelve seconds since she had moved into Valerie's.
Seven weeks, five days, four hours, fifty minutes, twelve seconds since his heart had disintegrated.
"It's Carson, isn't it?" Dylan roared. "Carson? He put you up to this?"
Can't the bastard ever take a fucking hint?!
"Carson?" asked Gina.
"Stuart Carson," said Dylan. "The asshole heir to the Carson fortune who's convinced Bren made an astronomical mistake dumping his pathetic ass and tells her at every possible opportunity."
"Who are the Carsons?" asked Gina, genuinely perplexed.
If it wasn't Carson, thought Dylan, who the fuck else could it be?
"I should meet your daughters," said Gina.
Dylan had never come as close to attacking a woman as he did in that moment.
That the thought could occur to him at all left him questioning his sanity.
"The fuck you will," he said.
"Our baby is going to be their sibling," said Gina. "It's only right that I introduce myself."
"Let me make this as clear for you as I can, Kincaid," said Dylan. "Stay. The. Fuck. Away. From. My. Girls. Or else, I'll – I'll -"
"You'll what, Dylan? You'll kill me?" Gina taunted him. "Because murdering an unborn child is a serious punishable offense; as is killing a woman. You do that and you'll be unlikely to ever see your daughters again."
"I have loathed a lot of people in my lifetime," said Dylan, "but right now, I can't think of anyone I loathe more than you."
"Great, then maybe you know how I felt all those years ago." Gina rubbed her back, jutting out her stomach as she did so to appear larger than she currently was. "How do these things work? Do I invite the ex-wife of my child's father to the baby shower? Send her an invitation to the registry?"
"Brenda is not my ex-wife. She'll never be my ex-wife. You're delusional if you think you'll break us when more conniving people than you have tried and failed. And you aren't inviting her to any fucking shower, or sending her an invite to any fucking registry."
"Break you, Dylan? You're already broken. Brenda will file for divorce as soon as she hears the results. The best part is? You have zero chance of proving you didn't sleep with me. Zero. I have a better chance of proving you did." Gina once more indicated to her stomach. "Living, breathing proof for the rest of your life that I slept with a player and he absolutely loved it."
He'd have a small chance if he tracked down the bastard who had recruited Gina to fuck with him.
He just had to figure out who it was.
Who would know of his past with Gina? Who would loathe him, Brenda, or both him and Brenda enough to use that past against him?
"You've got a first-class, one-way ticket to Hell, Gina. Give my regards to the pilot."
"Give your regards yourself, Dylan. We'll be sharing a ride there."
Brenda knows I didn't cheat on her. That's not what this is about, Dylan consoled himself. That's not why she's upset with me. Just – just tell her.
He'd have to change his lockscreen. He couldn't look at Brenda and the girls every damn time he unlocked his mobile.
He couldn't remove Brenda from his lockscreen. He'd never had a lockscreen that didn't feature her in some capacity.
Breathing in through his nostrils, he scrolled through his outgoing calls to get to her name faster.
"Hi! You've reached Brenda. I'm not available right now, but…"
"We're busy. Call back later."
"Dylan!"
"Alright, unless your name is Adrianna or Calista, call back later. B, that includes you."
"Leave a message at the beep."
"Then go watch Bren's new movie, winner of this year's Cannes and Sundance."
"Check out Dylan's new book, available wherever books are sold."
"Don't forget to support your local libraries."
"And if you see pollution in the ocean, report it. Bye!"
"Especially if it's coming from Steve Sanders' yacht."
Beep.
It had been a joke voicemail that Brenda had neglected to change.
That she still hadn't changed it slightly raised Dylan's spirits.
The mailbox is full and cannot accept any messages at this time. Goodbye.
So much for that.
On to Plan B.
The blank text screen of his mobile trembled violently in his hand.
Bren, he typed. Baby, I…look, I don't want to do this over text. Can we
Shit, he had hit the enter button before he was done typing.
Can we talk? Maybe
How did he work the keypad of this damn mobile?!
Maybe meet for a late lunch or something? There's this great little Italian place I hear is supposed to be close to the real thing.
They both knew the real thing.
Adrianna knew the real thing, too, though her memories of childhood didn't extend to the years they had lived in the Lombardy region of Italy whilst Brenda had been filming her first film – a small, independent flick they had initially believed wouldn't amount to much – and Dylan had been inspired to write the first draft of the novel he had left unpublished.
Just give me a call, baby. And clean out your voicemail box.
The last place he wanted to be whilst awaiting Brenda's response was the office.
It had been tempting to avoid stepping foot in there at all, but he had to ensure everything was arranged to successfully lobby Sacramento into prioritizing cleaner oceans.
Ocean conservation was something he had been engaged in since before he and Brenda had reconnected.
He finalized the documents. Approved the wording of the grant letters. Spoke with his favorite Senator to rile up.
His eyes continuously drifted back to his mobile.
It hadn't pinged. Had he left it muted? How hard was it to figure out a damn phone?
A ping.
Dylan grabbed his phone.
Liberals in Washington are polluting –
The phone screen met the desk.
She might not be ignoring your texts, Dylan thought. She's on set. Yeah. That's it. On set. She never checks her mobile on set, unless she knows she needs to. She wouldn't know, so she isn't checking.
Hadn't she had a lunch break at any point? he questioned when his phone still hadn't pinged by the time he drove back to the house.
His cold, empty house.
No Brenda dancing in the kitchen to the showtunes streaming from Adrianna's room that they pretended were too loud, but secretly loved. No Callie running in to complain about Adrianna and Naomi hogging the PlayStation.
No Brandon. No Steve. No Val. Hell, not even Donna.
Had word made its way back to the London gang? Had Brenda told them?
They had undoubtedly headed to the pub earlier, full to the brim of the stories that had happened during that day's rehearsal.
He couldn't text Shane if Shane's reaction would be the same as Brandon's.
Brandon. Dylan could have tried to ask Brandon about Brenda, if Brandon hadn't blocked Dylan's number.
He was convinced Andrea had done the same.
Kelly wasn't speaking to him, either.
If he asked Steve about Brenda, would Steve at least respond?
Did she eat at all? Dylan wondered.
Sick. She's sick, you idiot. Of course she won't be eating anything if she can't keep it down.
I should make her an appointment.
She won't go.
I should still make it.
You should accept your marriage is over. She doesn't want to save it.
Fuck no. I will never accept that. She's hurt. I get it. But she loves me. Of that, I can be sure.
Might be the only thing I can be sure of these days.
The mobile buzzed in his denim pocket.
Dylan ripped it out of his jeans.
Save hundreds of dollars when you switch to –
He angrily deleted the text and blocked the spammer.
The place wasn't a pigsty. Perhaps it was bordering on being messier than it should have been, but a little creative mess never hurt anyone.
The takeout containers; those he could discard.
That towel needed washing.
So did he.
He tried to distract himself with tidying up the house, which never distracted him as well as it did her.
He ordered dinner – a passable attempt at fish and chips. Ate it. Cleaned up from it.
He would have preferred grub from the Pit, but the Pit didn't have an acceptable pub menu.
Yet. He'd talk to Nat about improving that.
Assuming Nat would still talk to him.
Nat might be the only one who would, though undoubtedly with an accompanying lecture about Dylan throwing his marriage away on a one-night stand.
Would Nat believe him?
Maybe it was better to not talk to Nat.
He hit the shower. Curses slipped from his lips about the overlarge width of his shower for a sole individual.
Thinking of Brenda laboring in their old shower with Adrianna certainly didn't help his mindset.
Smoothing his hand over his face, he debated shaving.
Without Brenda there, steadily running the razor over his stubble for him to have an excuse to hold onto her, laughing as he grazed his fuzzy chin against her cheek, shaving seemed pointless.
Well, he'd showered. The house looked better. That was something.
Nothing.
Not a damn thing.
Not one fucking reply.
The results came in, he typed. It's mine.
Shit. No. He hadn't meant to send that.
He had tested out whether he could bring himself to type the words. It wasn't supposed to send.
Dylan scrambled to send a second text.
The results don't mean anything, he typed. Bren, I think I was assaulted.
He read the second sentence. Reread. Triple-read. Quadruple-read. Everything Gina had said hung in a webbed gloom around him.
She was right. Who would believe him? Even he had trouble believing such an outrageous claim.
Would Brenda? Would Brandon?
Brandon? The guy who had let Callie hear her father being trashed? That was laughable.
One night of severely bad judgment. One fucking drink when the weight of missing his girls had been unbearable. One failure to lock his fucking office door. One bad call on a hiree by his team, and his life had leapt into the fucking sewer.
Lower. Lower than the sewer.
Lower than the deepest bowels of the fucking city of his birth.
Dylan slowly tapped out the delete key.
The results don't mean anything, he sent. You are the mother of my children. Only you.
He slouched in his chair.
Bren, I miss you, he typed.
Wish I could take you in a London dressing room right now, he thought, but didn't type.
Splotches of salted water dotted the keypad.
Ade says you've been sick. Don't get upset with her for that; Callie spilled the beans. What I don't understand, Bren, is why you didn't, or why I had to hear it from our eleven-year-old daughter who I swear is just a mini-version of Erica. Is that who we are now? The kind of people who get updates about each other from their kids? The kind of gang who block each other's numbers and let our kids hear us bash each other, like we were never friends at all?
He was infuriated at the situation. At Gina. At the distance from his wife. At having to fight Val to get near her damn house so that he didn't have to pick up his kids from down the block.
He wouldn't take that wrath out on Brenda, however upset he was to have been left in the dark about her illness until Callie had mentioned it.
Dylan hit the delete key until he was satisfied.
Callie spilled the beans. I swear that girl is just a mini-version of Erica. I hope it's nothing serious. Have some toast and make sure you get ginger ale, if Val doesn't have any around. I can bring you some. Just say the word, and I'll bring it. Found a shop that sells McVitie's. Can bring you a pack of those, too.
Knowing Val, she wouldn't have ginger ale around.
Knowing Val, she likely hadn't had anything more than liquor in her fridge before his three girls had moved in.
Did Callie have enough of a supply of her desired chocolate milk to get her through the week?
They should have known she would have a hankering for it, after how frequently Brenda had craved it during her pregnancy.
I love you, he texted. I've loved you across oceans and I love you across this godforsaken city. Happy Anniversary.
He traced his finger over her name.
The name of the girl who had helped him discover his capability to love – to love fiercely, to love with an all-consuming vigor that had overwhelmed him.
The name of the twentysomething who had given him another chance, before his insecurities and addictions had again driven her away.
The name of the woman who had given him a family.
The woman who had manifested his every dream into reality, instead of the hellish nightmare his life had once more become.
The woman who must have conked out for the night if she hadn't gotten stuck on set, because considering the alternative was unacceptable.
He missed London.
He missed Brenda.
He missed their girls arguing over a fucking PlayStation as he tried to convince Brenda to ignore it and make out with him, to which she would respond that they could make out after she saw to the girls and got them to stop arguing over a fucking PlayStation.
He missed his life.
Driving out to a dive bar in Bakersfield had become more and more tempting, if doing so wouldn't put the ability to see his kids into jeopardy.
He had to contact his sponsor and track down a meeting.
Stat.
xx
Detention had dragged on for an equal length of time as awaiting detention had.
Figuring she could utilize the time in detention to get her homework done and read her novel, she had brought out all necessary supplies.
Only to be told that in detention, they sat.
Just sat.
She tried to ask why she couldn't be allowed to at least read.
She was shushed and warned that if she spoke again, her detention would continue the next day.
"Adrianna McKay got detention."
"Did you know you can't do anything in detention?" asked Adrianna, walking down the steps arm-in-arm with Naomi to meet Kai. "I tried to read and they said it would earn me another detention!"
"I think that's kind of the point of detention, Ade," said Naomi. "And who cares? So we spent a couple hours staring at the wall. I've had worse."
"It is a complete waste of time," said Adrianna. "I could have had half of my assignments done by now."
"But Ty's cute, isn't he?" asked Naomi.
"Which one was Ty?" asked Adrianna.
"The guy sitting behind you, who kept talking and adding to his detentions," said Naomi.
"So a guy in secondary," said Adrianna. "Are we off of guys in uni already?"
"What's secondary, again?" asked Naomi.
"High school," said Kai, pointing to the building.
"Oh yeah, I knew that," said Naomi. "I'm keeping my options open."
"Which Ty are we talking about?" asked Kai.
Ty Collins, said Naomi.
"Yeah, no," said Kai. "You two are both staying far, far away from Ty Collins."
"Okay, Dad," said Naomi. "And why should we listen to you?"
"Idunno, Naomes," said Kai, "maybe the fact that he was arrested for drug possession might have something to do with why?"
"He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time," said Naomi. "Everyone knows Ty Collins isn't like that."
"Drugs?" asked Adrianna. "He does drugs?"
"Sells them," said Kai.
"Hearsay," said Naomi. Her multiple bracelets jangled at the flick of her wrist. "The po-po didn't find any drugs when they searched his house."
"Don't say I didn't warn you," said Kai.
"You probably knew drug users and sellers, Ade, didn't you? I bet the theatre is full of them," said Naomi.
"Do you use, Naomes?" asked Adrianna.
"Me? Oh fuck no. I'm a lightweight. I can barely drink without my parents finding out," said Naomi. "They'd kill me. Then Aunt Silver would kill me. Uncle David would be next, followed by Aunt Donna, assuming your parents don't get involved, and that's if Nana didn't get to me first and force me to go to one of her meetings. I like my life way too much to take that kind of risk. I just don't judge anyone who likes a little recreational activity. But your Nana; she does them, doesn't she? I mean, just a little bit?"
"You think Nana does drugs?"
"Doesn't she?" asked Kai.
"Nana Iris does not do drugs," said Adrianna.
"Really?" asked Naomi. "I figured it was in her wheelhouse. Have you tried them? Ruby said she did pot once, but it made her so sick that she swore off of it forever."
"Is that something Ruby would have been okay with you telling me?" asked Adrianna.
"She would've told you herself eventually, anyway," said Naomi. "And I know Grandpa did them, once upon a time."
"Grandpa? Are we talking about the same Jim Walsh?"
"The man was a hippie, Ade. He definitely did them, and I'm pretty sure Grandma did, too."
Adrianna could not picture her straightlaced, Midwest-born, Presbyterian-raised grandparents engaging in any kind of drug-related activity.
She failed to imagine her Grandpa Jim as a hippie at all.
A shout came from an open car window.
"Ade! Aunt Val's taking me to the arcade, but you can't go on account of you took too long to get into the car!"
"Cal, be nice to your sister," said Valerie.
"Why?" asked Callie. "She never is."
"Where's Mum?" asked Adrianna as she and Naomi slid into the back of Valerie Malone's tiffany blue Prius.
"Your Mum had a meeting," said Valerie. "I said I'd pick you girls up and take you shopping like you wanted, but I also told Cal I'd take her to the arcade and now we don't have time to do both. Cal and I have been waiting much longer than Bren said we would. I did text you."
"I'm sorry," said Adrianna. "If I'd been able to use my mobile, I would have texted that Naomes and I were detained."
"Detained?" asked Valerie.
"She meant delayed," said Naomi. "You know those British words; always meaning something different than the American words. Right, Ade? We were delayed?" She nudged Adrianna.
"Too right," said Adrianna. "Delayed. Hiya, Christy."
"Hi, Ade!" said Christy Carmichael, who Adrianna often wished had been her little sister instead of Callie.
Valerie asked them to choose between shopping and a trip to the arcade.
A unanimous decision was made for the arcade.
Raising her sunglasses to the top of her head, Valerie called out the window. "Come on, Kai; I'll take you."
"I'm waiting for Navid," said Kai. "He texted and said the staff meeting should be done soon."
"Your Dad getting you, then?" asked Val.
"This new kid, Dixon," said Kai. "He's had his license for awhile and Navid and I scored rides off of him."
"You'll call me later so I know you got home okay?"
Kai assured he would.
Assuming they were in the clear, Adrianna almost forgot about her slip-up until Valerie mentioned it whilst Callie and Christy were caught up in a game of Skee-Ball.
"So," said Val, "your first detention. What did you do, and why do I think Naomes influenced it?"
"Adrianna!" Naomi whined. "We could have gotten away with it!"
"Let me guess," said Val, "you were going to have Steve forge Brandon's signature?"
"Damn, you're good," said Naomi.
"You'd think you would have picked up on that by now," said Val, though she did so in the loving way of an aunt teasing her niece. "Tell me what you girls did and I'll consider whether it warrants telling your parents."
"That won't entice us to tell you," said Naomi.
"I could just tell them," said Val.
Naomi and Valerie engaged in a staring contest that Naomi lost.
"Fine," Naomi elongated the word. "I told a teacher he was hot and –"
"Mega hot," said Adrianna. "I believe your exact words were mega hot."
"I told a teacher he was mega hot," said Naomi.
Valerie asked Adrianna to confirm whether Naomi's statement about the teacher had been factual.
"I guess some people might find him hot?" said Adrianna.
"And what did you get in trouble for, Ade?" asked Val.
"I corrected the same teacher on his blatant disrespect of an author," said Adrianna.
"Blatant disrespect?" Valerie asked Naomi.
"Something about him not finishing the author's last name," said Naomi. "I dunno; she'd lost me by that point."
"The name is Miguel de Cervantes," said Adrianna. "He said Cervantes. Not de Cervantes. That's like, disrespecting the entire population of Spaniards. It's like saying someone's surname is Ríordáin when it's Ó Ríordáin. Venezia when it's DeVenezia. Campenhausen when it's von Campenhausen –"
"So basically," Valerie interrupted – which Adrianna thought might have been for the best, as she would have certainly continued her tangent, "Naomi got detention for saying a teacher was mega hot the way Kelly probably did loads of times and Adrianna got detention for telling a teacher exactly what both of her parents would have?"
"That sums it up," said Naomi. "There's also the whole bit of me telling him I was Naomi Clark, instead of Walsh. He didn't like that much."
"Using a fake name," said Val. "Bren and I used to do that. I'd say I was Valerie Walsh and she'd say she was Brenda Malone. Though you probably shouldn't know that Ade, so forget you heard it. Alrighty girls, hand over your slips."
"You're the coolest, Aunt Val," said Naomi.
"Yeah, yeah. Make sure you tell Steve that the next time he tries to say he's the coolest one of all of us."
Adrianna observed Valerie sign her detention slip, but it wasn't the detention slip that weighed on her mind.
"What kind of meeting did Mum have?" she asked.
"Just a meeting," said Val. "We're going home in about an hour, so if you want to get your money's worth, I'd say it's best for you to start playing now."
"Bumper cars," said Naomi. "Let's go kick some guy's a – buttocks."
"Buttocks?" Valerie cracked up. "You went from ass to buttocks?"
"It was the first word I could think of!" said Naomi.
"I've got a lot of work to do with you, Naomes," said Val.
"That's what Uncle David said you'd say," said Naomi.
"David?" Valerie's entire demeanor changed, which piqued Adrianna's interest considerably. "He was talking about me?"
"Last time I got a detention," said Naomi. "He said you would say you'd have a lot of work to do with me, since I got caught and all."
"Is David, ah, still in Bangkok?" asked Val.
"You didn't hear?" asked Naomi. "He came back from his sabbatical."
"He's my teacher for music," said Adrianna.
"He is?" asked Val. "Good," she said, almost in a daze. "That's good. I'm sure Ruby is glad to have him back."
"She is," said Naomi, raising an eyebrow at Adrianna.
"Aunt Val, should I get you a glass of water?" asked Adrianna.
"Huh?" asked Val.
"Water," said Naomi, adding in unnecessary "d"s to the word as she always did.
"Water," said Adrianna, more slowly to emphasize the "t" in the word.
"Water," Naomi said stubbornly.
"Oh no, I'm fine. Fine," said Val.
The more she heard the adults claim they were fine when they clearly were not, the more irked Adrianna became by their mendacity.
With Naomi in the driver's seat, Adrianna attempted to enjoy herself.
Attempted.
"Aunt Val's being secretive about Mum's meeting. Did you catch that?" asked Adrianna.
"Besides being secretive about whatever she and Uncle David did before he left for Bangkok?" asked Naomi, successfully bumping cars more than being bumped by cars.
"What makes you think they did something?" asked Adrianna.
"You saw her face. That's the face of a woman who did something. Or the face of a woman who wants to do something. Do you think that's why Uncle David went to Bangkok?"
"I'm more focused on the fact that Aunt Val's hiding something about my Mum, and I don't like it."
"It probably isn't that big of a deal."
"Then why is she being so secretive?"
"I don't know, maybe because that's just how Aunt Val is?"
"It's because of the meeting. Whatever meeting Mum had, Aunt Val doesn't want me to know."
"What kind of meeting could Auntie Bren have had that Aunt Val doesn't want you to know about?"
"A divorce lawyer," said Adrianna. "She met with a divorce lawyer. She's filing for divorce. Naomes, we have to fix this immediately!"
She missed London.
She missed her dad.
She missed dodging her parents at school when they snogged for all to see and then complaining about their snogging in the car whilst her dad told Adrianna she should be grateful her parents were still besotted with each other after all their years together.
She missed her life.
"We don't know she met with a divorce lawyer," said Naomi.
"Then why is Aunt Val being so secretive?" asked Adrianna.
"I dunno; maybe she doesn't want you to worry."
"Oh my God, Mum's in hospital."
"Now hang on, I'm pretty sure if your mom's in the hospital, Aunt Val would've brought us there instead of the arcade. You can't jump from divorce lawyer to hospital. There's loads of other meetings Auntie Bren could've had. Loads. When's Uncle Dylan supposed to get the results?"
"Today," said Adrianna. "I don't know if I want to know them."
"Auntie Bren's working tonight, isn't she?"
"Yeah, I think she'll be home for a bit, but then she has to go to set."
"So ask her if you can go to Kai's and then we'll make sure you don't think about the results at all or what kind of meeting your mom might've had. Navid will be there. I can guarantee it."
"Yeah, and?"
"He has a crush on you."
"What? He does not!"
"Oh come on, Ade, it couldn't be more obvious. The guy has a massive crush on you."
"He's just a nice guy."
"With a crush."
"Well Dad said I can't date until I'm forty, so."
"You're going to swear by a joke your dad made to my dad when we were nine? Didn't you date anyone abroad?"
"I mean, we went out a couple times, but nothing serious."
"But kissing? You've had your first kiss. Right?"
Valerie informing them that it was time to go saved Adrianna from her answer that no, she had not had her first kiss.
She had nearly experienced one with her best mate since childhood, Aiden Gibson; a moment which had been interrupted by the unwelcome news of Adrianna's impending move.
"Okay," said Naomi, "but just tell me, if I'm looking for someone to be your first kiss, am I looking for a guy or a girl?"
"No one," said Adrianna. "You're looking for no one. I've got too much going on in my life to even think about dating any guys."
"Who said you have to date to kiss?" asked Naomi.
"Did you not just break up with your longtime boyfriend, again?" asked Adrianna.
"Touché," said Naomi. "But take it from someone who knows; sometimes, you get someone to be your first kiss so you can get it out of the way and say you've had it."
"I don't want to 'get it out of the way.'"
"Your life." Naomi tightly closed her lips as her shoulders went into a small shrug.
Navid Shirazi didn't have a crush on her.
He couldn't have a crush on her.
She would have noticed if he did, the way she had picked up on it with Aiden.
"Thanks, Naomes; now I'm going to be totally awkward around Navid."
"You remembered his name; that's a good first step."
"It sounds so awful when you say it like that."
"It'll only be awful if you continue forgetting it, now that you'll be seeing him every day."
Adrianna asked Naomi if she wanted to pop into Valerie's for a bit before Naomi went to Kai's, as a weekend baking frenzy had left an array of desserts for Naomi's pleasure.
"Auntie Bren's desserts?" asked Naomi. "Sign me up!"
Callie and Adrianna began arguing the moment they stepped foot into the house, mostly over the logistics of where they could hang out, as neither wanted to be in the same room as the other.
Christy, an only child, informed Callie that Callie would have been lonely without a sibling. Callie said Christy was more than welcome to take Adrianna home and ensure Adrianna never returned.
"Well, you're adopted," Adrianna told Callie.
"Am not!" said Callie. "Mum said I wasn't!"
"Mum doesn't know you were, but you were," said Adrianna; though, as she had been attempting to convince Callie for years of Callie's faux adoption, she didn't expect her sister to suddenly begin believing her claim.
"Nuh-uh," said Callie. "I've seen pictures. Mum was huge."
"That was her other baby," said Adrianna, knowing full well that there had not been another baby. "They just found you. Actually, Nana Iris found you in a monastery deep in the Himalayas and brought you home, so you could've been beamed down here by aliens."
"See what I put up with?" Callie told Christy.
"See what I put up with?" Adrianna told Naomi.
"If it helps any, Cal," said Naomi, "Sammy's also told me multiple times that I was adopted; which, sometimes I wished I was. Except I wished that I had been adopted by your parents."
"If anyone's the alien, it's my sister," said Callie.
"Speak for yourself," said Adrianna.
"I did speak for myself," said Callie. "You're an alien."
"Girls, stop calling each other aliens or I will have to tell your mother."
"Yes, Aunt Val," said Adrianna and Callie in unison.
"Go back to your planet," Callie murmured under her breath.
"I'm on my planet," Adrianna murmured in return. "Go back to yours."
As much of a nuisance as her sister was, arguing with Callie did help Adrianna in one area.
It helped her to cease her speculation about her mother's meeting, and what it meant for the future of her parents.
Until her argument with Callie had ended, at which point Adrianna resumed her speculation. She repeatedly drew the same conclusion.
Divorce lawyer.
Her life had become an utter nightmare.
xx
She hadn't checked her mobile all day.
She knew she should have. The girls might have tried to contact. Their schools may have attempted a call.
Calista and Adrianna were both well-behaved students. Their schools wouldn't have called.
She couldn't take another sympathetic text from Donna, however well-intentioned the texts were. She could only read her brother curse her husband out so many times. Steve's jokes had stopped being funny. Andrea's quotes of the empowerment of single women had made her glad Andrea lived on the other side of the country. As much love as she had for David, she would block him if he pleaded Dylan's case one more time.
The gang across the pond hadn't helped, either, mainly because she couldn't bring herself to admit to them how horribly her life had fallen apart since she had departed her beloved London.
She had avoided the messages from her cousins entirely.
It had been the perfect time for Erica to go off-the-grid and for Iris to disappear into yet another secluded retreat. They couldn't join the throng of people asking how she was handling everything.
How was she supposed to handle it? she wondered.
Clinical depression. Had that been all she had been diagnosed with, she could have handled it.
She had never previously been diagnosed with clinical depression, but it wasn't a new element in her life.
"Hello?"
"It's me."
"Hi, honey. What happened to your phone?"
"I'm taking a break from it. The office was nice enough to let me use theirs. Did you get the girls?"
"Yes, they're home, safe and sound. Naomi's currently raiding the fridge. Must've heard about your baking frenzy, which is interesting, since I'm pretty damn sure I remember Naomes informing us on Friday that she's on a diet."
"That girl does not need a diet. Adrianna and Calista?"
"Arguing over the PlayStation."
"Ade gets twenty minutes, Callie gets the next twenty, then they'll switch."
"I know the drill, Bren."
"Christy?"
"She's letting them duke it out," Valerie joked. "How are you feeling?"
"From the pneumonia that's been kicking my ass?"
"You know what I mean. You're diverting. How'd it go?"
"What'd you tell them?"
"Just that you had a meeting. Results?"
"It's a nice day to walk. I think I'll walk back. The sun is glorious. It's like it's brand-new. Might do wonders to finally rid me of this pneumonia."
"Oh no you don't. It's a fucking two hour walk. This isn't London. I'm coming to get you."
"But the kids -"
"I can have Donna over here in two seconds flat."
"Alright." Brenda skimmed over the book titles on the shelves, as she always did to determine the personalities of those around her. "I'll see you soon."
"Sooner than soon," said Val.
Brenda thanked the office for use of their landline and glanced at her pitch-black mobile screen.
The results had come in today, hadn't they?
She should turn her mobile back on, in case they had been negative.
She should leave it off, if they had been positive.
Leaving her mobile off, she sat heavily on a park bench to listen to the wind waltz through the trees.
How long had it been since they had listened to the aria of the wind on the back of his bike?
Seven weeks, six days, twelve hours, thirty-two minutes, nineteen seconds since he had touched her.
Seven weeks, five days, sixteen hours, twenty-eight minutes, six seconds since she had spoken to him.
Seven weeks, three days, eight hours, fifty minutes, twelve seconds since she had moved into Valerie's.
Seven weeks, five days, eight hours, fifty minutes, twelve seconds since her heart had disintegrated.
She would have to speak to him. They did share children. She wouldn't put them through a messy divorce the way his parents had put him through one.
Divorce. Such an ugly, final word for a relationship that had started a lifetime ago.
They had been married far longer than they had been apart.
How was she going to divorce him?
How could she remain married to him?
"Honey?"
Brenda looked up. All the tears she had kept caged spilt over.
"Oh, honey." Valerie sat to embrace her.
"I couldn't do it, Val," said Brenda. "I went in there, convinced I was ready, convinced it was the best thing for – for all of us, and – and all I could think of was the girls. Dylan. The look on his face when he held both of them for the first time, when we – when we saw their shapes and I – I couldn't do it. I'm selfish. I'm so selfish," she cried, burrowing her face into her hands.
"You're not selfish, babe. Not at all," said Val, removing Brenda's hands from Brenda's face. "You're the most selfless person I know, except for maybe Donna."
"We did everything right," said Brenda. "After years of fucking it up on both of our ends -"
"Mostly his," said Val.
" – we did everything right. We travelled. We married. We had two children; two beautiful, amazing, crazy intelligent children. Adrianna and Calista; they were raised in a loving, two-parent home, just like Dylan and I told each other they would be. And yeah, maybe it wasn't a white-picket fence, but we had a garden; a lovely back garden, our own little secret garden."
"You've been a wonderful mother to them, Bren. And however much I hate Dylan right now, I won't deny he's a good dad."
"A good dad?"
"A fucking fantastic dad, alright? Certainly a hundred thousand times better than mine. But that doesn't make him any less shitty. Or make me hate him any less."
"You don't hate him."
"How'd you put it? I wish I could hate him?"
"What kind of life am I giving this child?" asked Brenda. "What kind of environment am I bringing them into?"
"You have a choice, Bren. Do you want me to go in there with you? I know you wanted to do it alone, but maybe having the physical support will help?"
"It won't, Val. I can't do it. I just can't do it."
"Then don't."
"How can I carry a baby when I'm recovering from pneumonia and battling clinical depression?"
"I mean," Val rubbed Brenda's shoulder, "I did."
"You did it as a favor for a friend," said Brenda. "A grieving friend who had just lost his wife in a horrible accident. That isn't the same as me being selfish."
"Would you stop calling yourself selfish? Stop thinking about all the shit and decide. Do you want this baby, or not?"
"I do," said Brenda. The answer had come to her faster than she had anticipated after all the determination she had mustered up to walk into the clinic.
"Then we figure out our next steps," said Valerie. "If you need me to fake a pregnancy to keep this hidden from Dylan, I will. Wouldn't be the first pregnancy I've faked to an asshat of a guy."
"I appreciate the offer," Brenda forced a slight smile. "But I'm going to tell him. I'll have to tell him. I'm – I've already started to – to show a bit and if – if it's anything like with Callie, I'm going to puff out soon and – and the girls will pick up on something. Ade; you know how astute she is. I can't let Dylan hear about this from her; or, God forbid, the tabloids."
The red carpets. The entertainment shows. Awards shows. Interviews. There was always the possibility that it would be written into the script.
There were a million ways he could find out. All of those ways were precisely how she did not want him to find out.
"I just – he's going to want to be there for everything, as – as he should be, and I – I don't know how I can handle being around him so often but not be with him, you know?"
"Let me ease one of your stressors. You and the girls can stay with me for as long as you like."
"Val, you know I love you, but if I'm going to get through this, I need to stand on my own two feet. I'll start looking for a place for me and the kids."
"Just make sure it's a place nearby, and one of us is close enough to get to you quick in an emergency. Don't think I've forgotten how difficult your pregnancy was with Callie. We're gonna keep this one as close as possible to how it was with Ade, even if we have to force bed rest on you."
Brenda lay her head on Valerie's shoulder. "I'll find something in one of your neighborhoods," she said.
"You are going to get through this, Bren. You are."
"Just keep telling me that."
"As many times as it takes until you believe it."
"I miss him, Val."
"I know you do, honey."
"I'm so tired."
"Rest your eyes for a minute, and then I'll take you home."
Home wasn't Val's.
Home was London.
Home was tainted.
The girls, Brenda told herself. The girls are home.
Every reason she had concocted to convince herself that a move back to Los Angeles was the best idea for the girls seemed more moronic by the day.
God, how she wanted to be in her dressing room in the Old Vic, engaging in the usual early evening playtime.
She missed London.
She missed Dylan.
She missed Dylan leaning over to the passenger side to snog her as a way to successfully end the girls' fights and get them to agree about how much they hated to see their parents snog with an emphasis on how detrimental it was to their mental wellbeings as well as, quite possibly, their respective popularities.
She missed her life.
Brenda turned on her mobile, in the event that there had been calls about the girls, or if Adrianna herself had called.
The results came in, she read in the notification pop-up on the lockscreen. It's mine.
Ignoring an array of other texts and voicemails, she promptly shut her mobile back off.
"Bren?" Valerie glanced across the car.
"He's the father," said Brenda.
"Oh God. Oh honey, I'm so sorry."
"But he – he didn't sleep with her. I know him. He didn't."
"I've pulled every manipulation there is, Bren. Every scheme you can think of, I've probably done. Every lie you can create, I already have. I have been wracking my brain since you told me about all of this shit and try as I might, I cannot think of a single way he could knock her up without sleeping with her. Trust me, if I could think of one, I would tell you in a heartbeat. And…I mean, babe, I hate to rip open old wounds, but…you know this wouldn't be the first time. Do I have to remind you of all the women that man has cheated on, including you?"
"We – we were kids," said Brenda. The excuse seemed pathetic, even to her.
"They do say once a player, always a player and as a past player myself, I do think I'm qualified to say that."
"Yeah. Maybe you're right."
Or maybe Gina's more manipulative than Val ever was, thought Brenda.
She berated herself for judging a woman she barely knew.
It wasn't Gina's fault Dylan had slammed back a glass.
It wasn't Gina's fault Brenda hadn't known about that glass until Gina had come around.
She should thank Gina for revealing the cracks in her marriage Brenda had been unaware were there.
I don't want to get too attached, Brenda thought. It's been eleven years since Callie and I'm not as young –
"What am I doing, Val? I can't do this. I can't." Brenda began to panic. "We need to turn around. I'm gonna – I'm gonna be hospitalized, and the girls can't see me like…oh my God, what if I lose…"
"Brenda! Calm down!" Valerie pulled over to take Brenda by the shoulders. Brenda closed her eyes, breathed in, then opened her eyes to look at Val. "If you want to go back, if you truly want to go back and make another appointment, we will. If you want to hold my hand through it, you can. But if you overread on the fucking statistics and are now jumping to every worst-case scenario, then let me remind you of Nat's wife. You're much younger than Joanie was. Women thirty-five and older have successfully done this plenty of times, including your aunt Paula."
Aunt Paula. She hadn't thought of Aunt Paula.
"How do you know what I've been reading?" asked Brenda.
"You act like I don't know you. So what are we doing, Bren? Are we turning around?"
"No." Brenda curled her legs underneath her. "I guess not," she gave a dramatic sigh.
She had purposely chosen a clinic outside of Beverly Hills to avoid encountering any acquaintances or people acquainted with her acquaintances. The clinic's proximity to Santa Monica hadn't crossed her mind at the time of scheduling.
The memories that arose of the first time she and Dylan had taken the girls to Santa Monica threatened to drown her.
London wouldn't have been any better.
Neither would Cork. Paris. Vienna. Berlin. Naples. Tokyo. Dubai. Jaipur. Johannesburg. Kisumu. Adelaide. Canberra. Wellington. Cartagena. Santiago. Baja.
Fucking Baja.
The list of cities she could visit without invoking memories of Dylan was small enough to fit onto a napkin, which continued to shrink if she crossed out every city they had discussed for potential future visits.
That didn't begin to cover the various towns and villages.
"You craved chocolate milk a lot with Callie, didn't you?" asked Val.
"So much so that Shane joked I was singlehandedly responsible for the production of the chocolate milk industry and bought Callie her little brown cow," said Brenda. "Why?"
Had they unpacked Callie's stuffed Highland cow? Brenda hadn't seen it since London.
Had they left it in London?
"Are you craving any now? Should I get some?"
"I think Callie's almost out. But now that you mention it, we need more fruit for Ade's smoothies – she's all about the mango passionfruit this week – and I could definitely use a ginger ale."
"Grocery store it is," said Val.
"I don't know how I'm going to tell Brandon about this," Brenda groaned. "He's going to flip out. I can't even get him to unblock Dylan's number."
"I don't know why you want him to unblock Dylan's number."
"I never wanted my relationship with Dylan to come between them, Val. Never. Dylan and I might be over, but he and Brandon don't have to be."
"Lots of things have come between them," said Val. "And I would've kicked Brandon's ass if he chose Dylan's side over yours, again."
"That isn't going to make telling Brandon any easier."
"Tell him the same way I told him. Bran, I'm pregnant. Congratulations, you are not the father."
For the first time in what seemed an incredibly long stretch of time, Brenda heartily laughed.
She was cloaked in a bit more confidence as she put away the groceries.
She had a plan. A goal. A list of rentals to check. Plenty of money in the bank for a downpayment.
"Mum, can I go over to Kai's?" asked Adrianna. Enough of her head peeked around the kitchen wall that Brenda could see the tiny bit of hair that had escaped from Adrianna's ponytail.
Hair so reminiscent of his.
"Will Steve be there?" asked Brenda.
"Yes, Mum," said Adrianna. "Kai said his pool hasn't been covered yet and Uncle Steve said we can swim in it as long as we like, as long as you say it's okay. Please? Pretty please, with Jelly Babies and Bourbon Creams and Knickerbocker glories on top?"
A Knickerbocker glory sounded damn good right about then.
Going down to Wetherspoons and getting a Knickerbocker with the London gang sounded even better, maybe with a cheeky Nando's on the side.
Fuck, if she kept thinking about food, she was going to hurl all over the kitchen floor.
"Will Kai be the only boy there?" asked Brenda.
"Him, and his friend Navid."
"Is that the nice lad Kai's hung around since second grade? He's always been so polite and helpful."
"Yes, that's him."
"I still need to get his mother's recipe for TahDig. I cannot perfect that as hard as I try and hers was out-of-this-world fantastic."
"I doubt I'll get it out of him, but I'll try. Naomes is coming too, of course. Ruby; I mean, that's a given. And we invited this new girl along; well, Kai invited her along. She's bringing her brother, too, so I guess that makes a third guy."
"A new girl?" asked Brenda.
"A Missouri girl. I didn't know Missourians come out of the wild."
"Your Minnesotan great-grandparents would be appalled you said that."
"Should I apologize for thinking it?"
"The one time I met a Missourian was in Zurich and I grew up in Minnesota, so you're forgiven."
"Then I can go?"
"As long as Steve is there, you can go. But if he leaves at any point -"
"I'll make sure another adult is around or go home. Yeah, yeah. I know. We'll probably pop 'round the Pit afterwards. Should we pick you up something?"
"Give my love to Nat, but I'm fine, Ade. I ate too much at lunch and I'm still feeling it," Brenda fibbed. "Love you millions."
"Love you millions more, Mum."
Kelly had often told Brenda how envious she was of Adrianna's ability to reciprocate Brenda's affection.
Naomi, Kelly would complain, practically had to force it out, and isn't Ade around all of those stiff, upper-lipped people all the time?
Brenda thought it may have had something to do with the independence she and Dylan had permitted Adrianna from a younger age.
Not that Kelly had quite reached the helicopter mom stage, not like Donna had.
Stiff, upper-lipped people were rarer in the McKays' circle of friends than Kelly had presumed, a circle that had covered each of the four countries within the United Kingdom, and parts of Ireland.
That circle had stretched far beyond the United Kingdom.
Brenda missed every single one of their mates.
"Are you alright?"
She quickly shoved the circled listings into her purse.
"I take it you're my new assistant?" she asked.
"Debbie Wilson."
Debbie had a warm, friendly air about her, with a nude-painted smile that reminded Brenda of her mother's.
"Are you accustomed to late hours like this?" asked Brenda.
"No, but I'm sure I can get used to it," said Debbie. "I really appreciate you giving me a chance."
"You did come highly recommended from the temp agency," said Brenda. "I trust you know that discretion is of the utmost importance when it comes to me and my family?"
"Secret keeper is my middle name," said Debbie.
"That extends to my brother, his family, and anyone we consider family, as well," said Brenda. "It'll be harder for you to keep Donna Hardell's secrets, since she can barely keep her own, but I trust you will."
"Donna Hardell? Not Paris Fashion Week's Donna Hardell?"
"You'll find there are many names of recognition amongst the family of myself and my," Brenda hoped Debbie didn't notice the way she tripped over the word, "my husband."
"My daughter is a huge fan of yours and your husband's," said Debbie. "I'm sure that will come up at some point, so it's better if I just say it now."
Brenda asked the age of Debbie's daughter.
"I have two children," said Debbie. "Annie and Dixon. They're both sixteen."
"So's my Adrianna," said Brenda. "Are Annie and Dixon twins?"
"They tend to act like it," said Debbie, "but actually, Dixon was adopted."
"Oh," said Brenda, stunned that Debbie would reveal private information right off the bat.
"It's no secret," said Debbie. "We made sure he knew as soon as he was old enough to understand. Harry and I agreed from the start that we would give Dixon the option of whether he wants to meet his birth mother. It's not up to us to control that."
"One of my closest friends is adopted," said Brenda. "Kind of. He's more like an older brother than a friend. He swears he'll be hanging around set a lot, so I'm sure you'll meet him. Though I did warn him that if he asks any of the actresses for a threesome, he's banned from set."
Debbie's reaction reminded Brenda of the wholesome upbringing her own family had initially brought with them to California.
"His own experience with finding his birth mother didn't go quite as he planned," said Brenda, "but perhaps he can help Dixon with his search, should Dixon choose to go that route."
"We would appreciate it enormously," said Debbie. "Can I ask you something?" she hedged. "Something that may be a little more personal?"
Have you decided whether you're getting a divorce? Brenda imagined Debbie asking. Are you aware that your jeans have stopped fitting? Did you have an appointment with a clinic today? You weren't able to follow through? Brenda Analiese McKay, what are you planning to do?
"Why did you leave London?" asked Debbie. "Annie says you had a thriving career there."
"My husband was raised here," said Brenda. "Enough of our family is here that we thought it might be good for the girls to spend more time around them, and both of our parents aren't getting any younger. When it got to the point that my career could thrive anywhere, when his career could thrive anywhere, we decided it was time."
"We did the same," said Debbie. "Moved for family, though we would have moved to Arizona if I hadn't been offered this job."
"Should we talk more about your duties now?" asked Brenda. "I must first warn you this will all be new for me at first. I've had the same assistant throughout my entire career and she's been with me through all the ups and downs of it. Mostly ups, thankfully."
Brenda couldn't resent Marnie's decision to remain in London when life in London was the only life Marnie had ever known.
When Marnie's longtime girlfriend had just been offered a promotion within ITV.
"I have zero tolerance for inappropriate behavior on set, with the cast or the crew," said Brenda. "I am not above stopping filming if I see it being done and I've been called a diva at times because of this. You will, of course, have to field calls from most reporters. I will provide you with the approved list of select publications. If anyone from People calls, you hang up immediately. I still haven't forgiven them for the hit piece they did on my brother when he was running for Senate. Same goes for Star Magazine, and let's add the National Enquirer and Tattler, whilst we're at it. Most of the menial and personal tasks, I'll handle myself, but I may need you to bring the girls to and from their activities here and there until Adrianna gets her license. No one is permitted into my dressing room unless they have been previously approved. No coffee runs; I don't like it."
That was an easy lie. Perhaps too easy of a lie.
Debbie furiously clacked away at her laptop.
"And," Brenda bit the corner of her lip, carefully choosing her words, "sorry, but do you have more blazers like that at home?"
Debbie looked at the arm of her pressed blazer. "Is there something wrong with it?" she asked.
"No," said Brenda. "No, it's a perfectly fine blazer. But, well, my team has to have a certain – a certain appearance. Otherwise, it looks like I don't pay you enough, and the media has a field day when they think an established actress' team isn't being paid enough."
"I can assure you, I'm definitely getting paid well-enough," said Debbie. "Harry's eyes practically flew out of his head when I showed him the estimated salary amount."
"Nevertheless," said Brenda, "one of our first stops will be wardrobe. I'm sure one of the stylists has access to help you curate an incredible wardrobe, free-of-charge, and if they don't, I have access to all of the top designers. Again, free-of-charge."
"I couldn't allow you to do that…"
"You'll be going on a lot of red carpets, Debbie. Believe me; I was never into fashion that much myself –" still aren't, Brenda thought; Kel's had to drill into me the importance of always being camera-ready and Don's limited the amount of times I can wear ties to formal events, "but in this business? It's better to pretend you are."
It's better to pretend a lot of things, thought Brenda.
Pretend leaving London wasn't the worst mistake of my fucking life.
Pretend I don't just want to crawl into bed right now and crash until morning.
Pretend this wave of nausea isn't trying to overtake me at eight o'clock in the fucking evening.
"Any questions?" asked Brenda.
"I'll separate my home life from my work life, but I have to ask. Could Annie possibly meet you? When I say it would make her entire life, I'm not exaggerating."
"I'll arrange an invitation for her to the set."
"You've just ensured that Annie will think her mom is the coolest. Thank you."
"It's no bother, truly. If she'd like to meet my husband, as well, I can work it out with his schedule. I'm sure he won't mind."
Do I call him my husband? Brenda asked herself. He isn't my ex-husband, not yet. Should I call him my children's father? That sounds so callous, like he never meant anything to me. Dylan? Do I just call him Dylan?
Seventeen years as his wife, and it's come to this.
"Right then," said Brenda, "we'll draw up for you a more concrete schedule based on your availability, but tonight, are you able to stay until four?"
"Four? In the morning?"
"They want to re-shoot one of the scenes, and the director insists we have to wait until four for the perfect shot. That's another thing. Your hours will be largely consistent, but you may need to work odd hours and some weekends."
"The agency did tell me that," said Debbie. "Does your dislike of coffee extend to disliking the smell of it? Because I may need a great deal of caffeine tonight."
Brenda gave a smile that had graced the pages of a plethora of magazine covers.
"Welcome to the team, Debbie Wilson," she said. "All the coffee you want, right at your fingertips."
Assuming drinking all that coffee won't make you as nauseous as it's making me thinking of it, thought Brenda.
She still hadn't turned her mobile back on.
There hadn't been a need for it.
She knew the girls were safe with their family.
She didn't need to read the rest of what he had texted.
She didn't need the calendar reminder of the anniversary of the second time she had told him of his impending fatherhood, an anniversary he had insisted on an annual celebration for ever since.
Just as he had also insisted on annual celebrations for the first time he had been told of his impending fatherhood, their first date, their first night of intimacy, the date of their reunion in the first decades of the noughties…
I miss him, thought Brenda. I really fucking miss him.
Worse, I love him. And I don't think I can ever stop, because I've never been able to stop before.
She had to.
Somehow, she had to find it within herself to find closure with Dylan McKay, once and for all; a closure that would allow for an amicable partnership in their co-parenting.
Perhaps that would be the first step to conquering her clinical depression, the first step to moving on with her life still intact.
As intact as it could be when she stood on the precipice of divorce with the boy who had once doubled as her teenage dream and nightmare.
The twentysomething bearing a forlorn stare at the gate before she had tightly closed the curtains.
The man who had given her a family.
The man who she thought had manifested her every dream into reality.
Instead of the hellish nightmare her life had once more become.
-x
Estimated between their London relationship and their marriage that it would probably be about twenty years of fidelity when they were together, so I went with it.
Line of dialogue that Gina quoted is taken from the Dylan and Gina scene at John Martin's funeral, seventeenth episode of the tenth season.
The question is, how many BD baby stories are too many BD baby stories? Lmao.
Sources: Google, Google Images; personal anecdotes, conversations, tastes, etc.
Unsure if all Wetherspoons have Knickerbocker glories. Last time I went to one, they did not, but in the time frame of this story, I was certainly enjoying Wetherspoons Knickerbocker glories...and now I want one. Dammit.
(Shout-out to KJ to express my continued gratitude and appreciation, as well as those of you whose review I could respond to directly. KJ, every time I get stuck rewatching Ade scenes or Naomi scenes, I always think about how they could have easily been cousins! When Ade has scenes with Bren, she looks like her mini. When Naomi has scenes with Kel, you see it there, too. There's a photo AnnaLynne has with Jennie and Jason and you can totally see it in that. This partial rewatch, though; it brought out this story idea. Ha! I considered whether to leave David and Donna together in this one, but...nah, you know I'm not about that life and them having a lasting marriage does not seem plausible to me, at all, based on family history. That doesn't mean they can't be amicably divorced co-parents, however! [BIL has those, so it's nice to know they can exist.] And I am apparently incapable of writing any multichap that doesn't incorporate Val, so our girl's involved yet again! It would have been fantastic to see her in scenes with Ade in-canon, especially with all the shit Ade went through reminiscent of some of Val's shit. I would have LOVED to see Steve interact with nieces or nephews. LOVE. On the plus side, at least the OG cast doesn't canonise the noughties one, either, which makes it entirely easy to rewrite, rewrite, rewrite.)
Thanks a million! x