Tiny Dancer Page 4

  On the other hand, he could see the man was in obvious need of a lifeline. “I’ll have a hamburger and a hot dog. The sausage will keep for another time.”

  Understanding dawned in Riordan’s dark eyes.

  “’Rella!” Baby Bertha demanded her patience at a complete end.

  “Yes, princess.” Faulkner hit the play button and the title princess started to dance with her prince. Faulkner started to wonder if Disney would ever make a movie where a prince got to dance with his prince. That may never happen, but maybe he was one step closer to dancing with a prince of his own after today.

  5

  Riordan

  They’d ended up staying at the party for far longer than Riordan intended. When the little ones got fussy, Carson brought them upstairs, Macy included, for naptime. He’d quickly set up one of the portable cribs in the center of the triplets’ room for her and they all got to sleep after a bit of baby banter, which the adults sat around watching on the monitor. Isla and Laurel had been in the living room watching Snow White and munching on snacks.

  Truman had fired up the grill again for dinner, this time making different types of wings. Riordan had wondered if Isla would eat them, but once she saw Laurel eating the Asian sticky wings, she’d joined in and loved them.

  “Daddy?” Isla poked his arm. “It was fun today.”

  He turned to his four-year-old. “You mean at Carson and Truman’s house?”

  Isla nodded. “I like all those uncles.” She snuggled closer to her father.

  Riordan was lying in Isla’s purple princess bed. They’d had bath time and read a few stories. He’d been trying to figure out how to ask her about what she’d said today about Stephen and also about Faulkner, when his mind had wandered back to the barbecue. He’d had a lot of fun with the uncles too.

  “Honey, there are some things I need to talk to you about.”

  Isla sat up in bed, pushing her comforter down. She narrowed her dark eyes on him. “Okay, shoot.”

  Damn… She looked and sounded just like Stephen when she said that. He cleared his throat. “You said this morning that Papa told you where your pink tights were for the recital. What did you mean?”

  “I couldn’t find my tights and you were acting all weird, so I asked Papa for help. He told me they were in the dryer and they were.”

  “What do you mean Papa told you they were in the dryer?” Obviously, they had been since Isla had found them in there, but how had she really known that?

  Isla raised her dark little eyebrows. She was the spitting image of his late husband with her dark hair and eyes. Stephen used to shoot him that look all the time when he said something ridiculous.

  “Daddy, Papa visits me from heaven. He says I’m still his little ladybug and if I ever need anything, all I have to do is ask him.”

  Riordan sat blinking at his daughter. He honestly didn’t know what to say to her.

  “I also asked him for Faulkner.” She smiled. It was sweet and full of innocence.

  “You asked Papa for Uncle Fuck?” Shit! He hadn’t meant to say that. Faulkner had been one of the things he’d wanted to talk to her about.

  Isla giggled. “No, Daddy! You’re so silly. I heard you tell Noni how much you loved Faulkner, so I told Papa. Maybe you’d start to smile and laugh again if Papa brought Faulkner to you. He did and I was right.” She folded her arms over her chest. A self-satisfied smile bloomed over her face. “You smiled and laughed all day.”

  His daughter had a point. He did have fun today. Faulkner Hayes was a big part of the reason for that, but how did he tell her that Uncle Fuck was the wrong Faulkner? “Isla, you know how Daddy has his own bedtime stories?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, the man who writes them is named William Faulkner. When you heard me telling Noni how much I love Faulkner, I was talking about the writer, not about Uncle Faulkner. You asked Papa for the wrong Faulkner. Do you understand?”

  Isla’s face scrunched into a frown. “You said you loved Faulkner. I asked Papa to send you Faulkner. Papa did and you laughed. I don’t think it was the wrong Faulkner at all.” Her self-satisfied smirk was back. “I think he’s the right Faulkner.”

  Riordan’s eyebrow shot toward his hairline. “Right for what?”

  “Right to make you laugh. To make you happy again. Papa wants you to be happy.” Isla yawned. She pressed forward to kiss Riordan’s cheek. “Goodnight, Daddy. I love you.” She snuggled down into her nest of blankets with a happy sigh.

  “Good night, princess.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, gently easing himself off the bed.

  Damn, he didn’t even have a chance to ask her about what had gone wrong at the recital today. Isla knew the steps by heart. She’d performed in recitals on stage before. What had made this one different? Riordan sighed. He’d have to ask her in the morning.

  He stopped by Macy’s room. The toddler had been exhausted from her day out. Not only had she danced on stage in his arms, but she’d spent the day playing with new friends. She’d gotten along well with the triplets. He hadn’t been sure at first how it was going to go, but Macy had jumped right in and enjoyed her day. They all ate together at the kids table, supervised by the great and powerful Uncle Fuck, err, Faulk.

  Even though the man had no kids of his own, he seemed to be a wiz with everyone else’s. There was even a point in the day when he’d been able to soothe a fussy Everly. The tiny redhead was adorable in Faulk’s massive arms. The only bad part about Faulk wrangling the kids was that it hadn’t given them much of a chance to talk. Wait! Did he want to talk to Faulkner?

  Backing out of Macy’s room, Riordan headed downstairs to the kitchen. He opened the fridge door shaking his head over the number of wine bottles he found there. Grabbing them two by two, he set them all by the sink. Uncorking them, he dumped what was left in each bottle down the sink before setting the empty bottles in the recycling bin. He felt instantly better about himself. The next thing he needed to tackle was the pile of laundry on Stephen’s side of the bed.

  It wasn’t any secret why there was always something piled up on the side of the bed where his husband used to sleep. It was still too painful for Riordan to even think about venturing back over to that side of the bed.

  When Stephen was still alive, they always slept curled up together on his side. An old throwback to their days in the dorms back at Salem State when they had to fit two male bodies in a single bed. Riordan was always the little spoon with Stephen’s left leg thrown over both of his.

  It had taken months for Riordan to be able to sleep in their bed again. Some night’s he’d fall asleep with Isla or on the sofa. After a firm talking to by his mother, he’d started sleeping in his own bed four months after Stephen passed. Maggie had insisted that Macy and Isla needed to see that he was healing. She stressed how good it would be for them to see him feeling better. He’d seen right through his mother’s lines. He knew this was what was best for him too.

  Sorting through the pile of laundry on his bed, he put away everything that belonged to him. All that was left on the bed were two piles that belonged to his girls. He grabbed Macy’s things under one arm, setting his left hand on Stephen’s closed closet door. He hadn’t been in there since the day of the funeral.

  Riordan had come home with a bag containing Stephen’s possessions. His cufflinks, watch, his Salem State Football ring, and his wedding ring. Riordan had put those things back in his jewelry box, right where Stephen kept them, as if he were going to walk in at any moment and put them back on. What to do with his rings was another matter. He’d never taken off the football ring from the day it was awarded to him until the day he died. Ditto with his wedding ring. Sometimes he’d push it around his finger with his left thumb, but it always stayed on his finger.

  Riordan had briefly debated wearing the rings on a chain around his neck, but hadn’t wanted to risk losing them. He settled instead for setting them on top of the jewelry box. He hadn’t seen either object
since the day he buried his husband. He knew a time would come when he’d have to clear out the closet, but that day wasn’t today.

  What today was, was the day he stopped soothing himself with wine and the day he reclaimed his entire bed.

  Stopping by Macy’s room, he left her clothes on her dresser. He looked in her crib and found her sleeping on her back, her ratty bear clutched in her hand. The bear had been a gift from Stephen. He knew at some point he should take it from her and replace it with another toy so he could save it for when she was older. It was only one of a handful of things she had left from her Papa.

  He was leery to take the toy away from her though, not wanting her to grieve its loss. Riordan smiled down at his sleeping daughter. He’d go to the ends of the earth to protect her. “Goodnight, love bug.”

  Riordan went back to his room to grab Isla’s pile of clothes. He couldn’t help thinking about her missing pair of tights this morning. Was she imagining conversations with Stephen because she missed him so much?

  The two of them had been so connected. Stephen was Isla’s biological dad. When they’d decided it was time to start a family, they’d flipped a coin to decide who would father the child. Stephen had called tails and it had come up heads. Riordan knew how much it meant to his husband to father their child, so he’d told a little white lie and said the coin had landed on tails.

  He would never forget Stephen’s reaction. He’d burst out cry-laughing and danced Riordan around the kitchen in the same way Isla danced around it now. When he was done celebrating, he’d asked Riordan for the quarter. His lucky quarter, Stephen had called it. He put it in his jewelry box where it still sat, tails up. It was the only lie he’d ever told Stephen over the course of their marriage. If he had it to do all over again, he wouldn’t change a thing.

  Leaving Isla’s clothes in her room, Riordan felt a sense of accomplishment, like he’d done something worthy today.

  The text jingle on his phone broke him out of his back-patting party. He hoped the message wasn’t from his assistant curator at the museum calling out sick tomorrow. He knew his mother would watch the girls if he had to go into work, but he hated asking when she did so much for him already.

  Picking up the phone, Riordan saw the message wasn’t from Ari Whitten, but was from a number he didn’t recognize. [Lunch for four tomorrow at the Rainforest Café? My treat. This is Faulk :D]

  Huh. That was a really nice offer. Isla had been asking to go to the rainforest-themed restaurant. They had animatronic animals and it rained inside to simulate the conditions of a real rainforest. Plus, there was a giftshop. He knew the toys would cost more than the meal. Why was Faulk offering to pay? Was this some kind of a date?

  His heart was hammering in his chest like he’d drunk half a dozen energy drinks. Was he freaking out because he wanted it to be a date or because he didn’t? [How did you get my number?] Riordan was stalling and he knew it. The question was, would Faulkner know it too?

  [I’m a detective, remember? ;)]

  Shit, was Faulk winking at him? There was none of this texting stuff when he and Stephen met back in college. He decided on a different tact. [Oh, so you asked Laurel’s Dad. Great detective work, Sherlock.]

  [You left before I could ask you myself. I had fun talking with you today and your girls are great. I thought it might be nice to get to know you better, as a friend.]

  As a friend, my big toe… Riordan had to admit asking Cole Craig for his number and then planning a family friendly activity was really sweet.

  The one thing Riordan needed right now was friends. All of the friends he and Stephen made started drifting away after the funeral. Some of them were couples Stephen had known through work or college. Others had been acquaintances of Riordan’s. Either way, couples didn’t seem to know what to do with a now single Riordan. Faulk was offering his friendship. He would be a fool not to grab at it with both hands.

  [What time?] Riordan was shitting a solid gold brick. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

  [Why don’t we meet there at noon tomorrow?]

  [Noon it is.] Riordan shot back before he lost the nerve.

  [Okay! I’m looking forward to seeing you and your tiny dancers!]

  How did he end this exchange? He was so bad at this. He sent back a smiley emoji and hoped that covered him. He was about to set the phone down on his nightstand when Stephen’s beside lamp flickered twice. “What the hell?”

  Figuring it was just a hiccup with the power, he relaxed back against his pillow and closed his eyes. All he could see was a vision of Faulkner’s face.

  6

  Faulkner

  He got to the restaurant half an hour early just in case. There was a brightly colored bench with a green tree frog standing next to it. That was where Faulk sat and waited for Riordan to get there with the girls.

  Faulk couldn’t help laughing at the other kids who got so excited when they saw the signature frog, the logo of the Rainforest Café.

  Faulkner still couldn’t believe Cole agreed to give him Riordan’s phone number.

  When he’d gotten home last night, the first thing he’d done was look up Riordan and Stephen Walker-Quinn. The story broke Faulk’s heart. The car accident that took Stephen from his family had been horrific and then the plea bargain the driver of the other car had been allowed to take had added insult to injury. Isla had been three and Macy was three months old. Faulk wasn’t afraid to admit his eyes had gone misty over the thought of what those girls had lost. Riordan too.

  Faulkner didn’t even know what he was doing here. All he knew was that he liked Riordan and his girls and this seemed like a fun, spur of the moment idea. He’d been up late googling family restaurants. He’d sent the text not knowing how Riordan would respond.

  As a father with two small children he hadn’t expected him to respond at all, figuring he’d already gone to bed. It had been a surprise when he’d written back and had been a little saucy to boot. Faulk liked his men with a little sass in them. Riordan Quinn had sass to spare.

  Squeals of delight pulled him out of his own thoughts. He could see Isla waving and calling out to him. Even Macy was shouting and reaching out to him from her stroller.

  Wow! That was a pretty humbling reaction. These people had all been strangers to him yesterday, now they were waving and yelling to him like he was beloved.

  “Hi, Uncle Faulk!” Isla flew into his arms.

  “Hey, there, don’t you look pretty today.” It was true. Isla was wearing purple leggings with a matching purple tutu. Her dark hair was done in perfect ponytails, which bounced when she moved her head.

  “Hi, there,” Riordan greeted. Macy was holding her hands out to him.

  “Hi, Riordan. Hello, Macy.” Faulk knelt down to see the little girl. She was all smiles. He ran a finger down the side of her cheek. “Are you ladies hungry?”

  Isla nodded. “Do you think they have macaroni and cheese? That’s my favorite.” Her smile was so bright, it was almost blinding.

  “I bet they do. Let’s go find out.” Faulk held out his hand.

  “What’s your favorite food,” Isla asked.

  “Mac and cheese!” He popped his eyes open wide.

  “Really?” Isla sounded skeptical.

  It was true. “I don’t have an awesome man like your Daddy to cook yummy suppers for me, so it’s mac and cheese out of a box unless someone like Uncle Cole or Ronan invites me to dinner.”

  “And then it’s hot dogs?” Riordan snorted.

  “That was just so the Velociraptors would eat. I had to set a good example.”

  “Set a good example?” Riordan’s mouth fell open. “I saw you eat three of them.”

  “Actually, it was four, but who was counting?” Faulkner grinned at Riordan. “And I did have chicken and salad for dinner. I don’t always eat like a two-year-old.”

  A worried look passed over Riordan’s face. It was there and gone in a flash. If Faulk wasn’t watching closely, he would
have missed it. Interesting. Faulk held the door open for Riordan. Isla danced through it first. He saw the smile that graced her father’s tired eyes. Faulk wondered what had him up so late.

  “Welcome to the Rainforest Café!” a pretty hostess greeted them.

  “We have a reservation under Hayes,” Faulkner offered.

  “Oh, yes. A reservation for four at one of our elephant tables. Please follow me.” She grabbed menus and moved off into the restaurant.

  Isla’s eyes were wide as dinner plates. “The elephant table?” she squealed, jumping up and down on the balls of her feet. The little girl was quick to follow behind the hostess.

  “How did you know she loves elephants?” Riordan’s tone was curious rather than accusatory.

  “Isla and Laurel had a fascinating conversation during dinner yesterday about which animal they’d have for a pet if they could.” Faulk had enjoyed every second of being a fly on the wall during that chat.

  “Isla picked an elephant.” Riordan snorted.

  Faulk nodded. “And FYI, she’s convinced Macy wants one too.”

  Riordan barked out a quick laugh. “That sounds like my daughter. Do I even want to know what animal Laurel wanted?”

  “A tiger like Jasmine has.” Faulk lowered his voice. “It’s none of my business, but should Isla be hanging out with a kid who has a pet tiger?”

  “Oh, my God. Seriously?” Riordan started to laugh again.

  “Here we are! The elephant table!” The hostess announced. She set down the menus along with packs of crayons for the kids.

  “This is my seat!” Isla announced. She hopped into the chair next to the giant elephant.

  Riordan started to unhook Macy from her stroller. “Just so you know, Jasmine isn’t a girl in Isla’s class.” He put Macy into the high chair, buckling her in before pulling it closer to the table.