Father Knows Best Part 25

"I'll come with you," Chloe said, setting down her brush.

"Oh. You don't have to."

"Indeed I do. It's late and we're in a strange city." She winked. "Your dad would kill me if I didn't."

I didn't think he'd kill her. He liked her way too much for that. But he might be p.i.s.sed. "Good point," I said. "Okay."

"Don't open the door for anyone, even if they claim to be a hotel employee," Chloe told Meryl and Jen.

"We won't." They were too busy reading the thick leatherette folder that extolled the virtues of the hotel and everything it had to offer.

As we walked down the long, carpeted hallway, our footsteps completely silent, I realized something with the illuminating jolt of a lightning strike. I'd made my peace with Jennifer. I'd cleared the air with my dad. I'd agreed to be more open with Dylan, and our relationship was stronger than ever. The only person I hadn't had a heart-to-heart with was Chloe, and she deserved it.

After we filled our ice bucket, I spied a small seating area in an alcove off the hallway. "Um, Chloe? Can we sit for a minute?"

She looked surprised, even concerned. "Are you okay?" She laid one cool hand on my forehead, and the sheer momishness made me have to swallow a few times before I could even speak.

"I'm fine," I said, finally. "I just...want to talk to you. If that's okay."

Now she looked curious. "Of course."

We sat.

I set the full ice bucket on the little table between the chairs and blew out a breath. I tucked my hair behind my ears, then pulled my legs up to sit crosslegged on the big fancy chair.

"Okay, lady, what's up?" Chloe asked.

I flicked her a guilty glance. Sighed hard. Jennifer's AA twelve steps popped into my mind. Holy c.r.a.p, I was working them in a non-alcoholic way myself, wasn't I? I cleared my throat. "I'm trying to be more a better person these days, and I think I owe you an apology."

Her brow furrowed. "For what?"

G.o.d, this was hard. Like, I-want-to-barf-right-now hard. But it had to be done. "The truth is, I wasn't exactly what you'd call...thrilled when you and my dad started dating. I'm sure you know that but you're just too nice to say so." The notion that I might have hurt her feelings in any way made me sad.

She simply nodded.

I fidgeted-my body's cla.s.sless way of letting off steam during times of stress. "I've just come to realize over the months that I wasn't being fair."

Her expression softened. "Oh, honey, you don't have to do this. I understand."

"No. I have to say this. For me."

She studied me for a moment, then inclined her head.

"The thing is, I was being selfish. My only concern was myself and Dylan and how you dating my dad would impact that." I cringed. "You know?"

"I know."

"But I was wrong, Chloe," I said, in this stupid teen-angst sounding blurt. "Self-centered and wrong and, G.o.d, I'm a horrible person. I can understand if you hate me."

She smiled. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

"No. It's true." I pleaded with my eyes. "You and my dad are"-just say it, Lila-"perfect for each other, and I'm sorry if I was-"

"You weren't. Anything. First of all, I do not hate you." She reached over and held one of my hands. "Listen, I was a teenage girl once, too, you know. I understand how difficult it is. How cutthroat and judgmental those high school hallways are."

Relieved, I exhaled all my tension. "It sucks. Especially when your dad's the police chief and you have to go to school with people like Miffany," I spat.

She chuckled. "I can only imagine. But please know that your father and I would never intentionally do anything to make your life miserable. You and Dyl? Absolute first priority for us. I promise."

That scared me for some reason, propelling me off on a whole different track. "Please don't break up with my dad," I said, shocking even myself. I even teared up. "You make him really happy, and my mom's been gone for so long, he deserves to be happy again."

Chloe laughed out loud. "You're nuts, do you know that?"

I smirked as I wiped my eyes. "I've been told. By your son, as a matter of fact, and on many occasions."

"Well, I raised a smart boy." She lowered her chin and leveled me with a straightforward glance. "I have no plans to dump your dad, so stop worrying. But you should know that your dad's been happy his whole life, not just since I came along. You kids make him happy."

"Well, I know. But still, he needs the girlfriend kind of happiness. He needs you, actually." I smiled shyly.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she said. "You have no idea how much your words mean to me."

I bugged my eyes. "You have no idea how difficult they were to say."

We grinned.

"Ready to head back?"

"Oh...um-" Was I? Our big talk seemed to have just ended abruptly. "Okay," I said, standing up and grabbing the ice bucket. I clutched it to my chest as we walked toward the room, but I quickly realized the conversation wasn't over. My whole body felt like a cauldron of bubbling emotions, jumbled up and twisted and under pressure. I needed to release some of it before the whole mess boiled over. I stopped short.

Chloe realized I was no longer beside her and turned around. She blinked at me curiously. "Lila?"

"I...I..."

She walked toward me. "What is it?"

"I have to say something else to you," I blurted.

"Okay. You can tell me anything at all. Cross my heart. Even if it's about my son."

I laughed nervously. "It's not. Although, thank you for having him. He rocks."

She smiled. "You're welcome."

I took a deep breath in and held it. Now or never. Grow up and be honest, or remain a stupid kid forever. After a big whooshing breath, I peered up at my dad's girlfriend. But she'd become more than that, more than my boyfriend's mother, more than my boss. In my mind, she'd become her own ent.i.ty-my friend. A woman so ingrained in my life, I couldn't imagine it without her anymore. I swallowed to try and keep my voice from wavering, but it wavered anyway. And then I-you guessed it-rambled. "The thing is, I never really had a mom because she died so young and Dad never remarried. So, I want to say...it's been so nice having a female to talk to about things." I paused. "And thanks for making Dad happy."

"Okay," she said, uncertainly. "You're welcome."

I sighed miserably. "s.h.i.t. Sorry. That's not what I wanted to say. I mean, all that was true, but none of it was the point."

"And there is a point?"

She didn't say it in a mean way. It was more of a subtle prompt. Now I know where Dylan got it from. Because I was skirting the issue, typical Lila, but no more. I braced myself, then looked her straight in the eye. "Yes. And here it is," I warned. "I love you, Chloe, and I want you to know that, regardless of your thing with my dad, I'm glad you're in my life. As my friend."

Tears sprang to her eyes instantly, and her face flushed. She had to gulp several times before speaking. "Oh, sweetie," she said. "I love you, too."

My nose started to burn. Thank G.o.d we were in a desolate hotel hallway, because a blubbering could ensue at any moment, believe you me.

"I would never presume to replace your mom in any way," Chloe said, gently. "But you can always come to me about girl stuff. Or anything. Regardless of the fact that I'm dating your father and you're dating my son-all that stuff that doesn't matter. My point is, if I had a daughter, I'd want her to be just like you."

My heart expanded. Then we hugged, right there in the middle of the hallway, all awkward and everything around the stupid ice bucket, laughing and teary and all kinds of dorky.

But you know what? It was absolutely perfect.

New York City wound up being the ultimate bonding experience for all of us. Caressa was our guide as we did absolutely every touristy thing you can possibly conjure up, and then some, and all of it ruled.

Well, almost.

There was the moment I accidentally tried to take a photo of One Police Plaza for my dad, only to be pounced on by a couple of stern-faced NYC cops who informed me that photography wasn't allowed because of terrorism concerns. And they had deep voices, wild eyes, and itchy trigger fingers, or maybe that part was my imagination.

In any case, it was kinda scary.

We walked all the way across the Brooklyn Bridge and ate some world-famous ice cream on the pier, using the excuse that Jennifer needed the calcium. We caught a water taxi back to Manhattan, then walked miles and miles back to our hotel in the theater district. Central Park ruled, Times Square ruled, the fashion district ruled. Greenwich Village ruled. The West Village ruled. Jennifer asked if we could stop at the Stonewall memorial, which signified a huge step forward in gay history, apparently. The girl had done her homework! We made makeshift signs: "Auntie Jen," read one, and Jennifer held that. Then we propped the others-"Mom" and "Mommy" on the white statues of a lesbian couple before we took pictures of Auntie Jen sitting next to them. Reese and Kelly would love it, and Jennifer planned to have one framed as a gift for them.

But the best part, by far, was Caressa's show.

Before curtain time, as promised, we got to hang backstage while she did her job, and I was so utterly impressed by how much she'd grown up, how confident she was in her work, it rendered me speechless-and we all know how abnormal that is. Caressa's amazing in her element. All of us were awed by the chaotic energy of the makeup and costuming area. The actors, the dancers, the grips, the scary stage manager barking orders. All of them.

I watched from a short distance away as Caressa finished Joaquin's makeup (and all reports of his hotness, incidentally, have been way understated. Oh my freakin' G.o.d!). When he got up from the chair, he said, "Thanks, mamita," then gave Caressa a kiss. Not a huge make-out kiss, but something softer and yet far more intense. His fingers against the side of her face, the way she leaned into him, the way their gazes locked. It spoke volumes.

Volumes I had yet to read, mind you.

My jaw dropped as he walked away to get costumed. I glanced over toward Jennifer, Meryl, and Chloe, but they were listening intently to something the amazing Sasha was telling them. They'd missed the entire exchange completely.

But I didn't need confirmation from them.

I knew what I'd seen.

Before another dancer or actor plunked down in Caressa's chair, I grabbed her arm and yanked her behind some...theatre set thingie. No clue what you'd call it. I had to ask Caressa now.

"Lila, what are you doing?" she said, laughing.

I stared up at her, wanting to push for details, wanting to laugh, wanting to cry. Everything was rushing through my brain, and I didn't even know how to begin speaking.

Her smile faltered. "What?" she whispered.

"You slept with him, didn't you?"

Instantly, tears filled her beautiful green eyes.

"Don't cry," I said, hugging her. "It's okay."

"I was going to tell you guys. I just wanted it to be in person, and only you and Meryl. It's not an IM kind of announcement, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." I held her, patting her back, but my whole reality reeled. Caressa and Joaquin. Oh my G.o.d.

What now?

What did a best friend ask now?!

"Were you...safe?"

"Of course, dummy." She pulled away and patted beneath her eyes so as not to smear her mascara, then shook her head as if to get herself together. "Lila, I have so much to tell you guys. But please know, Joaquin and me, it's not just a hook-up. I'm in love with him. We're in love with each other. So"-her voice caught-"so much."

"I can see that." I smiled, really and truly happy for her. She'd had her first, and apparently it hadn't sucked. At least, it didn't seem to have. "Was it...weird?"

"No," she said, almost as if this surprised her, too. "It was beautiful. Perfect. I know the first time's not supposed to be, but he's so..." She tried to smile, but her chin quivered. "G.o.d, Ly. I don't know what I'm going to do without him all year long."

I hugged her again. "Just hang with us, chica. We'll help you suffer through."

She squeezed me really hard. "I was going to tell you. Just...at the right time. Please believe me."

"I know. I do."

"You're just too d.a.m.n perceptive for your own good," she groused. "Cop genes."

Odd. A year ago I might've punched her for that statement, but I just sighed. "I know."

She gave me one last bone-crusher squeeze, then pulled away. Her eyes wide, worried. "Do you think I'm a tramp?"

I huffed. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. Of course not."

She laughed. "Okay, news flash? The 'of course not' part of your answer was you dignifying it with a response, dork."

I groaned. "You sound like Meryl. Not that that's a bad thing, of course."

She glanced over her shoulder. "I have to get back. Can you let me tell Meryl myself?"

"Of course!" I frowned, righteously indignant. "I don't pa.s.s gossip, and this isn't even gossip, it's your life. Who do you think I am, Miffany?"

She barked a laugh, then covered her mouth with her palm. As we walked back to her makeup station holding hands, she said, "I hope you enjoy the show. It's really awesome."

"We will." I released her hand and smiled.

"And I'll see you right after?"

"Definitely."