All those words. A tight little speech. Not one useful line to clarify things for me. Fuck, she didn’t even acknowledge the proposal with a direct answer. I may have done that badly, but I was serious and I know that she knows that.

Damn it.

I can feel it.

We’re slipping back into the quagmire. It’s time to be perfectly clear. It will probably have the effect of a pipe bomb being lit inside Chrissie.

“I’m here, Chrissie. That’s my daughter in the nursery. So get used to the idea of me fitting in somewhere in your life. As for where we are today, whatever we’re doing, it’s not an affair so don’t call it that again. Talk to your kids. Do what you need to do. Decide what you want from me. I asked you to marry me. I apologize for having done it poorly. But I meant it. I expect a serious answer from you. And this is the last time I slip out in the morning so the kids don’t see me.”

She stares at me. Silent. No explosion, but she doesn’t look happy. Fine, Chrissie. We’ll do it your way. Oh fuck, just don’t make it last forever.

It’s time for me to leave. This is not the way I hoped my morning would end and I don’t want to ruin it further.

I lean in and place a light kiss on her cheek. She doesn’t look at me. Nope, she’s angry and not going to soften up anytime soon and she certainly is not going to go back to bed with me.

I go down the hallway to the nursery. Khloe is asleep in her crib. It’s an unexpectedly unpleasant feeling knowing I’m slipping out the door in a house where my daughter sleeps.

I stare down at her and then drop a kiss on the top of her head. Nothing. She doesn’t stir. She is a sound sleeper. I could have had a great fucking morning with Chrissie if I hadn’t blown it.

As I make my way to the front door, I debate going back in and trying to talk to her. I’m not sure what more there is to say. I told her my perspective on this. I’ve asked her to marry me. I’ve asked for an answer. Better not to go back. I should give her some time to sort through this. It will work out better if I don’t push her.

I stop at the console table next to the front door. Fuck, my keys are gone. I pat the pockets of my pants and don’t feel anything. Who took my keys? Oh fuck, if it was Ethan I’ll never find them.

I open the front door, grab my phone from my pocket and then hit the app. I’ll just turn on the car remotely. I don’t hear anything. Does the fucking app not work?

I stop. I stare. I turn off the phone. Fuck. My car is gone. Did someone steal it? Then I see Kaley’s black Lexus parked in the driveway. Oh fuck. She didn’t. Dread curls in my digestive tract.

Why would she do that?

Why would she take my car?

Oh no. She must have come back last night. She saw me here and she’s old enough to know what I was doing with her mother.

She’s upset.

Sensitivity.

I get it, Chrissie.

Message received, Kaley.

Discovering me here last night has propelled Kaley from hostile over Khloe to ready to provoke confrontation. I’m not certain why Kaley is so angry about this—it’s indisputable she’s angry—but we used to have such a good relationship.

I don’t understand her anymore. Her unrelenting unpleasantness. That’s not Kaley. Memories of her as a little girl intrude in my thoughts. She was such a little sweetheart, but then I remember she did like confrontation. The girl has been throwing emotional Molotov cocktails whenever she could almost from birth. An attribute that irritates the hell out of me. Though there were times it was amusing. But it’s not going to be amusing today. She’s decided to finally let it out and she wants a face-to-face with me.

I need to find my car.

I hit the find my car app and wait. A map loads. Well, at least she didn’t go far with it. I take a moment to wonder why she’s at Ian Kennedy’s, then I recall when she texted Chrissie that she was spending the night at the Kennedys’.

It’s been a long time since I’ve walked a city mile anywhere. I’ve always found LA an unpleasant place for pedestrians. At least it’s still early. The streets are nearly empty and not enough cars have crossed the concrete yet for the asphalt to have that horrid carbon monoxide smell that makes walking even in Pacific Palisades particularly unpleasant. There’s still the undiluted salty tang of an ocean breeze as I walk downhill toward Ian’s place.

Clear air in LA for a change.

This is fucking humiliating.

No one walks in LA.

Kaley wants to get my attention.

Well, fine, she’s got it.

I’ve been to Ian’s house hundreds of time. Why does everything look different when you walk? I check my phone, using the GPS for directions. Everything is thrown together, especially the residential streets, in a haphazard way in LA.

There, I know that house. Large Spanish villa, stucco walls, and black iron gate. Oh fuck, there is no way through the gate without ringing.

I hit the button on the intercom. I wait several minutes. Nothing. I don’t give a fuck if you’re sleeping Ian. I camp on the button.

“Manny, is that you?”

Ian’s drowsy voice on the static intercom.

Christ, he can see me on the security cameras.

I bypass pleasantries. “Open the fucking gate, Ian.”

“Manny? What the fuck are you doing out walking in my neighborhood this time of day? Jesus Christ, is everything OK, man?”

I grimace. “I need to pick up my car. It’s in your driveway.”

A startled laugh. “How the fuck did your car get to my house? What the hell did you do last night?” More laughter. “Must have been one hell of a party with Jen. Lucky bastard.”

I wait. I’m not explaining. Buzz.

I open the walk-through gate and make my way up the sharp incline of the driveway. Ian is standing on his front stoop carelessly covered in a robe, looking half asleep yet humiliatingly amused by this.

He’s staring at my Bugatti Veyron Super Sport and shaking his head. Christ, I hate that car. Gauche. Why did I buy it last year? Probably out of boredom and it was something to do.

“You must have had some crazy night, brother.”

I shove my phone into my pocket. “No crazy night. I didn’t leave my car here. It was stolen from Chrissie’s.”

His eyes widen and I can tell what he’s thinking. Hmm, Chrissie. Then Ian frowns and his expression changes to alarm.

“Oh, shit,” Ian exclaims, the muscles of his face contorting. “I thought Zoe was joking last night when the girls got home and she told me Kaley had stolen a car.”

“Technically, both girls stole my car since they both drove away in it. I suggest that you get those girls out here now.”

The look on his face grows grimmer. Thank you, Ian. Now you’re getting the picture, maybe you’ll stop being obnoxious over this and start taking the situation seriously.

“I’m sorry about this, man. It doesn’t look like they’ve done any damage. Come inside. Have some coffee. I’ll go find them.”

“I don’t want coffee. I’d like a few minutes alone to talk with Kaley. Then I’m heading out of here.”

He’s still shaking his head as he moves through the house. “What the fuck is wrong with kids? Why would they steal your car? I swear I never know what the hell to expect from Zoe anymore.”

Ian pours me a cup of coffee even though I said I didn’t want one, sets it on the breakfast bar, and makes a fast retreat from the room.

I wait. Christ, what’s taking him so long? Maybe he’s talking to the girls before he sends them out here. Probably not a bad idea. He does have more experience than I do in this.

I hear footsteps in the hallway. I stand and turn to face the doorway. Kaley ambles into the room, and fuck, Ian, I said alone. Why are you and your daughter here?

Kaley meets my gaze directly. She doesn’t look worried. Hell, she doesn’t even look contrite.

I struggle for calm. “I believe you have something that’s mine.”