She did not just spill her Sprite. That was a bald-faced lie. She didn’t see me catch her doing it but she did it.
I kept that to myself and opened my mouth to get a word in but Logan was pissed and he got there before me.
“Jackets on,” Logan ordered in a tone not to be denied, then looked to the waitress. “Bill.”
I looked to our waitress too.
“I’m so sorry,” I said softly.
She nodded, not looking happy, and took off and we put on our jackets.
“I’ll deal with the bill. Zadie stays with me,” Logan stated. “Babe, you take Cleo to the truck.”
I wanted to question this too. I didn’t want him to make a big thing out of what Zadie did mostly because I didn’t want to be the reason she got into trouble.
But she’d essentially poured Sprite on me. Not liking me or not liking me with her dad or not liking the fact that her family had fallen apart or all of the above was no reason to do something that naughty. Dot and Alan would lose their minds if Katy or Freddie did anything like that at their ages, at Zadie’s age, or when they were fifty.
It appeared Logan’s daughter wasn’t only a dreamer.
It appeared she could be a brat.
So I looked to Cleo and said quietly, “Let’s go, sweetie.”
She looked to me, her dad, and her sister. She kept her eyes on her sister and I was surprised to see rebuke in them and not just a little of it.
Then she turned back to me and came my way.
We walked through the restaurant but I held her up at the front door so we didn’t have to stand outside in the cold for too long.
“Let’s stay here where it’s warm for a minute while your dad deals with the check,” I said.
“He’s not dealing with the check; he’s dealing with Zadie,” she replied, not looking at me, her head turned to look back from where we came.
I decided not to say anything.
Cleo kept her gaze aimed toward the restaurant when she continued, “She’s havin’ trouble with Mom and Daddy splitting.”
“Your father mentioned something about that,” I told her cautiously.
She looked up at me. “They split, like, ages ago.”
I nodded.
“And they were split it seems like before we were born.”
I was alarmed she held that knowledge and further, I had no clue how to reply.
“She needs to get over it,” Cleo told me.
“Something like that is difficult to get over, Cleo. Anything that hurts is difficult to get over. You just have to take the time it takes to lick your wounds and when they finally heal, or when they heal enough you’re able to carry on, you do that. You carry on. But things like that shouldn’t be rushed or the healing can go wonky. It may take your sister a little time, but she’ll get there and the people who love her just need to be patient.”
She stared up at me.
Then she said, “But she got Sprite on your jeans.”
I smiled at her and replied quietly, “Jeans wash, darling.”
She again stared at me but she did it like it was the first time she’d ever seen me and I was a being heretofore undiscovered.
I helped her power through that by tipping my head toward the restaurant and asking, “Do you think we’ve given them enough time? Should we head to the truck?”
She looked to the restaurant, saying, “I don’t know.” She turned back to me. “Dad doesn’t get mad very often. But when he does...”
She trailed off and I nodded quickly.
“Then let’s hang out here a bit,” I suggested. “Keep warm. I’ll be on the lookout and we can make a mad dash if I see them coming.”
She grinned up at me again without any guard behind it and I was again struck by how her beauty blossomed when she did that.
We chatted until I caught sight of Logan heading our way. I gave her the heads-up and we moved out the door quickly. Once out, I took a chance, grabbed her hand and ran on my high heels, taking her with me.
And I was delighted to find, that as girls were wont to do, for no reason at all, we both found this hilarious, started giggling in the middle of it, and were in the throes of hysterical laughter by the time we made it to the truck.
This might have something to do with the tension casting a pall over the evening and us needing to release it.
But I really didn’t care what caused us to do it. We had our moment of bonding and it had come early.
I was batting five hundred and in these stakes, that wasn’t as hot as it normally would be.
Even so, I’d take it.
Logan and Zadie showed, Logan still looking angry, Zadie looking chastised and sulky. The sulky part caused her to cast baleful glares at me.
Logan beeped the locks and muttered, “Didn’t give you the keys. Two of my girls standin’ out in the cold. Sorry, babe.”
“Cleo and I found our ways to stay warm,” I assured him.
He looked to me. I grinned at him. He studied my grin and I watched as he became visibly relieved.
I turned and got into the car.
Once we were all in, belted up, and rolling away, Logan grabbed my hand again, firmly and demonstrably, held it, and announced, “Not sending my girl home without supper and I don’t feel like eatin’ franks and beans or makin’ Clee-Clee eat it. We’re hitting Chipotle.”
“Right on,” I murmured, and Cleo giggled in the backseat.
I looked over my shoulder and gave her a grin.
She smiled back.
When I caught sight of Logan while turning back around, I saw his profile in the dashboard lights looking vaguely surprised. The squeeze he gave my hand was not-vaguely pleased.