“It’s not dirt on Colson.”
“Then who’s the dirt on?”
“Your father,” Piers says, drawing an audible breath. “The dirt’s on your dad.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ezra
“You still mad at me?”
I force myself to focus on Mona. Through my kitchen window, I can see Kimba sitting on the trampoline in the backyard. She’s been on the phone for twenty minutes, and based on her expression, it’s not good news.
“Huh?” I ask. “Mad at you for what?”
“Busting up in here when you obviously wanted some time alone with Kimba.”
“I always want to be alone with her,” I say absently. “I’ve had to get used to sharing, though I’m still not very good at it.”
“I don’t mean to beat a dying horse,” Mona says, sipping the last of her beer, “but this won’t be as easy as you think. You’ll be asking Noah to adjust to not only the fact that you’re no longer with his mother, but that you’re now with someone else.”
“We don’t have to roll everything out at once. If Noah’s mature enough to understand why we never married, he’s certainly mature enough to understand that we never will. We’ll still be a family. It’ll just look different.”
“And you hope Kimba will be part of this new family you’re dreaming of?” Mona snorts. “Based on what I’ve seen of Kimba, a white picket fence might feel like a cage. She’s gunning for the nation’s next hottest campaign, and she’s coming off the last one. Take what you can get, but don’t expect everything from her, okay?”
I’m still turning her words over in my head, figuring out what’s true and what I can “settle” for from Kimba, when Mona yawns.
“Busting up your little love nest has worn me out,” she says, heading for the back door. “I’m going home.”
I walk with her into the yard. She waves to Kimba, who still sits on the edge of the trampoline and waves back with a small smile, her attention obviously on the phone call. I check the garden, a cover for the fact that I want to be nearby when Kimba finishes her call.
“Okay, Piers,” she finally says. “Keep me posted, and thanks.”
I cut through the squash and string beans to reach the trampoline. She extends her hand, a worried look on her face. I walk over, climb up onto the trampoline and pull her inside the net covering with me. I lay us both down and tuck her into my side, pushing the hair away from her face.
“Everything okay?” I ask after a few silent seconds.
She shakes her head and wraps an arm around my waist, squeezing tight. Angling my head down to see the frown on her face, I lift her chin with my index finger. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Piers, a guy from my team who always has his ear to the ground for me, heard something…disturbing.”
“What’d he hear?”
“He found out someone’s written an unauthorized biography about my father.”
“He was a great man. Lots of public figures have biographies written about them. Is there something bad in it? Lies?”
“Definitely lies.” She pulls away and slants a searching look up at me. “This author alleges my father had an affair.”
“What? Who do they say he had an affair with?”
“Your mother,” Kimba says, her voice quiet and questioning. “That’s ridiculous, right? My dad would never…your mom…it makes no sense.”
I don’t respond. When the rift happened, I didn’t understand anything except we were moving away and I didn’t get to see Kimba anymore. That was all I cared about. When I was older, I replayed that night over and over in my head and started assembling the fragments into something that, though horrific, made some kind of sense. Our parents had an affair. I had no idea who cheated with whom, or even if my speculation was right. But hearing Kimba say it aloud, I realize it may have been.
“It’s not true.” Kimba pushes up to sit and look down at me. “You know my father. He’d never…it’s a lie, Ezra. We have to prove it’s a lie. We have to talk to your mom so she knows they’re telling these lies about her. That they’re planning to publish these lies about my father.”
“Yeah.” I sit up and put my arm around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. “We will.”