Starting From the Top (Starting from 5)

Fiona blinked in surprise, then held up a pink bag awkwardly. “I—this is Penny’s. The kids are with my parents tonight. I’m leaving for Phoenix in an hour and I didn’t want them to have to go back to the house, so…um. Here you go.”

She thrust the bag into Sean’s hands and smiled.

He nodded stiffly. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Um…I should go. I’m interrupting and—are you…together…like together?” She aimed her question at me and added, “I thought I met your boyfriend. The guy with the photos at the studio.”

“Oh, yeah, no. Clay isn’t my boyfriend,” I replied, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

“Okay. I just…I saw an article about you and him online. I guess you can’t believe everything you read, huh?” She brushed a wayward strand of hair from her eyes. “The kids indicated that you two were…but I didn’t know and—”

“Fiona…” Sean sighed.

“No, it’s cool. I think. I don’t know. You’re famous, right? They were talking about you at Starbucks this morning. It was surreal. I wanted to tell my barista I knew you. He would have been impressed but…I just don’t know if this is good for Parker and Penny.”

“Fiona, don’t—”

“I know. I know. Maybe it’s not my business.” She held her manicured hands up in surrender. “Or maybe it is. What happens to my kids when someone puts two and two together? Are paparazzi going to show up at their school or follow them home? Will they end up on the cover of some tacky tabloid or—”

“Stop. That’s not going to happen,” he replied with measured calm.

“You don’t know that.”

“I wouldn’t let it happen.”

“That is so like you, Sean,” she continued with a humorless half laugh. “You think you can control everything, but this is beyond your realm. What happens when they start digging around in your life? Or in our past? Then what? Do I get to relive that special moment when my husband told me our fucking marriage had been a sham from the start? That everything I thought we had was a lie?”

“That is not true.” He clenched his jaw, the vein at his temple pulsing angrily.

“That’s your version,” she snapped. “What are you going to tell the press when they ask about my children?”

“They’re my children too,” he growled. “No one is getting near them. Ever.”

“Easy to say until some asshole with a huge lens takes compromising photos of you and your boyfriend and—”

“We’re friends, Fiona.” Sean’s voice boomed and bounced off the high ceiling, landing like a hammer a moment later when he added, “Just friends.”

I flinched. My heart beat like a battering ram against my rib cage. It was so loud I almost didn’t hear Fiona speak.

She must have heard the note of finality in his tone too. She glanced between us, lingering on me for a moment before letting out a ragged breath.

“Right. I’m sorry. I should go.” She smiled tentatively and glanced at her watch. “I have a flight to catch. The kids have the usual after-school activities tomorrow. You know the drill. I’ll talk to you next week.”

Fiona spun on her heels, leaving us in a stifling cloud of Jo Malone. Sean closed the door behind her and dropped Penny’s bag on the bench under a black and white photo collage of the kids before braving a glance my way.

I wondered what he saw. I felt like I’d been slapped or worse…put in my place.

He released an uneven breath and scratched his nape nervously. “Johnny, I didn’t mean that.”

My Adam’s apple slid in my throat theatrically. “Yeah, you did.”

“No, I…I didn’t. But I should probably talk to her…set things straight,” he continued lamely.

“Maybe. Yeah…maybe.” I moved my hands to my hips, crossed my arms, and dropped them again in agitation. “I’m gonna…”

I didn’t finish my sentence. I headed into the great room, willing myself to come up with a kickass exit speech, but damn it, I had nothing. I gently set Tabby in her carrier and fastened the latch, then stooped to put my shoes and socks on.

“What are you doing?” he croaked. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“I’m not hungry. I’m going home.”

“Johnny, don’t do that.” He lifted my chin, rubbing my scruff till I met his eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re not just my friend. I’m sorry I hurt you. I am.”

I pushed his hand away gently. “I know. The problem is…I think I’m too far gone.”

Sean frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I want this more than you do, and it’s kind of killing me.” I raked my fingers through my hair roughly and stared unseeing at the bookshelves on the opposite wall behind the piano.

“No, I want you too. You know that,” he whispered.

“I know you want me. But you can’t give me…all of you. I said I was cool with that, but God…I don’t think I am. I’m in too deep.”