Trouble Me (18 page)

“M
om
?”

“Yeah?” Beau and I sit at the kitchen table in our Boise home. It’s the end of September. What a relief, to be in our house. Ditto the dog keeps sniffing at us, either put out by our absence or trying to figure out who the heck we are.

Beau puts paper cupcake holders into the tins. “Who decided what size muffin tin holes would be?”

I look up at him. I’m waiting for Andrew to text, to tell us he’s on his way for Hunter’s birthday party tonight. It’s the end of filming on
The Bull, The Bear, and The Dragon
, and Andrew’s catching a flight to Boise in an hour or so. He’ll just make it.

“What’d you say?”

“Was there a Geneva Convention ruling or what? How come the papers always fit the tins, no matter what brand you use?”

I pull him to me and kiss the top of his head. “That brain of yours amazes me. And I don’t know the answer. You better Google it.”

He gets up and drifts off to somewhere else in the house. My phone buzzes.

It’s a text, but it’s Mari, not Andrew:

Tell Hunter Happy Birthday. Kisses, Mari

It’s been a few days since we came home. Hunter’s happy, back with his buddies, though he’s definitely milking the “I have to go to LA for the rest of the semester” angle. Beau’s milking the “I get a tutor in LA and haven’t had to go to school yet this semester” angle. That makes me really nervous, but Andrew promises we’ll get a top-notch tutor to make up for the late start.

Beau and I went to the party store and got all manner of streamers, centerpieces, and balloons. I want to make this a good birthday for Hunter. I know things haven’t worked out the way he wanted them to these past few months. He invited about eight good friends for the party, and the big plan is to wear out the Xbox One and eat pizza. Thank God for boys. He didn’t invite a single girl, didn’t even think about it, and didn’t want a big production, as much as he talked about it. He was thrilled to open the Xbox early this morning, since that was on the top of his birthday list.

I get the cupcakes into the oven, and there’s still no text from Andrew. Now I start to worry. Surprising, I know. “He’s going to miss his flight.” Ditto looks at me, like I’m talking to him. “Maybe I’m talking to Hiccup, did you think of that?” I give my belly a little rub.

Finally, finally, I’m into the decent stage of pregnancy here in month five. The morning sickness is gone, and so is the life-sucking fatigue. I’m not quite big enough to start with the swollen ankles or terrible heartburn at night, though that’s coming soon. For now, I feel decent.

I saw Dr. Joe, Tessa’s husband, yesterday, and running is still out for me, but PT is working, and it looks like I won’t have to have my knee scoped. I can stand that, I think. I just need to get to LA, and I can figure out a morning workout that doesn’t hurt and keeps me from going crazy.

“Knock, knock, not really.” Tessa strolls into the kitchen.

“How’d you get in?” I never lock the doors in Boise, but Andrew told the boys he’d pay them each twenty bucks if they kept them bolted. He’s been protective, more so since the accident. He says he doesn’t trust that a stray paparazzo won’t try to wander in if we’re not vigilant.

“Beau saw me. If he was supposed to help you, you’re down a man. He went off toward the school with Hunter and some other kid to shoot hoops.”

“And they didn’t let me know. Hunter thinks he’ll get away with murder just because it’s his birthday.”

“I’m supposed to tell you. Don’t shoot the messenger, crabby pregnant lady.” Tessa gets into the fridge and finds a bottle of water.

“Tell me you’re hanging out with me until the party.” I give her my best pitiful look.

“You’re in luck, actually. Joe’s taken the girls out for some playground time, then lunch and fro-yo downtown. He’ll swing by with them later. You’ve got me all to yourself.”

I clap my hands. “Yes! I wish we could have a glass of wine or something.”

“Um, you’re pregnant, you never drink, and it’s, like, ten in the morning.”

I check my phone again. “This isn’t good. Andrew’s supposed to be at the airport, headed through security. His flight’s at eleven thirty. If he misses it, he can’t get in until, like, eleven tonight.”

“Have you flown with him? I doubt he has a leisurely walk down the concourse. How’s he supposed to text you until he’s in the lounge or on the plane?”

This is true. Airport security bows to no man, and when Andy Pettigrew goes through airport security at a major US airport, every man, woman, and nosy puppy dog knows he’s on the move.

Tessa drags me out of the kitchen and into the living room. “Come on. Let’s hang up balloons and stop fretting.”

No text, and it’s eleven forty-five. Tessa and I take Ditto for a walk.

At twelve thirty we have lunch, and I call. His phone goes straight to voice mail.

It’s one p.m. If he’s not on the plane, he won’t make the party.

At two thirty I’m at my wits’ end.

At five, Tessa has her cell out. We’ve tried Andrew’s cell, Jeremy’s, and Tucker’s. No luck. Either there’s some massive power outage in New York, or they all made it on the plane but never bothered to check their phones beforehand.

“I don’t like this. If he’s still on set, I’ll kill him.” I can feel my jaw tighten at the thought. “He promised. He promised me, and he promised Hunter.”

Tessa waves a hand. “Listen, something’s up. He wouldn’t just blow this off. Let’s just get the pizza ordered and go about our business. Watched pot never boils, you know.”

I have to laugh. “That’s the lamest saying. But I’ve managed a few birthday parties on my own. I’m a smart woman. This is no big deal.”

“No big deal.” Tessa smiles when she says it, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

And if Tessa’s worried, then we do have a problem.

At seven p.m., it’s crystal clear Andrew’s not coming to the party. But no one knows where he is. Tessa, amazingly resourceful bestie, gets in touch with Jordan Aaronson, of all people, and he reports that Andrew and company finished a production meeting early in the morning and headed to JFK, en route to an on-time eleven thirty a.m. departure.

My hands tremble a little. “This is where I usually call Tucker. But he’s with Andrew. Where are they, Tessa?”

She shakes her head. “I really don’t know.”

I have a moment. What if they did something stupid? Got drunk in the airport lounge, hooked up with a couple star-hungry girls, headed back into Manhattan to paint the town red?

My brain’s not working. No way Andrew would do something like that. And Jeremy might, but Tucker sure as hell wouldn’t. And the three of them are together.

Hunter comes into the kitchen. The party’s in full swing. The boys play Xbox One, eat pizza, do boy things like burp loudly. They’re having a good time.

“Mom. We want to open presents. Can we?”

I glance at the oven clock for the millionth time. “I wanted to wait for Andrew.”

Hunter sighs. “Obviously something happened. Let’s do presents.”

I relent. “Fine. Tessa, will you take pictures?”

She throws an arm around me. “You know I will.”

We go out to the living room. We’re not waiting anymore, and it breaks my heart.

The guests all go home at eleven. No Andrew. I want to call the police, but Tessa told me not to. She’s right—it’d just set off a huge media frenzy. Even if I called dispatch on the non-emergency number, someone would still get wind of it, and what a mess that’d be. She and Joe and the triplets went home at ten. The little girls needed to sleep in their own beds.

“I’m going to bed, Mom.” Beau gives me a big kiss and leaves me alone at the kitchen island. We’ve waited up, with no word, and it’s now eleven thirty p.m.

“Me too.” Hunter comes up behind him. He kisses me on the top of my head. He’s so big, so grown-up.

I start crying. I can’t help it. He’s fourteen. This is a big deal. And the person we’ve all come to rely on, he’s not here. “I’m so sorry, Hunter. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay, Mom. It’s not your fault. I still had a good birthday.” He hugs me and heads off to bed.

I put my head down on the granite countertop. I don’t know if I want to sob or give up and fall asleep.

“Hey.”

It’s Andrew. He walks into the kitchen, luggage slung over his good shoulder. He sets the bag down and comes to me.

“Where’ve you been? What happened to you?” I don’t sound calm. The words are loud against the kitchen tile.

He pulls me into his arms. “Long story.”

I push away from him. “Hunter wanted you here. Not just me. You disappointed him too.” I grit my teeth to keep my voice down. I don’t want to alert the kids to this fight.

“What are you talking about? Do you even want to know what happened?”

I shake my head no. “I don’t want to hear the excuse.” And suddenly, a strange, resigned calm comes over me. This might be the end of our relationship, and I need to be the bigger person. “I can bet you got stuck on set. And it’s fine. I know I backed you into a corner. This was insta-family. It’s not very fair. I get it.”

“Stop it. Stop it right now.” Andrew steps to me and takes me into his arms again. “I’m here. I’m late, but I love you and the boys and our baby. Stop it right now.”

He kisses me on the lips, hard. I look at him, try to read his eyes.

“Kelly. Kelly, listen to me. We got to the airport, and Tucker and Jeremy got through security just fine, and then they checked my bag. They swiped it for residue, and it came up positive.
Positive
. Why in the hell it did, nobody knows. But if your bag tests positive for traces of explosive materials, you can bet that you and the party you’re flying with—well, none of us went very far for a very long time.”

“What?” My whole body shakes. My teeth chatter. All this information shoots the adrenaline straight into my heart, and it pumps in a crazy panic.

“Kelly, somebody tampered with my bag. Someone wanted to make sure I missed my flight.”

I cry out. I can’t process this. I can’t stop sobbing.

“Okay, it’s okay. Breathe.” Andrew rubs a hand down my back. “Please, Kelly, please. I’m fine. We weren’t ever in danger.”

The tears don’t stop. Andrew rubs both hands over his face. He pulls out his cell and dials.