The Miles Between Us (17 page)

“You can’t put a
time limit on grief,” the kid said, playing with the cap to his water bottle. “When my Uncle Bert died, it took my Aunt Annette a couple of years before she started smiling again.”

Rob considered the kid’s words, eyed him with deliberation, suddenly seeing him anew. First
the Stones, and now this. Who would have guessed that underneath the snotty teenager, there lived a real human being? “Hey, Phoenix?” he said.

The kid replaced his sunglasses. Warily, he said, “What?”

“Do you love what you do?”

“Not sure I’m following you.”

“The music. Is it a passion for you? Is it something you’d do even if you didn’t get paid? Are you one hundred percent certain you’re on the right path in life? Or are you only doing it for the money?”

“This is a trick question, isn’t it?”

“Not at all. I’m serious. I’ve just been giving it some thought lately.”

“You’ve been thinking about my right path in life.”

He fought a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “More like my right path in life.”

“Ah.
I see. You’re finding out that life isn’t quite what you expected.”

“
I love every minute of my life. Until you have kids, you don’t realize what life is all about. There’s just…something missing.”

“The performing?”

“I thought I was ready to quit that side of the business. I was tired of the road. I wanted to be with Casey. And I didn’t want to be a long-distance dad. I wanted to be there with my kids, raising them with my wife, being there for all those once-in-a-lifetime milestones. I thought I’d be happy as a producer.”

“And you’re not?”

“It’s a necessary part of the process. I’m good at it. As one piece of the jigsaw puzzle, I like it fine. As the only piece? Not so much.”

“Well, for the love of God, man, stop whining to me and do something about it.
I don’t need to listen to this. You’re boring me.”

“Ah, hell, it’ll probably pass.” He stretched out his legs, leaned back against the bench. Closed his eyes, raised his face to the sun, and said, “It’s probably just working with you that’s done this to me, anyway.”

“Sod off, MacKenzie.”

This time, he didn’t bother to hide his grin
. The insufferable teenager was back. But he’d managed to crack the façade and uncover, if only briefly, the decent kid beneath the outer brat. If he kept chipping away at it, maybe eventually he could destroy the smokescreen and set that kid free.

“Come on,” he said,
sitting back upright and clapping Phoenix playfully between the shoulder blades. “If Luther comes back and discovers you’ve vanished without a trace, they’ll be calling out the SWAT team. I should probably get you back to your hotel before that happens.”

* * *

He’d finally made contact with Kitty Callahan. She had flown into town this morning and given him ten solid hours of hard work. Four hours ago, Phoenix had gone back to his hotel, trailed by Luther and the ubiquitous posse. After that, the work went much more quickly. It was a relief to work with somebody like Kitty, who didn’t waste time, didn’t argue, didn’t pout or throw tantrums. She took her place in the sound booth, listened to what he said, then did what she had to do.

It was past eleven when they wound up the recording session. Rob swept his personal items—scribbled notes, his Papermate pen, his stash of Hershey’s Kisses—into his briefcase and slung the strap over his shoulder. He clasped hands with Kyle. Said, “See you tomorrow, buddy,” and walked out the door with Kitty.

They paused on the sidewalk outside the studio. Even this late, the streets were filled with people. With a huge yawn, he locked his hands behind his neck and stretched until his joints cracked. “You cannot know,” he said, lowering his arms, “how grateful I am that you could make it here today.”

“Glad I could help out. Want to get a beer? There’s a little bar just down the street. One of those places the cool kids haven’t found yet.”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty late.”

She raised an elegant, blond eyebrow. “This is New York, my friend. Shank of the evening.”

“Good point.” And his wife was probably sound asleep, oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t home yet. “Sure,” he said. “As long as it’s just one.”

Like every other bar on the planet, this one was loud and smoky. They found a booth on the back wall, ordered draft beers, and he drew in the scent of tobacco smoke, surprised to realize that after all these years, he was still tempted.

She saw it in his eyes. “Once a smoker, always a smoker,” she said.

“I’m that obvious?”

“Been there, done that.”

“I worked so hard to quit. It probably added years to my life. There’s no rational reason why, after seven years, I should get a whiff of my old nemesis and want it so bad, I could scream.”

Kitty tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. Leaned over the table and said, “I’m the same way. I’d never touch it again. My voice, you know? But that doesn’t take away the utter longing to draw that lovely smoke into my lungs one more time.”

“And die young.”

She shrugged. “Live hard and fast, my friend. Live hard and fast.”

A shiver raced down his spine. “Don’t even say it. That’s what Danny used to say. And we all know how that turned out.”

“Ouch.”

Their beers arrived, in clunky, frosty mugs. Kitty took a long drink, licked the foam from her upper lip, and said, “So. How are things with the inimitable Mr. MacKenzie?”

It was his turn to shrug. He took a sip of beer and said, “Things are okay.”

“Really? Then why do you seem so not okay?”

Kitty knew him too well. Like Casey, she possessed that laser vision that saw right through his skull to what was going on inside. Rob gripped his mug in both hands and said, “I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for producing.”

“Of
course you’re not,” Kitty said. “You’re a musician. You make music. You thrive on performing. Why did you think you’d be happy quitting the business and burying yourself in some recording studio? Was it Casey’s idea?”

“
No. Not at all. Matter of fact, she questioned my decision. But I was tired of the road. Ready to settle down and start raising a family. And I always believed—” He paused, took a long swig of beer as he tried to corral the thoughts that ran rampant inside his head. “I think,” he said, the words coming slowly, “I always believed that as long as she and I were together, everything else would fall into place. If I had her, I’d be happy.”

“And you’re not happy?”

It was a good question, one he’d been afraid to ask himself for fear of what the answer might be. What it might tell him about himself. He loved his wife, adored his daughters. He loved being home with them. Loved being a family man. Loved being there for Emmy’s first word, her first step, for that heart-shattering smile every time he walked through the door. He liked the slow, comfortable rhythm of life in a small town. Yet there was something unsettled inside him, some dissatisfaction that had begun as a small irritation and was gradually building up, layer by layer, into full-blown resentment. A need for something more. Not a replacement for his current life, but something
in addition to
.

But
did he really want to go back to performing? He’d had enough of life on the road. Hadn’t he?

Kitty arched an eyebrow. “Have you talked to Casey about this?”

“Hell, no.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t.” At her quizzical look, he explained. “Ever since that last miscarriage, Casey’s been…not herself. She runs hot and cold, and she’s all over the place. Some days, she seems perfectly normal. Other times, she’s a basket case. She’s determined to have another baby, even after the doctor made it clear to both of us that it could kill her. Since she refuses to use birth control, and I’m dead-set against killing her, we’re not even having sex. Even the girls can sense how strained things are between us. Paige doesn’t say a word. She’s seventeen years old, and she doesn’t want to get caught in the middle. But Emma’s just a baby. Not even two yet, and she doesn’t understand. But she picks up on those negative vibes, and acts accordingly.”

“Wow. Ask what you think is a simple question, and open up the gates to hell. I’m sorry.”

He lifted his mug, avoided her eyes by burying his face in it. The beer was cold, and wonderful. He drained it, flagged down the waitress, lifted two fingers.

“Maybe,” Kitty said tentatively, “once you’re finished with the Hightower project, things will go back to normal.”

“Maybe.” He recognized, belatedly, the inappropriateness of discussing his sex life—or the lack thereof—with Kitty, a woman with whom he had a history. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to run off at the mouth. Casey would have a cow if she knew I was discussing our sex life with anyone. Especially with you.”

“Casey doesn’t like me?”

“She likes you just fine. As long as you’re nowhere near me.”

“
So she knows we slept together.”

“
I’ve told her it wasn’t a big deal. She just doesn’t choose to believe it.”

“Don’t feel bad, hon.
” She rested her hand on his. “You’re among friends here. You can say anything you want to me.”

He acknowledged that truth with a nod. “It’s just that I’m so damn frustrated. I feel helpless, and I don’t like feeling helpless.”

The waitress brought their second round of beers, and he picked up his and drank half of it in one long swallow. “I love that woman,” he said, studying Kitty over the rim of his mug. “I probably love her too much. I can’t change that. It is what it is. But there’s always been balance in our relationship. Even when she was married to Danny, we had this reciprocal thing going on. It wasn’t even on a conscious level. She had my back, and I had hers. In a way, the connection we had was more of a marriage than her real-life marriage to Danny.”

He drank more beer while Kitty waited for him to continue. “But I don’t know who she is anymore. I don’t know where my wife has disappeared to. She’s lost somewhere inside herself, and I’m trying like crazy to find her and pull her out of the quicksand before it swallows her up completely. Except that I can’t seem to find her, and
it scares the hell out of me. Because if I lose her, I’ll lose myself right along with her. I don’t remember how to be me without her. I haven’t been without her, in one way or another, since I was twenty.”

Kitty picked up her beer, took a sip
. Then a breath. “All right,” she said. “Since you’re being brutally honest, I’m going to do the same thing. Maybe it’s time you learned how to be without her.”

Not sure where this was leading, h
e sucked in a breath and waited for her to continue.

“You look like death, Rob
. Your eyes are bloodshot, your hair is a mess, and I’d be willing to bet you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. You’re on a rollercoaster ride to nowhere. That woman is tearing you apart, and it kills me to see you go through this.” Again, she placed her hand on his. This time, she left it there, her heat radiating outward and into his flesh.

“Maybe,” she said, “it’s time to extricate yourself from this mess you’ve found yourself in
. And consider your alternatives.”

For an instant, he
didn’t understand what she meant. And then he did.

He wasn’t a stupid man
. He’d never been a stupid man. But he hadn’t seen this coming. How could he have known that for all these years, she’d been carrying a torch, while he hadn’t given her a second thought? Stunned, he studied her face. Kitty never seemed to age. She was still as breathtakingly beautiful as she’d been at eighteen. But she was more than just a pretty face. Kitty Callahan was a warm, vital woman with a big heart. She was smart, talented, a great listener. Comforting, when a man needed comfort. Good in bed, when what he needed was sex. Their off-and-on relationship, if that was what you wanted to call it, had lasted for a decade. But never once had he kidded himself that it was anything more than superficial. Never once had he envisioned himself settling down with Kitty. The chemistry simply wasn’t there.

He’d stupidly assumed she felt the same way.

“Jesus, Kitty,” he said, floundering, “I’m flattered, but—”

“
Never mind. Don’t bother to say it.” Ever the lady, she removed her hand. His wedding band, where she’d touched it, felt hot. Electrified. “I just thought, if things were really falling apart between you and Casey, it was worth one last try.”

“I think the world of you
,” he said. “I always have. I like you. I respect you. But—”

“You don’t love me
. I get it.”

“I’m sorry
. I never meant to lead you on.”

“You didn’t
. This is not your fault.”

“I love Casey
. I’ve always loved Casey.”

“I know
. Even when we were together, I knew.”

And t
here was the basic difference between them. He’d never thought of them as together. Had never considered them to be a couple. But he couldn’t tell her that. He wasn’t that callous. So he focused on the rest of her sentence instead.