“Really?” Clarisse asked breathily, liking that idea.

She couldn’t say she knew Fin very well. What she could say was that he had a lot going on for a kid. Sometimes the look on his face looked liked what No looked like and what she felt like when Dad and Mom got their divorce then, later, when Dad went for full custody.

But worse.

He didn’t share but she thought it was too much to take with what he did share.

And he was really worried about what his Aunt Debbie was up to.

It felt crap, not knowing how to help him and it felt worse not having any power to do anything. She knew that last part felt even worse for Fin. So it felt awesome when they managed to get his Aunt Dusty home, get her Dad and her back together and then Dad stepped in.

Clarisse might not be able to do anything, but Dad could.

And Fin knew it too and she knew he was relieved.

It would be cool if she could help him out other ways too.

“Absolutely,” Dusty answered, taking her from her thoughts.

Clarisse tipped her head to the side. “That doesn’t sound like much of a favor because I’m already doing that.”

“Yeah and do you like it? Whatever you’re doing with Fin?”

Clarisse nodded maybe a bit too enthusiastically but it only made Dusty’s eyes light in an awesome way. Dusty’s smile got huge so Clarisse figured her nodding that way was okay.

“Then just keep doing it except maybe…more,” Dusty suggested.

“More?”

“Let him in,” she advised. “Let him know you.”

Clarisse wasn’t sure about that.

“What if he doesn’t like what he knows?” she asked cautiously.

“Oh, he will.”

“You’re sure?”

“Honey, you’re a girl, I’m a girl and in the girl club we were both born into, if I gave you bad advice on something like this, I’d be flogged,” she grinned and finished, “deservedly.”

Clarisse couldn’t help it. That was funny, real and totally true. So she giggled.

And when she was done she saw Dusty wasn’t smiling.

She was looking at Clarisse with a look on her face that made Clarisse’s heart stop and she whispered, “There she is.”

“Who?” Clarisse whispered back.

Dusty leaned in and answered, “You. Thank you for giving her to me.”

Ohmigod! That was so nice.

Clarisse bit her lip then murmured, “Uh…you’re welcome.”

Then Dusty Holliday did something beautiful. The kind of thing she felt from her Dad all the time. Sometimes from No. Sometimes from her grandparents. Rarely from her mother.

She lifted her hand, cupped Clarisse’s cheek and said gently, “You should let her out more often. Your Dad misses her.”

It was then Clarisse knew what she couldn’t figure out for the longest time. She knew what had gone weird between her and her Dad. Why he was watching her. Why he’d sigh a lot around her. Why he’d do the worst and get that look on his face when he was disappointed she brought home bad grades or she’d sat in front of the TV all afternoon instead of doing her homework.

She pressed her lips together and tried not to cry because it would ruin her makeup.

But, honestly, she missed her Dad too.

They heard the garage door go up.

So Clarisse whispered, “Dad’s home.”

But she knew that Dusty knew and she knew because she’d already seen Dusty’s eyes get warm and her mouth get soft. And Clarisse saw on Dusty’s face what she’d read in Dusty’s diaries.

Dusty Holliday loved her Dad. Bunches.

And Clarisse Haines loved that. Bunches.

“Yeah,” she breathed then she got up and said, “Let’s go say hi.”

Clarisse took one last look at her awesome makeup job then she got up too.

And with Dusty Holliday, she went to say hi to her Dad.

* * *

 “Can we talk?”

Mike looked to his side, down and to his unhappy surprise saw Audrey standing there actually speaking to him.

And he wanted to say no. He really fucking wanted to say no.

Because he’d spent the day working. And while he worked he hoped things were going all right with his daughter and his woman spending the day together. Not that he’d get home to a shut down Clarisse and a Dusty who was wondering what the fuck was up with his girl.

He didn’t get home to that.

He walked in from the garage to see Clarisse bounding down the steps looking like a fucking model.

He was not blind. He knew his daughter was beautiful and that wasn’t entirely prejudice. But her makeup was stunning, fortunately in a way that didn’t make her look too adult. But she did look too good.

And this was unsettling seeing as he was already dealing with a lot of teenage daughter shit that was seriously fucking unsettling. But he couldn’t commit to that feeling since her eyes were alight, her smile was dazzling and she was bouncing down the stairs with a light step he hadn’t seen in a long fucking time. And she was doing all this after a morning where she’d pitched a hissy fit and lapsed straight from that into silent melodrama all in the expanse of half an hour.

Dusty, grinning and following her, helped his mood. This was simply because Dusty was walking down the stairs of his house, comfortable, natural, like she’d done it a million times before and he liked that a fuckuva lot. It helped that it was clear she’d enjoyed her time with his kids and especially his daughter.

His mood lightened immensely when he walked into the huge back room and saw what Dusty wrought.

Massive bunches of silvery white, glittery purple and glossy black balloons flying from long strings positioned everywhere. Purple and black expertly twisted streamers criss-crossed the ceiling. A glossy black, plastic tablecloth covered the dining room table and this was dusted with silver and purple confetti in the shapes of moons and stars. On the table was an elaborately fashioned centerpiece made of shoots of silver, black and purple foiled wire. Purple, silver and black plastic trays and bowls were already filled with snack foods sitting on the dining room table and scattered around the room. Stacks of plates and napkins following the color scheme were situated around the table. And there was an extortionately tall cake, expertly frosted in creamy swirls. It was decorated with a scattering around the sides of tiny silver candy balls, deep purple whirls of icing borders and there were thin, artistic curlicues and tiny dots of black all around. Finishing it off, in Dusty’s unusual, intricate handwriting that included a lot of swirls, “Happy Birthday, Rees” was written on the top in black.

Christ, if he bought that cake he’d have to pay a small fortune. And if it tasted half as good as it looked, it would be fucking sublime.

He found an hour and a half later, it didn’t taste half as good as it looked.

It tasted better.

Dusty didn’t lie. His woman could bake.

At the time, about half a second after he hit the room and hadn’t quite taken it all in, he heard Clarisse nearly shout, “The cake is five layers! Five! Each cut in half so it’s ten! Filled with frosting!”

He looked to his daughter and he hadn’t seen her that excited, heard her voice that chattering, seen that unadulterated happy light in her eyes in so long he didn’t know what he wanted more. To give her a hug. Or drive Dusty to the watering hole and give her something else.

He gave his daughter a hug.

Then he gave his woman a look that held a promise.

She didn’t miss it and she didn’t hide that she liked it.

Dusty then commandeered No into the kitchen so they could deal with the food that needed to be heated up and Clarisse took his hand and led him around the room giving him a blow by blow of her day with Dusty.

This information included why her makeup was different. Dusty did it.

He could not say he liked it. He also could not tell his daughter that.

Reesee had been allowed to wear makeup when she turned fourteen. Her early efforts weren’t the greatest which meant she was teaching herself and, likely, her mother didn’t give her pointers. Fortunately, she eventually learned that subtlety was the way to go.

He wasn’t a girl but he figured from the way she relayed the incident that sitting with a woman who had Dusty’s beauty and getting your makeup done was a teenage girl treat.

And one thing was certain, Dusty had gone far beyond the call of duty and in doing so entirely erased his daughter’s anger and pain at the disappointment her mother crushed her with that morning.

Not long after, the music went on and the cars started arriving either carrying kids or dropping them off. Mike had learned three years earlier that his presence was no longer required at his daughter’s birthday parties. This year, however, since he’d allowed boys to be invited and Clarisse let No invite some of his friends, he made it clear he would be around to chaperone.

The family component included Audrey and Audrey’s sister, Brooke who Mike liked only slightly more than his ex-wife. She came and gave Clarisse her present, a one hundred and twenty dollar pair of jeans. Mike knew the cost since he’d bought her the same pair and given them to her the day before. This meant Clarisse would be going to the mall to exchange. Not something he was looking forward to because she usually traded up.

Brooke stayed long enough to give her sister a modicum of moral support then she gave him a look that gave him the finger without her hand making the gesture and, luckily, she got the fuck out of his house.

And Brooke was it.

Audrey’s parents didn’t bother showing nor sending a gift with either of their daughters. Then again, Mike figured there was a reason Audrey was the way Audrey was. Her parents weren’t the greatest and they often forgot they had two girls so they definitely forgot they had five grandchildren.

His parents sent money from wherever they were wintering in their enormous RV that was bigger than most trailers. They didn’t stay put for long and the last time he talked to them they were somewhere outside San Diego. They didn’t get near Indiana until late April. They loved Reesee but not enough to endure a single flake of snow.

The amount of money they sent made up for it.

Merry came bringing his sister Rocky with him which caused a ripple of excitement. Rocky was a teacher at school, she was beautiful, she was stylish and she was that one beloved teacher that every kid thought was the shit. Rocky did duty keeping Audrey from standing in a corner by herself because Audrey wouldn’t allow Mike to talk with her, not that he wanted to. And Mike, although he wasn’t fast enough to stop Dusty from walking right up to Audrey and introducing herself (which she did, then she moved right away) wouldn’t allow Dusty to spend more than that time with her so if she wasn’t close to him, he got close to her.

Why Audrey informed Reesee she wanted to be there was a mystery. As one of her meaningless protests that did more harm to their kids than Mike, she hadn’t been to a single party since they separated. She dropped off the cake and that was it. She hadn’t even been in Mike’s house until that day.

Further, why she’d declare she wanted to come then fuck it up for Reesee, Mike didn’t get.

And lastly, since she arrived half an hour late, she’d been giving him looks like she was waiting to make an approach. Luckily, she was forced to stay away. This was because kids kept showing up and giving Reesee presents she’d open immediately and shout, “Look Dad!” Or Dusty would sidle close, hang not too close and, on occasion, brush the backs of her fingers against his. Or Merry would disengage from being cool, cop, pseudo-uncle entertaining some of the boys in ways Mike knew he didn’t want to know from the low, meaningful caliber of their boy-laughter and he’d hang with Mike.

But his luck had run out.

Dusty had gone with Rocky following her to the kitchen to grab bags of chips to replenish and Merry had stepped out front to take a phone call. This left Mike open to Audrey.

Mike caught her eyes and said quietly, “You pullin’ that shit this mornin’ and nearly ruining this for my girl makes you not my favorite person right now so it’s probably not the time for you to deign to allow me to speak to you.”

Then he couldn’t stop his stare when she looked uncomfortable a moment before she asked softly, “Mike, really, it’s important.”

She was dressed and made up to the nines, hair perfect, makeup perfect, outfit perfect. She was not wearing jeans like him, Dusty, Merry, Rocky and every single fucking kid in that room. She was wearing pressed, wide legged slacks, a blouse that probably cost an arm and a leg and shoes he knew, because he bought them, cost over three hundred dollars.