Aaron holds up a hand. “Enough said, boss.” He squeezes my shoulder as he passes me and heads inside.
I’ve shown Kenna everything I need to show her to keep her busy for one night. And she has Aaron now. He’ll take care of her.
I don’t want to walk through the back and have to look at her again, so I make my way through the front door. Razi and Roman are covering most of tonight because I have to leave. I didn’t take into consideration when I hired Kenna and told her to show up tonight that I already had plans and wouldn’t even be here for most of her shift.
“I’ll be back around nine,” I tell Roman. “I’m going to dinner with them after the recital.”
Roman nods. “Mary Anne asks questions,” he says. “She’s been wanting us to hire her nephew as a barback. This isn’t going to sit well with her.”
“Just tell Mary Anne that Kenna is . . . Nicole is temporary. That’s all she needs to know.”
Roman shakes his head. “You didn’t really think this one through, Ledger.”
“I thought about it plenty.”
“Maybe, but you thought about it with the wrong fucking head.”
I ignore his observation and leave.
Diem decided she wanted to try a dance class a few months ago. Grace says it’s because her best friend takes dance, and it’s not because Diem actually likes dance.
After seeing her recital tonight, it’s clear dancing isn’t her passion. She was all over the place. I’m not even sure she’s paid one second of attention in dance class, because while all the other kids were at least attempting the routine, Diem was running back and forth on the stage recreating moves from her favorite movie, The Greatest Showman.
The entire audience was laughing. Grace and Patrick were mortified but were trying not to laugh. At one point, Grace leaned over and whispered, “Make sure she never watches that movie again.”
I was filming it, of course.
The whole time I was filming Diem, I had this underlying sense of anticipation at the thought of showing Kenna. But Diem’s moments aren’t mine to share. I need to remember that, no matter how good it felt on the side of the road to see Kenna finally get a glimpse of Diem a few days ago.
Patrick and Grace legally make all decisions for Diem, and rightfully so. If I found out someone close to me was sharing information about Diem after clearly knowing I asked them not to, I’d be more than livid. And I’d immediately cut that person out of my life.
I can’t take that chance with Patrick and Grace. I’m already doing enough behind their backs by just giving Kenna this job.
“I don’t think I want to take dance anymore,” Diem says. She’s still wearing her purple leotard, but there’s queso dripping down the front of it now. I wipe it off her because she’s on the same side of the booth as me.
“You can’t quit dance yet,” Grace says. “We’ve already paid for three more months.”
Diem likes to try new things. I don’t look at her willingness to quit all the things she tries as a negative personality trait. I think it’s a strength that she wants to try every sport she can.
“I want to do that thing with the swords,” Diem says, swinging her fork back and forth in the air.
“Fencing?” Patrick asks. “They don’t have fencing lessons in this town.”
“Ledger can teach me,” Diem says.
“I don’t have swords. And I don’t have time. I already coach your T-ball team.”
“T-ball is hell,” Diem says.
I choke on my laugh.
“Don’t say that,” Grace whispers.
“That’s what Roman said,” Diem retorts. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
The bathrooms are within view of our seats, so Diem slides under the table and scoots out of the booth. Grace keeps a close eye on her as she walks to the bathroom door. It’s a single-stall bathroom that Diem can lock behind her, which is the only reason Grace isn’t following her.
Grace usually accompanies Diem to the restroom, but Diem has been demanding her independence lately. She makes Grace wait outside the bathroom now, and when we come to this restaurant, we always ask to be seated near the bathroom hallway so Grace can allow Diem the space to do things on her own while still keeping a close eye on her.
When Patrick starts to speak, I can tell half of Grace’s attention is still on the bathroom door. “We filed a restraining order against Diem’s mother.”
I hold back my reaction, but it’s hard. I swallow those words with my bite of food and then take a sip of water. “Why?”