Kaley’s eyes flash with anger. She locks eyes with Zoe. “What did I tell you? Nothing. Whatever I do he never gets angry at me. I swear one of these days I’m going to explode. I can’t take it anymore.”

Angry? She is angry because I am not angry? Ian’s right. There is something wrong with kids these day.

“Oh, believe me, Kaley, I am very angry. I just prefer not to yell in Ian’s kitchen. Go grab your things. Get in the car. We’ll go somewhere where we can both yell until you can explain to me what stealing my car is about.”

No change in her demeanor. Her answering expression is insulting. “Did you have a nice night with my mother?”

I’m startled to feel my cheeks warm. “That’s what this is about? You stole my car because you’re angry that I spent the night with your mother?”

She shifts her gaze from me and scans the kitchen. When she finally looks back at me, her eyes are wide open and furious.

“Why should I be angry about that? You’ve used my mom as an emotional crash pad my entire life. I’ve watched this movie before. I know how it ends. So why don’t you leave before you fuck up my family even more than it is already?”

I stare at her and some of my anger wanes. I get it, Kaley, what’s happening here, and a part of me respects her for saying that. For being concerned about Chrissie. For being concerned about her siblings. Every word accurate; none of it right. Still, I admire Kaley’s honesty and directness.

“I’m not doing anything of the sort, Kaley.”

Her mouth scrunches. She starts shaking her head. She flips her hair, and then again, over and over, a tense series of silence and gestures. The little gestures remind me of Chrissie. Just like her mother, even in anger there is something vulnerable about Kaley that tugs at the heart. In part Chrissie and yet entirely herself.

I think of Khloe. An inconvenient thought at present. I wonder if my girl is going to grow up as miraculous as this girl trying her best to infuriate me.

OK, there’s a lot going on here. I should leave Chrissie to handle it. I don’t want to cross the line and do more than I should. The limit of my participation should be retrieving my car.

I decide to blow past her last comment. “Go get your stuff. I’ll drive you home.”

Kaley looks away. “I don’t have to go anywhere with you. You’re not my father.”

The way she says that hits me like a blast of chilled air—her voice and expression disturbing—and she looks, for the first time, almost like she’s going to cry.

“I suggest you get moving. Now, Kaley.”

Kaley’s fingers curl around the counter until her knuckles turn white. “I should have wrecked the fucking car!”

Why does she keep pushing at me and upping the ante?

What am I doing wrong here?

She’s already playing Grand Theft Auto real life.

Doesn’t she get that?

“I don’t give a damn about the car, Kaley.” It’s a lame gesture, but I’m fucking running out of options, and maybe she’ll get it. I remove a rolling pin from a kitchen countertop utensil set and hold it out to her. “Wreck away. Destroy the car if you think it will help you. Then maybe you’ll be ready to talk to me and you can explain to me why you’re angry.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. It’s pointless. It always has been. I’m not leaving here with you. Call the cops if you want to. I don’t care.”

Rigid. Intractable.

“I’m trying to cut you a break here, Kaley.”

Her eyes meet mine again, challenging. Insulting.

“You’re not cutting me a break. That’s not what you’re doing here. Denial may be a terminal addiction for you, but even you should be able to figure out that I’m not a child anymore and I’m not stupid.”

What the hell does that mean?

“I know you’re not a child. I’ve never thought you were stupid. I know you’ve been through a lot lately. It’s why I’m willing to let this go and take you home.”

She takes in several, rapid, ragged breaths. “Now you’re just being patronizing and stupid.”

She pushes away from the counter and runs from the room. A few minutes later she returns and slaps something down on the counter in front of me, a look of pure venom and challenge in her eyes.

She lifts her hand so I can see the box.

GeneSys Home Paternity Test.

Oh fuck.

She stole my car to get me here, away from Chrissie, to do this.

“Where did you get that?” I ask in disbelief.

“You can buy more than condoms at the drug store.”

I have to work not to visibly flinch at that remark. Reference to condoms. Shoving that box in my face. That’s a twofer. Double direct hit.

“I’m not going to take that. You’re being ridiculous. You’ve embarrassed me. Are you happy?”

She calmly removes and then unwraps one giant, long Q-tip looking instrument. God, she has nerve. She holds it out to me. “Touch it inside your cheek and give it back to me. I can do the rest myself.”

I study her face. It feels like I don’t even know her anymore. How could she think I would need a DNA test with her mother?

I meet her hostile gaze, hoping my eyes are calm, but direct. “This is about Khloe. Your constant anger at me, everything you’ve done this morning, it is about your sister. Yes, she’s my daughter, you are going to have to figure out a way to be OK with that, and I don’t need to take a DNA test, Kaley. There is no doubt in my mind and I won’t do it. I would never hurt your mother that way. Your mother’s word is enough for me. It should be enough for you, too.”

Every muscle of her face sharply adjusts and then tightens. “God, you’re an idiot,” she screams into my face.

She snatches the box off the counter and rushes out of the kitchen. Zoe follows quickly behind. A door slams.

I exhale loudly.

That was a fucking nightmare.

I turn to find Ian leaning against the wall beside the refrigerator, stunned into silence, his eyes locked on me, openly speculating. Fuck. I’d forgotten Ian was here. How much of that did he understand?

“It’s been a banner fucking year, Ian. I’d appreciate it if you forgot everything you heard.”

Ian bites back a smile. “Consider it forgotten.”

He studies me, frowns, and I tense. It looks like he’s working up to ask something.

I wait.

Nothing.

He’s a good friend.

I don’t have to worry about him in this. He’d never run to the tabloids or the gossip mill. He’ll stay silent about this ghastly scene in his kitchen. I’m certain of it, and thank God, I sure as hell don’t want Chrissie ever hearing about this.

He pulls a bottle from a cabinet. “Do you want a scotch? I’m going to have one. That was fucking intense.”

“Christ, Ian. It’s seven thirty.”

His brows shoot up. “A beer?”

I laugh.

Ian is a very good friend. However, fucking intense doesn’t quite cover it. A gross understatement, since I’m more than a little floored that Kaley shoved a DNA test in my face and thought that I needed it with Chrissie.

I rake a hand through my hair. I’m not certain if I should let it go and leave here with it this way. Christ, the girl is walking around with a DNA test in her pack. This whole situation has been harder on her than I thought it would be. It reminds me of Chrissie’s words over coffee. I feel like an ass on both accounts now.

Ian takes a sip of his drink. He looks at me. “It’s better to let them calm down before you start up at it again.”

“I’m going to head out. Make sure you direct her back to Chrissie’s.”

Ian nods. I reach into my pocket. Oh fuck, I still don’t have my keys. Kaley kept them when she left the kitchen. I’ll just use the app to unlock and start the car now that I have it back again.

I need to get out of here.

A lot has happened this morning.

I need some time alone to work it through.

“Since when are you and Chrissie back together again?” Ian asks.

No, not answering that one, Ian.