Because of Them: Heartfelt Romance

by Melissa Macomb

  I should’ve known Kat would delay the meeting as long as possible. I mentally prepare myself for another evening spent making small talk with people I don’t give a flying flip about.

  Kat’s guests begin arriving and are shown into the large room at the back of the house that Lil always referred to as ‘The Salon’. It overlooks a rarity in New York City, a large garden. The weather is on the verge of another storm and a cool breeze floats in from the open French doors that lead onto the patio. I have to hand it to Katrina, she knows how to throw a dinner party. In spite of my fears, there’s an interesting assortment of people and in spite of myself, I’m having a good time. I overhear a famous Broadway star discussing the merits of horseradish or spicy mustard with chicken nuggets instead of barbecue sauce and file the story away to tell Tessa. It’s so ridiculous, I know it will make her laugh. Then again, it might be better not to tell her I had fun at a party I’m hosting with Kat Rutherford, at least not yet. I hope there’ll be a time when we can laugh about me being here.

  After a delicious dinner, Kat comes good on her word.

  “Thompson is upstairs in my sitting room waiting for you, Bram. Don’t be long, we have other guests.”

  22

  Tessa

  We’re finally sitting on the plane, waiting to take off. My patience is wearing thin with the kids, even as I know it’s not their fault. Of course, they don’t understand why we’re leaving New York without Bram or Mrs. MacThomas, but if they tell me one more thing that’s better about Uncle Bram’s plane, I’ll burst into tears. It’s all I can do to hold them back, anyway. I feel guilty about sneaking off. It’s not the way I usually handle things. I just shouldn’t have slept with Bram. I shouldn’t have let myself start to have feelings for him. He’s not a one-woman man and I can’t settle for anything less. Besides, the children deserve better, too.

  So here we are.

  I texted my good friend, Nicki, to let her know I’m coming home. She’s been watering my plants for me and keeping an eye on the house. She also happens to be one of the best obstetrician/gynecologists in the city and works at the same hospital I do. I asked her if there’d been any gossip at work about me. She was reluctant to tell me, but I finally got it out of her. Apparently, the good doctor let it be known that he dumped me, reason unknown, but he’s already started dating again. Well, good for him. My thoughts are consumed by one man and it’s not Mitch.

  I’m tortured with thoughts of what Bram and the awful Kat might be doing right now. I try to push away thoughts of her long legs wrapped around his waist, but it’s not easy. Instead I try to concentrate on making a list of things I need to get for the kids. Groceries are first on the list, we’ve all got to eat, then some clothes more suited to the sweltering Oklahoma weather. We made a start on their wardrobe in New York, since all their clothes from Scotland were just too warm, but now that we’re going home, they’ll need more shorts and t-shirts, as well as bathing suits. I make another mental note to find out if they can swim. Before I know it, we’re landing at Will Rogers Airport.

  “We’re almost home, apple dumplings.”

  “New York?” The hopeful note in Abbie’s voice breaks my heart.

  “No, sweetheart. I explained we’re going to my home this time, in Oklahoma City. You and Archie have been there before, don’t you remember?”

  “I want Uncle Bram.” Archie’s bottom lip is quivering, and I have to fight to stop mine from sympathetically doing the same.

  “He’ll join us when he can.” I cross my fingers and hope what I’ve just told them is true. But I doubt it.

  My cozy little house is just as I left it. The twins are still sulking because Bram isn’t with us, but they run upstairs to the room they used to stay in when they visited me before and start putting away their things like I asked them to. I know I’ll probably have to go along behind them and tidy up, but I think it’s important that they start feeling at home here as soon as possible. I peek in the fridge and silently thank Nicki for stocking it for me. She’s such a good friend. I feel bad because I know I neglected our friendship in the last year or two Mitch and I were dating. I’ll find a way to make it up to her.

  It’s almost time for dinner. My stomach is in knots and I doubt I’ll be able to eat much, but I have to keep to a routine for the kids. Besides, they’ll probably be starving. They turned their noses up at the sandwiches I bought for them in the airport and besides the pretzels they had on the plane, they haven’t eaten since breakfast in New York. Thinking back, it seems like another lifetime, not just this morning.

  I need to stop spending all my time thinking about New York. It’ll lead to thinking of him, and if I think of him, I’ll think of her. It’s too early for their dinner party. I wonder if they’re in bed together right now. Oh my God. Stop. It.

  I hate being this jealous. It’s not who I am. It might not be who I was, but it’s who I am right now. If this is what caring about Bram does to me, he can’t be the right man for me. But I really think he might be. I turn my attention back to the refrigerator and realize Nicki left a yummy looking casserole for us. So, I pop it in the oven and sit down with a cup of tea to try to get my head together. Looking down at the cup of tea I automatically brewed, my thoughts turn to Mrs. MacThomas, and from there it’s just a small leap back to thinking about Bram.

  I miss him already. Seems surreal. I’ve only known the man a few weeks. Yeah, but they’ve been intense weeks. And we’ve spent most of our time together. Granted, some of that time was fighting, but oh man, the rest of the time was magical. Maybe I was too quick to run away. Maybe I should have confronted him about Kat. The thought, though, of hearing him admit that he’s also having sex with that blond she-wolf, touching her, and kissing her the way he kisses me, makes me physically sick. No, I made the right decision. Leave him to his other women. I need to protect my heart and protect these children.

  Thinking of the twins must have conjured them, because they come running downstairs and find me in the kitchen. I rub away the tears that I only just realize are slipping down my cheeks and get busy with the rest of dinner. I add some fresh broccoli to the steamer and in no time at all we’re feasting on a delicious chicken casserole.

  “Are you sad, Aunt Tessa?” Abbie doesn’t miss a thing. I smile down at her sweet little face and reach out and cover her tiny hand with mine.

  “Of course she’s sad, dummy, she loves Uncle Bram, too. Right Aunt Tessa?” Out of the mouths of babes.

  “I’m fine, I promise. Now, finish your food and I’ll take you out back and push you in the bench swing. And, Archie, we don’t call people dummy, especially not your sister.”

  “Yes, Aunt Tessa. I’m sorry.”

  Outside, the Oklahoma sunshine is still shining strong, even at six o’clock, but the huge elm tree in the center of the yard provides plenty of shade. I love my back yard. It’s surrounded by a red cedar privacy fence and I planted lots of blooming shrubs and greenery in front of it to break up the monotony and provide some color.

  When I see the wooden bench swing hanging from a branch of the elm, my throat closes up with tears. Roman surprised me with that swing as a housewarming gift. It’s identical to one we had on the farm as kids. To see his children sitting on it now is bittersweet. He should be here to push them. Another piece of my heart crumbles.

  But, of course, as I’m pushing the kids my thoughts stray back to Bram. He’s probably at her dinner party by now. I can see him in my mind’s eye, all handsome in his tux with his hair pulled back. I hope he didn’t shave off that five o’clock shadow that was starting this morning. It was so sexy. Urgh, I really don’t want him looking even more sexy while he’s with her.

  Nope, nope, nope. I’ve got to stop this. Think about something else.

  I try, but I can’t. Instead, I think about that one perfect day in Central Park. I dared then to think we might work something out, maybe a life where we could take care of the twins together, maybe even be a family. It’s calle
d a fantasy, Tessa, get over it.

  Deep in my heart, I’m really afraid that I can’t.

  23

  Bram

  I have to admit I’m surprised to be meeting with Thompson Davis in what looks more like Kat’s dressing room than a proper sitting room, but since Davis is already there waiting for me, I don’t give it another thought. The man in front of me is seventy if he’s a day. Short and chubby, he looks a lot like those toys that rock without falling all the way over, especially since he has the habit of standing for long periods, rocking back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet. There’s an unlit cigar in his mouth that he’s busily chomping, just to complete the strange picture.

  “Mr. Davis, it’s an honor to meet you, sir.” I hold out my hand for a shake, but Davis keeps his own hands firmly hanging by their thumbs in the pockets of his vest, so I nervously pull mine back. It’s a measure of how much I want this man’s backing and approval that I’m actually nervous about this meeting. The respect I have for him is unlike any I have for anyone other than my father’s memory.

  Davis continues looking at me like he’s inspecting a piece of meat he’s thinking of buying. Well, that’s not too far from the truth. I try not to fidget like a little boy, and calmly return his gaze, mindful of my dad’s voice telling me to “face him like a man.”

  Finally, he speaks. “Have a seat, son, and give me your spiel.”

  I spend the next ten minutes talking through all the points I’d been outlining for myself all week in preparation for this opportunity. I give him the full picture of my vision for BGC Industries, and I’m pleased to note a spark of interest in the old guy’s eyes.

  I end with the obligatory, “Do you have any questions?” fully expecting someone as shrewd and discerning as Thompson Davis to have more than a few. What I don’t expect is for him to ask me what I’m doing with his goddaughter.

  “Sir?” There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that Davis is going to make a ridiculous demand. Something like I have to marry Kat to get his support. It would be just like her to have tried to work out an arrangement like that with her godfather. As much as I want Davis’s support, there’s no way I’m marrying Katrina.

  “I’m asking if you’re dating, or interested in dating, Katrina. It’s a simple question.”

  “Uh, well, sir, I’m not interested in dating any one person at the moment.” Hedging my bets, but I haven’t even told Tessa how I feel about her yet. I’m sure as hell not going to tell this nosy old geezer first. Besides, just because he might invest in my company doesn’t mean I owe him access to my private life.

  "Fair enough. I apologize for the impertinence of the question, but you see, I was tasked by her grandmother, who I loved dearly, to make sure Kat is safe and happy. After the heartbreak over young Will Statham, I decided I can’t be too careful."

  Will Statham. The name rings a distant bell in my memory. We aren’t exactly in the same social circle. The Carter family is, in New York terms, ‘new money,’ and ‘old money’ like the Stathams put themselves on a higher pedestal. Frankly, I’ve never had time for that nonsense, but there are still quite a few old New York families that pride themselves on having been filthy rich for a couple of hundred years. More power to them, but I’ll just get on with my life, thanks. Then I remember Kat and Statham were engaged last year. My memory is finally fully jogged, and Davis confirms it.

  "Yes, they were engaged, you see, but Katrina, well, Kat and Will were not suited. I felt like I had let my dear friend Lily down when it ended so badly, and I'm not likely to sit idly by and watch it happen again. Just so you know." He pauses then, looking for all the world as if he'd like to say more, but apparently, he decides against it.

  “Okay, enough about my goddaughter."

  I let out a sigh of relief and listen carefully while Davis outlines the level of financial support he’s willing to offer. It’s obvious from his comments that he’s not investing based solely on my sales pitch tonight. He’s thoroughly researched BGC. Good. It makes me proud to know my company has withstood the kind of intense background check someone like Thompson Davis would have subjected it to.

  After another ten minutes or so, we shake hands and Mr. Davis excuses himself with the usual ‘my people will call your people’ goodbye and leaves.

  I feel like punching the air and jumping up and down like a kid. I’m going to get my European expansion, and I’m doing it without having to dip into the money left to me by my parents. Standing on my own two feet.

  Now I can go home to Tessa.

  No sooner do I have the thought than I practically run out of the sitting room door and straight into Kat.

  "Where do you think you're going so fast, darling?"

  “Sorry, Kat, but I really have to go.”

  She pouts at my statement and moves her body closer to me. I’m sure she thinks she looks sexy but to me the word sexy only describes a particular short, curvy Cherokee woman who drives me crazy with her brown eyes and beautiful smile. Kat’s bright red lips and ice blue eyes do nothing for me anymore, and I’m itching to get away from her. It’s not just her looks, it’s that I know the ugliness her looks hide.

  "Fine, go if you insist, but I need a favor first. My zipper has somehow managed to come down a bit in the back, will you please zip me back up, so I'm fit for company again?"

  She turns her back to me and sure enough, there’s way too much silky white skin showing in stark contrast to the burgundy wine-colored gown she’s wearing. The animal part of my brain warns me this might be a trap, but I really just want to get out of here, so I reach out and grab hold of the zipper.

  At the same instant I hear that damned whirring noise. The asshole photographer has taken our picture. I’m going to take that camera and shove it up his ass. Of course, when I turn to look for him, he’s gone. Kat doesn’t give me the chance to do anything about it. She grabs my hands and tries to pull me close.

  "Are you sure you need to go, darling? This zipper could just as easily go the other way, you know."

  "No, Kat, I've been here more than long enough. Thank you for the evening." I forget all about the photographer in my hurry to get away from Katrina before she starts undressing me, herself, or both of us. I put nothing past her. I run down the stairs and let myself out the front door. I can feel eyes watching me and it creeps me out. As I turn back around to look at the Morrison Mansion, I see Kat looking down on me from a window upstairs. She looks pissed off, but now I don’t give a shit. She blackmailed me to get me to this party and I used her for meeting Thompson Davis. We’re even, and we’re done.

  Driving home, all I can think about is Tessa. I’m going to tell her everything tonight. I’ll come clean about my past and hope she can forgive me, then I’ll tell her that I love her, and I hope she’ll maybe love me back one day.

  I’m also excited because somewhere in the course of the talk with Davis, I stumbled on the perfect solution to this push and pull with Tessa over where the four of us should live. I can’t wait to tell her my plan. It’s perfect.

  24

  Tessa

  Stop it.

  I almost said that out loud. Ever since I got up this morning my thoughts have been swirling around Bram and what he might be doing back in New York City. I wonder if he spent the night with Kat or if he went back to the apartment and found we’d left. I fully expect to get an angry call from him once he realizes we’re gone, so the fact that my phone’s been silent makes me think he didn’t even go home. Or he doesn’t care. Even if he doesn’t care about me, he cares about Abbie and Archie. There’s no way he’s letting them go without a fight.

  And round and round it goes.

  It’s not like I don’t have plenty of things to get done today. First on the list is food. Nicky did a great job of stocking the immediate essentials, but I have to plan for the week. I’ve got these two little ones to think about, so no more flying by the seat of my pants and cooking whatever I have handy. I al
so need to start looking around for a suitable daycare provider because I’m going to need to get back to work soon. I’ve taken leave for the next week, but to make the transition back to work smooth, I have to have a plan in place. I wish with all my heart I could just rely on Mrs. MacThomas, but surely the elderly Scotswoman will be wanting to go back to her home country soon.

  Making my way to the garage, I have a scare when I realize I don’t have car seats for the twins. When I get inside, I send up another prayer of thanks for my best friend’s thoughtfulness when I see she’s already fitted my car with the required booster seats. Just one of the perks of having a woman who works with children as my best friend. The thank you gift basket I’ve been preparing for her in my head just doubled in size.

  “Come on, sweeties, let’s get you both buckled in.”

  “I like your little car, Aunt Tessa. It’s my favorite color.”

  “I didn’t know blue is your favorite color, Archie. What’s yours, Abbie?”

  “My favorite color is orange. I really like green best, but I feel sorry for orange ‘cause no one ever picks it.”

  I can’t help smiling at this answer. It’s so typical of Abbie and her need to make sure no one’s feelings are hurt. Even the color orange. I hand the twins some picture books I brought along to keep them occupied in the car and we get going.

  Target is my first stop where I get cool, summer clothing for the twins to play outside in, and various other items they might need, like sunscreen and children's shampoo. I even allow a few toys to creep into the cart. I’m going to have to learn how to say no, but for now, they need to feel like they have their own things around them, so what’s the harm in a few toys? The next stop is Costco for groceries and other household supplies. The twins sit obediently in the shopping cart as I wander down every aisle, afraid my memory or my list will fail me, and I’ll have missed getting some crucial item we desperately need later.