Because of Them: Heartfelt Romance

by Melissa Macomb

  If that’s true, then why don’t I feel better?

  27

  Bram

  I guess I really didn’t expect to be greeted with open arms because I knew she’s upset, or she never would’ve left New York behind my back. But I sure as hell didn’t expect whatever it was that just happened. I’m standing here, staring at the door that Tessa just slammed in my face. Again. The door is painted a beautiful turquoise blue that really pops from the street, given that the house itself is a bright white. The house is compact but cute. It’s so Tessa.

  Back in the truck I rented for my stay I look back up at the door, hoping against hope to see Tessa standing there. Hoping against hope that she wants me to come back so we can talk this out. But the blue door remains firmly shut, guarded by pretty little pots of flowers on the wide front porch and flowering shrubs along the whole length of the house. It’s a sweet little house. I can’t help but compare it to my impersonal apartment back in the Dakota Building. Since I had no idea what would look good, and zero interest in learning when I moved in, I hired an interior designer. I remember telling her to do what she wanted, but that it had to look masculine and have clean lines.

  It’s a perfectly fine apartment, damn it. Nothing wrong with it.

  Nothing except it doesn’t have Tessa and the kids in it, and without them, it will never be a home. The house in front of me now, this is a home where a family would live. It’s where a family does live, and they’re shutting me out of it.

  My anger starts to rise. She has no right to keep me from my niece and nephew. I’m sure this will be something my lawyer can use against her in court. As soon as I think that last thought, I feel awful again. I don’t want an ugly custody battle with Tessa. I don’t want a custody battle at all. I don’t understand why she won’t talk to me or what she’s so angry about. I should be angry. She left me.

  Then I remember the pictures she flung at me. I’d automatically picked them all up after she shut the door on me the last time and brought them with me to the truck. I reach over and pick up the first one.

  Oh no. Shit shit shit. That fucking bitch. The URL across the bottom shows it’s from The Rattle-Tattle and it’s that last picture the photographer took of me, the one where I was zipping up Kat’s dress. It had seemed a really weird thing at the time, but my head was full of the meeting I’d just had with Davis. To be honest, I just wanted to get out of there, so when she asked me to zip, I zipped. I should’ve grabbed that damned camera though. Katrina obviously had that whole little scene planned and made sure her photographer was there to catch it. Frantic now, I flip through the whole mess, seeing picture after picture of me and Kat in what appear to be compromising positions. I know they’re all innocent, but anyone looking at them would see what appears to be a close and even loving couple. That photographer really earned his money last night. I have an overwhelming urge to throttle him around the throat. Katrina, too. Fuck, but these sure look damning. We look like a couple in love, welcoming guests into our home, and stealing kisses in private. The cherry on top, though, has to be Kat wearing that hideous engagement ring. I hadn't even noticed it last night. I’m not interested in Kat and I know for damn sure I didn’t propose marriage.

  I’m so angry I can’t see straight, and I let out an ungodly sounding roar of frustration, which causes the curtain on one of Tessa’s windows to twitch. I’ve got to make this right. I’ve got to explain to her that it isn’t what it looks like. But I know that she won’t see me right now. She made that perfectly clear. I need a plan.

  I need to regroup and figure out how the hell I can make Tessa understand. And just in case she won’t listen to reason, I need to let Berners know that Tessa has brought the kids here. She did tell me to expect to hear from her lawyer. I need to warn Berners. Oh yes, and there’s the matter of one manipulative bitch. I thought I was done with Katrina last night, but I guess she’s going to need it spelled out for her.

  Fuck. What a mess.

  Since I’m getting nowhere sitting here wishing Tessa will open her door and have pity on me, I head the truck for the hotel Andrew booked for me and Mrs. MacThomas. When I left her earlier, she’d been happily discussing items on the breakfast bar with the chef. It seems she’s very particular about her eggs. I just hope she’s got some ideas on how to handle this situation, because I’m fresh out. Every time I remember the tears streaming down Tessa’s sweet face, I die a little more inside. I did that to her. I can’t stand the idea that she must think I’ve been playing games with her. What we shared together means more to me than anything. I’ve never allowed myself to get this close to any woman before. Hell, I’ve never really even wanted to before I met her. The fact that I’ve only known her a few weeks is amazing, but it sure doesn’t lessen what I know I feel.

  She means the world to me. Those two little kids and Tessa, they are my world. I’ll do whatever I have to in order to get her back. I want a life with her. I want us to be a true family. I want to marry Tessa.

  That last thought comes out of the blue, but it feels right. I’ve never felt this happy before, and the thought of what our life together could be like takes my breath away. I’m more certain now than I’ve ever been about anything.

  I reach the hotel and go straight to the nanny’s room. I need reinforcements. I can’t afford to screw this up any worse than I already have. Once inside, I wordlessly toss down the photos for Mrs. MacThomas. She needs to understand just how bad this is. The shrewd old woman examines each picture like a hawk. Her face is hard to read, but her mouth is turned down at the corners and she occasionally makes a noise in the back of her throat that I interpret as disgust.

  When she’s finished, she looks up at me and shakes her head. More disgust, I’m sure, and I probably deserve it, but not for what the pictures suggest.

  “Well, this is a right mess and it’s yer own fault.”

  “None of this is what it seems to be, I promise you that.”

  “Oh, I’m not doubtin ya, but I kin see why Miss Tessa is. I bet her sweet heart is broke near in two.”

  I admit I’m a little surprised that Mrs. MacThomas seems aware about Tessa and me. After all, she was away at her cousin’s when Tessa and I first made love. I don’t even try to stop the surprise from showing on my face.

  “You’ve got feelings for her, I’m not daft. And unless I’ve lost my touch, and I can tell ya I haven’t, she’s got feelings for you, too. Oh, aye, our Mary knew full well this would happen, and didn’t she tell ya so in your letter?”

  I have to admit that Mary did call this one. I was just too stupid and stubborn to see it at first.

  “I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid she hates me now. She won’t even talk to me and let me explain. Every one of these pictures was staged and then hand-picked to tell a story that just isn’t true.”

  “Och, aye, well, you just let me handle it from here, lad. You’ve got to let her temper cool, then she’ll be able to hear what you’re saying. In the meantime, I’ll go see her and work from the inside, so to speak. Leave it with me.”

  I want to hug the old dear with relief that she not only believes me, but she’s willing to help, but she’s already hauled her considerable weight to her feet and dismisses me with a wave of her hand.

  “I’ll be ready to be dropped off at the lassie’s in fifteen minutes. You just take care of your other business and leave this with me.”

  “Mrs. MacThomas, I could kiss you.”

  That stops her in her tracks and she’s actually laughing at me when she replies, “Och, don’t ye think ye’ve been doing enough of that?”

  28

  Tessa

  Bram has finally driven off, and I’m all alone again. No, I’m not alone. The twins are upstairs. I have to fight with everything I have for them, or I will truly be left with nothing. With that thought in mind, I both email and leave a phone message for my attorney, Jace, to contact me as soon as possible. For now, that's all I can do on that front. The children w
ill be awake soon, and the rest of the day stretches before me. It had started with so much promise, then it all crashed to hell. Well, the children deserve for it to hold up to that promise. I decide I’ll take them to the local park, which I remember recently added a 'sprayground' for the children to keep cool in the summer. It's a good thing I remembered the sunscreen when we were at Target, and swimsuits. Those poor kids have had enough upheaval in their short lives. Today, we’ll play and have fun. Even if it kills me. My phone rings with a number I don’t recognize.

  “Hallo, dear. It’s me, Mrs. MacThomas. I was wondering if you’d be up for a wee visit, you and the bairns? I’m here from New York with Bram. It’ll only be me, don’t you worry, but is it fine if I have him drop me off?”

  The thought of the kind woman spending the day with us sounds lovely, and I tell her as much. “The twins will be thrilled to see you. They hated leaving without you.” And Bram. I need to stop thinking about him every other minute.

  “Braw, my dearie. I’ll be there in two ticks.”

  While waiting for the nanny, I make a snack for the twins, who are now awake and literally hopping from foot to foot with excitement as I lay out my plan for the afternoon to them. When Mrs. MacThomas arrives, they push each other out of the way in a bid to get to the door first. Abbie wins and although clearly, she’s happy to see her nanny, I watch with sadness as she stands and waves at Bram as he drives away. Archie is more easily distracted, but I’m going to have to really keep an eye on Abbie.

  The twins cling to their nanny while I make the tea. It makes me wonder how they’ll handle it when she goes back to Scotland. It’ll be yet another person in their life gone. I feel the weight of the responsibility my brother has placed on me. It’s not the weight of caring for and loving the twins that’s so heavy, it’s the thought of having to be their everything. It’s a lot for one person, and after the kids go outside to play, I say this to Rhona, as Mrs. MacThomas is now insisting I call her. She silently pours tea for us both, that comforting ritual that all British people seem to feel is the cure for any ailment in life, and I stare miserably out the window, watching the children run around the yard. In my mind’s eye, I see nothing but Bram and Katrina.

  Rhona is taking her time over each little step of the tea ritual. The silence is making me uncomfortable, and I jump into it with both feet. The words that come out of my mouth surprise even me. "I think I'm falling in love with him, Rhona. I’ve been resisting it, I really have, but he makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. I think about him all the time, and sometimes I can’t even sleep for wanting him so badly. And the way he is with the kids. He’s so kind and he loves them so much. I can't believe it, even now, but there you have it.” Of course I’m crying now. No matter what I’m feeling, happy, angry, excited, sad, if it’s an overwhelming amount of that emotion, I’m going to be bawling my eyes out. "And, well, he and I, we..." I let my sentence trail off because I’m not sure how much I should share with Rhona. I don’t want to shock her, and I don’t want to be judged if she’s one of those that thinks men and women need to wait until they’re married to have sex. But I want to be honest, so I quit worrying about it and just blaze on with my confession. “We’ve had sex, and frankly, it’s the best I’ve ever had, and not just because he’s so hot. He’s sweet and tender and thoughtful and yeah, also so hot.”

  There. That should curl her toes. If she’s going to judge me, let her do it with all the facts.

  But Rhona’s not looking judgmental. In fact, she looks very sympathetic, sipping her tea and nodding at me to go on.

  “I can’t explain it, but somehow, Rhona, being with Bram, I feel more me than I ever have with anyone else. When it’s just the two of us, I don’t feel like I have to pretend to be someone or something I’m not. Believe me, as an orphan being moved from family to family, I had to twist myself into all sorts of pretzels trying to fit in. But, when it was just me and Bram, or just the two of us and the twins, I was able to let my guard down and just be me.”

  Finally putting this into words makes me realize how important what I’ve just said really is. I’ve never ever felt safe with anyone except my brother before, yet I was able to be vulnerable and open with Bram. It had all been so perfect and right. It hadn't mattered then that we’d only known each other a few weeks. As corny as it sounds, our souls felt like old friends who were destined to become lovers.

  I look up at Mrs. MacThomas, who has finally set her cup of tea down and is looking at me sadly. I don’t want her to be sad for me. I don’t want to be sad for me. But I am. I’m so freaking sad, and angry, and hurt.

  “It was beautiful, Rhona. I’ve been with other men and even thought I was in love, but what Bram and I shared together was more than all of that. It was the most intense, remarkable, extraordinary, and fierce experience I’ve ever had. I know he felt it, too. I know he did.” I’m crying again, of course, and this time it’s the ugly cry.

  “What I don’t understand is how can he experience that with me and turn around and be with her?”

  29

  Bram

  Damage control. Every good business executive knows when you get bad press you’ve got to hit back and limit the damage to your business. Tessa is still refusing to see me, so there’s nothing I can do on that front. Besides, Mrs. MacThomas is with her, supposedly fighting in my corner. The only other thing I can do is make sure that the news isn’t upsetting any clients in New York.

  Most people will take stuff in the New York City gossip rags with a heavy dose of salt, but even I have to admit some of those pictures looked pretty convincing, not to mention the ring Kat was flashing in nearly every single one. For the millionth time today, I curse that bitch’s very soul.

  I don’t know what she really expects to gain with this stunt. She has to know there’s no way I’m going to be bullied into marrying her. Other than a day’s worth of hot press, I don’t get it. I’m clueless, but I know I have to have a serious talk with her, and soon. I can’t let this stand.

  First things first, then.

  I place a call to my assistant back in the city.

  “I suppose you’ve seen Katrina’s pictures, and of course you’ll know that there’s not a word of the shit she’s put on her Instagram that’s true. If any of our clients mention it, or if any of those damned tabloids call, just say it’s rumors and simple situations taken out of context. There’s been a snag here in Oklahoma City, and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to head back, so I’m trusting you to handle things.”

  “Yes, sir, of course.”

  Thankful yet again for Andrew, I’m about to end the call, when I hear him clear his throat and say, “I won’t be a minute, Ms. Rutherford, please have a seat.”

  Unbelievable. She drops a bomb like this then has the nerve to just show up unannounced at my office. Seriously, unbelievable.

  “Put her on the phone, Andrew.”

  I hear him tell her that I’m on the phone and would like to speak with her. The next thing I hear is the woman of my nightmares practically purring in my ear.

  “Bram, darling, I’ve missed you. Where are you? I thought I’d come in and steal you away for a late lunch. Maybe even get you to play hooky this afternoon.”

  “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, Katrina, but I’m not playing along. I don’t care how the fuck you do it, but you will fix this and fix it now. You’ll make sure the whole world knows that not only are we not engaged, but we’re not even dating. What the actual fuck, Kat? Does it just give you pleasure to turn other people’s lives upside down? Do you get some sick pleasure out of telling lies and watching the fallout? Really, I’d love to hear your reasons for pulling a stupid stunt like this.” I’m fuming and getting angrier by the second. If Kat Rutherford were in front of me right now, I can’t say I wouldn’t punch a wall or something, and normally I think punching walls is idiotic.

  “But, Bram, darling, don’t be so mean to me. I’ve got good news that I was
going to tell you in person. As for telling lies, I just thought I’d get ahead of the game, because when you hear my news, you’re going to want to marry me, so I figured, where’s the harm? Really, darling, meet me at the Hotel Elysée, then we can celebrate properly.”

  This woman is unreal. Or she’s insane. I’m really starting to wonder if that’s the case.

  “You’ve got to be crazy to think I want to have anything at all to do with you, especially after this shit. I told you from the beginning that there’s no future with me. I made it perfectly clear it was just sex. You agreed. Now, you want to pretend we’re a couple? That we’re marriage material? You really are certifiably crazy, Kat.”

  “No, Bram, I’m not crazy, I’m just pregnant. With your baby. And now I’m upset because you made me tell you on the phone. I wanted to see your face when I told you.”

  My heart stops cold for a second, I swear it does. I’m having trouble catching my breath, like I’ve physically been punched in the chest. Is it possible? I mean, of course it’s possible. We’ve done the act, all right, several times. But I used condoms every time, I know I did. Besides, she told me she’s on the pill.

  I shouldn’t have trusted her to tell the truth. But even so, I was as careful as I could be short of not screwing her. God, how I wish I’d never even met her, much less fucked her.

  Maybe she’s lying again. I wouldn’t put that past her, either.

  "Do you really think that's going to work, Katrina? I used protection that weekend. I always use protection. You’re no more pregnant than I am." Of course she’s not pregnant. She’s just lying again to try to manipulate me. That’s what she does.

  "That might’ve worked on some unsuspecting fool fifty years ago, but it's far too easy now to disprove a pregnancy, and better yet, to prove paternity. If you’re really pregnant, it’s not mine, and I’ll prove it. Oh, and if you breathe a word of this online, or anywhere else, for that matter, I will have you in court so fast you won't know what hit you."