He snatched up the scraps and tossed them into the bedside trash. The first step to solving a problem is to admit you have it, and, oh boy, this was a problem. One he wasn’t ready to face.
“You always end up falling in love, and they always hurt you.”
She was right. Trying to convince her otherwise would only upset her. Laura and Maria hadn’t been so bad, but when he’d gotten passed off to Valarie, everything had spiraled out of control.
She reached over to take his hand. “The last one hurt you so badly you haven’t dated in five years.”
Seven. If you could call what he’d done dating. “But I’d barely passed the bar. I’ve been busy building a practice, making a name for myself, so I can take care of you. Like always.”
“You have to take care of yourself too. It’s like that thing on an airplane. You have to secure your own survival before you can help others. You have to worry about what you need.”
But what if I need Stephanie Kerrigan? “I can handle this.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him.
“I can handle it. I can.”
There was no way he was going to fall in love with Stephanie. If you repeat a lie often enough, you start to believe it. And he believed this one.
His phone beeped. Talk about being saved by the bell. “Time for your counseling session.” He bent to kiss the top of her head. “If you’re good, they said I could bring Pete tomorrow, so behave.”
He couldn’t get out of her room fast enough.
CHAPTER 33
ETHAN BALLED HIS HANDS into fists and gritted his teeth. He took a deep breath and counted to ten. It didn’t help. He took another deep breath and counted down to zero. Better. But not much.
Spending a freaking fortune on baby stuff they didn’t need was bad enough. A mink teddy bear? Mink for God’s sake. What the hell had she been thinking?
But this? This was outrageous. Her make-up laid strewn around the sink. He should cram everything back into her bag and let her sort it out later.
But Ethan didn’t cram. He folded. He stacked. He organized. He knew exactly where every item he owned was and could lay his hands on it within seconds. Including that puny little Allen wrench that had come with the shelves he’d put together for his basement.
He had built a career, and a sizable bank account, out of cleaning up other people’s messes, but this mess was more than he knew what to do with.
He reached for the toothpaste to put it back where it belonged. He stopped mid-reach, shoving the hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck. Was it too much to ask for to her to put the cap back on the damned toothpaste? And did she have to squeeze the tube from the middle? He replaced the cap and massaged the tube until the dent in the middle evened out. He set it exactly between the box of tissues and his razor. He felt better. Calmer.
It didn’t last. His temper rose. The woman was beyond irritating.
He yanked a disinfecting wipe out of its container—which he had purchased—to clean the dried toothpaste off the sink. And her make-up residue. And a stray hair that had looked great on her head, but in the sink? Uh, no.
He used the wipe to pick up the soggy cotton balls she’d used to take off her mascara before bed last night and scrubbed up the black goo that had stuck to the counter along with tufts of the cotton balls. He tossed the whole mess into the trash.
Yeah, it was her house. Her bathroom. He was only a guest, and for how much longer, he had no clue. But still... But still what?
He took a deep breath and blew it out hard. The judge—Aunt Sandy—was watching. The guardians had guardians. Would she swoop in at the first whiff of marital discord to make good on her threat to make him sorry he’d ever heard the name Stephanie Kerrigan?
He had no doubt she would, and Aunt Deb’s veiled threats wouldn’t stop her. That was one hell of a reality check.
And the reality was if cleaning up a few messes kept Pete out of foster care, it would be worth it. For Pete’s sake, he would suffer anything.
Keeping Stephanie happy, staying here with her, was the most important thing in his life right now because as long as they were together, Pete was safe.
Nicole might have been a better choice. Being handcuffed to her bed might have been preferable than being handcuffed to the Honorable Sandra J. Banner’s niece.
Getting special dispensation to skip mass at Stephanie’s church to attend mass at his own church had practically taken an act of Congress. But this was a red-letter day, and there was no way he was going to disappoint his kiddos. It had taken him too long to build their trust; he couldn’t let them down. Everyone else in their lives had failed them, and Ethan refused to be another adult to go back on his word.
Yeah, in the long run, Nicole might have been the less painful choice, but he had chosen Stephanie. Why? Convenience? Panic? Hell, if he knew. Bottom line? He had chosen Stephanie, and because of her, Aunt Sandy had granted him—them—custody.
He’d have to ride out the storm with Stephanie. How? Well, for one, he’d have to remember to clean up after her before they went to bed instead of having her mess hit him in the face first thing in the morning. Learning which battles to pick with her was going to be tough, but this one was a no-brainer: this simply wasn’t a battle worth fighting.
He turned to lean on the door jamb to check on his bride. At least she didn’t hog the bed. She looked so vulnerable in her sleep. The way she curled into a tight ball, like she was trying to protect herself, tugged at him. He’d seen kids in foster care sleep like that, especially the first few nights when their fear was fresh and raw.
What demons haunted her that made her protect herself like that? He’d never know because he’d never ask. In a few weeks, she’d be out of his life. For now, she had to stay, but he couldn’t.
It would be easy to slip away, to let her sleep. He might make it back before she woke up. But as crazy as it seemed, he wanted her to experience his church. He wanted to know if she could handle that part of him. The part he’d kept hidden from almost everyone.
And that confused him because this marriage wasn’t a ’til-death-do-you-part kind of thing. But if there was a sliver of a chance this could turn into something real, it was better to find out what he needed to know sooner rather than later.
Letting Valarie in had been the beginning of the end that Christmas before their big blow-up. It had been right before his last semester of law school; the year he’d bought a handful of toys and a few clothes, dressed like Santa, then delivered the gifts to one of his former foster homes.
The joy those simple gifts had given the kids had made him feel like he could conquer the world, but Valarie had mocked him. She had called him a soft-headed, bleeding-heart liberal. She had never understood that what he had done, what he had felt compelled to do, had nothing to do with his politics. It had been, and always would be, about helping kids deal with the pain and anger that came with feeling, with knowing, that no one cared. That not even Santa gave a rat’s ass about you.
It had helped him deal with his pain, with his anger, with the crushing knowledge that no one had cared about him. He’d needed to be the Ether-bunny, the name a little girl had given him as he’d handed out Easter baskets after mass one year. He’d felt ridiculous in that stupid pink bunny costume, but the happiness it had given the kids had made it worthwhile.
He readily admitted he’d gotten hooked on the rush of seeing his small tokens bring such big smiles. In his opinion, he had always gotten far more than he’d given.
Would Stephanie understand how important this was to him? Would she see the value in what he did and where he did it? Would she understand why?
There was only one way to find out. He had to take a risk, and as risks went, this was a big one. Right up there with saying “I do.”
He pushed himself off the door jamb and knelt beside her. Her hair cascaded over her pillow in a riot of wild curls that seemed to pulse red in the darkened
room. God, she was beautiful, especially now: relaxed, serene. He brushed a stray hair away from her eyes.
“Stephanie,” he called softly. “Wake up, Stephanie.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Time to wake up, Stephanie.”
He outlined the shape of her mouth with his thumb. He loved her mouth, the way its softness yielded to him. He bent to brush a tender kiss on that perfect mouth. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up.”
She stretched, moaning softly, her eyes still closed. “What time is it?” she mumbled.
He kissed her forehead then the tip of her nose. “Six. Remember, we got a get out of jail free card for today? If Pete and I are going to make nine a.m. mass at St. Al’s, I have to hustle. I’d like you to come with us.”
Her eyes opened a slit. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
A date. They still hadn’t exactly gotten around to that, unless getting married counted as a date. Or the command performances that took up most of his Sundays. But working all day and taking care of Pete all night was exhausting. Netflix and chill usually turned into Netflix and snooze. So dating? Not anytime soon. It was almost as if he was back to maintaining the lowest of low profiles.
Good God, he’d hated the idea of sneaking around. He had always been somebody’s dirty little secret, the vampire lover who never got to see the light of day. Wanting more had been the end of his relationship with Valarie. Would it end this one?
Wait. Did he want more with Stephanie? The idea that he might sent a white-hot shaft of panic slicing through him. He couldn’t let that happen, but he wasn’t sure if he could stop it. Maybe he should leave her here and use the quiet travel time to get his head on straight.
“You can stay here if you want, but I’d like if you’d get dressed and come with us. St. Alexander’s isn’t a wealthy parish; jeans will work.”
So much for getting his head on straight.
CHAPTER 34
“MR. ETHAN BROUGHT THE baby!”
That’s all it took for half the parish to crowd in around them. Was this what being caught up in a tsunami felt like? Stephanie frantically searched for a way out of the surge, but little Pete handled his fifteen minutes of fame like a bored rock star accepting the crowd’s adulation as his divine right.
“Look, but don’t touch, he’s too little yet,” Ethan warned the children, and more than a few adults, as he carefully tilted Pete’s car seat to give everyone a better view.
Stephanie cringed thinking about the germs that surrounded the baby, but the way Ethan moved, keeping Pete just out of everyone’s reach, reassured her. Was there anything sexier than a man who loved a baby as much as Ethan loved Pete?
No, absolutely not.
And he was hers. For now. After? Yeah, after. Like she had a chance to hold onto a man like him. Compared to Smitty, Ethan was the next point on the Richter scale, ten times stronger, ten times sexier, ten times better looking. A gale-force wind compared to a gentle spring breeze.
She hadn’t been able to keep Smitty, what hope did she have for Ethan? Once he didn’t need her anymore, he’d walk away.
What did she possibly have to offer him? Money? He had to have plenty of that, considering the huge settlements he’d won for his clients combined with his stingy spending habits. Status? He was the one news crews clamored for. When she’d taken over Kerrigan Financial Services, it had barely warranted a paragraph in the Sunday business section. Connections? The people she knew were the ones he sued.
She had nothing he needed.
They had about as much in common as sunrise and sunset.
If the judge had given him more time, would he have found someone more suitable? There had to be plenty of women who would have been willing to marry him. Judging from the reaction of the women in the room, every one of them under the age of forty would have gladly taken her place. The ones who alternated between showering him with dazzling smiles and shooting death rays at her. Younger, prettier, thinner. He could have chosen any one of them. Why her?
Because she’d been convenient. She had been the impulse buy at the grocery checkout, the quick snack from the nearest vending machine grabbed in haste to tide him over until he could get a decent meal.
What if she hadn’t driven him to the hospital and insisted on going in with him? Would he have sought her out anyway or found someone else?
The what-ifs and if-onlies that had crippled her self-confidence all her life threatened to cripple her again. He had picked her, and she might never know why. The critical piece of this puzzle was Pete. He was the only part of the equation who couldn’t take care of himself. Because of her, Aunt Sandy had allowed Ethan temporary custody. That had to count for something.
Stephanie backed out of the fray, settling herself into one of the well-worn pews. Ethan hadn’t been kidding when he’d said St. Alexander’s wasn’t a wealthy parish. In fact, he was being kind.
Stephanie knew everything about this place her quick internet search during the ride here could tell her. To say the least, she was intrigued, especially by the latest controversy out of what the aging priest had called “this funky little corner of God’s kingdom.” He was serving grape juice in place of wine at communion because there were a lot of recovering alcoholics in his flock that he didn’t want to exclude.
Was Ethan an alcoholic? Was that why they’d driven nearly two hours, passing God knows how many other churches, to get to this crumbling parish in the middle of an equally crumbling neighborhood?
If anyone had reason to crawl into a bottle, it would be Ethan. He did seem to enjoy her well-stocked liquor cabinet, but he’d never seemed out of control. Considering her family was riddled with high-functioning alcoholics, her beloved parents and Aunt Sandy prime among them, shouldn’t she be able to tell?
There was so much about him she didn’t know. So much she wanted to know, but what would be the point? They’d had to play the game of devoted lovers to convince Aunt Sandy to let them have Pete, but Stephanie knew Ethan already had one eye on the door, and, at the first opportunity, he would be gone.
STEPHANIE STRUGGLED to follow the left-leaning homily, a rambling attempt to connect Aesop’s fable of the Fox and the Grapes, sour grapes, with the concept that all things are possible, that giving up was like slapping God in the face. It was almost as if the whole thing was off-the-cuff.
Something about it agitated Ethan. He seemed relieved to slip into the rote prayer, to take comfort in the ritual they could both perform asleep, which, considering the demands of taking care of a newborn, they practically were.
Stephanie couldn’t imagine Ethan giving up on anything. Wouldn’t a lesser man have let Pete stay in foster care once the price of his ransom had become too high? But Ethan hadn’t walked away; he hadn’t given up.
Would he walk away from her baby? Of course, he would. That was the deal. Had been the deal. Her deal. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now? Yeah, now.
Their secret marriage wasn’t so secret anymore. If she got pregnant, would everyone do their own version of mental math to determine the father? Absolutely. And they would all come up with the same answer, tying her to Ethan for the rest of her life.
She glanced around the sanctuary. Ethan hadn’t bothered to introduce her to anyone here. Was he hedging his bets? Not wanting to... not wanting to what? Not wanting to screw up the prospects of future relationships? Not wanting to have to explain the now you see her now you don’t disappearing act she’d do at the end of the month? She honestly didn’t know. Something else she didn’t know? Why it bothered her so much.
The sign of peace, which at her parish consisted of exchanging a polite handshake with the person on either side of you—period—couldn’t have been more different than the party scene playing out in front of her. It was raucous and rowdy, and more than a little uncomfortable. The people here sure loved to hug. It seemed as if everyone was determined to hug everyone else, regardless of how long it took, especially the smiling priest who had p
arked himself right in the middle of the lovefest.
Stephanie sat with the baby, a huge boulder in the middle of a fast-moving stream. A mere spectator. No big surprise there.
What did surprise her? Everyone wanted to hug Ethan. What really surprised her? Ethan wanted to hug them, all of them, especially the kids. Happy, smiling, relaxed Ethan, his “crazy” eyes soft and inviting. Excited shrieks filled the room as he picked up the toddlers and spun them around. He knelt to the older children and performed some strange handshake ritual with the teens. Who was this man?
As rowdy as the sign of peace had been, preparing for communion was still serious business. She braced herself for another trip outside of her comfort zone. The grape juice in tiny, individual cups was sweet and sticky, but the experience wasn’t as bad as she’d feared.
Stephanie made her way back to their pew, lowered the kneeler, and knelt. Honestly, she shouldn’t have been worried about the germs Pete was being exposed to. The church was older; it needed some repair and a new coat of paint, but it was spotlessly clean. The pews gleamed from years of loving care. A few of the floor tiles were chipped and cracked but scrubbed.
She was a snob. That revelation hit like the proverbial lightning bolt sinners fear. This was Ethan’s family, cobbled together every bit as much as the family her father had forged with Uncle Brian. The people surrounding her didn’t fit anywhere else. Like she didn’t fit. Did she fit here? With Ethan? Suddenly, the thought of him walking away hurt more than it should have.
Ethan knelt beside her. Even in full predator-mode, he was a handsome man, but with his eyes closed in prayer, he was nothing short of breathtaking.
It was almost as if she was seeing him for the first time. She studied him. How had she missed the bump on the bridge of his nose? Or the scar that ran from the top of his ear along his jaw? It was well-healed, but she’d seen that kind of scar many times before. It was almost a rite of passage in her mother’s circle of friends and worn as proudly as any Olympic gold medal. A plastic surgery scar. Obviously, the work of a skilled and expensive, surgeon.
For Pete's Sake: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage of Convenience Standalone Romance Novel (Tobin Tribe Book 1) Page 17