Love At Last

by Claudia Connor

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Sure. What else can I do?”

  “I think I’m good. I hope.” Even as she spoke, Jess made herself comfortable on the couch. “I assume you’re going to hang around so you can meet him?”

  “Well, duh. If I hadn’t already committed to this costume party, I’d stay and interrogate him all night.”

  “Thank God for small blessings. Here. Take him so I can get dressed. They’ll be here any minute.”

  Jess took Patrick. “You know Connor’s going to do the same thing.”

  “Yes. I know. I’m trying not to think about it.” Clare looked around the room. “Should I add some spider web to the lamp? I think there’s one more spider.”

  “I think it looks fine.”

  “Okay. You’re right. Less is more.” She started off to her room, froze, and turned back. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “Pumpkins. I knew I forgot something. Are the girls going want to carve pumpkins? Crap. Of course they are.”

  Jess shrugged. “Deacon’s their father. If they want to cut pumpkins, he can take care of that. Besides, don’t you usually do that the week before so you can light them every night?”

  “Sure. Okay. You’re right.”

  “If you want to stress about something, you might want to focus on your hair.”

  “My hair?”

  The oven timer went off.

  “I’ll get those. You do something with your hair, and after that, I’ll help you dress. Go!” Jess said when Clare didn’t move immediately.

  “Fine,” she grumbled on her way out. “But I don’t need any help dressing myself.”

  She chose a pair of skinny-legged maternity jeans that she’d worn when she first started showing, and a black V-neck sweater. The jeans were a little big, but she was a long way from her prebaby size. At least I have some boobs, she thought, smiling at herself in the mirror.

  She walked into the kitchen, hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing makeup for the first time this week. “Satisfied?” she asked Jess.

  “Good. Really good. Now go put on those sexy black ankle boots.”

  “I can’t wear boots and walk around with the babies. Where’s little guy?”

  “He went to sleep. I laid him down with Parker in the nursery. And why the hell not? Are you decrepit? Have you lost your sense of balance? Your sense of style? They’re like two inches at the most. You’re not running stairs.”

  “Fine, but I thought you hated Deacon. Why am I going to all this trouble?”

  “Just because I don’t like him doesn’t mean you don’t want to look good. In fact, it’s all the more reason.”

  Clare went for the boots, came back, and sat on the edge of the couch to put them on. “What do you think men do to arm themselves? I mean if shoes do it for us?”

  “I don’t know. Kind of makes you feel sorry for them that they don’t have that weapon.”

  “Mmm.”

  The doorbell rang just as Clare was zipping her boots.

  “I’ll get it,” Jess said, holding up a hand to ward her off before striding to the door like a bodyguard.

  Clare listened to the introductions made at the door. Jess was fairly cold but civil. Then Deacon came into the room holding one daughter’s hand and the other in his arms with her little head tucked under his chin.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Their eyes met, and it was like all the air was sucked from the room. “Hi.”

  Deacon was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved forest-green pullover. The day’s worth of dark scruff on his jaw gave him a darker, sexier edge opposite the tiny pink backpack over his shoulder and the little girl on his arm. Deacon had plenty of his own weapons.

  “Well, I was just on my way out,” Jess said.

  Clare thanked Jess again but didn’t spare her a glance as she left, unable to tear her eyes from Deacon and his daughters. They wore matching ruffled denim skirts with long-sleeved orange tops, little white socks, and tennis shoes.

  “Is this your friend?” the one standing at his side asked.

  “Yes. This is Clare. Clare, this is Margo. And this is Maci,” Deacon said. “She fell asleep in the car. Re-entry after nap is tough.” He leaned down to put her on her feet next to her sister.

  Clare moved closer and knelt down. “Hi. I’m so happy to meet you.”

  They pressed their cheeks to Deacon’s thighs, one on each side of him. He laid a protective and reassuring hand on top of their heads. Clare’s heart melted on the spot. They were so beautiful, with hair like silk and Deacon’s brown eyes. She longed to pull them into her lap.

  “Are you excited for trick-or-treating?” she asked.

  They both nodded.

  “I’m glad you came.”

  “Daddy said you had babies,” Margo said.

  Clare looked up at Deacon then back at the girls. “I do. Do you want to see them?”

  They both nodded again, less shy this time.

  She heard the boys stir on the monitor. “Oh! Do you hear that? I think they want to meet you.”

  The four of them went to the nursery and came back to the couch, Deacon carrying one baby and Clare the other. Margo and Maci stood in front of them, faces close, full of curiosity.

  “Hi, baby,” Margo said, getting her face as close as she could.

  “Easy,” Deacon said, his tone gentle but firm. “You can touch their feet, not their faces.”

  “Hi, babies.” Margo touched feet and hands.

  Patrick blinked owlish eyes, and Margo beamed up at her father. “Look! He likes me! They both like me!”

  Margo climbed onto the couch next to Clare for a better look. She smelled so sweet.

  “Two babies,” she said incredulous, like it was two hundred babies in the room.

  Margo’s way was to touch the baby, while Maci ran to her backpack and came back with a stuffed cat. “Here, baby. Here.”

  “Aww. That’s sweet. Maci, right?”

  She nodded then quickly hid her face between Deacon’s knees.

  “We’re going to be cats,” Margo said, warming up. “We have ears and a tail.”

  Clare already knew this, of course. Deacon had told her, but she feigned surprised. “Really? I love cats.”

  “We know, and we’re going to be them, but Daddy forgot his costume.”

  Clare met Deacon’s smile. He shrugged. “It’s true. I did,” he said with a wink. “Nice decorations, by the way. You did a lot.”

  She looked around. One of the orange streamers was coming untaped and hanging down the wall.

  “We need whiskers,” Maci said, before Clare could comment.

  “We need whiskers,” Margo repeated louder, more insistently.

  “Maybe I could draw your whiskers,” Clare offered.

  “Daddy can do it.”

  “Aunt Alex can’t do it ’cause she’s not here,” Maci added sadly.

  “Oh. Okay.” Her heart fell a little with the quick snap back to reality. She wasn’t part of Deacon’s family. They weren’t a family.

  “Girls, I bet Clare’s way better at makeup than me,” Deacon said.

  Without warning, Parker face scrunched up, and he let out a wail. Deacon laughed and she felt it all the way through to her soul. Her baby’s father, holding him with sure hands, smiling at him with love in his eyes, proud of even a cry.

  “Don’t cry, baby,” Margo said, but the crying increased.

  “I think these guys are hungry.” Clare stood. “What about you?” she asked the girls. “Are you hungry?” It was nearly six. They needed to eat and change into costumes. “I have a chicken nugget tray in the kitchen. And there’s little crescent hot dog things and chili, but the toppings—” Flustered, she shifted the crying baby away from her ear. “The toppings are still in the fridge.” The crying intensified, bringing a tingle to her breasts with her milk letting down. She looked around at a loss.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Deacon said, standing with P
atrick cradled in his arm. He easily caught Maci up with his other. “I can help you get the boys changed and feed the girls while you feed the boys. How’s that?”

  She let out a tense breath. “Okay. That would be great.”

  Minutes later, Clare sat in her bed, nursing the boys. So used to the quiet of her tiny house, she listened to Deacon and the girls in the other room. Deacon’s deep male voice was in full Daddy mode, answering a litany of questions. Yes, the babies are eating milk. No, you can’t see. Yes, they’re boys. Yes, there are two. His voice was soft but firm as he repeated instructions. Sit on your bottom. Use a napkin.

  As soon as the boys finished, she joined Deacon and the girls at the table. Deacon took Parker to burp and somehow took care of the girls at the same time.

  “We have a cat,” Margo said. “Do you like cats?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you have one?”

  “No.”

  Deacon smiled. “I haven’t checked the world record on question asking, but it’s very possible they break it daily.”

  “You should have one,” Margo said seriously about the cat. “Do you like candy?”

  She met Deacon’s smile with her own as both girls listed all the candy they liked best.

  As they ate, Clare was mesmerized by Deacon. He’d pushed his sleeves up on his forearms, and she watched his long fingers cut a half a hot dog into small pieces. He told Margo to slow down and Maci to eat one more bite.

  There was a knock at the door. She sent Deacon a worried glance and stood. She’d meant to warn him earlier about Connor. “I forgot to tell you… My brother Connor is coming over. He asked what I was doing, and I had to tell him. He wants to meet you.”

  “That’s good. I want to meet him.”

  “Is he big or little?” Margo asked.

  “Big.”

  “We have a sister,” Margo told her.

  Her gaze met Deacon’s over Maci’s head. They also had two brothers. How was he going to explain that, she wondered, and went to let her brother in.

  Chapter 23

  CLARE’S BROTHER GREETED HIM with suspicious eyes and a firm handshake, which he returned in kind.

  “We want to trick-or-treat,” Maci said on the verge of whining.

  “Wash hands, go potty, then we’ll go.”

  “I’ll take them,” Clare said, dumping paper plates in the trash. “We need to redo some whiskers too.”

  Deacon’s heart warmed watching Clare lead the girls off. Connor walked over to look at his nephews sleeping in the crib then turned to him.

  “So,” Connor said, studying him. “You’re the guy.”

  “Yep.”

  “Want a beer?”

  “No thanks.”

  Connor shrugged then went to Clare’s refrigerator and helped himself. With the beer in hand, he opened the sliding glass door and stepped outside onto Clare’s postage stamp-sized back porch. He twisted the top off the bottle, took a long drink, and sighed. “I’m not much for confrontation,” Connor said after a moment.

  “Do we need one?”

  Connor gave him a long look. “I’m not sure yet. Cute girls.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Clare said you told her you’re not married.”

  “I did. And I’m not.”

  Connor nodded slowly, took another drink. “Still, I feel it’s my duty as big brother to give you some kind of warning. Like if you think you’re going to come in here and start all over, jerk her around—you’re not.”

  “That’s not my plan, but they’re my sons. I’m going to be their father.”

  “That’s fine. But Clare’s not a toy to play with.”

  “I never thought she was.”

  He couldn’t tell if Connor believed that, and he didn’t really feel like explaining himself to her brother or talking to him about things he hadn’t even talked to Clare about. “We have some things to work out. And we will. I’m not here to hurt her.”

  Connor nodded slowly. “Well, if you do, killing you won’t be enough.”

  “Understood.”

  They stood a few minutes in silence. “I heard Clare was quite the outfielder.” Deacon had to admit, he liked a guy who would lie to his little sister to convince her she was good at sports.

  Connor laughed softly. “Shit. She doesn’t still think that was the best position?”

  “Apparently, she does. But don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  HAVING DONE WHAT HE came to do, Connor left. The girls were dressed in matching black tights, leotards, and headbands with little black cat ears. Clare redrew their whiskers and black triangles on their noses. They were adorable. The boys were zipped up in green fleece bunting sacks made to look like dinosaurs. The green hoods with soft yellow spikes completed the look and would keep their heads warm.

  “Okay, who’s ready to trick-or-treat?” Clare asked.

  Margo and Maci raced toward the door.

  “Coats,” Deacon said to them. That decree was met with wails and whining.

  “But no one will see our costumes,” Margo complained.

  Deacon held out matching purple-and-pink coats to the girls, and Clare knelt in front of Maci. “I think everyone will know what you are with the makeup and ears, and maybe you could leave your coats unbuttoned?” She looked up at Deacon. “But whatever your dad says.”

  Deacon helped Margo. “I think that’s a great idea.”

  With the girls dressed and the babies packed up, they drove the short distance to Clare’s old neighborhood.

  It was just after seven when they hit the first house. Three carved pumpkins glowed on the front steps, and a gauzy ghost hung on the door. The girls clung to Deacon’s hands as the six of them went to the door. He gently prompted them on what to say.

  The scene repeated four more times before the girls announced they could do it by themselves. They skipped up the porch steps while she and Deacon waited on the sidewalk. The crisp October night air blew softly around them, carrying the squeals of happily terrified children. The scene filled her with memories from her childhood: lugging home her pillowcase then spending hours sorting and trading with Jess and Connor.

  A group of kids streaked across the sidewalk in front of them. Just one of many clumps buzzing back and forth.

  She and Deacon stayed close enough behind to hear the girls’ sweet voices call “trick or treat” in unison then “thank you” before they ran back to show off their loot.

  “My pumpkin’s heaby,” Maci said.

  “Mine, too,” Margo said. “But it still needs more, more, more!”

  With that, they skipped hand in hand to the next house.

  Clare laughed. “I think she’s getting the hang of it.”

  “I think you’re right. What’s better than a night you get to go door to door and people who don’t want you running on their lawn give you candy?

  “So this is your old stomping ground,” Deacon said as they made their way down the oak-lined street.

  “It is.” A sweet nostalgia squeezed her heart.

  “I like it. A lot like my old hood.”

  He laughed softly, and she glanced over at him where he pushed the stroller beside her. Light from the streetlights illuminated his smiling face. She smiled too. “What?”

  “Just thinking how I used to draw these maps, strategic routes for collecting the most candy. Smarter and faster to work one side then the other.”

  “I was a zig-zagger.” She took in the manic packs of goblins, cheerleaders, and superheroes. “I’m almost afraid to ask what my brother said to you.”

  “Nothing I wouldn’t have said in the same situation.”

  She hated that they were a situation. “And what would that be?”

  “Just guy talk. I think we came to an understanding.” He called out to the girls, “Next house,” and pointed to the house next door on the same side of the street.

  “And what was that?”

  “That I won’t hurt you.” He
looked down at her. “And I won’t.”

  She didn’t at all think he would on purpose. That didn’t always mean people didn’t get hurt.

  Just then, an older kid in a gruesome mask growled at the twins, making them scream and race to Deacon’s side. He carried them to the next few houses while she waited with the stroller.

  As he walked back, she felt an odd thump in her chest, much like she’d felt that first night at dinner with him. And again when he smiled down at her.

  No. You can’t fall for him again.

  There was too much at stake. Too many little hearts to consider. But when he took her hand, she was instantly catapulted back to another time they’d walked hand in hand.

  “See any people up there?” Deacon asked, glancing up at the full moon rising in the dark sky off to the right.

  “Not tonight.” It felt good to laugh with him. “This kind of reminds me of walking on the beach with you.”

  “Mmm. Except there’s no sand,” he said.

  “True. And it was warmer.”

  “And there weren’t any kids,” Deacon pointed out.

  “Yeah. This is really nothing at all like walking on the beach,” she said, grinning over at him.

  With a low chuckle, he looked around at all the little costumed bodies darting past. “It’s really not. But it’s nice.” He tightened his fingers around hers just a fraction.

  “I think so, too.”

  Chapter 24

  CLARE SAT IN THE twin bed the next morning, nursing the boys. She’d been wiped out after trick-or-treating, and so had the girls. After coming back to her place, Deacon had carried their limp, half-asleep bodies to the car and taken them back to the hotel. It made sense, of course. But it bothered her on some level. Walking with him hand in hand had felt so good, then watching him walk out with his children, whom she barely knew, was just a stark reminder that they weren’t a family. They were a mixed-up his-and-hers with separate addresses and separate lives.

  But he was trying. She couldn’t deny that.

  The bedroom door cracked open, and her heart jumped into her throat imagining Deacon coming in. She wasn’t exactly covered. Maybe it was weird to be embarrassed after all they’d done, but just because they’d been together, that didn’t mean they were together.