“No,” Charles said.
“You will be,” Pierce said. “It’ll all be all right.”
“Thank you for coming,” Tess said.
“I came for you,” Pierce said. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Just the three of you.”
“We know,” she said with a warm smile.
Dane arrived half an hour later. “Sorry, guys. Traffic was a bitch. Any news?”
“Not yet,” Tess murmured.
Dane dropped into a chair and looked at Charles. “Hey. Chuckles. Snap out of it. This isn’t your fault.”
“I already tried,” Tess said. “He’s beating himself up too much to listen.”
“I said some terrible things, and he dropped at my feet.” Charles looked around at them. “How is this not my fault?”
“Because,” Pierce said, “despite how Dad has always acted, you’re not God.”
All of them grinned in spite of themselves.
“And,” Pierce continued, “knowing the players here? He probably deserved whatever you said. You’ve rarely given him shit, much less fought hard with him, so it was long overdue if you ask me.”
“Agreed,” Dane said. “Every word.”
“Was it about Lisette?” Pierce asked.
“Initially, yes.” Charles said. “Then it turned into everything I’ve been holding in for the last, ohhh, forty years. I really snapped.”
“I would’ve paid good money to see that,” Pierce quipped.
Tess took Charles’s hands and squeezed. He sighed deeply. “My brain must be on overload, because at the moment, I just feel kind of numb.”
“Chuckles. Listen to me.” Dane leaned in on his elbows and held his brother’s gaze. “Dad’s going to make it and be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“I hope so,” Charles murmured.
“It will be,” Tess said, smiling. “Listen to Dane; he’s right.” She kissed her brother’s cheek.
“Whatever happens,” Dane said, “we support you. We’re here for you, man.”
“Absolutely,” Pierce chimed in.
Charles looked around at his siblings. He was so lucky to have them, and he knew it. “Thank you all. Really. It means a lot.”
The doors opened, and two doctors still in green scrubs entered. “Mr. Harrison?”
All three brothers stood up.
“We’re all his children,” Charles explained. “Is he . . . ?”
“He’s alive,” the first doctor said. “But he’s critical. He’s had a massive heart attack, and he needs surgery as soon as possible. We’re just getting him stabilized first.”
“What kind of surgery?” Tess asked, rising to stand with her brothers.
“Triple bypass. Are any of you authorized to sign off on that for him?”
“I am,” Charles said quietly. “How ironic is that.”
The doctors discussed the risks with the four of them, but they all agreed it was the necessary course of action. As soon as Charles II was stable enough, the doctors would do the surgery. He’d remain in ICU until that happened, hopefully within a few hours.
“I’m staying,” Tess said when the doctors left. “I’ll camp out right here on this couch and stay the night if it comes to that. But I’m not going home until he’s stable and has gotten through the surgery.”
“I’ll stay with you, then,” Dane said. “Let me just call Julia and let her know, and check in at work.” Removing his phone from his jacket pocket, he went to the far side of the room to make some calls.
“I’ll call Abby,” Pierce said quietly. “And order us a pizza, if we’re stuck here. Because if you’re all staying, I am too.”
Charles squeezed Pierce’s shoulder, then took out his phone. He tried Lisette twice, but she didn’t pick up. Unwilling to wait for a response to a text, he called the main line at the house, and Eileen answered. “Mr. Harrison!” she exclaimed. “How’s your father? Is he all right?”
“Still alive. He’s critical and going into surgery in a few hours. Thank you for asking.” Charles sighed. “They’re trying to stabilize him so he can have an emergency triple bypass.”
“Oh, dear Lord. I’ll pray for him, sir.”
“Thank you.” He leaned against the wall, glancing around at his siblings in brief amusement at how all four of them were in different corners, all on their cell phones. “Listen, I wanted to let you know, and thank you again for everything you did at the house. But I need to talk to Lisette, please. She didn’t pick up her cell. I thought maybe she’s busy with the kids? I need her to know I’m going to be staying here at the hospital until my father is stable. If that means I’m here overnight, so be it. But I—”
“Mr. Harrison . . .” Eileen cut him off, sounding hesitant. “Lisette’s not here.”
“What’s up?” Charles frowned, and an intuitive hum of alarm flamed in his core.
“Well, Vanessa’s here now, and she’s with the children. I am too, sir, and I’ll stay tonight for as long as you need me to.”
His body tensed. “Where’s Lisette?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Eileen said. “She left an hour ago. With suitcases. Said she’s taking some of the vacation time she’s never used. Don’t worry, she didn’t leave without making sure the children were cared for. I’ll be here, and so will Tina, in the morning. And, um . . . when Vanessa arrived, she and Lisette . . . had a brief argument. So Lisette said Vanessa could finally mother her children without interference from her.”
Charles wanted to punch the wall. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“The children are fine, sir,” Eileen said hurriedly. “Lisette made sure of that before she left. She’d never shirk her responsibilities to them. But she’s gone.”
Charles could barely breathe and wondered if he’d have a heart attack himself. How had everything gotten so out of control in such a short time? “Where did she go, do you know?”
“She didn’t tell me that, sir. And she took a cab when she left.” Eileen sighed again, heavily this time. “She said good-byes to the children. Told them she’d be spending the holiday with some of her family this year, and she’d be back some time after Christmas.” Eileen cleared her throat. “And she left a letter for you.”
“A letter?!?” Charles felt as if the world had gone insane. “I—I have no idea when I’ll be home . . . Listen, I’m going to have Bruck bring me the letter. Give it to him when he comes for it, all right?”
He made a few more calls: to Bruck, asking him to deliver the letter to him; to his assistant, apprising her of the situation and providing instructions; and then to Lisette. He hung up on her voice mail, not even knowing what to say just then. Then he called Vanessa’s cell.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.”
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t throw you out of my house,” Charles seethed, “and put you on a goddamn plane myself.”
“Because your precious nanny girlfriend took off,” Vanessa shot back, “so I’m taking care of my kids, and you need me here.”
“I don’t need you there. I have a full staff; they’d never notice your absence. They’re used to it, remember?” Charles pushed a hand through his hair. “And if you want a medal for having to take care of your own kids, you won’t find it on me.”
“I know you must—”
“Shut up,” he snapped. “Listen to me. I don’t know what happened between you and Lisette after we left, but you’re going to answer for it, and for the other crap you pulled in front of the kids last night. You can be sure of that.” His heart was beating furiously, matching his emotions. “But, yes, you’re in charge of the kids for now. I’m at the hospital, waiting to see if my father lives or dies. So be a responsible adult for once in your fucking life and stay with the kids until I get back. If you don’t, if you pawn them off on the staff and disappear, I’ll make sure you’re not allowed to see them ever again.” He clicked off the call and hurled his phone, sending it sailing to
land on the nearby sofa.
His three siblings all stared at him in stunned silence.
“I miss being able to slam down the phone when you hung up on someone,” Charles growled.
Chapter Thirty
Charles returned home the next afternoon in a daze. He was working on about five hours’ sleep, caught on a couch in the private waiting room. His father was stable, had gotten through the surgery, and was expected to make a full recovery. As soon as Charles had heard that, he’d left the hospital. He had a crisis in his own home to manage now.
“Oh, you poor dear.” Eileen started fussing over him as soon as he walked in. “You need a shower, a good meal, and some sleep in your own bed.”
“Kids are still at school?” He followed her into the kitchen.
“Yes, but Tina just left to go pick them up.”
“Okay. You two have been wonderful about picking up Lisette’s slack,” he said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. It’ll reflect in your Christmas bonuses; you can count on that.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Eileen said, “I know you’re upset with Lisette for leaving so suddenly. But she made sure the children would be well cared for before she left. She did. She’d never abandon them.”
But she abandoned me. He grunted and stalked across the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
“I’ll stop now.” Eileen went to the stove. “It’s not my place. I’m sorry, sir.”
“No, don’t do that,” he said. “You have nothing to apologize for. You care about her, and about me, and about the kids. I know that. I’m grateful for that.” He swallowed some water, welcoming the cold flow down his throat. “I just . . . God, it’s all too much. Too many things in too short a time. I can’t even think straight. I’m wrung out.”
“You need some decent sleep.”
“I do. But that’s not happening right now.”
“Can I make you something to eat?” Eileen asked.
“Yes, please.” He sat at the table in the nook of the kitchen. “I don’t have much of an appetite, but I don’t need to keel over either.”
“How about some beef stew?” she asked. “Just made a big pot of it not an hour ago. It’ll be good for you.”
“Sounds fine. Thank you.” He dropped his head into his hands. Lisette was gone. She loved his kids; she was pregnant with their child; they were supposed to love each other . . . and she’d left. His heart ached so much, it actually squeezed in his chest, a dull pressure. What he wouldn’t have given to come home to her today, to be held by her . . . Devastation seeped through him.
He pulled the letter from his inside jacket pocket, adjusted his glasses, and read it for what must have been the tenth time.
Dear Charles,
I’m writing you this letter to explain why I’ve left. And, to force you to let me say what I need to without interruptions, rebuttals, or demands.
I love you. I’ve loved you for much longer than you’ve loved me, Charles, even though you didn’t know it. And being with you has been like a dream. But dreams aren’t reality, and our reality is a harsh one. There are just too many differences for this to truly work, and I know that now.
I want to believe in you, and in us . . . but whenever I voice my doubts and worries to you, you always dismiss them. Maybe in your mind, you’re just trying to assuage my fears, but that’s not how it has come across. It’s frustrating for me. So, again, this letter.
You thought something had happened at the ball. I’ll admit it now, you were right. While in the ladies’ room, I overheard two women gossiping about us. I won’t get into details, but they basically said the kinds of things I was afraid someone would. They think I insinuated myself into your life and pretended to love the kids to get closer to you. If the kids ever heard that, and wondered if it was true, that would kill me. And of course, they’re looking down on you. I realized that most people in your circles are going to think, feel, and say similar things. And I don’t want that for you, and the children. Also, truthfully, I don’t want it for myself, and certainly not for the innocent baby we’re going to bring into the world.
You once said I’m always thinking about the other person. You were so right. It’s who I am; it’s my nature to care for others. And I care for you more than anyone in the world. So before this beautiful thing we started building becomes tainted, before you become resentful, before I get hurt, before the kids get hurt, I’m taking myself out of the mix.
I’m so sorry I’m hurting you. I really hate that. I need you to know that.
You promised the kids that I’d stay, that I’d always be around. I told you that might come back to bite us, but I want to fulfill that promise. So I’m not leaving permanently, as I tried to tell you. I’ll just move into an apartment close by, and go to work every day, like most people do. I won’t let the kids down.
Charles, every time I’ve tried to talk to you about these things, you just brushed them aside and barreled on, blind to the realities of our being a couple. We can’t pretend those things don’t matter.
Maybe I’m a hormonal mess right now (hell, probably—I think I’ve cried more in the past month than in my entire life), and maybe I’ll regret this later. But right now, I need space, and I need you to HEAR what I’m telling you for once.
I know Vanessa is leaving on the 26th. I’ll come back on the 27th to take care of the kids. That’s my job, and I love my job. We can work out the details when I return. I hope to keep my position as their nanny; of course, that’s up to you. We also have a lot to figure out about the baby, too. But I don’t see how we can be together anymore.
I love you. I’ll always love you. That will never change. But you need to find someone who fits into your world, and someone whose backlash won’t hurt the kids. I’m so sorry, but that’s not me.
Lisette
Charles folded the letter and put it back in his pocket, then dropped his head into his hands. He’d never meant to make her feel dismissed or that her concerns weren’t valid or being heard. He’d just wanted to assure her, make her believe as he did . . . and all he’d done was push her away. His goddamn pride, his ego, and yes, he was used to having things his way. He had his whole life; it wasn’t totally his fault . . . Ah hell, yes, it was.
But she didn’t have the option of just ending their relationship without hearing him out, dammit. Maybe, after she had some space, he could talk to her, apologize, make her feel his respect and affection by really listening to her and then working things out together . . . He wasn’t willing to let her go. He understood her concerns about gossip affecting the kids. Yes, she was selfless, and yes, she always put others’ needs ahead of her own. But there’d been a pearl of another, simpler truth in that letter: she didn’t want that negativity aimed at her. She didn’t want the scrutiny, and she was afraid of getting hurt. He understood that. Did she really think he wouldn’t?
And she wouldn’t be there for Christmas. That really stung. He’d so been looking forward to spending Christmas with her. He loved her, dammit. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be, especially if she still loved him too. Misery surged through him. What a mess. And where the hell had she gone?
The click-clack of feminine heels sounded across the tile floor. He raised his head to see his ex-wife walk into the kitchen. His eyes narrowed on her, and she stopped cold.
“I have no energy for you right now,” he said wearily. “Do me a favor, just once, and leave me alone.”
Eileen set down a steaming ceramic bowl in front of him and handed him a spoon and napkin. “Here you go, sir. Eat up, now.”
“Thank you, Eileen.” Without so much as another glance at Vanessa, he turned his tired eyes to his stew and took a spoonful.
Vanessa pulled out the chair across from him and sat down, folding one manicured hand on top of the other. He groaned and shook his head.
“How’s your father?” she asked.
He snorted at her. “What do you care?”
“I don’t care about him; you’re right.” She swept her long, glossy black hair back. “But he’s my kids’ grandfather, their only grandfather. I care if they get upset.”
“He’s alive,” was all Charles gave her before spooning stew into his mouth.
Eyeing the couple, Eileen wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Tina should be home with the kids in a few minutes.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” Charles took another spoonful of stew. “This is wonderful. I feel a little better already.”
“See that you eat all of it,” she said.
“You know your brogue gets stronger when you tell me what to do?” he said, grinning.
“Oh, now!” She laughed and left the kitchen.
He and Vanessa looked at each other across the table.
“You got your wish,” he said. “Lisette left. She’s gone.” He spooned more stew into his mouth.
“I didn’t want her to leave,” Vanessa said.
He chortled at that. “Riiiight. Pull this leg while you’re at it. It plays ‘Jingle Bells.’”
“I’m serious,” she insisted. “I mean . . . Okay, fine, I admit it. She’s great with the kids. Better with them than I am. That’s one of the reasons why I resent her so much. I’m . . . jealous.”
Charles almost dropped his spoon. “Wow.”
“Shut up.” Vanessa gestured at the bowl. “Eat more. I’ll talk; you listen.”
He stared at her for a long beat, then took another bite.
“I’m jealous of her,” she admitted. “She’s nicer than me, younger than me, and everyone likes her. Everyone hates me.”
His eyebrows shot up in shock at her candor.
“She also has you, and my children, wrapped around her finger. You all adore her. It’s so obvious.” Vanessa examined her nails. “I didn’t expect to find what I walked into here . . .”
“And what’s that, exactly?” he asked.
“A family.” She met his eyes. “You’re all a family, and you don’t even know it.”
Something in his chest tightened. He put down the spoon.
“She’s good to you, Charles. Better than I ever was. She’s kind and sweet, and she loves the kids, and she’s amazing with them. Everything I never was.” Vanessa shifted and crossed her legs beneath the table. “I always knew I was too selfish to be a good mother. I tried to tell you that, but you didn’t listen. I’m impulsive, quick tempered, self-absorbed. I knew I’d probably be a shitty mom, because mine was to me, and my mom was all those things.”
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