"The question is would he have loved her if she was a poor nobody? That's been bothering her for years, maybe since the beginning of their life together. She knows him. He's ambitious—grasping, even. She couldn't help but wonder if he loved her or what she offered him by being a Randall and an heiress. And then he went and screwed around on her. To her, that was proof positive that he'd never really loved her, and that has been eating at her for all these years."
"I see," he said, though he really didn't. The whole issue was too convoluted, the logic much too feminine and emotionally complex, for him to ever fully understand. So he cut to the chase. "But now, after talking with Luz, she's somehow finally been convinced that my dad does love her."
"Exactly. Luz made her see that your dad hadn't been keeping a giant-sized secret from her for all these years, that he really never did know that Elena was his, that when he confessed the affair twenty-plus years ago, he was telling her everything, hiding nothing. Also, since your mom left him in September, your dad has never given up on trying to get her back. He's proved to her that he really, truly wants her for herself."
"Well." He smoothed her damp hair away from her ear so he could kiss it. "Sounds good to me."
"Yeah. It's a happy ending. I love me a happy ending."
He licked the side of her neck. "I've got a happy ending for you."
She floated over to her stomach, slick and quick as a mermaid. And then her fingers found him, wrapped around him. He loved it when she did that. "Tell me all about it," she whispered.
"Better yet. I'll show you…."
* * *
Corrine loved every moment of that Thanksgiving weekend. They spent Saturday together, driving Kira to her lessons, sharing dinner, the three of them, like any regular, ordinary family. Then Corrine went off to work.
Matt waited up for her. They made love, and then slept holding each other close. In the morning, he made lattes for the two of them and hot chocolate for Kira; Corrine cooked pancakes. The day went by way too fast.
In the blink of an eye it was nighttime. Since Matt was leaving before dawn the next morning, she and Kira kissed him goodbye at a little after seven.
He held Corrine close, there at the door, and whispered, "I'll miss you. I'll call you. Every night."
She suddenly wanted to cry. As if he were going away for years or something, instead of just till the end of the week. So she kissed him, holding on tight, pressing her lips to his so hard, letting the kiss go deeper than was probably acceptable given that Kira was standing right there watching.
"Boy," Kira exclaimed when they finally pulled apart, "that was a loooonnnng one!"
Matt scooped her up and hugged her hard. "Be good for Mommy." He gave her a kiss, too, her favorite kind—a loud, enthusiastic smacker on her plump little cheek.
At home, Corrine sent Kira off to take her bath. She turned on the fire and sat in the living room, wishing Aleta had stayed just a day or two more, feeling sad and lonely when there was nothing, really, to be lonely about.
And trying not to start obsessing over her like-clockwork period that was three days late.
Chapter Ten
The next day, Corrine made several calls and finally found a sitter with good references who could start Wednesday night. That left Tuesday not covered. So she called Aleta, who said she'd be glad to take Kira Tuesday night and even get her to school Wednesday morning.
Corrine was all set on the sitter front. But no period yet. She checked often Monday. Nothing.
Just a fluke, she told herself. Even the most regular of women can go off-cycle now and then.
Especially if she's pregnant…
No. Stop. She refused to think that way. Getting all tied in knots over scary possibilities would only made things worse. Stress, after all, could definitely alter her cycle. The more worried she got, the later she would be.
So, then. No more checking. And no more worrying. It would come in the next day or two. She was absolutely certain of it.
Matt called Monday night. He talked about his second cousin, Jonas, and Jonas's wife, a Texan named Emma. Jonas was über-rich, with a dark past, Matt said. "But he's happy now, with Emma and their kids and his stepsister, Mandy." Jonas's mother had adopted Mandy not long before her death. "Mandy's ten now," he said. "Really talented. Plays four instruments. Can you believe it?"
"Amazing," she said absently, trying not to think about her period and all the trouble it was going to cause if…
No. She stopped herself. Seriously. Not going there.
Matt kept talking. "I was wondering if we ought to consider getting Kira started with an instrument—but then, five is maybe a little young, huh?"
"Um."
"Corrie? You all right?"
"Yes. Of course. Fine."
"You seem preoccupied."
"No." She lied like a rug. "Not at all. Tell me how the solar deal is going."
He did. She took special care to make interested noises whenever he paused for a breath.
When he asked how things were going there, she told him about the new sitter and then gave the phone to Kira, who chattered away as usual, sharing every last detail of her life since she'd left his house the night before.
"Daddy wants to say 'bye." Kira gave her back the phone.
He said he would call tomorrow and then he was gone.
Corrine put her daughter to bed. After that, the house was way too quiet. She spent an hour checking the invitation list for the annual Armadillo Rose Christmas party, which she always held on the Friday before Christmas Eve. The list included regular customers and her suppliers and their dates, as well as any over-twenty-one family members of her staff.
She added a few names to the list and then e-mailed it to Lauren Evans, a longtime friend who ran a stationery business out of her home. Corrine had already approved the invitation design Lauren had come up with. Lauren would print the cards, address the envelopes and get them in the mail within the next few days.
By the time Corrine sent the list to Lauren, it was after ten. She knew she wouldn't be going to sleep any time soon. So she called a girlfriend she hadn't seen since the wine-tasting a month before—the night she betrayed Bob with Matt.
Time does fly when you're having a hot affair with the father of your child. Naturally her friend, Nona, asked how Bob was.
Corrine set her straight. "Bob's no longer in the picture."
"Get out of here. You broke up?"
"That's right."
"But you said he was perfect for you."
"Yeah, well. It turned out not so much."
"Want to talk about it?"
"I'd rather poke both my eyes out with a burning stick."
"Eeeuu. Corrine, honey. You need a drink." Nona's solution to most problems involved a drink. Or several.
"I'm fine. Seriously. How have you been?"
Nona was only too happy to tell her. At length and in detail.
After she said goodbye to Nona, Corrine started thinking about her period again. To get that off her mind, she went into the kitchen and baked some brownies.
The tempting chocolate smell of brownies in the oven had always soothed her. Her mom used to make brownies all the time….
Baby, buy a home test, her mom would say if she were there. Take the damn thing. You can't deal with a problem until you're sure there really is one.
Corrine ate seven brownies and went to bed long after midnight feeling like a total pig. A possibly pregnant one.
* * *
Matt called at ten the next morning, after Corrine took Kira to school. "Because I said I would call every day," he told her. "And I'll be in meetings till seven, at least. And by then, it'll be nine in Texas and you'll be at the Rose."
They talked for maybe ten minutes. She was careful to keep her mind off the pregnancy test she needed to take and on the conversation. He never once asked her if something was bothering her. When she hung up, she congratulated herself on not worrying him unnecessarily.
Later that day, she went out for groceries. She didn't buy a home test. Inside her head, her mom's voice chided her for putting off the inevitable.
"Except it's not inevitable," she said under her breath as she waited in the checkout line. "Just a couple days more. I'm sure it will come…"
"What's that?" asked the elderly woman in line ahead of her. "You young people ought to learn to speak up if you want to be heard."
"Oops. Sorry. Just talking to myself." She gave the old lady a sheepish smile, which the woman did not return.
At the Rose that night she felt vaguely sick to her stomach through her whole shift. But it wasn't morning sickness, she was certain. Just tension and worry, that was all.
Wednesday, as soon as she got Kira off to school, she headed for the Rose. Three of her bartenders joined her to help decorate the place for Christmas. They draped garland from the ceiling fixtures, put up a big tree and covered it with shiny balls, strung white lights all over the place. She left them to finish up when it was time to get Kira from school.
Marilyn Rios, the new sitter, came at five. Corrine spent a half hour giving instructions and showing her where everything was. She was a freshman at San Antonio Community College, getting her gen-eds out of the way, she said, planning to go into dentistry.
Corrine left the house at six, a little earlier than usual. When she got home at 2:30 Thursday morning, Marilyn said that Matt had called. He'd left a message that he would call at 10:00 a.m. Texas time.
By ten that morning, she'd dropped Kira off at school and stopped at a Walgreens to pick up the test she had finally admitted she needed to take. She bought three of them, so she could be extra sure. She talked to Matt before taking one because if she ended up having something to tell him, she didn't want to be tempted to burst out with it on the phone.
He said he would be home around noon Friday. She told him she couldn't wait.
And then she went into the bathroom and did what needed doing.
The result was no surprise. She was pregnant with Matt's baby. Again.
She cast her gaze toward heaven. "What now, Mom?"
No answer. Only silence. Where are the spirits of the dead when you need them most?
She'd bought those other two tests, though. Maybe one of them would give her a better answer. An hour later, she took a second one. Positive. And another after that.
Positive again.
Three out of three. She supposed that made it official.
Corrine threw up twice that day. She wondered how this could be happening. Again. She tried to imagine how she was going to tell Matt that he was going to be a dad for the second time. Trying to imagine that brought on flashes of guilt so stunning and fierce, she almost threw up all over again. She'd been totally irresponsible on about a gazillion levels. Betraying poor Bob. And doing it without contraception.
And then, the next morning, she could have—should have—gone straight to Plan B.
Matt had even suggested she do that.
And she'd blown him off. She'd been so confident of her damn clockwork cycle. She'd practiced what amounted to the rhythm method and it hadn't worked.
What was that old joke?
What do you call couples who practice the rhythm method?
Mommy and Daddy.
Dumb. Beyond dumb. Stupid to the nth degree.
Somehow she got through the day.
She went to work that evening thinking she'd only stay a few hours, leave early, go home and go to bed before three in the morning for once. Surely her situation would look brighter after a full night's sleep.
The Rose was pretty busy, but no more so than most Thursday nights. All of her people showed up for work. By nine, she was thinking she could probably duck out within the next hour, leaving her head bartender in charge.
Too bad she didn't leave right away. At nine-thirty, as she helped clear a table, someone tapped her on the shoulder.
She turned around and almost dropped her tray of dirty glasses. "Uh. Tabby. Hey."
Matt's former girlfriend was looking sleek and gorgeous as always. Tabby's red hair fell straight and thick and smooth to her model-skinny shoulders. And on her perfect oval of a face there was not a single freckle.
It just wasn't fair. A girl should either be gorgeous or disgustingly rich. Tabby was both.
"I'm at the end of my rope, Corrine. I have to talk to you."
This did not sound good. Corrine desperately tried to think of a gentle way to refuse. Nothing came to mind. And Tabby really did look upset.
Still, Corrine made a stab at ending what was bound to be an unpleasant conversation before it could get started. "Really, Tabby. I don't see what I could do to—"
"Please! Just a few minutes. Just a little of your time."
Bleakly, knowing she would live to regret this decision, Corrine handed her tray to the nearest busman. "Come on," she shouted to be heard over the music. "To my office…" Corrine plowed through the crowd, moving fast, half hoping that maybe Tabby, in her four-inch Jimmy Choos, wouldn't be able to keep up.
But when she went through the door to the storage rooms in back, Matt's old girlfriend was right behind her. Tabby's heels tap-tapped across the concrete floor as she followed Corrine to the office.
Once there, Corrine gestured the other woman in ahead of her and indicated the chair opposite the desk. Tabby paused to inspect the seat, after which, with an expression of mild distaste, she lowered her designer-clad butt into it.
Corrine's frustration and annoyance with Matt's ex-girlfriend spiked. Okay, her office was a mess and the extra chair was kind of dusty. But Tabby could save the snotty facial expressions. Especially considering that she'd shown up here begging Corrine to give her a minute or two.
"It's about Matt." Tabby sighed. Heavily. A tear spilled over her lower lid and tracked its way down her perfect cheek.
Corrine folded her arms and perched on the corner of her desk. "Tabby, seriously. I really don't see how I can possibly help you with—"
"Oh, but you can! Of course, you can. Matt likes you. I know you're good friends with him, which is really kind of weird if you think about it, but still. It's the way it is."
"Tabby—"
"You're his best friend and that's why I know that if anyone can reach him, it would have to be you. Because, Corrine, he won't see me." A second tear dribbled down in the path of the first. And another after that. They were sliding down her other cheek, too. She whipped a tissue from her huge purse and dabbed her eyes with it. It was strange, watching Tabby Ellison cry. Her nose didn't even turn red. And her makeup didn't smear, either. "He won't even talk to me. I go to his house and he tells me it's over between us when it's not over. How can it be over? I don't want it to be over." She leaned forward in the chair, glaring at Corrine, expecting her to have all the answers—the right answers, meaning the ones that Tabby wanted to hear.
Corrine cleared her throat and suggested carefully. "Well, I guess maybe he wants it to be over."
"What are you telling me? Of course he doesn't. Not really. Not deep down. I came here because I want you to tell me how to get through to him. I want you—I need you—to help me."
"Tabby—"
"Actually, I was thinking if you talked to him, if you tried to get him to see reason and realize that he's just being ridiculous, the way he's avoiding me."
It was too much. It was all just too much. "Tabby, all right. I'll tell him that you came to see me."
"You will?" Those gorgeous green eyes went wide. A gusty sigh of relief shuddered through her.
"I will," Corrine repeated. "But I don't have any idea why you would want me to talk to him for you."
"But…but I told you why. You're his best friend."
Corrine stood. "I'm also his lover. I've been sleeping with him since the first week of November. If anyone should talk to him about you, I'm guessing you're really not going to want it to be me."
Tabby's mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut. "You'
re joking."
"Nope. I'm sorry, but you've pushed me into a corner here. I seriously saw no way out but the truth."
"B-but, you're engaged to a minister!"
"Not anymore. Not since I started having sex with Matt again."
Tabby pressed her slim hands to her wet cheeks. "No. It can't be. You're lying."
"Nope. Sorry. It's the truth. And now I guess you can see why I'm not the one to put in a good word for you with him."
Christmas at Bravo Ridge Page 13