by Beth Ciotta
Before she knew it their special weekend arrived. From the moment the Inseparables picked her and Melody up at the cabin, the day was upbeat and packed with surprises.
For her part, Chrissy shoved Mason from her mind thirty miles outside of Denver. She refused to obsess on a possible run-in. They were history. For crying out loud they’d barely even been. This weekend, she told herself as they rolled into the city, he didn’t even exist.
As promised, Denver was decorated to the hilt—a bona fide Winter Wonderland. The Blossoms of Light display at the Botanic Gardens. The twinkling canopy of Larimer Square. The colorful and imaginative wonder of Zoo Lights at the Denver Zoo.
Spurred on by Melody’s giddy joy, Chrissy relaxed into the getaway. The Inseparables plus One (but minus Sinjun) packed an impressive amount of delight into six dazzling hours. By the time they returned to the suite, Melody was down for the count, but the Inseparables partied on. Girl talk, boy talk, games, and candy cane shooters. Chrissy couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much and so hard. Sans the peppermint schnapps, it reminded her of their childhood slumber parties. Of younger days. Carefree days. It was as close as she’d come to pure joy in years.
Morning rolled around a little too fast but it didn’t stop the girls from sightseeing and shopping their butts off. Between immersing herself in the festivities and abandoning her worries regarding Mason, Chrissy was beginning to feel a fraction of her old self. Spontaneous and fun. The best was when a performance artist—dressed as Jack Frost—broke out of a freeze pose and scared the stuffing out of Emma. Chrissy—who’d unfortunately just taken a sip of her warm beverage—laughed so hard, cider shot out of her nose. Unbelievably embarrassing, but totally worth Melody’s unexpected and extremely loud belly laugh. As a child who rarely vocalized, Mel’s laughter was music to Chrissy’s ears. Knowing she instigated that laugh was a bona fide rush. In that moment, Chrissy sparkled.
Inspired, she floated on that glittery high all day, knowing it was directly linked to Mel’s own sparkle. But now that they were standing in line at the performance center, hoping to buy two additional tickets via a last minute cancellation, damnable melancholy nipped at Chrissy’s spirit. Once upon a time she’d dreamed of performing in a theater like this.
“I’m sorry Sinjun got bogged down with work and had to cancel on us,” Georgie said as they shuffled closer to the lobby sales booth. “But at least it means we only need to snag two tickets instead of three.”
“If we strike out,” Emma said, “Angel and I vote to opt out. We’ll shop and meet up with you girls after the concert.”
“We’re not going to strike out,” Bella said. “Think positive.”
“It’s a miracle Chrissy scored four tickets to begin with,” Georgie said. “We’ll get two more. I feel it. This was meant to be.”
There were only three people ahead of them now and, as they inched forward, Chrissy reached down to prompt Melody.
Only Melody wasn’t there.
Chrissy whirled left, right, and all the way around. “Where’s Mel?” Her daughter stuck to her like Velcro in crowded venues. She never wandered off. Never.
“What the…” Bella looked every which way. “She was just here.”
“Holding on to the end of my scarf while I flipped through this damned concert program.” Chrissy’s insides twisted with guilt. When did Mel let go? How could I not have sensed her absence?
“Did she drift to the Nutcracker display?” Georgie asked.
“Bathroom?” Angel asked.
Chrissy’s mind flashed with morbid scenarios. “Oh, God.” Had someone snatched her daughter?
“Don’t panic,” Emma said as the women fanned out in search of a blond-haired, blue-eyed munchkin.
Chrissy frantically scanned the lobby as she pushed through the crowd. Plenty of kids, but no Mel. Her pulse kicked into overdrive as she pushed outside. Icy wind blasted her face as she loped down the steps. Was Mel out here somewhere freezing and scared? Stay calm, Christmas. Focus. She wasn’t sure if it was mother’s intuition or the bright red coat, but Chrissy spied her daughter straight away. She was standing near the gargantuan decorated evergreen Chrissy had hustled her past because they were running late.
She would have been relieved except… A dark-coated man had Mel by the shoulders.
Every abduction headline she’d ever read propelled Chrissy across the snowy grounds at breakneck speed. “Get your hands off of my daughter!”
She was set to tackle the bastard to the ground, when he rose from his stooped position, hands raised in mock surrender. “Just trying to help.”
He kept talking, his words garbling in Chrissy’s frantic mind as she fell to her knees and pulled her daughter into a bone-crushing hug. Her mind gushed with relief and gratitude as she confirmed Melody’s wellbeing. Mel was safe. And he—the man who’d been in her daughter’s face—was still blathering. His words registered in fragments as the fog of panic faded around the edges.
“Waiting for a friend… Noticed this little one… alone… lost… Didn’t respond to my questions…”
“It’s because she can’t hear,” Emma, who must’ve been on Chrissy’s heels, explained to the stranger.
Although, as Chrissy finally focused on his face, she realized the man wasn’t a stranger at all.
Recognition was twofold. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “Juliet?”
Maybe the fact that they’d assumed the names of ill-fated lovers hadn’t been the brightest idea. Although, it had seemed romantic at the time. Clutching Melody closer, Chrissy’s heart squeezed. “I can’t believe this.”
“Me either.” He dragged a hand through his shaggy brown hair, blue gaze locked on her face. He crooked a lopsided smile. “It’s been, hell, almost five years.”
She hated that her stomach fluttered. She hated that she was speechless. Mostly she hated falling in love at first sight for the second time.
“This is Benedict Romeo?” Angel asked.
“He-who-shall-not-be-named?” asked Bella.
“The dirtbag who—”
“Yes,” Chrissy snapped, cutting off Emma. At some point all the Inseparables had circled. Rising now, she grappled for her senses.
She’d dreamed of this moment, a face-to-face chance to blast Mason for making a mockery of what she’d thought was an affair of the heart. For refusing to acknowledge his child. For threatening her family. She’d suppressed her hurt and fury for so long, but instead of blowing, instead of giving him hell, she reeled with a numbing realization. After all this time, after all he’d done, she still burned for this man.
What’s wrong with me?
Acknowledging the group’s hostility, Mason’s pleasantly surprised expression morphed into one of confusion. “I seem to be missing something.”
“What are the chances?” Georgie sighed. “Then again, just my bad luck. I knew I should’ve canceled this trip.”
“I recognize you,” Emma said. “Mason Rivers. Playboy millionaire.”
He had the grace—or guile—to look sheepish. “Don’t believe everything you read.”
“I’m going by the pictures,” Emma said with a crooked brow. “Your liaisons have been featured in the local tabloids more than a bed-hopping politician.”
“An exaggeration. Trust me.”
“How could you be such a jerk to my cousin?” Bella interrupted, red-faced. “Forsaking your daughter was bad enough, but threatening Chrissy and our family?”
“Whoa, whoa. What?” His gaze flew to Chrissy then down to Melody.
Chrissy swore she saw Mason estimating Mel’s age, calculating the math. As if he didn’t know.
He looked back to Chrissy. “What’s going on?”
“Excuse us for bearing a grudge,” Angel said, “but threatening our friend—”
“I didn’t threaten anyone.”
Just thinking about that certified letter, about that awful day, set Chrissy off like a firecracker. “Not directly, no. Y
ou relied on your father and lawyer for that.”
Mason’s nostrils flared, his stance went rigid. He glanced back to Melody.
Chrissy blinked. He looks torn and, good grief, affected somehow by this.
Rattled, she retreated a step, taking her daughter with her. Now that he’d seen Mel in person was he having second thoughts? Did he want to know her? To take her? Stop thinking crazy, Christmas. Only she couldn’t.
Mason met her eyes, confusion and anger swirling in the charismatic gaze that continued to rock her world. “We need to talk.”
In private was implied.
She couldn’t make sense of his conflicted expression. Did he intend to reinforce his noncommittal stance? To make excuses for his asinine behavior? To offer support? To demand parental rights? A dozen scenarios welled—all of them troubling. Whatever his angle, she would not be finessed. Childish infatuation was no match for motherly love.
Chrissy maneuvered her daughter toward her cousin. “Please take Mel inside. I don’t want her to miss the show.”
Bella, champion of children everywhere, wrapped a protective arm about her niece while eyeing Mason and addressing Chrissy. “We’re still short two tickets.”
“I can help with that.” Mason pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his coat.
“What about the friend you’re waiting for?” Bella asked.
“Canceled last minute.” He fingered the envelope. “Two third row tickets. Center stage. You won’t all be seated together, but you’ll all get in. This show’s been sold out for weeks.”
“Tell me about it,” Georgie said.
“How much do you want for them?” Angel asked, while opening her purse.
“They’re a gift.” Again, Mason focused on Melody. His expression softened. “The closer she sits to the stage, the more she’ll feel the vibrations of the audio system.”
Smirking, Emma snatched the booty from his hand. “The least you can do, right?”
“Maybe I should wait with you,” Georgie said to Chrissy.
“No. I’m good. Thanks.” She appreciated her friends’ support but this, whatever this was, was between her and Mason.
“Come on, sweetie,” Bella said and signed to Melody.
Mel turned to Mason, smiled and signed.
“What did she say?” he asked.
“Merry Christmas,” Angel translated.
Attention riveted on his daughter, Mason crooked a tender smile and returned the greeting, signing and saying, “Merry Christmas,” then verbally added, “Cutie.”
Chapter Four
He needed a drink. A stiff whiskey. A damned double.
He ordered coffee, black.
The last time Mason had felt this blindsided was the day he’d learned his brother had been killed in a car accident. But today, instead of losing someone, he’d found someone.
Two someones.
He didn’t have it straight in his head, but he’d gleaned enough details to get the gist. It was possible, even probable, he had a child. The refreshingly frank and good-hearted violinist he’d fallen in love with wouldn’t lie. On the other hand his father was capable of high level manipulation. If he had a hand in this, if he’d denied Mason a chance to know his own child, then a whole load of ugly was coming the old man’s way.
One thing was certain. Juliet… Chrissy…was pissed.
Right now she was texting one of her friends regarding her whereabouts. He’d coaxed her into the coffee shop to escape the frigid cold. Even though the fury he’d felt rolling off of her had been hot enough to torch the holiday tree that had captivated her—their?—daughter’s interest.
Melody.
He couldn’t get her cute, impish face out of his head. A mini version of her mom. Milky complexion, pale blond hair, vivid blue eyes, and a smile that lit up the world.
“She can’t hear.”
That revelation haunted him as surely as her existence. He’d been living and breathing audio technology for most of his life. Maybe he could help.
Mind racing, Mason forced his thoughts back to the woman in front of him. She’d blown in and out of his life in the span of a week and earned a place in his heart forever. If it hadn’t been for his brother…
Jimmy’s death had changed everything.
Mason glanced at Chrissy’s left hand. No wedding band. Single then?
“Sure I can’t take your coat?” he asked as she pocketed her phone. He had a thousand questions. This could take a while.
“I’m sure.”
She did, at least, loosen her scarf and remove her cap. Static electricity had her fine hair dancing like a halo.
Five years ago her hair had reached her waist. Now it was shoulder length and kind of choppy. Sexy. Like her full, pouty lips. Oh, yeah. He’d been a sucker for that mouth. Sometimes that week in Napa Valley seemed like a dream. Too good to be true. Too special to forget. Every look, every expression, every word exploded in his mind with vivid clarity.
“Chrissy, huh?” Starting with the basics, Mason loosened his tie and settled back in his chair. “That will take some getting used to. I wish I would have insisted on your real name before we parted.”
“Would it have made a difference?”
Not immediately, no.
The day after they’d split up, he’d had second thoughts. Had racked his mind for a clue regarding the location of her school. But then he’d gotten the call. Jimmy wrecked his car, ending his life and, by extension, changing Mason’s. Instant tunnel vision. His own needs and wants taking a backseat to his shattered parents. Later though, much later, yeah, knowing her name would have made a difference.
Her barbed mood chafed, prompting him to keep those thoughts to himself. Using aliases had been her idea. A college student at the time, she’d broken away from school to live it up for a week. To indulge in the various jam sessions and concerts at the Oakley Music and Wine Festival.
Mason had been in escape mode, too. Dodging his dad’s attempts to lure him into the family business. Dodging a life he didn’t want. Truthfully, it had been nice to be anonymous. For once he’d been able to trust that a woman was enamored with him and his talent, not his fortune.
Making a clean break at the end of that magical week had been her idea as well. In order to advance her lifelong dream, her parents—struggling ranchers—had invested heavily in her education. Veering from her chosen path wasn’t an option. Plus, Mason had musical ambitions of his own, she’d said. The voice of logic. The voice of a woman with her own tunnel vision.
Still, he hadn’t been willing to walk away without giving her the means to reconnect. He’d slipped her a card bearing his email address.
She’d never written.
Or had she?
“I know you’re angry and maybe you have good cause, but bear with me… Chrissy. Whether you believe it or not, I’m in the dark.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe it.” She crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes. “When I found out I was pregnant,” she said in an angry whisper, “I was shocked. We’d used protection.”
“Except for that time in the shower and the—”
“I remember,” she said, cheeks flushing.
“It only takes once,” he said more for himself than her. And they’d slipped up twice.
“Sentimental sap that I was, I tucked away your contact info thinking, maybe someday. That day came sooner and for different reasons than I ever imagined. All I had was your email address,” she said. “I thought you deserved to know. Thought you’d want to know.”
“You’re right.”
“I didn’t want anything from you. Didn’t expect anything. But I sure as hell didn’t anticipate learning you were the son of one of the wealthiest families in the heartland. I didn’t expect a letter from your flipping family lawyer!”
So much for whispering.
Mason smiled at the waitress who stepped up, curbing his tongue until she’d served their coffee and stepped away. His heart pounded like
a mother as he leaned in and focused on the only woman he’d ever loved. God, she’s beautiful. Smelled good, too. Like holly or pine. Christmas scents. Scents that made him yearn and hope. “My father issues threats through our lawyer, not me.”
“Even if that’s true,” she railed on. “Even if your father instigated that letter behind your back, the fact remains you chose not to respond to me personally. You made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with your baby. That hurt, but the threats and the insults were crushing. The Mooneys are not conniving money-grubbers. We don’t give a damn about your millions.”
Mason was getting more bent by the minute. “No wonder your friends think I’m a sack of—”
“They’re protective.”
“And I’m offended. You’re accusing me of some royal douchebag behavior. I thought you knew me better than that.”
“Are you serious? I don’t know you at all! Our entire week together was a lie! I’m not talking about our names. I’m talking about our lives. I told you I was born and raised in a small town. That my parents run a modest ranch. That my older brother’s obsessed with storm chasing. That I was preparing for a career as a concert violinist. Maybe I didn’t give specifics like my name, where I was from or where I was going to school, but I was truthful about my background. You pretended to be a struggling musician, alone in the world and intent on landing a dream gig.”
Mason worked his jaw. “I wasn’t pretending. Listen. Let’s put the anonymous aspect aside for the moment. Let’s focus on Melody. If I’d known you were pregnant, I would have responded. I would have supported you, emotionally. Financially.” He couldn’t speculate beyond that.
She hugged herself tighter as if trying to hold it together. “The email—”