For The Love of Easton : A Single Parent Romance and Sequel to For The Love of English

by A. M. Hargrove

  “I, uh… well, he’s her father, so yes, and only supervised visits.”

  “Don’t try that with me. I was there picking up the pieces of you after that little stunt he pulled. And even before that, when he came over and pushed you around. The guy has a real anger issue. You never told your parents how cruel he was. And now you want to subject your precious child to that? What happened to your sanity?”

  The words stung because they were all true. I cringed under the weight of them all. “He’s changed.”

  “Oh? And how do you know that? Did he tell you or did he present evidence?”

  She dinged me on everything, even more so than Dad. “His dad works for the governor now, so he has to keep his reputation clean.”

  Stacey scoffed. “The governor is the biggest crook in the country. His dad doesn’t give a shit about his reputation and I’d bet they have paid cops off to help with that.”

  “Maybe I need to rethink this.” Regrets rained down on me. Had I put my daughter in harm’s way? I would die before she ever got hurt, if I could help it.

  “There is no maybe about it. And now that he knows where to find you, you need to hire a bodyguard.”

  “Puh-lease. He won’t do anything like that. Honestly, you should see him. All I have to do is throw some vomit on him and he’ll be running.” I chortled, but she didn’t.

  “It’s not funny, English. This is serious business. Talk to your parents. If you don’t, I will.”

  My hands automatically came up. “Fine. I will. I’m on my daughter’s side, any way I look at it.”

  “Then please give me some peace of mind. That guy is a menace.”

  I hugged her hard. “Thank you. You always did have my back, even now when you’re hurting so bad you can barely breathe. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for and I love you.”

  “I love you too. Now do you have any wine, vodka, grain alcohol, moonshine? This girl could use a good dose of something to drown her sorrows.”

  “How about a fancy drink? I have the fixin’s for a cosmo.”

  “Oooh, that sounds perfect.”

  This was my specialty drink, so I mixed up two of them and we both drank to our problems—she to her stinkbutt ex-fiancé and me to my child’s screwball dad.

  “May the fleas of a thousand cows infest their crotches.” She raised her glass.

  “Oooh, that’s a good one.” I clinked my glass with hers and giggled. Then I said, “I have one. May they be saddled with buttbreath for life.”

  “Woot!” She held up her glass and we toasted. “My turn. May their stupid man roots succumb to the weed killer Roundup.”

  I spit out my drink, laughing. “Eww. That means their dicks would shrivel up and fall off.”

  “Exactly. Fine with me. Dickrot.”

  These cosmos were making her bold. “Wouldn’t it be great to tell them this to their faces?”

  Her eyes brightened. “Let’s!”

  “No! We are not doing that.”

  “Come on!”

  “Okay, slow your roll there, missy. We can’t do it. It’ll ruin our fun.”

  She pouted. “You’re such a buzzkill. This was so fun until you said no.”

  “You’ll thank me later. Trust me.”

  “In that case, I’ll have another cosmo.”

  “I’ll make you one as long as you promise not to drive home. You can sleep in the guest room. Oh, and try not to act drunk around Easton.”

  Indignation rose up in Stacey as she squared her drooping shoulders and gave me an evil squint. “English Bridges, I am not drunk and don’t intend to get in that state.”

  I threw back my head and cackled. I’d seen her drunk plenty of times in our college days and knew how she acted when she was inebriated. That cosmo I’d made her had enough vodka in it to send her on the way. “You may not be flat-out wasted, but you’re headed in that direction. So, with that, will you promise not to drive home?”

  “I promise.” She gave me the three-finger salute. “Boy Scout’s honor.”

  “You know, that only counts if you’re a true Boy Scout.”

  Her hand flapped through the air. “Whatevs. I can call an Uber, so don’t worry about me.”

  “Fine. I’ll go mix up another batch.” What she didn’t know was mine were virgins. I had a daughter to take care of and couldn’t afford to get even the slightest bit tipsy. Easton had just had surgery so I didn’t want to screw anything up. And speaking of that, I needed to check on her.

  After mixing another round for Stacey, I ran up to Easton’s room, where she still slept peacefully. Her forehead was cool, so I tucked the covers around her and softly closed the door. I wished I still had the baby monitor with the camera, but I’d given that up long ago when she was able to get out of bed and come to my room to tell me if something was wrong. A smile tugged at my mouth when I remembered those toddler days. She’d been a funny thing, building forts in her room and sleeping under the stars. We’d stuck glow-in-the-dark ones on her ceiling so she’d made out like she was camping outside in her makeshift fort.

  Dad and Geepa had promised to build her a real fort this summer, aka a little house in the back yard. We had plenty of space, and my parents had one they’d built for the kids after we moved there. I remembered when they’d told me about that.

  “English, have a seat.” Mom smiled and took my hand. “Your father and I have made a huge decision. After lots of conversations, we’ve decided to build a new house, further out of the city.”

  I was crushed. This was the house, the area of town where we’d always lived. “No!” I protested.

  Dad chuckled. “Too late, munch. The plans have been drawn up and sent to the builder. We’ve already purchased the land.”

  “But I love this house.” And it was an amazing one.

  “We do too. However, with the baby coming—”

  “Oh, no. This is my fault, isn’t it?”

  Mom’s arm came around my shoulders. “Not at all. We talked about this before, but now is the perfect time to do it.”

  “But Dad, you’re so close to work and all.”

  He shrugged. “I can work my own hours so traffic won’t be an issue. I’ll leave after rush hour and come home before it hits. And you know how much I travel and work from home, anyway.”

  It was true. He only spent a week, two at the most every month in the office.

  “Honey, we’ve looked at this from every possible angle. The little ones are at the right time to switch schools. Anna Monroe is eager to move too.”

  “But Banana and Geepa. What will they do?”

  My parents laughed. “They are putting their house on the market and moving too. They want to downsize.”

  That was understandable. Now that my parents had a huge home, there wasn’t a reason for them to have one too. It was time for them to enjoy retirement and life.

  “I’m cool with that, even though their house is the bomb.”

  “Yeah, I’ll miss it too, but they’ve also bought property near us so they won’t be far at all.”

  “How far?” I was curious.

  “A couple of blocks away.”

  “Can I see the house plans?”

  “Sure.” Dad went to get them.

  “English, you’re going to love it.”

  And I did. They were adding a small wing for the baby and me. I was shocked. “What? Why?”

  “Before you say anything, let us explain,” Dad said. “Banana and Geepa will someday need a place—and I’m talking in the very distant future—to stay. You know, when they’re old. This will be perfect for them. It’ll also be perfect for guests after you move away from us. It’ll be a very functional suite. And think of the other kids too. What if any of them move away and come back for a visit?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Now that I see it, it’s really cool. So when does this all happen?”

  “They’ve already started. We’re hoping within six months, but you know how construction
goes.”

  “Dad, knowing you, you’ll be on their butts every day.”

  “You’re wrong. Your mother’s the one who’ll do that.”

  My mom looked so sweet, but inside of her ran a ribbon of steel. Dad had once told me she hadn’t always been like that. When they’d first met, she’d been very timid, due to the loss of her parents and some extremely rough times she’d lived through. But later, she’d emerged as someone not to be taken lightly. And I could attest to that.

  Stacey yelled from the living room, “English, where’s my cosmo?”

  I’d gotten lost in my daydreaming. Had she downed the last one already? I ran down the stairs and there she sat with a silly grin on her face, waving an empty glass in the air.

  “Um, when was the last time you ate?” I asked.

  She clamped her mouth shut and tapped a finger on her cheek. “Er, I dunno. Last night?”

  Christ, I’d given her two extra-strong cosmos on an empty stomach. No wonder she was blitzed. “All righty then, it’s time for me to make us something to eat.”

  “Not hungry.”

  “Maybe not, but you’ll thank me tomorrow.” This called for a meal full of carbs, so I put a pot of spaghetti on, pulled a carton of meat sauce out of the freezer, and dumped it into a saucepan. They were both ready around the same time and I forced her to sit at the kitchen island.

  “But I don’t wanna eat. It’ll kill my buzz.”

  “No, it won’t. It’ll make you feel better so you can drink more.”

  That perked her up. “Really? Okay, I’m in.”

  She wobbled her way to the island and took a seat. I fixed her a bowl of pasta and tucked a napkin into her shirt collar.

  “What’d you do that for?”

  “You’ll see.”

  When she finished, there was as much sauce covering the napkin and her face as there was in her belly. I took several pics of her, without her knowledge, of course. She was going to kill me, but I wouldn’t show anyone. It was too comical to pass up.

  As I was cleaning her up, which was no small task because she kept trying to help me, Easton called out, “Aunt Stacey Bear. What are you doing here?”

  Stacey moved to get off the chair and ended up tumbling to the floor. Good Lord, the woman was smashed.

  “I came to see you, Easy Bear,” Stacey answered, but it sounded more like ‘Eeshybur.’

  “Why are you on the floor?”

  Stacey held up a finger. “Good question.”

  Easton looked at me and said, “Mommy, I’m back under the rainbow. Can I eat? I’m hungry.”

  “Sure. How about some spaghetti?”

  “Okay. Is that what Aunt Stacey Bear had?”

  “Yesh, I did, and it was delish.” She was still lying on the floor and hadn’t bothered to get up.

  Then the front door opened and my parents walked in. Stacey yelled, “Mr. and Mrs. Bridges. I’m so happy to shee you.” She waved from the floor.

  They sort of gaped at her, then glanced at me. I mouthed, “Don’t ask.”

  “Mimi! Boppy!” Easton ran to my parents and Dad swung her high in the air.

  “Looks like someone is feeling better,” he said.

  “I’m under the rainbow again.” She patted his cheeks. “I don’t think Aunt Stacey Bear is though.”

  I couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of me. But it stopped when the doorbell rang. Easton ran to open it and before any of us could stop her, she swung it open to reveal Stuart standing on the porch.

  How in the world had he found my house? I’d never given him my address.

  That brought drunk Stacey to her feet, stumbling toward him, and shouting, “What the hell are you doing here, you, you girlfriend-beater?”

  And that was when the party started.

  Chapter Nine

  Tristian

  Why the hell did I feel guilty? I had done nothing wrong except refuse to join the family business. My interests were in photography and I’d made my choice years ago. Besides, my siblings could handle the family business ventures, which were entangled in the depths of politics and other investments that meant nothing to me. I’d found my calling and didn’t care what my mother said. So, back to the guilt. Why was I bothered by it?

  The question plagued me for days. I visited my family in the hospital each day, sat with both of them, as no one else went except for Landry. My brother clung to life and I prayed he’d survive. The news for my father was grave. He wasn’t expected to survive. They called my mother, yet she still didn’t come. Her matter-of-fact and chilly response when he passed came as no surprise.

  Funeral arrangements were set. I phoned Beck, informing him of the situation. He was most kind and understanding. “Do you still want to proceed with the travel plans?”

  The trip was my salvation. “Absolutely. It will be the perfect distraction and couldn’t come at a better time.”

  “You sure? Your family may need you.”

  They might, but too bad. “They’ll be fine.”

  At the funeral, men I hadn’t seen in years approached me with greetings about how good it was for me to be back home and how they looked forward to working with me. I kept my mouth shut. They’d find out soon enough how wrong they were when I returned to my own life. Weirdly, no one mentioned my brother, or even asked about him, though he’d turned the corner and was improving.

  With the house finally emptied of guests, the family attorney, Sherman Anthony, called us together in my father’s office for a meeting. We sat as he read my father’s will and when he named me as the sole inheritor, I froze.

  All the attention was focused on me. Inhaling, I asked the question that begged an answer. “Why me? Stanton is the oldest.”

  “You’re the one he designated. However, it does come with one caveat. You have to be married in order to inherit.”

  The breath I’d been holding eased out as I smiled in relief. “As you can see, I’m very single and intend to remain that way. Therefore, it has to pass to Stanton.”

  “Tristian, you don’t understand. If you don’t inherit, the entire estate will be donated to a charity your father designated and no one in the family will benefit.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  My sister stood and shouted, “How absurd. Why would Dad do such a crazy thing?”

  Sherman spread his hands. “I don’t know. I did my best to change his mind, but he insisted upon it.”

  I fumed. It made no sense at all. “One, I’m not the oldest, and two, I haven’t been around here in years.”

  Sherman leaned forward and said, “It doesn’t matter. As I said, your father insisted upon this. Your brother is still in the hospital, but when he’s released, you’ll want to discuss it with him. He may know more of the why behind it.”

  Mother added her two cents. “He doesn’t. Stanton was reckless with his investments. That’s why, Tristian. You demonstrated an ability to build your own business that no one else in this family has, and that’s why your father chose you.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  Sherman shuffled the stack of papers and placed them neatly into a folder. “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what is.”

  “I’ll pass it on to one of my siblings.”

  “Impossible. The only place it will pass is to a charity,” Sherman repeated. “You also have to approve all financial transactions, including handling the trust of all the trustees.”

  “Fuck that. I walked away and was disowned. I want it to remain that way.”

  “Tristian, your father made it plain and clear. It is what it is, as they say.”

  My little brother laughed and my sister scowled. The first thing I’d do was put her ass to work.

  “Fine.” My finger aimed at her. “You are going to get a job.”

  “A job?”

  “I take it you know what that is?”

  “Ha ha. You’re so funny.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m serious. You always spent
money like a human drinks water. From now on you’re going to earn it and stop sucking the life out of everyone.”

  “You can’t make me.” She flapped a hand, dismissing me.

  “Oh, I can now.”

  “Tristian, the mighty photo-snapper. Will I be developing pictures for you?” Her question was followed by a scornful laugh. Then she attempted to stare me down. It didn’t work.

  “We don’t do that much anymore in the digital age.” I left off the word ‘moron,’ but she got my gist. “The job is up to you. I’ll give you a few weeks. And then I’ll start charging you rent if you continue living here.”

  She gave a quick snort. But I knew I’d hit the mark from the slight muscle jumping in her cheek. Ravina had always been an easy read.

  “Really? Rent?”

  “Ravina, you’ve lived here scot-free and haven’t worked a lick in your entire life. It’s high time you did something about it.” I nodded to my mother, then shook my little brother’s hand and said, “Keep up the good work.” Without another word, I left and went home. My phone blew up with texts and calls, only I ignored them. It was overload and I wasn’t sure what I would do.

  Chapter Ten

  English

  Easton stood by the door as Stacey staggered her way over. I ran to intervene while Dad remarked, “This is going to be interesting.”

  I shot him an evil glare but didn’t have time for it to have much of an impact.

  “What do you want?” Stacey asked Stuart. “Didn’t you do enough damage all those years ago?”

  Easton stared at the two of them, so I picked her up and handed her off to Dad.

  “Mommy, why is Aunt Stacey Bear being so mean?”

  “Um, I’ll explain later.” Then I dashed back to the fight that brewed at the door. By this time, Stacey had grabbed Stuart’s lapel and stood on her tiptoes.

  “You were an asshole then and I’m pretty sure you’re still one. A leopard doesn’t lose its stripes.”

  For the love of God, couldn’t she at least get her animals right? “Um, Stacey, can I handle this?” I moved to step between them.

  “Hell, no. If you had done it properly way back when, this dickhead wouldn’t be standing in your doorway.”