“Gareth?” a sad little voice asked.
Gareth glanced down, took one look at Katie’s tear-stained face, and promptly hung up on both cousin and theory. He crouched down to the little girl’s level, taking her hands in his. “Katie, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“Will Maggie and Nicholas be finished their chicken pox tomorrow?”
He hid a smile. “I don’t think so, love. Why?”
Her head drooped and fresh tears flowed in the wake of the others. “Nothing.”
Gareth circled her tiny waist with his hands, straightened up, and lifted her onto the stool beside the island counter. “It must be something,” he said. “People don’t cry for nothing.”
He plucked a tissue from the box on top of the refrigerator and dried her tears. “If you tell me, maybe I can help.”
Katie snuffled. “It’s job day tomorrow.”
He tried, but drew a blank. “Job day?” he asked.
“Mommy’s supposed to come and tell my class about her job. All the other parents are going to be there.”
Ah. Of course. “Well, maybe mummy can come another day,” he suggested. “Maggie and Nicholas will only be sick for a few more days and…” He trailed off as fresh tears flooded Katie’s eyes.
“But tomorrow’s the only day,” she wailed. “Madame Morin won’t let her come another day!”
Gareth heard Gwyn stir in the sitting room. Hastily, he lifted Katie down and steered her out of the kitchen, grabbing the tissue box on his way. When they reached the stairs at the other end of the hallway, far enough not to wake the others, he settled Katie on the small landing and himself a step below her. “Right,” he said. “Now we can talk. Are you sure tomorrow’s the only day? Maybe Madame Morin will make an exception for mummy if she knows – ”
Katie shook her head. “She said that if the mommies and daddies couldn’t come tomorrow then they’d have to come next year, but it’s already next year and Mommy promised!”
It’s already next year?
“Was mummy supposed to come to job day last year?” he hazarded.
Katie gave a miserable nod. Her chin quivered. “Maggie was sick last year too. And Mommy said this year she’d come. She promised!”
Yes, he’d gotten that. Gareth propped his chin in one hand, his elbow resting on his knee, and regarded the distraught little girl. He wracked his brain for a solution.
“Could someone else come instead?” he suggested. “What about Auntie Sandy?”
“She came last year!” Katie buried her face against her knees, the epitome of abject misery. Her small frame shook with sobs. “Mommy promised!” came the repeated mumble.
Gareth rubbed the little girl’s back. He could think of few occasions when he’d felt more helpless. He considered offering to look after the twins while Gwyn went to the school, but he somehow didn’t think any of them would take to that idea at this stage of illness. “Someone else, then. What about – ”
Katie’s head lifted. “Could you come?” she asked.
Gareth’s mouth flapped. He stared into blue eyes, identical to her mother’s, swimming in a sea of tears. Hope stared back.
So did innocent trust.
He held back a sigh. He couldn’t go, of course. A visit to a classroom hardly fell into the low-profile category demanded by Catherine or promised to Amy.
Mindful of his young companion’s fragility, he formed his refusal with great care. He might even have uttered it, if Katie’s soft, sweet voice hadn’t just then added, “Please?”
The word stopped him in his tracks. He stared down at the little girl, thinking of how she had cried herself to sleep all those nights over a missing father, of how hard Gwyn had worked to comfort her, be there for her, heal her. He thought of how he himself had been an absentee father, theoretically causing the same havoc in another child’s life. His jaw tightened.
No more.
He had it within his grasp to begin making amends. Here. Now. Catherine and the media be hanged.
As for Amy – well, surely she would understand.
Reaching out to ruffle Katie’s blond head, he smiled.
“I would be honored to come,” he said.
Chapter 18
Gwyn came awake with a start as the warmth nestled against her side lifted away. Blinking away a blur of exhaustion, she looked up at Maggie, snuggled into strong, male arms. Gareth’s dark gaze met hers over the little blond head. He smiled.
“You all fell asleep,” he whispered. “Nicholas and Katie are both tucked in. I just came back for Maggie.”
“I’ll do it,” she offered automatically, moving to rise from the sofa. A hand on top of her head halted her mid-way. She looked up at Gareth again. “Or not?” she hazarded.
“Or not,” he agreed. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She remained on the couch while he was gone, entirely too comfortable to move. He’d placed a blanket over her at some point, and she snuggled into its warmth, drifting in the state of semi-consciousness that came with sleep deprivation. A few minutes later, she heard him rummaging around in the kitchen, and then his steps across the creaky, tiled floor and into the sitting room. Rousing herself, she opened her eyes and stared at the steaming cup of tea he held out to her.
“Are you awake enough to hold it, or is it safer on the table?” he asked.
She took the cup. “Thank you.”
He sat down beside her. “Did the sleep help at all?”
The mere mention of the word had her yawning. She covered her mouth with her free hand and turned rueful eyes on him. “I suspect it will take more than a fifteen-minute nap to make up for what I’ve missed.”
A smile quirked one corner of his mouth, pulling his deep laugh lines into play. “Two hours, actually.”
She stared. “No.”
“You all nodded off during the story. It was a toss-up as to who went first, to be honest. Katie helped me clean the kitchen, then did her homework. I tucked her in at eight. We didn’t have the heart to wake you.”
“I’m so sorry – ”
“Why? You needed it.”
“Well, yes, but – ”
“Gwyn. You needed it.”
She swallowed further objection and asked instead, “Was Katie okay going to bed on her own?”
“She was fine. It was actually her idea.” Gareth leaned back and stretched his arm out along the back of the couch. “You really do have great kids, you know.”
She raised an eyebrow and smiled into her tea, trying hard to ignore the warmth radiating from his hand as it rested behind her neck. “In spite of the oatmeal incident?”
He chuckled. “In spite of that,” he agreed. “By the way, Katie asked me to remind you that tomorrow is job day.”
Horror enveloped Gwyn. Katie had been so upset when she hadn’t made it last year – the poor baby would be crushed if it happened again.
“Damn!” she groaned, letting her head drop against the couch cushion behind her and hastily raising it again when she connected with gentle fingers instead. “I completely forgot. Katie will never forgive me.”
Gareth cleared his throat. “Actually, she might. If you let me go instead.”
Her heart thudded to a standstill. “You?”
“I didn’t think you’d mind. She was pretty upset. I suggested someone else could go, and she asked me.” He shook his head and sighed, looking bemused. “Is there a secret to refusing tear-filled blue eyes?”
A soft warmth unfurled deep inside Gwyn’s chest at the idea of Gareth comforting her daughter. The greater implications, however, made her go cold. Tomorrow was intended as a parent thing. No way should Gareth be going in her stead, and the fact that asking him had been Katie’s idea set off all kinds of alarm bells.
She’d been right to worry this afternoon. Her kids - all of them - were showing serious signs of attachment to this man.
Not good.
“I’m not sure you should do that,” she said.
Ga
reth said nothing for a moment. Then, “May I ask why?”
“You’ve been around here a lot the last few days, and the kids really like you.”
“And that’s a bad thing because…?”
“You’ll be leaving to go home soon.”
He frowned, his dark brows meeting over his nose. “You must have had other…friends who have moved away before.”
As careful as his words were, Gwyn heard the unspoken question underlying them. She balanced her cup on her knee with one hand. With the other, she plucked at the bits of fluff pilled on the blanket. She really, really didn’t want to get into this.
“I don’t believe in having a series of men parading in and out of my kids’ lives,” she said quietly.
Gareth rubbed a hand across his eyes, and then down his jaw. He stared across the room. “We’re not just talking about Katie’s class tomorrow, are we?” he asked, his voice gruff.
Gwyn twisted a handful of blanket. “No.”
“Because it’s best for the kids?”
She nodded, unable to meet his gaze.
“And what about for you?”
“I – I think it might be best for me, too.”
“And what about what’s happened between us? Do we just ignore that? Pretend it’s nothing?”
A little of her tea slopped over the cup and soaked through the blanket, setting her knee on fire. She peeked up at him. “I have three children to think about, Gareth.”
A tiny muscle worked in Gareth’s jaw line as he stared at his own tea. “I know you’re worried about your kids,” he said finally, “and I know that there are no guarantees that this will work out, but – ”
“Please don’t.”
Eyes darkened by frustration rose to meet hers. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t – ” Gwyn waved her hand vaguely. “This. All of this.” And please don’t make me spell it out for you.
Gareth took a long time to reply, and when he did, his voice was rough. “I hadn’t counted on this happening any more than you had, Gwynneth with two n’s, but I’m not sure I want to just pretend it hasn’t.”
“We live five thousand miles apart.”
“In an age of technology,” he said dryly. “Telephones, airplanes?”
Gwyn lifted her chin in a show of determination that couldn’t have been further from the truth. She knew she was doing the right thing – but if he pushed the issue, she knew just as well that she would fold like a house of cards.
“Neither of us is that naïve,” she said. “It isn’t just the miles, it’s our entire lives. Everything about us is different. Too different.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?”
She looked away. Nodded. “Yes.”
“You know that whatever happened between you and me, I’d never just walk out on them.”
“Their own father walked out on them,” she reminded him. “I’m not saying you would – only that I’m not willing to risk it. I can’t do that to them again. Or to me. ”
A flash of something akin to pain flashed through Gareth’s eyes and twisted his mouth. Again she had the fleeting impression that he held something back from her, but she didn’t dwell on it. Didn’t dare. Instead, sensing victory, she pressed home her advantage, laying her hand atop his, steeling herself against the jolt that ran between them. Outside, the November wind tapped a bare maple branch against the window.
“I’m too old to believe in fairy tales, Gareth,” she said quietly. “And my kids are too young to have to stop believing in them.”
“What about Katie’s class tomorrow?”
“I’ll explain you can’t go.”
“You’d disappoint her like that?”
She glared at him. “That’s not fair.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “What about letting me sit with Maggie and Nicholas while you go, then? Do you think they’d stay with me?”
“I think it’s better if I find someone else.”
His mouth tightened into a grim line. “He really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
Her throat constricted. She didn’t need to ask who he meant and he didn’t need a response.
Pushing to his feet, Gareth set his mug on the tea tray. “I’ll leave you my phone number. If you can’t find anyone for tomorrow, call. I’ll look after the kids for you – as a friend, with no strings attached.”
Gwyn trailed into the kitchen behind him and watched as he scrawled a phone number on the dry-erase board stuck to the side of the fridge. Neither of them spoke. She because she couldn’t force words past the lump in her throat, and he for reasons she felt sure she didn’t want to know.
He returned the dry-erase marker to the drawer beside the fridge, underscoring the comfort level he’d attained in her home. Gwyn’s lips went tight. She’d definitely made the right decision about this.
Hadn’t she?
She rubbed her hand over her chest, surprised to find her heart still beating there. She’d been certain it had been swallowed up by the same hollow ache that made the simple act of breathing so painful. Gareth closed the drawer.
Following him down the hallway to the front entrance, she let her gaze rove the breadth of his shoulders, the lean length of his body. The ache in her center moved deeper. Doubt assailed her.
Dear God, what was she doing? She’d spent four years protecting herself and her kids from another Jack – and those same four years denying herself things she’d very nearly forgotten until now. Why couldn’t she – just this once – go with the flow? Live for the moment? Do what she so desperately wanted to do?
Other women had relationships with men, and their children survived – lord, she could even make sure her kids had no more involvement in any of this. It could be between just her and Gareth.
A harmless fling.
She bit back a groan.
Except that was the problem. No fling with him would ever be harmless. It couldn’t be, because harmless and Gareth didn’t go together. Devastating, yes. Earth-shattering, probably. Reality-altering, definitely. But never harmless.
Gareth took his leather coat from the closet. He turned to face her, his expression filled with purpose.
Gwyn swallowed – hard.
Take control. Take control now, before he –
She stuck out her hand into the space separating them, mortified to see it shake wildly, too terrified to remove it.
“Goodbye,” she said, her voice thick and unrecognizable even to her own ears. “And thank you again for everything. I enjoyed meeting you.”
Her insides cringed. Dear lord, could she have chosen less adequate words?
A wickedly lazy smile curved Gareth’s lips. “A handshake?” He raised his gaze to hers and shook his head. “I don’t think so, Gwynneth with two n’s.”
Gwyn backed away, coming up short against the wall by the living room doorway. He wouldn’t…he couldn’t…not now…
But Gareth’s pursuit was measured.
Unfaltering.
Relentless.
It brought him to within a scant few inches of her, where he stopped. He braced his left hand against the wall by her head, then lifted his right hand, still gripping his coat, and did the same on the other side. Before she could draw the breath she so desperately needed, his head descended.
His mouth fastened on hers with a jolt that traveled her entire length, at once both hard and gentle. Coaxing, demanding, promising…delivering. When Gwyn’s own lips parted under the mind-spinning assault, he wasted not an instant in taking full advantage. His tongue slid against hers, tangled with it, and took complete, uncontested ownership.
Not once did his hands move to caress her.
Not once did his body touch hers.
But he imprinted himself on her as indelibly as if he had possessed her in every way imaginable.
At last, his breathing unsteady, he drew back. One at a time, he dropped his hands to his sides and stepped away. He slid his arm
s into his jacket and shrugged it up onto his shoulders.
“I’ll go now,” he said, his voice thick, “but just for the record, I haven’t agreed.”
“A-agreed?” Gwyn whispered. Of its own accord, her trembling hand found its way to her mouth. Her fingertips brushed against lips that felt as if they belonged to someone else, because surely hers wouldn’t have responded with such abandon…
“Not to see you again.” Giving her a slow half-smile that focused her on his mouth all over again, Gareth pulled open her front door and disappeared into the night.
Chapter 19
Gwyn called a last thank you after her departing neighbor, closed the door, and turned to face her sullen daughter. Job day had not gone well.
She pressed fingertips against her throbbing left temple.
It would have been nice to thank Kirsten’s mom for babysitting so I could come to your class today.” She kept her voice even, wanting to find out what was behind Katie’s mood rather than start a fight.
With a shrug, Katie kicked the hiking boots off her feet and onto the closet floor.
Gwyn tried again. “The kids had lots of questions for me. I think they liked the models I brought in.”
Another shrug. Katie’s gloves followed her boots onto the floor. Teeth gritted, Gwyn reached past her, took the basket marked with Katie’s name from the shelf, and held it out in silence.
Katie heaved a pained sigh but retrieved her gloves and dropped them in.
Gwyn replaced the basket. “I take it you didn’t like my presentation.”
“It was all right.”
“Then maybe you’d like to explain why you’re not speaking to me?”
Katie mumbled something under her breath.
“Pardon me?”
“I said I wish Gareth could have come instead.” Katie glared at her, defiance in every tight line of her small body.
Even though she’d half-expected the response, Katie’s words struck to her core. Gwyn clenched her fists at her sides. Her daughter would rather have had Gareth there than her own mother…not hurtful exactly, but sobering.
Perhaps this would silence the sly maybes and what ifs that had plagued her since Gareth’s departure the night before.
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