ROMANCE: Life Shocks Romances: Contemporary Romance Box Set (Life Shocks Romances Collection Book 2)

by Jade Kerrion

If Holly hadn’t told her about Millie, her first thought might have been “Grinch.”

  As it was, Noelle’s heart tugged on his behalf as she marched up the steps and pressed on the buzzer. Moments later, the door opened. Connor’s jaw was tense, his teeth gritted. This was no calm, professional doctor. This was a man driven to the edge of endurance. She blinked, startled by the jolting shift in her perspective of him.

  Connor stared at her blankly for a moment. “Noelle.” He seemed to recall himself. “Is your father all right?”

  “Yes.” She held up the cooler. “I came over to bring some—”

  “I hate this chicken!” a young voice shouted from inside the house.

  A muscle ticked in Connor’s cheek. He turned toward the sound, and Noelle realized that she had been forgotten, summarily dismissed.

  “I want something else!”

  “Just eat the chicken.” He strode toward the kitchen, leaving Noelle to follow.

  “It’s old and yucky.”

  “I bought it yesterday, and I reheated it.”

  “I don’t want this. I want pizza.”

  “There is no pizza.” He enunciated each word clearly, as if the deliberate effort would help him hold on to his temper. “Eat the chicken, eat the vegetables, and—”

  “I hate broccoli and I hate carrots.”

  Noelle peeked around the wall of Connor’s back. The kitchen, with wooden countertops and brickwork over the oven and stove, possessed old-fashioned charm, and was large enough to accommodate a small dining table and four chairs. A young girl knelt on a chair, scowling at the plate of food in front of her. Her blond hair was a wispy mess around her face, and she wore a sweater a size or two too large for her.

  Across from the girl, a tiny toddler in a high chair lunged for anything and everything within reach. Cheerios and cracker bits lay in a circle on the floor around her. She met Noelle’s eyes and cooed. Her smile displayed eight little teeth.

  The girl looked up at the baby’s coo. Her blue eyes narrowed, and her scowl deepened. Her gaze shot back to her father as her chin lifted. “I hate this house!”

  Connor expelled his breath in a sigh.

  “I don’t want to be here. You said we were going to see Grandma and Grandpa. You said I could see Mickey Mouse and the castle.”

  “And we will, just not right now.”

  “I want to go now. I don’t want to be here. I told you; I hate this house. It’s ugly. Everyone else has lights and a Christmas tree and—”

  “I’ll put up decorations.”

  Tears rushed into the girl’s eyes. “I don’t like your decorations. I like Mama’s decorations.”

  Connor’s breath escaped through clenched teeth. “Mama’s not here anymore, but I’ll take care of the decorations. It’ll be just like before.”

  “No, it won’t. You can’t make it like before.” Her furious voice cracked. “I hate you.”

  Connor winced.

  Grace’s glare flashed to her happy little sister. “And I hate you!” She grabbed a piece of broccoli off her plate and threw it at the toddler.

  Hope giggled.

  “That’s enough.” Connor dragged Grace off her chair. “I’ve told you. You never throw anything at your sister. Go to your room. Stay there.”

  Grace stood her ground. Her jaw jutted out pugnaciously, daring her father to hit her.

  He glared at her. His hands tensed, fighting the compulsion to curl into fists.

  Hope stared at Connor as if he had suddenly morphed into a monster. Her eyebrows drew together, and her expression crumpled into distress. Her pitiful whine shredded the silence battle of wills between Grace and Connor.

  Grace stalked out of the kitchen, her head held high, but Noelle heard her steady step falter halfway up the stairs, before condensing into the rush of feet and culminating in the slamming of a door.

  The sound jolted Connor out of his semi-dazed state. He shook his head like a man coming out of a nightmare. “It’s all right,” he murmured as he moved toward his younger daughter. The anger melted out of his voice to reveal a solid foundation of love, though scarcely visible beneath the exhaustion. “I’m not angry. Not with you. Not with Grace.”

  Hope hiccupped. Her yogurt-smeared fingers patted her father’s cheek as he touched his forehead to hers. The corners of her mouth turned up in a ready smile.

  Noelle felt like an intruder—the awkward, silent witness to a family in crisis, in pain. She moved past Connor to set her cooler on the kitchen island. She was aware of his weary gaze as she unpacked the trays of food and placed them in the refrigerator.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that.” Connor’s voice was quiet.

  She shrugged, not knowing what to say. “The food should last a couple of meals.” It seemed easier not to talk about Grace’s tantrum. “And other than the soup, there’s no chicken in there, so that should please Grace.”

  “Yeah.” A perfunctory reply. He sounded tired to the point of not caring.

  The sharp ache in her chest made her breath catch. “I’ll see myself out. You have a good night.” The words slipped out before she realized how cruel they sounded. Noelle hesitated at the door and looked over her shoulder.

  His back to Noelle, Connor raised a spoonful of yogurt to Hope’s mouth. The toddler pressed her lips together and swiped the spoon away. Yogurt splattered on the floor.

  Connor set the cup of yogurt down and sat unmoving in his chair, amidst the clutter of his kitchen and the ruins of dinner. Noelle followed his gaze to a darkened living room. No fire crackling merrily in the hearth. No brightly lit Christmas tree. No presents.

  Hope babbled happy sounds, but he did not react to her. He even seemed to have forgotten that Noelle was there.

  His shoulders slumped on the quiet sigh that whispered out of him.

  The sound cracked her heart. With tears stinging her eyes, Noelle let herself out of the house and closed the door behind her. Not my circus. Not my monkeys. She was only here until her father recovered. Connor’s problems weren’t hers to solve. Connor’s problems were too big to solve.

  Yet even with impeccable logic on her side, it took everything she had to walk away.

  ~*~

  After Connor put Hope to bed, he looked in on Grace. The light was on in her bedroom, and she was sprawled across the bed, asleep in the clothes she had worn to her after-school program. Dried tears had left streaks on her face. He tugged the covers over her and bent to kiss her forehead. As he did for several minutes every night, he sat by her bedside, watching her sleep.

  Increasingly, those few minutes were all the peace he enjoyed with Grace each day.

  Before he turned off the lights, he glanced automatically at the fish tank in her room. The goldfish was lying on the bottom of the tank, its body heaving with every breath. It would be dead by morning.

  Damn it.

  He’d have to swap it out in the morning before Grace awoke.

  Slowly, he climbed up to the attic and retrieved several boxes of Christmas decorations. The baubles for the tree were half of the boxes, but they had to be set aside until he purchased a tree. The other boxes contained Christmas knickknacks, including a Thomas Kinkaid Christmas village, season-themed cups and hand towels, and even a snowman cookie jar.

  The holiday season had always been Millie’s favorite time of the year, with multiple reasons to celebrate. Connor and Millie had married a week before Christmas, and Connor celebrated his birthday a week after, on New Year’s Day. Hope had been born on Christmas Eve—a day that was now equally a blend of happiness and sorrow.

  All Connor wanted was to bury his head under his pillow and wait for the new year to arrive.

  The thought of tomorrow—of Christmas Eve—tensed his shoulders and tightened the muscles in his back. The sense of loss, which had dulled to an ache so constant he hardly noticed it anymore, sharpened until it once again cut like a knife.

  He stared at the unlit fireplace. I survived a year without you, Mil
lie. I wasn’t sure I could, but I did.

  I wish you could see Hope. She’s a happy, empathic child, like Grace used to be. She’s walking now. Loves climbing. Loves adult food; hates baby food. Loves cuddles and kisses. She smells like an angel.

  For a moment, the rush of love took the edge off the pain.

  And Grace… Guilt twisted the blade deeper. He swallowed hard. She misses you, and I’m no substitute no matter how hard I try. He looked around the living room, at the stacks of boxes filled with decorations he didn’t have the energy, strength, or heart to unpack. I don’t know what to do with Grace or with Christmas.

  He glanced up at a picture on the mantle place—their last photograph as a family. Millie showed off her pregnant belly, her smile radiant. Grace rested her cheek gently against the swell of her mother’s stomach, and Connor stood behind them, his hands resting on their shoulders.

  His breath shuddered out of him, a sob catching on the edge of a sigh. I miss you. I miss what we used to be, what we could have been.

  Millie, untouched by time and unaffected by pain, smiled down at him.

  Connor opened the first box of decorations. He stared with distaste at the mess of red and green. He’d have to put them up; he’d promised his daughter. He dragged his hand over his eyes, his vision blurring from exhaustion. His mind, misted by heartache, was a fog of uncompleted thoughts. He needed a nap—just a short one. He’d work on the decorations after his nap.

  He stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, the image of the blond-haired woman in his mind became indistinct. For a moment, it seemed as if two faces occupied the same space. One familiar, much loved, and lost to him. The other new, exuded the warmth and comfort of friendship, yet beckoned him with all that was yet unknown. Love.

  Half asleep, his brow furrowed with confusion.

  Noelle.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Noelle meticulously worked her way down the checklist her father had given her, a checklist that had grown with several phone calls, all of them starting with, “I forgot to tell you that…”

  At the rate she was going, it would be Christmas before she closed up the pet store and headed home. She stifled a sigh as the little bell on the door signaled a new customer. “I’m sorry, we’re closed.” She looked up. “Oh, Connor.”

  “I saw the sign, but I was wondering if you could sell me a goldfish. Or two. Or three.”

  The corners of her lips twitched. “What’s the count now? Twelve?”

  He nodded.

  “How hard is it to keep a fish alive?”

  He chuckled, the sound without humor. “About as hard as real life, apparently.” He paused in front of a large cage containing a white, fluffy kitten. He stroked the cat through the bars. “You’re a pretty one,” he murmured to the purring fur ball.

  Noelle’s heart warmed at the kindness in his voice. “She’s from the ASPCA, and available for a small adoption fee.”

  “It’s not the fee. I can’t keep fish alive. My chances with a cat are well below zero, at this point. Grace has been asking for a kitten though. I think she has this particular one in mind.”

  “Make it a Christmas gift for her.”

  He winced. “Could I just get the goldfish, please? I’m hoping to get to the toy store before—” He glanced at his watch. His faint frown twisted into a grimace. “Never mind.” His lips moved, shaping silent curse words.

  “Connor?”

  “Just the fish. I need to get home. I promised the babysitter I’d be home by six.”

  Noelle scooped out three fish into a plastic bag, filled it with air, and sealed it. “Here. A Christmas present, from the Langfords.”

  “Thank you.” The sudden smile that flashed across his face was filled with warmth and humor. For a moment, Noelle didn’t see the professional demeanor of a skilled doctor or the distracted expression of an exhausted father. She saw a man—a good-looking man, with compassion and empathy in his eyes.

  The moment vanished, though, and once again, she saw the frustration of a man pulled in too many directions. Not my circus. Not my monkeys.

  Unfortunately, the quiet pain and heartache in his eyes resonated a matching ache within her.

  He was almost out the door when she called out impulsively. “What’s wrong, Connor?”

  He shook his head. “I have to get home.”

  “I’ll walk with you.” She shot a quick text to her sister, grabbed her handbag, turned off the lights, and followed him from the store. He waited until she locked the door before setting a brisk pace toward their neighborhood. “So, what’s this that Dad said about a PTA surgery?”

  “A PTCA. Percutaneous transluminal coronary angioplasty. Your father had a minor heart attack with little damage to his heart muscles, but I’m recommending he talk to a cardiologist about a PTCA. It’s the most direct method of opening a blocked coronary artery and possibly his best chance of avoiding another heart attack.”

  “Dad hates hospitals. He hates surgeries.”

  “I know.”

  “Can you do this? He probably would agree if you could do it for him.”

  “I’m a general physician. He needs a trained surgeon for this.” Connor glanced at her. “Will you and Holly talk him into it?”

  Noelle’s mouth tugged into a wry half-smile. “You should know by now it’s impossible to talk my dad into anything. We’ll talk to him, but can’t promise the outcome.”

  Connor nodded and lapsed into silence.

  “Why were you trying to get out to the toy store?” Noelle asked.

  “Buy gifts for the girls.”

  “Wow, you really do last-minute shopping.”

  “The gifts were shipped to Orlando, since I thought we were going to be spending Christmas there. Now, the gifts are there, and we are here. The girls will get the gifts eventually, but I wanted to give them something to open on Christmas.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “I got the Christmas tree over my lunch break, but it took longer than I expected. The clinic got busy in the afternoon, and I couldn’t break away. Now I have to get home, and I don’t have any more babysitter coverage, not for the whole week, not until the new year. I didn’t think I would need it.

  Noelle frowned. “So, no gifts…?”

  Connor sighed.

  She caught at his arm to make him stop walking. “Really, Connor? No gifts at Christmas?”

  He ground his teeth. “I’m not doing this deliberately. I’m not the Grinch you think I am, but sometimes, it doesn’t even seem to matter what I do.”

  “Look, I’ll stay with your children while you run out for gifts.”

  He stared at her.

  Why did the surprise in his eyes make her hurt even more for him? She compensated by keeping her voice brisk. “Come on. You’re wasting time. Let’s get home. You can introduce me to Grace and Hope, get me situated on what to do for them, and you can make it to the stores before they close.”

  ~*~

  An explosion of sound and movement greeted her the moment they stepped into Connor’s home. The babysitter, a local high school senior, scurried out the door almost immediately, leaving the children with Connor and Noelle.

  Grace glowered at her father. “Who’s she?”

  Noelle knelt to smile at Grace. “I’m Noelle.”

  “That’s a silly name.”

  “It’s a Christmas-y name.” She looked around. “I see you’ve begun decorating for Christmas.”

  Grace turned to look into the living room. “It’s just a Christmas tree. It doesn’t even have lights.”

  “Well, decorating the tree would be our job, wouldn’t it? And who is this?” Noelle smiled down at the toddler, who peered out at her from between Connor’s legs.

  “That’s my sister, Hope,” Grace said. “She’s just a baby.”

  Hope gave Noelle a toothy grin and babbled a greeting.

  Noelle held out her arms, and Hope tottered forward into her op
en arms. She settled Hope on one arm and pushed to her feet. Oh, Hope was a delicious, sweet-smelling armful. The toddler wrapped an arm around Noelle’s neck, apparently contented to survey the world from her new perch. Noelle tilted her head and smiled at Grace. “Well, shall we get started on the tree?”

  “I don’t want to decorate the stupid tree.”

  He winced.

  Noelle shrugged, not in the least bit fazed by Connor’s belligerent daughter. “Why don’t you get dinner on the table while Grace and I work on Christmas decorations?”

  With Hope on one arm, Noelle searched through the boxes and concluded that the decorations were grossly age-inappropriate for a toddler. She glanced at Grace. “I don’t think these will work.”

  Grace peered into the boxes. “She’s gonna break them.”

  “Just what I was thinking. What should we do?”

  Grace’s frown wasn’t mutinous, but thoughtful.

  “We’ll need decorations that won’t break,” Noelle said.

  The girl brightened. “I know.” She dashed out of the living room, raced up the stairs, and returned a minute later with an armful of soft toys.

  “Wow.” Noelle smiled. “What a brilliant idea.”

  “The toy won’t break even if Hope pulls it down.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Noelle said.

  Grace stared at her little sister as Hope cooed and reached for the nearest soft toy. “Maybe she could help.”

  “I’m sure she’d love to. Come on, let’s get started. This is a huge tree.”

  Grace giggled. “I’ll get more toys.”

  The lower boughs of the tree were haphazardly decorated when Connor looked in on them twenty minutes later. He stood at the doorway, watching in absolute silence for several minutes, before clearing his throat. “Dinner’s on the table.”

  Grace stiffened. “I don’t want the yucky food.”

  “Noelle brought it over. Can you try it, at least?”

  Noelle stood and held her hand out to Grace. “I hate yucky food, too, but this one is yummy, I promise.”

  The look Grace shot her father was distrustful, but she slipped her hand into Noelle’s and followed her to the dining room. Connor had reheated some of the food Noelle had brought the previous day and set the table for three.