Okay, I flat out adored the fact that she was already talking to our baby, that she’d nicknamed the little thing, and that she rubbed her belly like she couldn’t wait to hold the tiny new life growing inside.
There were a lot of things about Angel that I liked. But I wasn’t in love with her and I wasn’t falling for her. Sly needed to get his head on straight.
Love required something that had been destroyed in me a long time ago.
There was no getting it back.
Ever.
I cared for my friends too, but that was a far cry from that four-letter word. It made me uncomfortable to even think about it with Angel sitting so close. She glanced at me from time to time, a faint smile on her lips. From time to time, she’d stroke her hand in a circle over the mound of her tummy which made me think of the baby every single time.
I was thinking about her because of the baby.
It was just because of the baby.
Deep in my psyche, the possessive part that didn’t want to live without Angel answered back, “And that’s why you were staying up late at night, waking up with a hard-on for months after she left, all because of a baby you didn’t know existed. Like you’re really going to buy into that bullshit you’re trying to sell.”
My conscience was a pain in the ass. My id, or ego, or superego. Whatever the fuck Freud had dished out in some book I’d read eons ago. Telling it to shut the hell up would be more effective if I could put something physical behind it. A fist, for example. Besides, even my conscience knew what a fucked-up mess I was. I didn’t know how to love, and any chance I might have had at it had been ripped out of me long before Angel came into the picture.
Shit.
What kind of father would I turn out to be? What kind of father could I be when I couldn’t love anyone or anything since I put my childhood behind me?
Magic was the closest I came to loving anything after that, which is why I’d gone into it as a career. I didn’t have to be myself when I was up on that stage. I became somebody else. The broken, scared boy I was would just disappear and make room for Devin X. The helpless, angry teenager I used to be didn’t exist. Not when I was up on that stage.
Up there, I didn’t lack control.
I wasn’t weak.
On stage, control was my bitch.
I held all the power.
I had complete authority over everything and everyone. People believed the truth I gave them, no matter what their eyes saw, or what reality might show them. A big contrast to the world I’d grown up in, where I could tell the truth until I was blue in the face and no one would believe me. Truth was one thing, and perception of reality was what they valued more.
By now, Sly’s words brought out a shit ton of uncertainty in me. I sat there beside Angel, waiting for whatever remaining checks the airport authority needed to do with the private plane. I was silently wishing that Sly had just kept his mouth shut. But now, as I sat there with the visions of his future turning over in my mind again and again, I could feel myself growing colder and quieter with every passing moment.
Angel felt the change in my mood. A few minutes before we were cleared to board the plane, she reached over and touched my arm. “You know, meeting parents can be downright terrifying, but my parents aren’t all that bad.”
I tried to smile. It didn’t work too well.
“It’s not about your parents,” I told her. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“I noticed.” Angel covered my hand with hers. Instinctively, I turned mine over and twined our fingers together. She squeezed back and continued. “You’ve been staring out at absolutely nothing for almost the entire time we’ve been here. You want to talk?”
Talk. That was something we hadn’t done enough of. I thought about what Sly had said about the possibility that Angel could change her mind about this whole deal and just leave me in her rearview mirror. That’d relegate me to a couple of weeks a year with my kid, if I was lucky. And who knew what the laws were, with her being Canadian. Did that change shit?
I had no idea and I needed to know. A few weeks a year, hell, a weekend every other month? Restrictions and rules weren’t gonna cut it with my baby. This was another chance for me to get it right. And seriously, the thought of her up and leaving and me… not being able to see her? I didn’t like that one bit. It was bad enough the first and second time around. I didn’t plan on losing anyone again.
We hadn’t talked about any sort of arrangement at all, hadn’t talked about…shit, we hadn’t talked about anything. Not about her staying in Vegas. Not about a relationship. I wasn’t saying that I could ever make one of those things work, but I realized now that we could’ve talked about it.
We needed to.
But not now.
Going to meet her parents was more than enough to deal with. They still didn’t know about the baby. I wasn’t going to toss this other crap on top of it. But we did need to talk. I shouldn’t have avoided it like the plague for the entire week she’d been with me.
Somebody called my name from across the hanger, and I looked up to see the private plane’s co-pilot approaching. Saved by the plane.
“We’re just about ready, Mac.” He smiled at me and then nodded at Angel. “You can start boarding now.”
As I rose, I offered a hand to Angel.
She accepted. Rising gracefully to her feet, we started for the plane.
“You know…” I cleared my throat. She glanced over at me. “We haven’t done much talking yet. Don’t think now’s the time. I’m sure you’re nervous about telling your parents. But…well, we should talk. About this. Us. The baby.”
I didn’t know what else to say. There was something more I needed to add, but I doubted she wanted to hear, I’m going to be in your life, Angel…but I’m not going to fall in love with you. I’m sorry.
Yeah, that’d go over really well.
Angel squeezed my hand. “I know. I want to get this thing with my parents taken care of first. They’re great people, but I’m not sure how my parents will handle the fact that they’ve never met you, and that I took this long to tell them about the baby.” She looked down. “I look like a blimp and they don’t even know.”
“You’re not a blimp.” The narrow staircase to board was lowered, but before she could start the climb up, I stopped her. “You barely look pregnant right now.”
I placed a hand on her belly and was rewarded with a hello kick from Bump.
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, but the flush on her face told me she was pleased.
“Anyway…” Angel cleared her throat and covered my hand with hers for a moment. “I need to figure out this whole ‘telling them’ part, then see where to go from there.”
Tension gathered in me because I expected another question from her. One about my parents, like when I planned on telling them. I’d dodged the bullet, but when she finally asked, I told her ‘the day after never’. The vehemence in my voice was a lot stronger than I’d planned and I wished I’d held back a little, but Angel wasn’t put off or even concerned.
She’d just nodded. “Okay. I’m sure my folks won’t mind having one less pair of grandparents to compete with.”
Now, as I waited for another question, she eyed me, but all she did was crook a finger at me. I didn’t think twice about bending down. She pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. “Let’s go. I’m anxious to get home. Christmas doesn’t feel like Christmas when it’s seventy degrees out.”
Canada was fucking cold.
Logically I knew that before. However, knowing it and experiencing real winter weather were two different things. I wasn’t used to it at all. The coldest place I’d ever spent much time in winter was Louisville, Kentucky, while I was honing my craft. But that was nothing like this biting cold that ate past all your layers of clothing, past your skin, and went straight to the bone. The one time I was in Canada before this was during the late spring one year, and then again in the fall a few years after that. I
never had to deal with anything like this.
My breath turned to vapor the moment it left my body.
I was ready to wimp out and get myself those thick mittens that kids wore, and a toque, as Angel called winter hats. Hell, I’d break out long fucking underwear or a full onesie if it’d help. My eyelids were freezing. And my eyeballs. I had the vague idea that if I cried, the tears themselves would freeze. Not that I planned on crying, although if it got much colder, my balls were going to freeze, and that could make men tougher than me cry for sure.
The only place that was actually a little warm was my junk area. Angel was close, so a hot, stiff boner was always lurking on the horizon.
Shoving my hands deeper into my pockets for some of that warmth, I followed Angel down the sidewalk to a black car parked up ahead. She had arranged to have a car waiting, and I’d left her to it since she knew where we were going and I didn’t. Once I’d provided her with the flight plan information back in Vegas, she took over, handling the arrangements from touchdown on, not asking me a thing. Of course, she might have done what I did—passed everything off to an assistant.
I didn’t know if she had one, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
“This must be such a shock to you,” she said, grinning at me over her shoulder. Her cheeks had roses in them, and her eyes were sparkling from the cold. Everything about her was so fucking beautiful.
“What are you talking about?”
“It was seventy degrees when we left Las Vegas. Now it’s seventeen. That’s minus eight degrees in Celsius. It’s a shock to me. And I’m used to it. I grew up here. But looking at you, I’m going to guess you haven’t spent a lot of time in cold climates.”
“What makes you think that?” I tried not to let my teeth chatter. Nothing would ruin the image of past acclimatization like that.
“The fact that you look like you’re clenching your jaw so your teeth don’t chatter.”
Humor danced in her eyes, and once we reached the car, I stopped fighting the urge to put my hands on her. I hauled her up against me, I placed my mouth down over hers and kissed her.
Her lips were cold.
Inside her mouth wasn’t.
After five seconds, neither was I—and my balls were no longer in danger of freezing.
“I’m not cold anymore,” I murmured against her mouth.
“Hmmm.” She moaned against my lips. “Me neither.”
Her tongue slid out to meet mine, a happy sigh escaping her.
When I pulled back, she smiled up at me. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that all day.”
“Next time, don’t wait for me.” I traced the sensual line of her swollen lips. “Take the bull by the horns, Miss Angel.”
“Maybe I would’ve tried,” she murmured. Then she reached up and rubbed me between my brows.
I didn’t realize I was frowning until that moment. Consciously, I relaxed my features.
“But you see, you’ve been doing this brooding thing all day. I figured you needed some space, so I gave you some.” She rose up onto her toes and rubbed her lips against my mouth. “Now…let’s go meet my folks.”
17
Angel
Phillip and Evangeline Halliwell had been married for almost forty years. They were together for fifteen of those before they had me. My arrival was a bit of a surprise to them, but I was the most loved and adored surprise I could ever hope to be. Mom used to tell me all the time that one of her favorite things in life was surprises, and I always knew her words were a vague reference to me.
I had never once felt unloved or unwanted by them.
I couldn’t imagine not feeling loved or wanted. That was why it was so easy for me to see the sheer apathy in Mac’s eyes when I asked about his family. Apathy mixed with something else. Revulsion, disgust, pain, I wasn’t sure I could place it.
Whatever the emotions were, they weren’t happy ones.
That’s why I didn’t let myself push further. I held off asking questions that I believed needed to be raised. We’d get to that part eventually, right?
Besides, I was having fun just being with Mac.
The week I’d spent with him so far convinced me of something I suspected since the night I met him.
He was trouble.
Big time trouble.
The kind that came with heartache and heartbreak and all sorts of wild, disorganized, crazy emotions that could make a girl think twice before getting tangled up with him.
But I was already tangled up with him.
We were having a baby.
And now, we were on our way to meet my parents. He wasn’t thrown by the idea of coming out here when I’d mentioned it. That was a good sign, right?
I wanted to see him back home with me—not that he was ever going to give up Las Vegas. Besides, there wasn’t a huge demand for big-name, nightly shows with headliner magicians near Niagara Falls. Sure, there were a few busy casinos, more than its fair share of wedding chapels, decent tourism because of the Falls themselves, and the nightlife wasn’t too bad. But Niagara Falls was not the Vegas strip. Not in the best of times.
But we were here because I still had this crazy urge to spend Christmas at home with my family—and with him.
The drive was only forty minutes from the airport. As we slowed down at a stoplight in the outskirts of town, I looked over at him and our eyes locked.
“You’re smiling,” he said. “What are you thinking about?”
“Christmas. I love this time of year.”
“So... Eggnog, big family dinners, exchanging presents, decorating the tree, cooking and baking, shopping, and singing Carols in Ye Olde English garb?”
I’d already started nodding but I shook my head at the end. “Everything except for the last part. Mom and I always go shopping…she’s probably been waiting for me to get here so we can keep up the tradition.”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those families who take pleasure in putting off all the prep until the last few days.”
Leaning my head back against the padded headrest, I sighed. “Not that kind of mad dash, all-out-war, rush shopping. But yes, I do have a few presents left to buy.”
Including one for Mac.
“Mom and I also go shopping for a local shelter every year. It’s…well, a thing we do together. She took me the first time when I was only four.” I grinned at him. “And I was not happy when I realized all the awesome clothes I’d picked out and all the cool toys weren’t for me.”
“Instilling humanitarian values at a young age, was she?” His voice was caustic.
“No.” I arched a brow when he shot a pointedly cynical look my way. “She was teaching me responsibility. We’ve been...blessed. That’s the word Mom and Dad use. We have what so many others don’t. We pay it forward. Mom and Dad support the shelter throughout the year. It’s a family thing that we do together. She started the Christmas shopping thing when I was young because it’s something a child would understand—most kids can understand how sad they’d be if they didn’t have presents. At least when they get to a certain age. We learn empathy by imagining others in that same predicament.”
I went back to looking out the window. “I enjoy doing it.”
A few taut seconds passed by, then softly, Mac said, “I’m sorry… I was being a dick. I can be a skeptical son of a bitch at times.”
“No. Not really. Just…you haven’t had the opportunity to grow up in the same headspace as I did. It’s not your fault.” I offered him a faint smile. “My sense is you and your family aren’t close. That part is clear and I’m sorry you had to go through that type of childhood. My family and I are, and I guess I don’t take what they’ve done for me for granted. Probably because of the kids and families I meet through my teaching jobs.”
I had no doubt that Mom would be waiting for me to go shopping. She always did. And in a couple of years, we’d take Bump along, bringing her into the tradition to keep the magic alive.
Rem
embering back, I’d thrown a fit that first time when mom took me Christmas shopping. Well, when I realized none of the presents I’d picked out were for me. Not even one little stuffed toy or doll or even a coloring book. After we had finished, she took me to the shelter and I was quiet and sullen, resentful as we delivered the gifts.
Mom didn’t ignore my behavior. Her stern voice cut me off at the knees, but once we were outside, she spoke to me in a different tone.
“Can you imagine what it would be like to live in a place like this? If you had no big house, no pretty bedroom…no toys?” Mom had asked.
Even at four, I figured it’d be lousy, unbearable. Then she asked me how I’d like it if I had to live without new clothes or even a warm enough coat on a cold winter day.
I didn’t understand her reasoning behind the questions because even when she was angry with me, Mom wouldn’t take away my clothes, or my coat, or even my toys. Which was what I told her. That was when she swept me up into her arms, kissing me.
“No…I may take your toys away for a short time to teach you a lesson, but I’d never take away the things you love. But that’s the problem, Angel. Those children in there, they don’t have much to start with. Many of them only have a few shirts or dresses, sometimes not even that. And most of them only have the toys we just dropped off for them.”
“It must be nice having good memories like that,” Mac said, cutting in on my thoughts.
I looked over to find him studying me again.
“Yes. It is.” I didn’t dare ask him about the details of his childhood that haunted him. What I was sure of was that the memories had become ghosts, nightmares, monsters. I’d seen that look in a few kids’ eyes before, and I saw it in his eyes now. This was one area of his life where Mac wore his emotions on his sleeves. Instead of asking about those memories, I forced a smile and rested my eyes for the rest of the way home.
“We’re here, sugar,” he murmured, voice warm and soft as whiskey-soaked velvet. A split second later, he spoke again, his tone showing his confusion. “At least I think we’re here. You didn’t tell me you lived in a stone castle. The only thing missing is a moat.”
Ruin Me: Vegas Knights Page 12