He’d parked there and pulled out his binoculars. He was a casual birder—a habit originally developed in the tree house—and always had a pair tucked in a cubby of his cars.
He sat and watched the house, reassuring himself that he wasn’t a stalker. He didn’t know much about her. She could be married. Or a lesbian. No, not that, as he had reason to know. But—there could be something he should know before he just showed up on her doorstep.
There was.
She was seven, with a spring birthday, if the obvious assumption was correct. She’d burst through the screen door wearing a little top and those calf-length, tight fitting, well, yoga pants. He realized that’s what they were when he noticed the rolled mat she carried slung over her shoulder and saw, in the next minute, her mother dressed the very same way, up to and including the rolled mat.
They were going to yoga class. Evangeline Charles and her daughter.
His daughter.
He couldn’t see her in great detail. But he could see light-brown hair, almost blond, in tight curls. Curls that would turn to ringlets when they were wet, and that tossed about her face when she moved. Curls much more at home on a little girl than a grown man. The very same curls that had been the bane of his existence as a kid, when he was endlessly teased about them.
Abruptly he realized that mother and daughter were about three minutes away from driving right past him. In best fight or flight mode, he started his car and fled.
He’d driven home and did what he should have done from the beginning.
He Googled Evangeline Charles.
In a right-with-the-world kind of way, she was a book editor. She and Briggs had always had that connection, that love for words and stories. He’d been the main one to teach her to read, though they’d all had a hand in it. She was so bright, so eager to learn once she’d found herself in the safety of that little circle of friends.
She worked for a big publisher, though not Briggs’s, that put out both print and e-books. Authors liked her, apparently vying for her attention to their work. She’d just gotten some award for it.
That was all. Nothing personal except for transfer of ownership of the farmhouse to her upon Miss Victory’s death. Most specifically, no weddings.
No seven-year-old birth announcements, either.
He’d convinced himself that he was a father. It was the rational conclusion, and after a couple of hours, it had settled into his head, into his heart, a surprisingly comfortable fit.
Until Gio had barged through his door unannounced, blubbering about a little girl and dimples and how he was a father.
And now this. Really, they all should be shot. They hadn’t been sixteen-year-old kids the night of Shep’s funeral. They’d been men. Hurt, grieving men, yes, but they’d behaved with unforgivable recklessness.
His grim statement had given Briggs pause. But nothing ever kept Briggs silent for long. Written or verbal, words were his thing.
“I’m a father.”
Chase scoffed unsympathetically. “What? Does she have bright green eyes, too?”
“Yes.” Briggs inspected him in question. “How do you know? And what do you mean, ‘too’?”
“She also as curly, light-brown hair.” Chase tugged at a strand along his temple and then pointed at Gio. “And dimples.”
Briggs followed his gesture then looked back. “But I—”
“Yeah. On the night of Shep’s funeral, you took that walk when you just had to be alone. Then you went and banged Evvie. Did you even bother with a condom?”
Briggs had paled. “No.”
“Neither did he.” Chase tossed his head at Gio and then fessed up. “Neither did I.”
“Shit.” Briggs thought about it some more. “Holy shit.”
Yeah. No shit, Chase thought. If only that were the worst of it. He knew bone-deep it wasn’t. “Would you please, please, tell us you didn’t spend some part of last week fucking her brains out?”
Briggs flushed, and Chase understood his bones knew what they were talking about.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean? You know the fuck what. Gio saw her at a wedding last Saturday. The next morning I ran into her at the hospital.”
Briggs sank into one of the deck chairs near Gio like his legs had been felled out from under him. Chase thought it was a good idea and sat, too.
Briggs rubbed his forehead with his longneck. “Are you saying—” He swallowed hard and looked from one to the other. “Both of you?”
Gio and Chase exchanged looks, and that was enough of an answer.
“Shit.”
Yeah, yeah. Holy shit. He knew.
“Do you think she’s, what, stalking us?”
Gio shook his head. “No. That’s not Evvie. We know her.”
“Do we?” Chase had to say it. The girl had grown up in the worst sort of poverty. He had money, and Briggs was a damn ba-zillionaire. They’d be nuts not to consider it.
But Gio, grounded as ever, answered him. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”
Chase looked at Briggs, who nodded, and was shamed into admitting the truth. “Yeah, you’re right. Tell us what happened, Briggs.”
“It was a week ago yesterday, down in the Hudson Valley. I was speaking at an awards ceremony. She was there. She got an award.”
“I saw that—when I finally came to my senses today and Googled her.”
“She’s successful in her own right.” Briggs saw Gio’s question and explained that she was an editor. “She wouldn’t have to come after us for money. At least, not now.”
It was clear their thoughts were all on a young twenty-one-year-old pregnant woman, all alone. Poor as dirt.
Well, they’d get to that.
“So—Friday?” he prompted.
“I saw her. It was like—” Briggs looked up. “Well, I guess you know what it was like. I invited her to dinner. I don’t think she’d have come, but I cornered her boss and maneuvered it.” He drew a long breath. “I took her to my room.”
“And she was gone when you woke up?”
He looked at Gio, obviously hearing and relating to the disgruntlement. “What the fuck?”
“She was at my cousin’s wedding on Saturday. Remember Vito the asshole? Well, he was marrying a girl from Evvie’s class—Kaitlyn. I didn’t even remember until I saw Ev with her. Anyway, Ev didn’t know that Vito was related—I’m dead sure that was true. He was such a dick, I doubt I ever mentioned him to her when we were kids. It’s not like we hung out. And I got the distinct impression she might have skipped the wedding if she’d known I was gonna be there.
“So I danced with her, took her for a walk, and then we went to my room.”
Chase finished it. “She ducked out on him Sunday morning and was at the hospital seeing a hospice patient as I got off my night shift.
“The hospice patient was real—I checked today.” HIPAA be damned. He didn’t read the old lady’s medical record. He just confirmed her connection to Ev. Maybe he wasn’t quite as trusting as the other two. He couldn’t help replaying in his mind how she’d admired his home. He was ashamed of that now, in the face of Gio’s blind trust.
“I was headed to bed. I invited her to breakfast, but she saw I had to sleep. I think she was done resisting by then. She volunteered to come here and cook. And the rest…is just the same as for you two.”
“Why the fuck did she leave?” That was Gio.
Briggs stood and paced, like he always did when he had to work something out in his head. “A better question is why the fuck did she sleep with all three of us in a matter of three days? Isn’t that kind of—”
Gio stood. “No, it’s not, and if you suggest it is again, you’ll be talking to my fist. She slept with us all last weekend for the same reason she let us all come to her after the funeral. She loves us. All of us. We thought it was cute, a little stroke to our egos. But she always loved us, and we always knew it.”
Briggs stood down and met Chase�
��s gaze. “Yeah, he’s right.”
Chase nodded. He was. About all of it. Chase had never taken Evvie seriously, the way he should have. The way they all should have, and the way he wanted to now.
He thought again of when he’d had her in his bed. He had to know. Forcing himself, he looked at his friends. “So. The time I spent with her—”
Gio was the first to figure out what Chase couldn’t say. And he didn’t like it, either.
“It was freakin’ hot. Spectacular. Mind-fucking-blowing.” His gaze as he glared at his two friends was a total challenge.
Briggs shot a look back but then relented with a grimace. “Yeah, me, too.”
Chase cursed. So much for that. Every one of them had hoped it had been different for him. “Did anybody fucking use a condom?”
They were all quiet for a long moment, and he cursed some more. He hung his head in much deserved shame.
Still, there was an important issue to address. Something bigger than how hot the sex was or how irresponsible they were as men. “What about the girl? Did you talk with her, Briggs?”
“Maisy?”
Maisy. Chase felt that pinch his heart. Maisy. His daughter. Maybe. And if not, the next thing to it.
“No, you idiot. Evvie. What did she say?”
Briggs shook his head, that half-stunned look back. “No. Nothing. They didn’t see me. I saw the girl. Ev called to her, and suddenly I just knew.” He swallowed again. “I froze. Then they were gone. I came here instead of following them home. Why did I do that?”
Chase shook his head. He and Gio had done the same thing. Gio had been stopped at Gorham’s one traffic light when the mother-daughter duo walked out of a coffee shop and crossed the street right in front of him.
“It’s a lot to take in. She’s seven, for fuck’s sake, and none of us knew about her until today.”
“Let’s go talk to her. She has to know who the girl belongs to.”
Chase rolled his eyes. Gio was a man of action, but no biologist.
“How the fuck would she know? She had sex with three incredibly reckless men on the same night. Unless she’s come asking you guys for a DNA sample, she doesn’t know.”
“Well, we need to find out. We still need to talk to her. Let’s go now.”
Briggs shook his head. He’d had the same thought as Chase. “You mean, three of us show up at her door, with a little seven-year-old girl there, and tell her we demand to know which of us is the father?”
That quieted Gio.
“Monday,” Chase said. “Early June, school’s still in session. Evvie works at home. She should be alone.” He looked at Gio. “I don’t have to work again until Tuesday. What about you?”
“Same. I have to be to JFK early Tuesday morning. Briggs?”
Briggs shrugged. Most times, he could work anywhere. “Yeah. I’m okay with Monday.”
“All right. Make yourselves comfortable.” Chase’s home was along Mansion Row. It certainly didn’t qualify as a mansion, but he had some space. There were a couple extra rooms on the second floor that Gio and Briggs tended to claim as theirs when they were in town. “I’ll get out some steaks we can grill for dinner. We might need a beer run.”
“Got it,” Briggs said.
They all downed a few on occasion, but Briggs was the beer snob. If Chase and Gio acted like they’d drink any six-pack of swill from the gas station, then Briggs could be counted on to supply them with some good brew.
Like they didn’t know he was rolling his eyes behind their backs. Like they cared. Free beer, man.
Chapter Six
Their driveway was a long one, about a half mile down to the road and the bus stop, but Evangeline always insisted they walk it. Rain or snow didn’t change that—they lived on a vineyard, she repeated often, in response to Maisy’s objection. Weather mattered to the growers and farmers in the area. Folks who lived on the land should be aware of it.
Plus, the exercise was good for both of them. Evangeline’s work was ever so sedentary—she spent all of her day at a desk on the phone or computer. And Maisy was her mother’s—and, maybe, her father’s—daughter. She would spend all her days inside books, too, if given the choice. Evangeline had to push her into activities. She was a bit too timid for team sports, which is why they’d settled on a parent-child yoga class.
On days like this, the walk was a glorious one. As she climbed back up the mountain, with Maisy safely on her way to school, she could turn and catch glimpses of the lake and the fields between, with cows grazing and meadows yellow now with wildflowers. The sky was a lovely blue with cotton candy clouds.
She was a happy woman, with a job she loved and a daughter who was her world. It was unusual that she second-guessed herself, that she wondered if she’d made the right decisions.
The unusual was what she’d been living with for a little more than a week now, ever since she’d seen the guys. Been with them.
Chase, Briggs, and Giovanni. All of them incredibly dear to her heart.
And one of them was Maisy’s father.
She considered it an irony of fate that her daughter shared a standout physical characteristic with each of them. Chase’s sweet curls, Briggs’s remarkable green eyes, Giovanni’s adorable dimples.
Often, she thought the biological father must be Briggs. That, somehow, his love for words and stories had passed to Maisy—a double dose of it, given Evvie’s own predilections. But then she’d see a flash of Chase’s basic brilliance or Gio’s fiery temper, and she’d be back to that thing about fate.
It didn’t matter the least to her. She loved them all, considered them kind of a unit. She’d been happy to think of Maisy as their child, born of the love she had for all of them. But mainly, Maisy was her child.
Until this last week.
The men were all single. None of them had children.
Before last weekend, Evvie had imagined that they’d all be living their lives while she had something apart, she and Maisy. They were thirty now. They should be married, having, or, at least, starting their own families. It had never occurred to her that, among them, Maisy would be the only child.
Maisy’s lack of a father didn’t concern her. Victory Farms was run now by three brothers and their wives. Each couple had a house on the land, close enough that soon Maisy would be old enough to bike to them. They also each had three or four children clustered around Maisy’s age. Every Saturday night the kids were shuffled to one home or another for sleepovers. Evvie had gathered that the Victory men enjoyed nights home alone with their wives.
Evvie and Maisy had been welcomed as family from the very beginning, when Miss Victory had taken her in, pregnant and otherwise alone. They were included in family celebrations and winery festivities. From the age of three, Maisy had been invited to the sleepovers. Some of them—every fourth—even took place at the farmhouse, wild, exhausting nights of manic laughter and nearly a dozen children tucked into sleeping bags wherever they fell.
So Maisy had a lot of exposure to extended family and to men who acted as a father to her. She experienced a full family life.
Not so for Chase and Briggs and Giovanni.
Evvie had always believed that managing her pregnancy and then Maisy’s rearing on her own had been a decision that protected the guys. She’d considered Maisy a gift from them, a thing of her own.
It just hadn’t occurred to her that she was keeping something from them, something that they might want, might be missing.
Until now.
She was helpless to imagine what she could do differently at this point. She could hardly go to them and offer Maisy up as their token child, could she?
And now she’d complicated things—way complicated them—by falling into bed with them. All three of them. She didn’t regret it, oh no. With each one of them, it had been wonderful. Moving and sweet and incredibly hot. She felt like in one weekend she’d gone from a sexual novice to a bodacious sex goddess, a freaking siren.
Could s
he go back to the way she’d been living, not as a sexual beast but as a sexual monk? Would she choose it? And would the guys let her have a choice?
Could she see them again—any of them—and still keep Maisy to herself?
She thought about it every day now as she made this walk alone back up to her home. Then, without finding an answer, she sat down at her desk and did her work.
Only this day, an hour later, her work was interrupted by a knock at the door.
* * * *
On the drive down, Briggs got stuck in the backseat of Chase’s SUV, by virtue of Gio calling shotgun before they were even out the back door. That had happened just after Gio had tried and failed to wrench the keys from Chase’s fist. Chase had known to be prepared for that.
But he was in the lead when they stepped up onto Evvie’s wraparound porch, and it was his hand that rapped on her door.
He hadn’t asked, and neither Chase nor Gio had objected. They’d all been close, really close, but Briggs had spent the most time with Evvie when she was a girl. They’d have their noses together in a book, or he’d be working out a story to his audience of one during any free time they had.
So he felt it was by rights that he should stand there and be the one Evvie saw first when she opened her door.
She paled when it happened and even more when he stepped aside a little so she could see that Gio and Chase were with him. They all stood in silence for a long moment.
His words caused her to startle, though he wasn’t loud or aggressive.
“We need to talk, Evvie.”
She took a few seconds trying to read his face. Then she lifted a hand, making a gesture toward a grouping of wicker chairs on the wide porch.
He guessed her living room contained photos of Maisy that she wouldn’t want them to see. And that they would want to see, would insist on seeing.
“No,” he said. “We want to come in.”
She stood still, clearly searching for an excuse to deny them entrance.
“We know about Maisy, Evvie.”
That was Gio, who, as ever, had no patience for subtlety. Or, really, just no patience.
Three Men and a Woman: Evangeline (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 9