Second Chance Twins

by Layla Valentine

  “Sure, instead of him. That was the whole point, Jenna. Him or his partner or whoever has been giving me money instead of his time, and I can’t accept that exchange anymore. If he doesn’t want to be with me, then I don’t want to have anything to do with him or his money.”

  “That pride is going to put you in the poorhouse.”

  “My business is successful,” I countered. “People like my art. They like looking at it, and wearing it, and now that I’ve partnered with the ceramics company, they’re going to like drinking out of it. I have enough, and that’s all the money I need.”

  “I’m just saying, if Mom gets herself a boyfriend—which I hope to God she does soon; that woman needs an outlet—you better make yourself scarce.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Her eyes glittered dangerously. “Don’t tempt me, kid. I still have pull when it matters.”

  I suppressed a shudder. Jenna had a brutally efficient way of getting things done, a way that I still didn’t fully understand. But if she thought that something needed to happen and it wasn’t happening, all she had to do was whisper in an ear here or there and, suddenly, everything would be going her way. She had some kind of inherent influence which I frequently thought was an unfair advantage in her line of work.

  “Do you ever make news happen when there isn’t any?” I asked her grumpily.

  “Haven’t yet, but I could if I wanted to and you know it. So don’t push me. The second Mom decides to break out of her comfort zone of drudgery, you will get out of her way.”

  “All right, all right,” I sighed, glancing at the sky.

  Afternoon had turned to evening as we argued, and the sky was now ablaze with color, meaning the twins would be hungry soon. With much objection from Vincent and weaker echoes from Frida, we bundled them into their side-by-side stroller and headed home.

  “You gave him the money a week ago, right?” she asked, flipping through the calendar on her phone.

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, so just under three months from now, the check will be invalid—whether he tries to cash it or not. Three months, Shelley. If he hasn’t deposited the money by then, you’re going to use it to get yourself independent.”

  I sighed, but said nothing. It didn’t really matter if I agreed to her terms or not; if that was what she thought needed to happen, then it would probably happen. I wasn’t banking on it, though. As far as I was concerned, that money was Miles’. He probably just hadn’t gotten around to depositing it yet; he seemed to have trouble fitting extra things into his life. Like me, for example. Or his kids.

  “Resentment is going to eat me alive if I let it,” I confessed quietly. “I don’t want to resent him. I just want to get over him.”

  “That’s what I want to hear. You know the fastest way to get over somebody, right?” She shot me a wicked grin.

  “I’m not getting under somebody else, Jenna,” I sighed. “I’ve got too much at stake to be playing around right now.”

  “Yeah,” she admitted, running a hand through Frida’s curls. “They’re more important than playing hide the pickle or whatever it is you do. But not more important than your mental health. Actually, your mental health is kind of necessary for their mental health, so it’s all part of the same package. What I’m saying, Shelley, is that you need to take care of you. Okay?”

  “Yes, Mother,” I teased as we reached Mom’s place. “Do you want to stick around for dinner?”

  “I’d love to, but I won’t. I’ve got a hot date tonight.”

  “Oh? One of your repressed librarian types?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m taking a break from them. Too much drama. This one’s a high-powered TV exec with plans to run her own talk show. She’s all glossy and meticulous with just enough bitchiness to keep things interesting. I’m excited to see how this one plays out.”

  “She sounds like trouble,” I laughed. “Good luck!”

  “Thanks,” Jenna said with a grin. “Good luck with all of your stuff, too. I hope it works out the way you want it to.”

  “At this point, I really doubt it,” I sighed. “He’s had all week. I’m pretty sure he’s made his choice.”

  “Well…we’ll see. Some people process things more slowly than others. Either way, you’ll be fine, Shel. You’re stronger than I give you credit for.”

  With that, Jenna kissed the twins and hugged me, then waved to Mom, who was pruning the hedges in the front yard.

  I noticed the little extra bit of energy that Mom used to slice through the stray twigs, and a twist of guilt curled in my chest. Jenna was right. Mom was completely stifled here. She needed an outlet. Maybe the twins and I were getting in her way.

  Bath time was chaos as always, with Vincent splashing water everywhere and Frida screaming at him to stop.

  “I should really wash you one at a time,” I sighed as Vincent dove forward, sending a tidal wave crashing over the side of the tub. “But who has that kind of time?”

  I kept them in there just long enough to get the dirt off, then rescued Frida from Vincent’s enthusiastic bubble popping. She shouted nonsense at him until her little face turned red as I dried her off, but was calm again by the time I had her zipped into her onesie.

  “Hun-gy,” she told me with big, serious eyes as she patted her little round tummy.

  “All right, honey, it’s almost dinner time. Just have to get your brother—oh, Vincent!” He had splashed water over me and Frida, soaking her jammies and my pants.

  I pulled him out with a sigh and rubbed him down with a towel as he giggled maniacally, then hustled them to the bedroom to get fresh clothes. Both were screaming for dinner by the time I got my own clothes changed, and I hurried downstairs, wondering what I could make fast enough to avoid a meltdown.

  “Who wants macaroni?” Mom sang as we entered the kitchen.

  “Me! Me!”

  “Ah! Ah!”

  “Thank you,” I told her, relieved.

  “No problem. I’m on top of it.” She grinned at me, but I thought I caught a shadow of something else in her eye.

  Jenna’s words had wriggled into my brain and were playing games with my perceptions, I decided firmly. Mom was fine. She was enjoying herself. But as she set plates in front of me and the kids, I was watching her a little more closely. There was definitely more exhaustion around her mouth than there used to be, and her eyes had lost some of their sparkle.

  “Are we too much for you?” I asked impulsively as I spooned a bite into Vincent’s mouth.

  “What do you mean?” she asked as she did the same for Frida.

  “I mean…would you be better off if I were living somewhere else?”

  She gave me a disappointed look and sighed. “You’ve been talking to Jenna.”

  Surprised, I tilted my head. “Has she been saying the same thing to you?”

  She shrugged.

  “It’s all been in a similar vein. ‘When are you going to start dating again, Mom? When are you going to start living again, Mom?’ I mean, it’s not like I’m dead. I enjoy my life, and I enjoy you guys, and there’s nothing more important to me than making sure that you—all four of you—are happy and taken care of. Jenna can take care of herself for the most part, but if some woman ever broke her heart, you know I would be all over that. I’m not suffering, Shelley, so put that out of your head right now.”

  “All right,” I said slowly, but I didn’t quite believe her.

  She looked as if she were about to say something else, but the doorbell interrupted her before she could get it out. “I’ll get it,” she said quickly, and moved to the door.

  I took a spoon in each hand to feed both kids at once, which was a bit of a challenge as Frida preferred to finish one kind of food at a time and Vincent preferred to work his way around the plate, alternating apple sauce with peas and macaroni.

  “Who was it?” I called out when I heard the door close.

  She didn’t answer, but slowly walked into
the room carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. She was frowning at the card, flipping it back and forth in her hand.

  “They’re for you,” she said hesitantly. “From Miles. What do you want me to do with them?”

  Set them on fire. Tear them to shreds. Dump them in the trash. I blew out a heavy breath and deliberately relaxed my shoulders.

  “Put them in water, please. Can I see the card?”

  She handed it to me, and I gave Frida’s spoon to her, and Vincent’s to him. Vincent’s was immediately redirected to the floor as he gleefully buried his fingers in his macaroni. Frida’s followed shortly after, when she couldn’t manage to get a pea on it. I missed both of these, as the words on the card had arrested my attention and filled my mind with hundreds of questions.

  Shelley,

  Please meet me at the following address as soon as you possibly can. I’ll be waiting.

  Miles

  “This is a Monterey address,” I said, frowning at it.

  “I saw that. Pebble Beach area,” Mom said hesitantly. “What do you think he wants?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, searching the card for clues that weren’t there. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  Chapter 16

  Shelley

  Pebble Beach

  My nerves rattled as I pulled up to the sprawling mansion. The ocean beyond sang a rhythmic lullaby against the beach, background music for the purple sunset. Golden lights twinkled across the whole front of the house, making it look like a magical palace. Replicas of David and Venus gazed lovingly at one another from their perches atop the twisted pillars which framed the gate, and the scent of a thousand flowers caressed my nose as I drove between them.

  I checked the address four times against the card which I still held in my hand, and found it to be correct. High, arched blue windows stood three to a side, flanking the arched double door. I felt small, under-dressed, and out of place; but somehow, still at ease. As close to peace as I had been since college, anyway. The cobblestone drive rippled up into stairs, and I climbed them tentatively, brushing my hand against the pillars as I reached the landing.

  Intricately carved knockers decorated the doors, and I suddenly felt like I was living the first act of a princess movie. I lifted the knocker and dropped it again, listening as it reverberated through the foyer. There was no answer. A doorbell sat to one side, blending in to the carved detail around the door. I pressed it, and heard nothing from within. Anxiety gripped my chest and I paced the wide landing, checking the address again.

  “No, this is definitely the place,” I said to myself, rubbing the back of my neck. “I guess…I mean, the worst they could do is throw me out. I have the invitation right here; it’s an honest mistake, right? I mean, if it is a mistake. Or, maybe there’s nobody home at all and he’s just…I don’t know…”

  I had no way to finish the sentence, so with a frustrated huff at my own apprehension, I pushed the door open. It wasn’t locked.

  I tiptoed into the foyer, dazzled by the chandelier overhead and the mandala arranged in the glossy tiles beneath my feet.

  “Hello?” I called.

  My voice echoed loudly enough to make me gasp. Again, I found myself regretting all those horror movies.

  “Don’t be silly,” I told myself quietly. Not quietly enough, apparently, because my own voice whispered back at me from the walls of the cavernous foyer. It must have been full of light during the day, as the ceiling was at least twenty feet above me, and the wall behind me was nothing but windows. I took a breath and stepped forward, determined to remove myself from the startling room.

  Soft music greeted my ears from a room beyond, and to my relief, the ceilings were lower here; lower, but not low. I could have stood on my own shoulders and still had head room.

  I followed the music down a wide hallway and through an arched opening, where I found a fire roaring in a fireplace and Miles standing beside a wet bar.

  “Regretting your decision to quit Finnegan’s?” I teased.

  He jumped, startled, and turned to me with a wide smile. “Shelley! I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I don’t think the doorbell works,” I said as my eyes wandered around the luxurious room. “What is this place?”

  “I’ll get to that,” he told me with an impish twinkle in his eye. “But first, have a seat. Would you like a drink?”

  “Yes, please. Um…wine?”

  “Red or white?”

  “Red, but not…too red.”

  “You got it.”

  He brought me a glass of something sweet and tart, and not too dry.

  “This is perfect,” I said appreciatively. “Whose wine am I drinking?”

  “Mine,” he said with a little smile. “I stocked up. I was hoping to have something to celebrate.”

  I looked around at the luxurious room again, taking in the detailed carvings along the walls and around the fireplace. “What are you celebrating?”

  “Well, nothing yet,” he said hesitantly. “Before I start, I want to apologize for taking so long to get back to you. I had a couple of things to take care of this week, and they ate up all of my time.”

  Of course you did, I thought. But I only nodded and sipped my wine. The comfortable room and the wine were working together to put me at ease, but I resisted. Whatever he had brought me there to say, it would take more than words to make me relax around him.

  “Are you interested in what I was doing?” he asked.

  “Should I be?”

  He wriggled uncomfortably and I rolled the stress off of my shoulders. He cleared his throat and drank his wine, and I sipped at mine as well. The heat from it swirled through me, coaxing me to breathe easily, so I put the glass down.

  “Why am I here, Miles?”

  He took a deep breath.

  “I brought you here to tell you that I’m stepping down as CEO. That’s why I was so busy this last week. I’ve been grooming a replacement and getting everything in order to pass on to him. He’s already taken over some of the accounts, which has freed up my time a little bit.”

  “Why did you do that?” I asked neutrally, but my heart was beating fast with a flutter of hope.

  He stood, paced the room for a moment, and then sat down on the coffee table beside my glass. He looked into my eyes, his face shining with that boyish earnestness which never failed to soften me.

  “I want to be there for you and the kids. I am dedicated to becoming the father they deserve, and you were absolutely right. I can’t do that if I’m spending all of my time taking care of my company. I’m still the owner, and I will still oversee things from a distance to ensure that they aren’t corrupting my vision, and I’m still going to be designing new apps—I can’t help but do that; I create programs in my sleep—but most of my time is going to be reserved for you three.”

  I swallowed hard and rubbed my throat. Anticipation was making my skin buzz, and I was desperate for him to say what I needed to hear. He rubbed his hands together and blew out a breath, seeming to be as nervous as I was. Almost impulsively, he stuck a hand in his pocket and withdrew a set of keys. He played with them as he spoke.

  “I bought this house,” he said, gesturing to the walls around us. “It’s not a bribe. I swear it. I bought it so that I would be closer to you and the kids, so that I could work on co-parenting effectively. I can’t do that from San Bravado, not as well as I should. I want to be there for the day-to-day grind.”

  He turned his eyes to me, so open and vulnerable that it nearly broke my heart.

  “I won’t be upset if you decide to stay with your mother. I understand that I’ve broken your trust more than once, and that it’s going to take more than a couple of small gestures to fix that. But…if you want to….” He held the keys out, dangling them over my hands. “You and Vincent and Frida can call this place home.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You bought this place…for us?”

  “Or for me,” he sa
id quickly. “I was hoping that eventually, some day, you could forgive me, and that you and the twins would move in and make us a real family. It’s all I want, Shelley. It’s everything I want. But I don’t want to pressure you. It’s not about me; I’ve been selfish enough. This is about you. You’re the mom. You call the shots. Tell me what’s best for you and the kids and I’ll accept it.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes and I stood, reaching for his hands to pull him up with me. As a whirl of emotion quickened my heart and my breath, I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder.

  Pausing for a moment, he folded me into his embrace, resting his cheek on my hair. I could hear his heart beat faster, then slow down as he gently rocked me.

  “Does that mean…?”

  “I forgive you,” I laughed through my tears. “I can’t believe you did all this for us.”

  “I would do anything for us,” he said fiercely. “You’re everything I ever wanted and more, Shelley. You’re the girl of my dreams. Whatever you want, whatever you need, it’s yours.”

  “Just you,” I said. “All I want is you.”

  “Then I’m yours,” he said, holding me close.

  I looked up into his eyes as a playful smile danced around my lips.

  “Nice place,” I said casually, wondering if he would remember.

  “Thanks,” he said with a warm chuckle. “Let me give you the tour.”

  He pressed his lips to mine fervently, feeding me passion washed down by hot desire, and led me out of the room. The marble staircase was more difficult to navigate than his little hallway had been, but we managed it. He spun me around when we reached the landing, and pulled me in through a pair of gilded double doors. A soft sitting room opened into an elegant bedroom the size of my mother’s garage. In the center, a four-poster bed stood, inviting us into its canopied interior.

  Every second of suppressed emotion poured out into the air between us as we undressed one another. His hands slid over my soft skin, heightening my senses, making each ragged breath an erotic punctuation. As we stumbled toward the bed, he tapped an icon on his phone, bringing music in to fill the space around us. It wove through our tangled limbs, filled our gasping lungs, cradled us in its soft highs and sweet lows.