He just rolls his eyes as he pulls up to the front of the house. The circular driveway is full and there is no room in front of the garage, so Evan must park his car in the street, something he rarely does. He looks up and down to street, checking for vandals, I suppose. Once he’s certain that there are no marauding hordes waiting to strip his precious car, he steps out and hurries to open my door. Even after all this time, he still will not allow me to open my own door.
I stand on the sidewalk as Evan hands me a few packages from the back seat to carry into the house. I start walking up the sidewalk toward the front door, holding one large shopping bag filled with gifts and one bag of homemade pastries. “Go through the garage,” Evan calls to me as he locks the Porsche.
I glance toward the driveway and notice one of the garage doors is wide open. We walk the short distance through the garage and into the house. Loud, boisterous conversation is coming from the back of the house, where everyone is merrily chatting and carrying on, oblivious to our arrival.
Evan guides me toward the empty formal living room, where there is a beautiful fire burning and a magnificent Christmas tree in the center of the room. Red poinsettia flowers fill the room, while the musk of fresh pine overwhelms the senses. We add our gifts to the ones already deposited beneath the tree. Evan hangs up my coat, takes my hand, and guides me through the house and into the kitchen.
The moment we enter, we are spotted by Evan’s mother Jill, who’s standing at the sink washing a dirty pot. She immediately turns off the water to give us a proper greeting. Callie comes hurrying over too, giving me a hug and a kiss. “I’m so glad you made it. The boys are all here and they’re dying to meet you.”
“Is that them?” I ask, referring to the large group of young men surrounding the television at the back of the great room.
“Those are my boys. I was the only girl in a male-dominated family. It was mostly a good thing. I learned how to defend myself pretty early on. But it was hard as hell to get any dates, because everyone was scared shitless of my cousins, especially Reed. That’s him over there with the new baby.”
I look into the living room and spot a ridiculously handsome man holding a tiny baby in his arms. Sitting beside him is a young woman with short, blonde hair. What a beautiful family. Scattered around the room are three more young men, all more or less around our age.
“I’m still scared shitless of Reed,” Evan agrees. “He’s a Marine who flies Hornets for a living. He gets paid to play with the biggest, baddest toys money can buy.”
“Says the man who only works for half a year and gets paid a ridiculous amount of money to play catch.” Our conversation comes to an abrupt end when Evan spots the young man approaching us. He’s several inches taller than Evan, with dirty blond hair, the face of an angel, and the body of a professional fighter. This McGuire family has some gene pool.
Evan grabs the man I suspect to be Cole McGuire and gives him a big bear hug. After a few friendly slaps on the back, Evan grabs my hand and pulls me close. “Cole, I’d like you to finally meet my fiancée, Juliette. Juliette, this is Cole.”
Cole smiles at me, and the first thing I notice is his piercing blue eyes, every bit as deep and hypnotic as Evan’s. Cole holds out his hand. “I’ve read so much about you and watched you two on television. I feel like I already know you.”
“I hope you only believed half of what you saw and even less of what you read.”
“The only thing I know for sure is that you have this big guy wrapped around your pretty little finger. Aunt Jill and Uncle John have been singing your praises since last spring. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get up here any sooner.” I think I’m going to like Cole McGuire.
Evan walks around, introducing me to the rest of his cousins. First he introduces me to Hugh, a photographer for Time Magazine. Next is Noah, the youngest of the bunch. Last spring, he graduated from the University of Florida with a degree in fire science. Now he’s a firefighter in Jersey City. I can only imagine the things he must have seen.
The last cousins left for me to meet are Reed and his wife Paige. They brought with them their four-week old son, Hawk. He’s as cute as a button and sound asleep. No sooner does Evan finish the introductions than Jill calls for help in the kitchen. Paige and I slip away, leaving the men to catch up.
I discover rather quickly that Paige is not only married to a McGuire, she’s also Callie’s best friend. The girls have known each other since middle school.
Callie, Paige, and I make quick work of getting the food on the table. Jill and her sister-in-laws are setting the table and filling wine glasses.
Paige’s husband Reed passes by on his way to refill his drink. Paige panics. “Reed, where’s Hawk? What did you do with our baby?”
“Relax, he’s fine. Evan’s got him.” Reed looks directly at me. “That little cousin of mine is gonna make a great dad one day.” My heart sinks when I hear him say that. “Look,” he tells me.
I glance over into the living room, and sure enough, Evan has a tiny bundle in his arms. He’s walking around the room, gently swaying back and forth with little Hawk. I see him lean down and whisper something into the baby’s ear.
I imagine what it will be like for us to someday welcome our first child into the world. I picture Evan holding our baby, singing him lullabies and telling him stories about football triumphs and struggles. But then I remember that it’s all a fantasy. There’s a very good chance that our first child together will not be Evan’s first child.
I shake the negative thinking from my mind and go back to enjoying the holiday with my new family. I remind myself how lucky I am and that, no matter what, every child is a blessing.
John and Jill call everyone to the table for dinner. Coming from such a small family, it can sometimes be overwhelming, especially when there are nearly a dozen men gathered around the table; men who have so much to talk about because they haven’t seen each other in a long time.
All the cousins – Cole, Reed, Noah, and Hugh – propel questions at Evan like hand grenades. They want to know about some of his celebrity friends, red-carpet events, and his most recent endorsement deals. Evan currently has billboards all across Manhattan wearing nothing but his Calvin Klein underwear. God, how I love that picture. It’s my iPhone screensaver.
The rest of the dinner conversation revolves around sports. Cole is a professional baseball player in the minor leagues. Apparently the team he’s with now doesn’t have a good track record of moving players up to the majors, so he’s hoping to get traded again.
Hugh, the photographer for Time Magazine, will sometimes be called upon to cover sports. He knows a number of elite athletes with whom Evan is friendly. Despite not having seen each other in over a year, they tend to run in the same social circles.
Evan is truly in his element as he and the boys tease and taunt one another, almost to the point of cruelty. But no matter how involved he is in their conversation, he always makes sure my glass is never empty, and we maintain a constant physical connection. It might be a hand on the knee, an arm across the shoulder, or a stolen kiss.
Of course, the more blatant the PDA, the more harassment Evan receives. But he doesn’t seem to mind. He actually enjoys this new kind of attention. I have never felt more loved or more cherished.
As the boys talk sports, Callie and I take turns holding and fussing over baby Hawk. He’s such a good baby, I don’t think I’ve heard him cry once since we’ve arrived. Of course, it probably has something to do with the fact that he’s been in someone’s arms the entire time.
After dinner, it’s up to the boys to play Santa. Parents and children exchange gifts, and each of the cousins and spouses place a gift in the middle of the room. Apparently this is a tradition they’ve had for some time now. It’s a game called Pirate’s Booty, and Evan tries to explain the rules:
Everyone writes their name on a slip of paper three times and places it into a bowl. The host and hostess take turns picking names out of the
bowl. When your name is chosen, you have a choice. If you have no gift, you get to choose any one from the pile. If you have one in your hand, you can either trade it for an unclaimed gift or steal someone else’s gift and leave them yours instead. If the game is played correctly, everyone winds up with a present, but not necessarily one of their choosing.
“It sounds like Dirty Santa,” I tell him, thinking about a gift exchange tradition at my dorm.
“I don’t know what Dirty Santa is,” Evan tells me, “but I like the sound of it.”
The first opportunity Evan gets, he walks straight over to Cole and demands that Cole give up his booty. Not surprisingly, it turns into a challenge. “You can have it, but first you have to pry it from my fingers. If you can,” Cole dares him.
Not to be undone by his younger but taller cousin, Evan places both hands on the unopened gift and pulls with all his might. It takes some doing, but he eventually wrenches it from Cole’s grip.
He passes by his brother-in-law Dean and high-fives him as if he’s just won a wrestling contest. These boys even turn gift-giving into a competitive sport.
One by one, we take turns robbing and stealing from one another. We laugh when Paige demands a ransom kiss before turning over her loot.
And so it goes, back and forth until everyone has been plundered and pillaged. John and Jill, as the hosts, count down from ten, and when they reach zero, everyone opens their gift.
I anxiously tear open my gift, only to discover I’ve received an Obama Chia Pet. I didn’t even know there was such a thing.
Noah gets a pink Snuggie with butterflies and flowers that he immediately puts on and models for us.
Hugh’s the big winner of the night with a Big Mouth Billy Bass, the wall-mounted singing fish.
This was more fun than I could have ever imagined. By the end of the night, Evan and I have plans to invite everyone back to our house for a party at the end of Evan’s season, whenever that may be.
Chapter Seventeen
Come What May
I hate waking up alone. The bed is empty and I’m not sure why. The team has the day off, and Evan should be here beside me. A quick cursory investigation helps me locate my man, who is upstairs and working out in his gym.
I stand at the door to watch and observe. Evan is on the treadmill wearing nothing but long shorts and running shoes, granting me the undeniable pleasure of seeing his body glistening with sweat. No matter how often I get to see him like this, there’s no quantifiable way to explain how he still affects me. God, I love watching his muscles flex and studying the graceful power of his movement. There’s something deeply primal and carnal about it that hits all my hot buttons.
I could stand here watching him forever. He’s mine and I get to enjoy him each and every day. Eventually he catches me ogling him and he smiles at me, flashing his panty-dropping dimples. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“Good morning, Chief.” His hair is wet and he smells heavenly. Who knew a sweaty man could smell so damned good. “How long have you been up here?”
He looks at the timer on the treadmill. “About ten minutes. Gimme another hour or so, then I’ll be down after a quick shower.”
“Do me a favor,” I tell him, licking my lips at the mere thought. “Come get me before you shower.”
He raises just one eyebrow and gives me an unapologetic half smile. “I can do that.”
Heading downstairs, I grab a yogurt and some fresh fruit while I wait for my laptop to power up. I have an hour to myself and it’s time to begin unraveling a mystery.
I begin by doing a generic Internet search for birth announcements. I try entering the keywords Laci Keilani and Kai Keilani, but it turns up nothing. It doesn’t help that I have no idea where she was living when the baby was born. I search Los Angeles, where the Sports Focus headquarters is located. I search Monmouth County, where her family now resides. I search San Francisco, where I know she has some extended family. I search Houston, where Evan was living at the time of their chance meeting. No luck whatsoever.
I’m not going to find any public records. Maybe it’s because it’s been over two years and the public announcements have all been archived. There have been no articles written and no interviews given. She’s obviously done a stellar job of keeping her child shielded from the public. But why?
It’s time for a course correction. My new focus is on tracing Laci’s whereabouts over the last three years. Perhaps if I can find out when she changed jobs, I can create a timeline that might generate some helpful clues.
I focus my search criteria on Sports Focus, Laci Keilani, and resignation, which returns hundreds of hits. There are several press releases and numerous interviews with Laci following her resignation. I even pull up a video of her final on-camera report as one of their field reporters. No sign of a baby bump. She states over and over again in each interview that she is leaving for personal reasons. Her father seems to have suffered a stroke, and she tells the viewers that she needs to return to the East Coast to help care for him. Her last day on the job was in April, two and a half years ago.
I make note of the exact date and move on.
How long was she unemployed? I know she was working for the Celebrity News Network for some time. It takes me quite a few searches, changing the search parameters and terms, but eventually I find an announcement on the Celeb News Net website announcing the arrival of Laci Keilani to their news team. According to the article, she began working with them in February.
I take additional notes and scribble my calculation.
Note: Unemployed April – Feb, 10 months.
So what does all this mean? She wasn’t showing when the departure video aired in April and she was no longer pregnant when she began working in February. Kai was born sometime between those dates. If she spent a few months at home with her new baby, that means the child was born sometime in the fall.
Time for a change of direction: conception. When would Kai most likely have been conceived? Evan said she interviewed him after a playoff game they lost. He was the back-up quarterback for the Houston Texans at the time. I search for the NFL playoff brackets three years ago and it’s easy to see in which round the Texans were eliminated. It was the wildcard round, and they lost to Cincinnati Bengals.
Another quick search gives me the exact date of the game. It was held on Saturday, January 5th. I add more notes, along with another calculation.
Note: Conception, Jan. 5?
You don’t have to have a medical degree to know it takes nine months for a baby to be born. That would make her due date sometime in September, which fits very nicely into my calculations. A quick tap on the keys and I’ve found an online pregnancy due date calculator which puts the actual due date at September 28th. I update my previous notation and move on from there.
Note: Conception, Jan. 5? DOB, September 28?
An interesting ad catches my eye on the webpage. There’s an at-home DNA Paternity test available at my local pharmacy for less than thirty dollars. I click on the ad and it takes me directly to the pharmacy’s website. The item description is fairly detailed and straightforward. As I read, I begin to get excited. The kit includes cheek swabs, release forms, and a postage-paid envelope. It says the results are available in as little as forty-eight hours. I can have my answer before the new year.
I begin to get a familiar tingle in all the right places. I turn around and I am rewarded with the glorious vision of a sweaty and shirtless Evan McGuire. He heads straight to the refrigerator and grabs a cold bottle of water. I watch, captivated, as he brings the bottle to his lips and empties it, leaving nary a drop. “Thirsty?” I ask, closing my laptop and giving him my complete and undivided attention.
He tosses the empty bottle in the trash and takes a few determined strides directly toward me with a twinkle in his eye. “Not anymore.”
“Marcus, I have something I need you to do,” I tell him. “I need you to send some staff home – the hostess, a few waitresses, and o
ne bartender. I’d be surprised if we had more than ten covers all day, and I can’t afford to pay a full staff for another shift.” The local colleges have been closed for almost a month, and I haven’t seen my seats completely filled in nearly as long.
Marcus looks over the staffing schedule I have spread across my desk. “Okay, boss. Who should I send home tonight? Emmy or Derek?”
“I think Derek can afford to take a day off. Let’s keep Emmy on for tonight.”
A few minutes later, Derek comes into my office to grab his wallet and keys. “Thanks for the time off, Jette. I have a thousand things to do before I close on the house tomorrow.”
“Oh, my God, Derek – I totally forgot tomorrow is your closing. Are you moving in right away?”
He plops himself down on my couch. “I am. Shea and I are thinking about inviting everyone over for New Year’s Eve. I know it’s a little last minute, but do you think you guys can make it?”
“Absolutely. Who else are you inviting?” I ask.
“Everybody. Anybody. Open door. It’s nice to be able to say that and actually feel proud to show off my house. Can you bring dessert?”
“Dessert, beer, wine – I can bring anything you need. Text me a list of what you want.”
Just as Derek is about to say something, the door to my office swings open and in walks Auggie, carrying a bag. “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have knocked.” Auggie shifts awkwardly, unsure what to do with the bag in his hand.
Derek gets up to leave. “No worries. I was just leaving.” He walks over and shakes Auggie’s hand. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning,” he tells him as he walks out the door.
“Tomorrow morning?” I ask.
Auggie nods. “Yup, we’re doing a final walk-through first thing in the morning. Then the actual closing will be done at my agency. That’s one of the perks of working with me – we take care of all the details so you don’t have to.”
“Speaking of details,” I whisper, “did you get it?”
Running Away With You (Running #3) Page 23