Fast Forward (Second Chances, #2)

by Marion Croslydon

  Lies and half-truths had cost us too much before. I’d never go down that route again. “Yes.” Cassie startled. “Megan made a pass on me.”

  “And?” Her voice trembled and all I wanted then was to take her in my arms.

  “I’d just seen those pictures of you and Dupret. It was the perfect set-up for a revenge fuck. But that was what I did in high school with Clarissa… and pretty much all the girls in our grade. I’m not going to make that same stupid mistake again.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Her gaze escaped mine.

  I had to straighten things up now. “Cass, I want you to be happy here in D.C. but I want you to know that I’m ready to compromise. I’m ambitious and I love my job, but I love you and Lucas more.”

  I shifted the laptop sideways so that it didn’t stand between the two of us anymore. I extended my hand, palm upwards. She stared down at it, shut her eyes, opened them again and placed her hand in mine. Feeling her skin against mine sent a jolt of energy through my arm and my entire body.

  “I’m happy here in D.C. It’s more my scene than L.A. so don’t worry about that.”

  “I think we let ourselves down again though. Not being with Lucas for Christmas freaked you out. You panicked, but instead of sharing your fears, you cut yourself from me.” She gave a tiny nod. “And me? I tip-toed around the issue until… I went all badass on my dad and almost killed him.”

  “If I hadn’t got Gran’s rifle, you wouldn’t have been pushed to do that.”

  “I was trying to prove something to you.”

  “What?”

  “That I was your man, that you could just once let me take care of you.”

  “I want you to. I’m ready to let go…”

  “Hallelujah! Then let’s start now.”

  Cassie stood and walked around the coffee table. She sat on my lap and snuggled against me. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer. I whispered to her ear, “You’re my girl, you know. Let me make you happy.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Cassie

  “That’s such a nice picture, Champ.” I hunched over Lucas’s shoulder to look at the drawing he’d been focusing on for the last half an hour.

  “It’s our house in Wash—Wash—”

  “Washington,” I helped him finish the word and brushed the brown curl away from his right eye. My heart squeezed in my chest because he looked so much like Josh.

  Lucas nodded. “Yeah, there,” then he pointed at each of the three characters in the picture. “That’s me,” a little bluish shape with two distinctive arms and legs, “and that’s you and Josh.” My hair was messy and yellow, making me look like a member of one of those 80s rock bands. Next to me, Josh’s lookalike was more clean-cut—of course—with only a few streaks of black atop his round head.

  A quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall in the Sorensons’s living room and I felt a lump blocking my throat. The five-minute countdown had started. I’d have to leave Lucas behind. I’d see him tomorrow and again on Sunday, but this would be the last time we’d need to see each other in someone else’s house. His foster family was leaving for Oregon at the end of the month. The date had been fixed, the Christmas crisis was now behind us, and Sawyer Curtis was taking care of the last bits of paperwork.

  We should be fine.

  “It’s time, guys.”

  Josh knelt down between Lucas and me. He kissed our boy’s temple, ruffled his hair and stood up. “We’ll watch a movie tomorrow and start thinking about what you want to do on Sunday.”

  Lucas answered with a half-smile. The lump in my throat thickened. How could Josh move in and out of Lucas’s life and not shatter? It broke me into a thousand pieces each time.

  “Maybe, we can all have some marshmallows tomorrow… with some really chocolatey chocolate?” He gave me a smile, but not a full one again. A sugary treat wasn’t going to seal the deal today. Six months of goodbyes weighed on us.

  “Cassie.” Josh put his hands on my shoulders and helped me stand. I leaned back against him. I had to channel his strength to keep myself together. Lucas needed parents, not over-emotional teenagers who couldn’t keep it together. .

  From the corner of my eye I saw Sharon Sorenson leaning against the doorframe that led to the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest: She wanted us on our way out and wasn’t making a mystery of it. She didn’t speak though and I was grateful of being spared the rough sound of her voice.

  The tips of my fingers brushed against Lucas’s plump cheeks. “See you tomorrow, Champ.”

  Josh had to drag me out of the house and back to the rental car. We’d walked down that driveway so many times, it was like replaying the same movie over and over. He switched on the engine and we drove away in silence. I peered through the car window. Outside the clouds were low and full of rain. The weather wasn’t going to lift my mood. I closed my eyes and focused on the soft humming of the car’s engine. I flew back to our apartment in D.C. and imagined life there once Lucas would be with us for good: him doing his homework on the dining room table, the friends he’d invite around, his next birthday party… I enjoyed the peace but my brain soon kicked back into gear. We should have made it back to the motel by now.

  My eyes popped open. We were driving downtown. I straightened up on the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”

  Josh’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Sawyer Curtis’s office.”

  “Why?”

  “He called me when you were with Lucas. He wants us to meet there… with Trisha.”

  Josh had one of those composed voices that never let him down. He lost it sometimes —Jack MacBride’s bloody face sprang to mind — but his voice never betrayed him. Right now, even by Josh’s standards, it was too composed.

  “What’s up?” I glued my eyes on his face to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

  “I don’t know yet, but the Lorettis will be there. With their lawyers. Apparently, they initiated the meeting.”

  Panic flowed through my veins. I’d hoped those two were out of the picture by now. “That can’t be good.” I swallowed the lump in my throat that refused to go. “Not good at all.”

  “Let’s keep our heads screwed on straight. Okay?”

  I gave a tight nod, but I couldn’t keep my breathing from ticking up a notch. I weaved my fingers together on my lap so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Josh covered my hands with one of his while the other one remained on the wheel. His stare fixed on the road ahead and I held on to the warmth of his skin. When he broke contact to shift up a gear it was like tumbling over a cliff.

  Get a grip, O’Malley! I wasn’t a weakling. I knew how to fight. This was just another fight, but one I’d win. Josh parked the car and opened the door for me. He extended his hand and I reached for it eagerly. We stood together. He cradled my face and tilted it so that I couldn’t avoid meeting his gaze.

  This time his voice wasn’t composed. The depth of it was fierce and shaky at the same time. “I love you.”

  I closed my eyes and leaned forward so that I rested against him, the top of my head just beneath his chin. “Say it again.”

  “I love you.” There was nothing shaky this time.

  I breathed in his words and let them fill me. “I love you too.”

  Like a robot, I walked by his side all the way up to Curtis’s floor. The receptionist led us from the waiting room to one of the meeting rooms. The wall was made of glass from floor to ceiling and, from the corridor, I couldn’t help seeing who was inside. Curtis and Trisha at either end of the table, the Lorettis on the side opposite the doorway. There was also a woman I’d never seen before next to them. She wore a power suit and sharp, square glasses.

  Curtis came to open the door for us. Josh was the old-fashioned type, always stepping aside for me to enter first. This time he led the way, as if he knew we were being led to the firing squad and he wanted to be the first to take a bullet.

  My stomach sank.

  I gave myse
lf a mental kick in the butt and followed close behind Josh. We shook hands with Curtis and Trisha. The others didn’t stand up. They acknowledged our presence only by staring at us. Andrea Loretti didn’t even do that. She kept her gaze down and wriggled her hands over the table instead. More than ever, she looked like a caged animal.

  “Before we start, I’d like to thank Trisha Roberts for coming to our office on such short notice,” this came from Curtis, “and Joshua and Cassandra MacBride—my clients—for interrupting their stay in Kansas City and answering Mr. and Mrs. Loretti’s last minute request. I hope the Lorettis realize how unusual this meeting is.”

  Curtis managed to deliver the welcome speech as if we were doing them a favor. It didn’t feel like that to me. At all.

  Josh offered me a seat and I took my place next to him, opposite the Lorettis. Still no eye-to-eye contact from Andrea. Josh’s arm came to rest casually on the back of my seat. I had to resist snuggling against him for comfort.

  “Should we start?” I was so grateful to Josh for taking the lead. “Given that you requested this meeting, I will ask you to cut to the chase and spare Mrs. Roberts’ and our time.”

  The brunette with blood-red lipstick leaned over the table. She spoke to Trisha. “As you know, Vincent and Andrea Loretti were approved for adoption last November. They are a couple of outstanding, hard-working citizens who have been a constant presence in Lucas’s life since he lost his parents. A strong relationship has been formed between them and the child.”

  I hated when people referred to Lucas as the ‘child.’ He wasn’t a child, he was our son. Our. Son. He was Lucas.

  “Pardon me, Miss Meyer,” Trisha cut in, “I really appreciate the interest your clients have shown in Lucas, but Cassandra and Joshua have now reached the final stage of the adoption. I expect Lucas to go and live with them by the end of the month when the Sorensons leave the state.”

  Go Trisha! Go!

  The buttoned-up lawyer responded. “And yet, the child spent Christmas with my clients. As I understand it, there was a setback in the proceedings.”

  Curtis started to rev his engine. “A couple of facts had to be verified by Social Services. Nothing unusual. We believe Mrs. Roberts and the case worker in D.C. are now satisfied… so is the judge.”

  Meyer had kept her eyes set on Trisha. “We believe,” she repeated, “that there were some concerns about how transparent the MacBrides have been regarding their relationship. Mr. MacBride was engaged with another woman barely a week before the adoption started.” Josh’s fist curled tightly on the table. “And then there is the potentially more egregious matter of his divorce filing, merely a month before.”

  Curtis took a curt tone. “Once again, all concerns have been assuaged.” He now addressed Trisha directly. “Mrs. Robert, my clients do not have to justify themselves or discuss their private life with people they barely know and—”

  Trisha waved a hand as a peacemaking gesture. “Ms. Meyer, I don’t know what point you’re trying to make, but please make it quickly.”

  Meyer gave a tight smile. “My clients are deeply concerned for Lucas. They believe the MacBrides have no intention of providing the stable family environment the child so desperately needs. Their newfound marital happiness is a mere front to facilitate the adoption process.”

  Josh moved his arm from the back of my seat and he rested both forearms on the table. The power move attracted everyone’s attention.

  “Get to the point now,” he said, “When you have, I’ll enlighten Mrs. Roberts about how your clients seriously compromised Lucas’s well-being during their unsupervised access to our son by discussing the adoption with him and trying to influence him.”

  Meyer flinched but she went on anyway, “Before making such allegations, Mr. MacBride, we would like to share with Social Services and your lawyer some disturbing information.”

  I tried to catch Andrea’s gaze. For one moment, I succeeded, but the connection didn’t last. She was doing her hand-wringing thing again. I nearly missed Meyer opening the folder in front of her, extracting several sheets of paper and handing them around the table. A stack of them landed between Josh and me.

  My brain struggled to make sense of what lay before me.

  “Are you spying on my wife?” Josh’s question hit coldly at Meyer.

  “Hardly. These photos are in the public domain. They can be found on any search engine with ‘Cassie O’Malley’ as the keyword.”

  I managed to stop my hands shaking and flick through the ‘evidence.’ It wasn’t just the article from the blog Josh had shown me, but many more of them and the same photos over and over again. I didn’t dare look at Josh.

  As if she hadn’t done enough damage, Meyer spoke again, “We have reason to believe Mrs. MacBride has been involved with this… musician for the past six months. We can share with you a widely available video showing the two of them performing together in September when the MacBrides had already applied for adoption.”

  “That’s just a song, a stupid song,” I cried out. “And these pictures are taken out of context. He has paparazzi following him everywhere. It’s L.A. for God’s—”

  “—Cassie!” Josh interrupted. “Don’t.”

  I turned sideways. He’d cocked his head forward, his jaw locked, a sure sign he was close to snap.

  But I wasn’t done yet. There was only one person here who might hear me out. “Andrea, please, listen to me.” I extended my hand flat over the table. I so wanted to reach her. “You don’t want to become Lucas’s mom because of a lie.” I pointed at the photos. “The only truth is that we love him and would do anything to make him happy. Anything. You have to believe me.”

  She ignored me, not even giving me the benefit of a word or a look. The only reaction I got was from her husband. “Leave my wife alone. She’s a good woman who’s always been devoted to her family.”

  “Which family?” Josh’s question crashed between us. “Because from where I stand, your wife doesn’t have much of a track-record as a mother.”

  “Please, stop. I beg you all. Stop fighting.” Trisha was waving again but her gesture was broader this time. She was watching me though with a silent ‘Is that true?’. I wanted to shout that I’d never been with another man than Josh. In my whole life. “This meeting is getting out of hand. Quite frankly, Ms. Meyer, I’m shocked by the lengths your clients are ready to go.”

  “All we wanted was to draw your attention to the web of lies the MacBrides have skillfully weaved to portray themselves as a happy couple,” Meyer answered. “Because my clients care so much for the child, they want to provide him with a stable home. Mr. Loretti has a long-term position in a local company and Andrea Loretti is a stay-at-home wife. You can be assured she will not be touring the country year-in year-out dressed in a short denim skirt.”

  “Watch your mouth.” Josh’s order felt like a real threat. My hand flew to his forearm. The muscles there were taut. He gave me a silent nod. “You’re out of line, Ms. Meyer.” His voice was sub-polar.

  She returned to acknowledging only Trisha. “We ask you to give a closer look at this adoption in view of the information we have brought to your attention. We asked for this informal meeting as a sign of goodwill on our part. Hopefully, we can reach a compromise before we go to the judge.” She cleared her throat. “The Lorettis realize the MacBrides are Lucas’ birth parents and, should the judge opt for Lucas to stay in Kansas City, my clients would be ready to make some arrangements for the MacBrides to keep a connection with the child.”

  My head swung back and forth between Meyer, Trisha and Curtis. It was like someone had pressed the fast-forward button. One minute I was about to get my son back, the next I’d have to beg to keep a ‘connection’ with him.

  Curtis stepped in. “Mrs. Roberts, we ask you to disregard this meeting altogether. We don’t think any of the pseudo-facts brought up by Ms. Meyer and the Lorettis constitute a reason to re-consider Lucas’s adoption by Cassandra and Joshua.”r />
  Trisha sighed. “I find the Lorettis’ approach under-handed, but I need to take a step back here.” I looked at her and I couldn’t keep the tears from welling up in the corner of my eyes. “In all good conscience, I’ll have to disclose these new facts to the judge.” Next, she addressed Curtis. “As birth parents, they could have applied for a joint custody. There have been several similar cases.”

  Vince Loretti cleared his throat and we all looked at him. He’d turned awkward and kept shrugging his shoulders. When he talked, he didn’t sound like the moron he’d been to us so far. “Listen, we don’t want to cut off Lucas from you guys. We’re good, normal people and we’ve been married for fifteen years now. The boy likes you and my wife and I, um, we want to make him happy, so you could keep seeing him like you did before with his parents or Mrs. Sorenson.”

  I wasn’t going to take any more of this shit and I jumped to my feet. At last Loretti shut up and even Andrea stopped ignoring me. My mouth opened but stopped the words from coming out. Next to me, Josh shifted on his seat and reached for my hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “I can’t—I can’t listen…” I stammered.

  I rushed out of the meeting room, down the corridor and burst into the entrance hall. The receptionist threw me a worried look. I asked for the restroom and followed her directions. Even when I was inside, I couldn’t keep still and paced the room. There was a chaotic mix of voices inside my head, with that Meyer woman topping the chart. Denim skirt. Involved with this musician for the last six months. Divorce. Open adoption.

  Open adoption. Open adoption. Again and again. I shook my arms along my body like I’d seen Shawn do before getting on stage. It didn’t work for me. My heartbeat was still out of control and my breathing was sketchy. I froze when I saw myself in the mirror above the sink. The person who stared back at me reminded me of Andrea with her about-to-crumble look.

  I let out a heavy breath that came from months of uncertainty. When I took my next breath, I finally picked up the smell of detergent in the room and grimaced. My shoulders drooped and I walked slowly towards the wall. I lifted my forearm and rested my head against it. I wanted to glue my inner-self back together but I had no idea where to start. Inside I was like one of Lucas’s puzzle boxes: Filled to the brim with jagged pieces that should have formed a coherent picture, but didn’t.