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Their Christmas Angel

Page 13

by Tracy Madison


  “That’s exactly it, but a lot of women wouldn’t be so understanding of all the family togetherness, especially at this stage.” Probably helped some that Nicole earned her living as a teacher. Obviously, she liked kids. Even so, “Thank you, for being you.”

  He wondered how she would’ve handled the conflict with the girls the other day over Snow White, and how the girls would’ve responded to whatever Nicole’s method of cooling a heated situation was. Would she have gotten to the bottom of the issue? If she remained in his life, she’d eventually be there when something similar occurred. No reason to worry, to speculate now. Plenty of time. Plenty of opportunity. This, he reminded himself yet again, was not a race. Despite how strongly his intuition insisted otherwise.

  “You’re welcome. I can say the same. Thank you for being you,” she said. “But really, I don’t know how to be anyone but me, nor would I want to morph into another person. Even with...well, what I’ve gone through. Experiences build us, you know?”

  “I know. Doesn’t mean we wouldn’t change certain things, if we could,” he said, thinking of Bridget. Not the right time to have her in his head, but there was plenty he would change there, if he could. Like dragging her to the doctor a lot earlier. So she had a real chance.

  So his girls still had their mother.

  As they walked and talked, he’d purposely angled their path just off course enough so that their destination remained something of a surprise. He stopped walking, and since they were holding hands, she stopped, too. “We’re here, Nicole. I hope you’re not afraid of horses.”

  It took her a few seconds to gather her bearings, but he saw the instant her gaze landed on the row of horse-drawn carriages to their left. Tipping her head back, she opened that gorgeous mouth he couldn’t wait to kiss again and laughed. In delight. In anticipation.

  In, well, who knew what else, but all good. He knew that much.

  “Parker! A horse and carriage ride? What a perfect, romantic idea on a snowy day.”

  She stood on her tiptoes, placed her hands on either side of his face and lightly brushed her lips against his jaw. With the good sense that God gave him, he bent forward and captured her mouth. She tasted of chocolate. Sweet and creamy and rich. Delectable and delicious, too.

  This was Nicole. He was pretty sure this was his Nicole.

  Her fingers stole into his hair, pushing his head down another degree, and he swore that he felt this kiss all the way to his bones. Every part of who he was ached for this woman, needed this woman, had waited for this woman to appear in his life.

  And here she was.

  Yeah, he was falling in love. With this woman, with Nicole. And unless he was way off base, he recognized that she was falling for him. Why, then, did he feel as if he was just a single breath away from losing her, when they’d barely begun?

  And how could he do away with that fear, once and for all?

  Chapter Ten

  It was Tuesday morning. The moment of truth had arrived, and now that it had, Nicole almost wanted to put off peeing on the stick for another full week. Oh, she still yearned for a baby. Still dreamed of becoming a mother. But so much had changed in three weeks. Parker had entered her life, and in him, she saw the possibility of an enduring relationship.

  Like the one her parents shared. Like what Ryan had found with Andi.

  With Parker came two little girls. Motherless girls. And Nicole’s heart had already let them in, and their hearts mattered to her. If she were pregnant, that very fact alone might be too much for Parker. Because he would have to accept her baby if they were to remain in a relationship, and if someday that relationship became a marriage. Well, she’d want him—no, she’d expect him—to love her child just as much as she would love Erin and Megan.

  But that would also put a huge burden on his shoulders. If she were to face a recurrence. If she were to lose a second battle with her worst enemy, then Parker would have a third child to raise alone. Oh, he’d take on the responsibility and his heart was plenty big enough. Those weren’t the questions. He would give her child everything he gave his girls.

  But really, how horribly unfair would that be?

  Parker Lennox deserved every good and beautiful and wonderful thing this world had to offer. He did not deserve to lose another woman to cancer and to raise a third child—one that wasn’t even biologically his—all on his own. And oh, Nicole hated that these thoughts were swarming her brain, rather than those of a positive and hopeful nature. She wasn’t ill.

  She might not be pregnant, either. And if she wasn’t, she could just stop trying for now. She could give all the necessary time to this relationship, let it grow and blossom and mature, and then, if it made sense and he was a part of the decision from the beginning, attempt to create a baby with Parker instead of a donor, using IVF, just as she was now.

  But that would mean waiting even longer to become a mother.

  Tough decisions, all the way around, and the longer she held off on peeing on this damn stick, the more time she had to live in limbo. Blissfully unaware. Except, of course, her brain didn’t function that way, and the questions and concerns would continue to eat at her. So, as much as she wished she could wait and push this off into the distance, there was no logic there.

  It was time.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, Nicole unwrapped the package. She didn’t need to read the instructions, as by now she knew them by heart. So, she did the deed, replaced the cover on the stick and set it on the vanity. She walked out of the bathroom to get a glass of juice, to let Roscoe outside, because she’d learned that standing there and staring at that stick was akin to waiting for a pot of water to boil. Better to do something else for a few minutes.

  She let out the dog first, poured her juice second, stood and stared outside third. Did she still want this? Yes. That wasn’t a question, either. There was just so much to consider now that this man was in her life.

  Why hadn’t she met him a year ago? Or heck, a week earlier than she had? Because fate didn’t work that way. Easy enough answer, even if it rankled. Because everything happened when it was supposed to, not necessarily when you were ready or wanting or waiting.

  Time was up. In almost slow motion, she rinsed out her juice glass and left it in the sink, turned on her heel and went to the bathroom. She stood in the doorway and breathed, reminded herself that positive or negative, nothing else could happen until she knew. Limbo didn’t do anyone any good. Limbo wasn’t a place to aim for, it was simply a place to wait.

  Right. Limbo might sound safe and comforting, but in reality, being stuck would cause her far more harm than good. So, she walked forward, her heart in her throat, and picked up the test. She didn’t need to remove the cover to see the result, but she did, anyway. Mostly because she thought her eyes were playing the worst trick in the world on her.

  Two pink lines. The positive reading she’d waited so long for that, in nine months, would equal a baby in her arms. It had happened. She was going to be a mother. Joy swept in, almost knocking her to her knees with its swiftness, with its saturating, engulfing power.

  A baby. Finally.

  * * *

  This was one of the last rehearsals before the actual play, and Parker thought the kids were as close to ready as they were going to get. And his girls? Well, they were the most prepared. Erin had lived up to her word and had practiced with Megan every night and on the weekends. Lord, he was proud of them, of the hard work they’d put into this and how their determination was paying off. He was damn lucky to know them. Even luckier to be their father.

  “They’re such great kids, Bridget,” he whispered. Safe enough to do so, as no one else was seated in the same row. “And they’re growing up so fast. Too fast, really. I wish you had the chance to know them now, as I do. And oh, do I wish they never had to lose you.”
/>   Losing Bridget had created the biggest, deepest pit of emptiness in their lives, in Parker’s life. He’d tried to deal with that emptiness in a variety of ways; everything from anger to ignoring it even existed. Nothing had proved successful. That gaping hole just kept surviving, no matter what he threw at it. So, he learned to live with the emptiness and had stopped fighting against it so hard. That had worked, to a certain degree, and had certainly given him some peace.

  But every day he knew Nicole, every minute spent in her company, every kiss and every laugh and every touch, was slowly eradicating that damn empty space he’d fought for so long.

  Miraculous. If a better word existed, he didn’t know what it was.

  At the same time, that she fit so well, that she was able to do for him what nothing else, no one else had, scared him senseless. It was an admission he’d rather not make, but there it was, the truth. How could he recognize the good, appreciate the hell out of it, but still be scared? He didn’t know, hadn’t quite worked that one out yet. Until he could, he figured that fear would hang around as long as the emptiness had. And that—well, that was something he couldn’t accept or learn to live with. Doing so would only hold him back.

  Reid had been right on that front.

  Parker sighed in resignation and a good deal of frustration. He wanted everything possible with Nicole, but that damn voice in his head kept whispering she would just leave him, like Bridget had, and he would be a fool ten times over for thinking, hoping, that this time would be different. So, what was he to do about that? Go forward and ignore the voice, trust his gut knew better, or end things now, before she got sick and he watched another woman wither away?

  Another woman he loved. Another woman he wouldn’t be able to save.

  He did not know. Couldn’t even hazard a guess other than, whether by his choice, hers, or the universe’s, he did not want to lose Nicole. So for now, he supposed he’d just keep doing what he had been all along: spending whatever time he could with her and hoping that damn fear would go away of its own accord. Just vanish into thin air with a puff of smoke.

  His daughters found him then, rehearsals being over. They were hungry and tired, requiring his attention, but happy. Tying his questions, his concerns, into a nice, neat little bow—he couldn’t answer them now, and they’d be there to unravel later—he focused on his girls.

  * * *

  “You’re sure you don’t want any help?” Nicole asked Parker for the third time. She was at his house, and assuming he managed to untangle the massive ball of twinkle lights, they would soon be decorating the Lennox Christmas tree. “I’m right here, with two capable hands.”

  Eyes that were more hazel than blue today met hers. “Nope,” he said with that quirky-as-all-get-out grin. “I am the Christmas lights department, from untangling to stringing the tree.”

  She tried not to stare, but this? Not so easy to do. Especially now. His thick, off-white fisherman sweater, along with a pair of blue jeans that seemed specifically made to fit his body, gave him that casually rugged, sexy-man appeal. He even had the stubble-on-jaw thing going.

  “To taking the lights down and putting them away, when Christmas is over?” she asked. “Because you know, if so, that mess you’re dealing with? All your fault.”

  A rumble of a laugh emerged. “Yeah. I created this mess last year, in my rush to get everything dealt with before our trip to Boston to visit the girls’ maternal grandparents. This year,” he said, “we’re not heading that way until the girls’ spring break.”

  Would they still be in each other’s lives in four months’ time? She hoped so, but now that she knew she was pregnant, she had to tell Parker. Tonight. It would be one of their most difficult conversations to date, and she really couldn’t guess how he would react. Shouldn’t try to guess, either. Whatever happened, happened. Better to focus on this moment, rather than the moment, the conversation, that would come later.

  Suddenly, a series of playful barks wafted down the stairs from, Nicole assumed, Erin and Megan’s bedroom. She’d finally let the dog off house arrest, and upon arriving an hour ago, the girls had greeted him with such enthusiasm that Roscoe had instantly followed them upstairs.

  Parker had then given her a quick tour of the split-level house the Lennox family called home. A single bathroom and two bedrooms were upstairs, one of which the girls shared and the other, naturally, was Parker’s. The downstairs consisted of a large living room, kitchen, dining room and a half bath. It was a cozy house, not large, but spacious enough for a family of three.

  This room, the living room, was a comfortable, bright space. Here, Parker had used vivid colors throughout, including a strawberry-red sofa and a puffy, lemon-yellow chair that was large enough to easily hold two adults. There was a low-to-the-ground, square coffee table that was perfect for family game nights and meals in front of the television, and two squat bookshelves that were filled with an array of books, photos and craft supplies. In one of the corners, a pile of pillows and folded blankets were ready for chilly nights and afternoon naps.

  She loved the space. It was a room meant to gather, relax and enjoy. Made her think of her own sparse living room and the fact she’d yet to actually buy a sofa. Her house, while larger and architecturally charming, didn’t have near the family appeal of Parker’s. Of course, he’d lived here for years, and she’d barely moved in. She had time to create a home.

  “Well, if you don’t need help with that, is there anything I can do?” she asked Parker, whose sandy-blond head was still bent over the knotted ball of lights. And just that quick look in his direction ignited the need in her blood. A hungry sigh escaped. “Bake cookies? Organize the ornaments? Remember, I’m right here, with two perfectly capable hands. And legs.”

  “I almost got it, but I do appreciate your offer. All five of them.” Another smile. “And your hands and legs are more than capable. I’d call them downright beautiful.”

  “Well, Mr. Lennox, if you weren’t so busy...” She let her words disappear, thinking again about the conversation they had to have later. Sexual innuendos might not be appropriate until they had. Or maybe she should just be herself? “Nothing at all, huh? What about with the girls?”

  Parker unraveled a particularly snarly portion of the lights before saying, “See? Almost there! And yes, actually. You could run upstairs and let them know we’ll be ready to hang ornaments soon. Erin will want to make popcorn and Megan likes to pick out the music.”

  An easy enough task. Nicole took the stairs two at a time and crossed the short hallway to the girls’ bedroom. Their door was cracked open, so she peeked inside.

  It was a beautifully decorated room. Pale green paint coated the walls, along the bottom of which were the cutest multicolored butterfly decals. Fluttery pink curtains framed the two windows, both of which were long and narrow, and in the far corner, a tall shelf housed a small television, books, dolls and art supplies. Rounding out the space were the girls’ beds, wall hangings of ladybugs, flowers and birds, and, of course, an impressive pile of stuffed animals.

  It was a delightful room, and perfect for two girls.

  At the moment, they were sitting across from each other, dressed similarly in blue jeans and sweaters—pale pink for Megan, sky blue for Erin—and were in identical poses, with their backs against the wall, their legs bent and their scripts on their knees, as they practiced their lines. Geez, she was proud of these two. They were her hardest-working students.

  And Roscoe was stretched out between them, evidently worn-out from the exertion of playing with two little girls, rather than only Nicole. Erin had one hand on his head, scratching between his ears, while Megan was petting his back. He was in pure heaven.

  “Hey, you two,” she said as she entered the room. The girls stopped going over their lines and Roscoe lifted his head at the sound of her voice. His tail thumped once, twice, th
ree times against the floor. “Hello to you, buddy. I see you’re soaking up all the love you can.”

  “We do love him, and he’s fun to play with,” Megan said cheerfully. “Can he stay overnight sometime? And sleep in our room? Please?”

  Seeing how she had no idea what Parker would say to such a request, she said, “I know Roscoe would love a sleepover, but that’s something we’d have to go over with your dad.”

  “But if he says yes, he can?”

  “Well. You’d have to be very careful, because remember, he likes to run.” As she spoke, a rush of light-headedness came over her. Not wanting to alarm the girls, she stepped back to one of the beds and sat down. That, along with the tenderness in her natural breast, were her only symptoms so far, and had started just the other day. The dizziness would pass soon enough. “But yes, if your dad is okay with it, and you are very careful, then I don’t see why not.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Megan grinned. “Did you hear that, Erin?”

  “Of course I heard, Megan. I’m right here.” Then, setting her script on the floor, she looked at Nicole. “Can I ask you a question? It’s about the play.”

  “You can ask me anything you like,” Nicole said, “whenever you like.”

  “Um. It’s okay now. I’m not upset or anything anymore,” Erin said, speaking slowly, her brown-eyed gaze directed at the wall behind Nicole. “But why did you give me the Fairy Godmother part? She doesn’t really do anything except talk about the story to the audience.”

  Nicole wasn’t shocked by the question. During their carriage ride, Parker had filled her in on what had happened with the girls, and they’d decided it was best to leave the topic alone, unless one of them came to Nicole with questions. And here they were.

  “That’s super easy to answer,” Nicole said. “The Fairy Godmother is actually one of the most important roles in the entire play, Erin. She’s the narrator, and for this play, she’s the first voice the audience will hear and the last. I needed someone who was really comfortable onstage, could speak clearly and...well, with personality. You were the very best person for the role.”

 

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