“Dad, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t talk about it. You’re too young.”
“I’m not a kid anymore. Besides, kids grow up really fast these days.”
Too fast. How to tell a G-rated version? “Years ago, your uncle Gabe was engaged to Laura.”
“The baker.”
Nick nodded. “I was in college when I met your mom. We liked each other immediately and wanted to get married right away. She took me home with her to Seattle to meet her father.”
“Grandpa Mort,” Emily said, sucking her milk shake through a fat straw.
“Yes. Gabe found out I’d left school. To this day, I don’t know how.” He sipped his root beer. “He came to Seattle, found out I was at Grandpa’s office tower and gave me hell in front of Grandpa and your mother. He embarrassed me. Took me back to school like I was a little kid.”
“Uncle Gabe seems more cool than that. Why did he do it?”
“He had this swollen sense of responsibility for me and Tyler. After our father died, he took over the role.”
“It must have been hard. I would miss you so much if you died.”
His daughter would miss him. Her simple statement warmed a corner of his heart. “After Gabe left me at the school, I ran away again and returned to Accord.”
He chewed a mouthful of burger, buying himself time, trying to figure out how to tell Emily what an ass he’d made of himself and of how he’d betrayed a family member.
“And?”
“And...” He swallowed a mouthful of his drink.
“Don’t tell me,” she said, her tone judgmental. “You slept with Laura.”
Nick choked on root beer. He sputtered and coughed. When he could finally speak, he said, “You shouldn’t be talking about things like that.”
“I read. I watch TV. I go on the internet. Sex is everywhere, Dad. I could see where the story was going. You slept with Uncle Gabe’s fiancée to get back at him.”
“In a nutshell, yes.”
“That was bad.”
“Very bad. I’m not proud of it.”
“She still hasn’t forgiven you.”
“No. I had thought for a very brief few hours that she had, but I was wrong. She was just biding her time until she stuck it to me.”
“Stuck what to you?”
“She got her revenge.”
“How?”
“That is definitely private.”
“But—”
“Nope. No more talking about it.”
Looking thoughtful, Emily chewed a fry. After swallowing, she said, “Well, I, for one, am really glad you met Mom and married her and had me.”
Nick laughed. How could he not?
He caught Laura watching him. She’d finally realized he was there.
“Let’s blow this pop stand.”
Nick paid for dinner and they left for a walk on Main. Farther down, they found an ice cream parlor and had dessert there.
Nick, for another, was glad he’d married Marsha and fathered this brilliant child.
* * *
EMILY AND NICK were ready to leave on Thursday morning. Much of the work on the resort could be done long-distance. He left Salem and the elders and the professor working with Rene, who would report to Nick regularly on progress.
In the past few days, Nick had managed to organize a dig that would begin in May, through the Colorado Archaeological Society. They would coordinate with Salem, the elders and the professor.
As soon as they figured out where the migratory route was, Rene would dig the foundation for the resort.
All in all, as well as spending quality time with his daughter, he’d got a lot done this week, had tied up a lot of loose ends.
All but one. A big one.
He stormed into Sweet Temptations and approached the counter.
“Is Laura in the back?”
Tilly looked away from the customer she was dealing with and said, “No. She’s gone for the day.”
He left without thanking her. He knew he was being a prick. Too bad. He was in a mood today, anxious to be gone already.
Just at the bottom of the fire escape stairs, a garbage can caught his eye. Colorful fabric hung out from under the lid on one side. It looked a lot like the fabric he’d seen swooping from the ceiling in Laura’s bedroom.
He lifted the lid. The can was crammed with the stuff. Why?
He dropped the lid back onto the can and took the stairs two at a time.
Why would Laura tear down something she’d obviously spent a lot of time and imagination fashioning? Wait. Did it really matter to him?
Nope. It was no concern of his.
But a small niggling part of him still wondered what was going on.
She answered on the second knock. Surprise colored her cheeks.
“What do you want?” she asked, her tone hostile.
“This.” He handed her his business card. “I’ve written my home email address on the back.”
She turned it over and raised one eyebrow. “‘Head honcho’?”
“Emily set it up for me.”
“You should have introduced her to me.”
He might have gotten angrier if she’d shouted, but her reproach was so subtle, and so true, that he deflated. “Yes. I should have. It was rude of me not to.”
“She’s very sweet. Pretty.”
“She’s like Marsha. Her mother.”
She studied the card she held between her hands. “Why are you giving me this?”
“In case you need to contact me. In case...”
“In case I’m pregnant.”
He nodded, one sharp strong jerk of his head. God help her if she was.
“I won’t be.”
“Good.” He left without saying goodbye.
* * *
BACK IN SEATTLE, Nick and Emily took Mort out for dinner on Friday night.
“What have you been doing with your time?” Nick asked.
“Working.”
Good Lord, did that mean Nick would have fires to put out when he returned to work on Monday? Possibly. Probably.
Mort must have read his thoughts because he said, “The company isn’t completely lost without you, you know.”
Nick felt his cheeks heat. He’d been running Mort’s company for so long, and doing it so well, that he’d developed an ego. Nothing like having the owner of the company put him in his place.
“Tell me about Accord.” Mort’s demand was nuanced with envy and wistfulness.
Maybe Nick should have invited Mort to come with them. He hadn’t thought of it. Opening up to Emily had been tough, though, and doing so with Mort would have been strange. They had been business partners for so long, and had spent so many of the great holiday celebrations their wives had planned over the years discussing business, that it was strange to think of him as a friend outside of business.
Emily told him everything that had happened while they had been in Accord for the week. She found an interested audience in Mort.
Maybe Nick should take him there with him the next time he went.
Naw. Rene was capable, and Nick could handle the business from here. There wouldn’t be a next time.
But you promised both Emily and Ty that you would go back for the Fourth of July.
Nick sighed. He’d forgotten. He would be going back to Accord after all, but at least this time it would be for fun.
It wouldn’t be to put out fires or solve problems.
* * *
NICK HAD MORT over to the house for dinner almost every night. He couldn’t stop himself. The man needed people. It seemed that Nick and Emily were all he had left.
The drinking issue, though, came to a head one night.
Mort had been complaining about his wives, and swearing as badly as a trucker, throughout dinner. When Mort dropped the F bomb, Nick said, “Enough,” and sent Emily to her room early.
“Mort,” he said, “you’re drunk as a skunk.”
“So what? What�
��s the point of staying sober?”
“How about your granddaughter?”
“Emily loves me just the way I am.” Mort sounded stubborn and looked like a little boy.
“Maybe not after tonight.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been cursing like a stevedore all evening. Why would she enjoy that?”
“Me?”
“Yes. You’re so drunk you don’t even realize you’re doing it.”
Mort settled into a blue funk. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“You’ll be even sorrier if you don’t quit drinking.” Nick hated to take a hard line with Mort, but he suspected it might be the only way to help the man. To his surprise, he found he wanted to help.
“I want to see the smart, savvy, sharp man you used to be, not the maudlin cl—” He’d almost said clown, but that was too mean-spirited. He couldn’t say it out loud, not to Mort’s face. “You’re an alcoholic. You need help.”
“The hell I am. I don’t need anyone’s help. I—”
“You’ll get help or you won’t see Emily again.” Nick said it quietly, but the threat thundered through the room.
Mort stared at him slack-jawed. “I love that girl,” he whispered.
“I know. Use her as motivation to get better.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
Compassion filled Nick. Mort’s drunkenness was ugly, but underneath it all lay a good man.
“I’ve checked out AA meetings in Seattle,” Nick said. “We can go tomorrow night.”
“We?”
“Yes, we. I’ll go with you.”
Mort’s lips worked and his chin trembled, as though he were controlling the urge to cry. “You must think me an old fool.”
“A fool? No. Lost? Yes.” Nick led Mort to the front door. “You’ve done a lot for me, Mort. A couple of weeks ago, you stopped me from losing my daughter. I owe you a debt.”
“I don’t want your indebtedness.”
“How about my friendship?”
Again Mort’s chin trembled. It took a moment, but then he said, “What time should I be ready tomorrow?”
“Six-thirty. I’ll pick you up.”
Nick drove Mort home in his car and then took a taxi back to the house.
It remained to be seen what would happen with Mort, even with Nick’s help.
Nick ended up accompanying Mort to more AA meetings than he’d originally thought he would have to. In time, Mort came around, but between work and the time Nick carved out to spend with Emily and the stressful nights spent trying to keep Mort sober, Nick began to feel worn-out.
He considered it a labor of love, but it took its toll.
Throughout it all, despite Emily and Mort’s company, Nick developed a loneliness that eased only when he slept. It eased in those hours because they were filled with dreams of Laura.
He awoke angry and frustrated. He didn’t want to think of her, didn’t want to dream about how she looked in her naked glory.
He didn’t want to remember how she felt, or smelled, or kissed, or came to orgasm with a glorious triumphant cry.
Yet, even so, every night he fell into bed exhausted, but filled with hope—because he knew he would dream of her.
CHAPTER TEN
Nick Jordan
30 June 12:35 PM
The rabbit died.
Laura
Laura Cameron
Re: The rabbit died.
30 June 1:17 PM
What the hell does that mean?
N
Nick Jordan
Re: The rabbit died.
30 June 2:42 PM
I’m pregnant.
L
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“MOM, I DON’T understand why you’re so angry about my being pregnant,” Laura said. “You weren’t this angry last time.”
They stood in the middle of the airy Palette, surrounded by enough beautiful artwork to take Laura’s breath away. She wasn’t looking at it now, though. She was trying to figure out her mother.
She was tired of Mom’s mood swings, angry one moment, depressed the next, but damned if Laura could get to the bottom of it. She’d tried. She really had, but Mom wasn’t opening up.
“You had Vin to support you last time,” Olivia said. “You don’t now.”
“Yes, Vin was so supportive he ran away.”
“You know what I mean. If you hadn’t lost the baby Vin wouldn’t have left.”
“Probably not.” And Laura was only now realizing how unhappy they both would have been had they stayed together because of the baby.
“Who’s the father?”
This wasn’t the first time Mom had asked, but Laura didn’t want her to know. Don’t you think it’s ironic to criticize your mom for keeping secrets when you won’t open up to her?
She knew what Mom would think, how disappointed she would be that Laura had had sex with Nick Jordan after what he’d done to her thirteen years ago.
“The father isn’t around” was all she would share. “He’s out of the picture. I’ll raise this baby on my own.”
“What did you do? Pick up someone at a bar? I expect better from you, Laura.”
Laura gasped. Her own mother was insinuating that she was easy. A slow boil churned in her stomach. She was losing patience with her mother.
“There’s no need to insult me, Mom. You know I don’t pick up men in bars. I don’t have one-night stands.”
What exactly would you call what happened between you and Nick?
Insanity. Utter insanity.
Mom tossed the packing from a vase toward the back of the room, making a mess. She never used to unpack in the showroom of her gallery, only in the back. In the main space, things had to be just so. Now here was Mom throwing around cardboard and packing peanuts. There was a heck of a lot more going on here than Laura could wrestle her way through.
“If you refuse to get help from the father, then you’ve made your own bed. You can lie in it.” Olivia set up the vase on a narrow pedestal where it caught light from the window. “Don’t come crying to me to babysit when the going gets tough.”
“Mom!” Laura couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d hoped Mom would be available sometimes to help, but she would never presume to rely on her. Mom’s criticism stung. “What exactly is your problem? And don’t tell me it has anything to do with who the father of this baby might or might not be. What’s going on in your personal life?”
She stepped close to Olivia so she couldn’t disappear into the back room as she’d been doing every time Laura asked a tough question.
She grasped her mother’s shoulders. “Mom,” she said quietly, “what is it?”
Olivia threw a box onto the floor and yelled, “I don’t want to be a grandmother, okay?”
The air in the silent gallery seethed with words that could break a heart.
“Okay.” Laura stepped away from her. “I won’t ask you to babysit. I won’t bring the baby around. You’ll never have to ever see her. I didn’t realize you disliked children so much.”
Olivia sighed. “I don’t dislike children. I won’t dislike my grandchild.” She looked tired, the sheer skin beneath her eyes bruised. Mom wasn’t sleeping. She slumped into a chair and said, “I don’t want to be old enough to have a grandchild.”
So, they were back to the age issue.
Laura touched her shoulder. “You don’t look old enough to be a grandmother, Mom. You’ve kept yourself in shape. You take care of your skin. You’ve got great style. You look wonderful. Why is your age bothering you all of a sudden?”
Olivia shrugged. “It just is.”
“I’m not sure why it’s bothering you so much, but if you want to talk about it, we can go out for lunch.”
Olivia patted her hand. “No. I don’t want to talk about it. I really don’t.”
“Okay.” Laura stepped toward the door. “You
know where to find me if you need me.”
She crossed the street and unlocked the empty space beside the bakery, shaken by the depth of her mother’s feelings and about as alone as she’d ever felt in her life.
Both of Nick’s parents were dead and Mom was the only surviving one on Laura’s side—and she wanted to have nothing to do with being a grandparent.
Laura’s child would have no grandparents.
Noah was always off on one adventure after another.
What a mess Laura had made of things. Her baby wasn’t even going to have an extended family, let alone a father.
She’d been alone in her life before when Amber had died, and this was so much the same.
She stepped into her new storefront and closed the door behind her, leaning back against the door and molding her palms to her belly. The baby wouldn’t show for a while yet, but she couldn’t help her fascination with what her body was going through. Or her fear.
She’d lost one baby. She couldn’t stand to lose another.
This wasn’t how she wanted to do this. She’d wanted a husband, as she’d grown tired of telling well-meaning friends with their “Rah, rah, you can do this without a man” support.
Yes, she could.
Did she want to?
No.
She wouldn’t take on a man to make her dream come true, though.
She wouldn’t take on Nick Jordan.
Wandering farther into the shop, she opened a bottle of sparkling water, sipped it then set it on an old counter. It settled the vestiges of morning sickness that lingered.
She’d bought this retail space months ago, excited about expanding her café. As it was, there wasn’t enough seating for the traffic that came through her bakery. She needed a larger café. Business was that good.
These days, this empty store seemed to be the only place she found solace. Nick’s presence in her apartment that one night, and its disastrous consequences, had tainted the warm, sensual cave she’d created for herself.
Despite knowing she’d chosen the worst possible time to sink money into expansion, albeit unwittingly, she craved this space for the validation that things were working in one area of her life. Not just working, thriving. Succeeding beyond her wildest dreams.
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