by Kate Stewart
One day, when I could face him again, I would sever our ties for good. I forgave him for the pieces he carved out of my heart the moment he chose me, but I could never let him return to finish the job.
After Tabitha had finished her rant, I promised to call her tomorrow and hung up. My stomach tightened at the thought of seeing him again. It was as unavoidable as breathing.
I wasn’t sixteen with a crush anymore, and I wasn’t his prisoner trapped in a marriage I didn’t want.
You’re just the wife of a man you shouldn’t love.
Angel going to prison hadn’t waved any magic wands. My life didn’t get better once I was free, but I had a village this time who pushed me to get here.
A village I found because of Angel.
My father’s release hadn’t immediately repaired our relationship, either. I sent him away the first time he showed up on my doorstep, but he didn’t just go away after I rejected him. He kept coming back every week for six months until I finally agreed to talk. We took it slow, and eventually, I decided to forgive him by allowing him in Caylen’s life.
Undoubtedly, he’s been a better grandfather than he had been a father. I made a point not to hold it over his head, but days like these were harder than the rest.
Angel had stayed away this long. A part of me was hurt that he had while the other part of me hoped he never came back.
I lifted myself from the floor and decided I would need a long, soothing bubble bath in order to sleep tonight. I didn’t have the energy to talk to the others right now, so I pulled my hair up and ran the hot water.
Just as I started to undress, my doorbell rang.
Chapter 29
ANGEL
YOU DON’T BECOME a powerful man without having some strings to pull. Three years ago, I orchestrated my demise, and it had been all for her. When you fall, you want it to mean something. If you rise again, you want to know who you are. I was once the head of a criminal empire two centuries old. Now I was just a man standing on a girl’s doorstep, hoping she’d forgive him.
I was so nervous that I had missed the doorbell completely on my first try. After ringing it, I stepped back and waited. I knew she was still awake because I’d stood across the street from her and Caylen’s home—the brownstone we had grown up in together.
I bought the brownstone back from the couple I sold it to for twice the price. I could have bought any other place much cheaper, but I wanted Mian to create new memories here, so I gave it to Caylen for his first birthday. According to Lucas, Mian hadn’t bothered to open it until six months after my trial. I was just glad she finally had.
I heard her footsteps moving across the floor. They were hesitant as she probably wondered who was ringing her door this late. Michelle told me Tabitha figured out I’d been released. She and Mian had grown close over the years, so I knew she’d warn her.
A few moments passed, and I could no longer hear her footsteps. She was probably watching me through the peephole right now, debating if she should open the door.
I smiled at the peephole and heard her gasp on the other side. Another second later, I could hear the locks turn.
Nothing could have prepared me for this moment.
The door opened, and she stood clutching it, looking as innocent as she always had, with her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. It was shorter than I remembered. Her skin was soft and slightly flushed as she stared back at me. She seemed to be just as mesmerized.
I was bigger than I was three years ago, almost matching Lucas’s bulk. I could see him playing pro football or hockey if he had found the right path. I didn’t know if he had the skill, but he definitely had the brawn.
“Angel?”
“Yeah, Sprite.”
We fell silent again as we drunk each other in. The silence became stifling after a while, so I searched for something to say, and when I couldn’t form the right words, I went for the obvious. “You used the key.”
She stiffened and shifted her weight to one hip as she crossed her arms. “I didn’t want to, but everyone seemed to think my pigheadedness was denying my son a stable home.”
I nodded, sensing it was a sore subject. Agreeing that she was, in fact, pigheaded was a sure way to get the door slammed in my face.
“If anyone deserved stability, it was the two of you,” I replied instead. “I’m glad you accepted the gift.”
“Before you get any ideas, I made it on my own, and I don’t owe you a damn thing.”
“I can see that.” I was fucking proud and trying not to let it show in the most pleasurable way.
“Can you?” Her eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here?”
“Because we’re better than this.”
“Than what?” she snapped.
“Pretending that we don’t exist to each other.”
“That’s what you’ve been doing for three months? Pretending?”
“No,” I answered while wondering how long she’d known I was out. “I was fighting to stay away from you.”
“So what changed?”
“I realized it was only a matter of time before our paths crossed again.”
“Really? I don’t see Michelle and Tim inviting you to their annual barbecue anytime soon.”
“Maybe not, but we are married.” She didn’t reply other than to purse her lips and perk an eyebrow. “Can I come in?”
“Why would I invite you into my home?”
She tensed, losing some of her bravado as I stepped closer. “So we can talk,” I answered gently. I was so close I could feel each breath she took on my skin.
“We have nothing to talk about, Angel.” Her arms loosened from her chest to wrap tightly around her body, and I couldn’t help wondering if she was naked under her green robe. “You should leave.” Her mask fell, allowing me to see her torment. She looked both surprised and wary when I stepped back.
“This is goodnight then.”
I was off her stoop, disappearing down the darkened street before she could respond.
THE NEXT MORNING, I made pancakes. Sure, they weren’t my pancakes to make, and I’d broken into the brownstone just before sunrise, but no one could turn down pancakes. My own stomach growled as I turned off the burner and set the table.
I was scooping eggs on each plate when I heard a small voice say, “Are those blueberry pancakes?”
I paused before turning with a spatula full of eggs. Standing in the doorway, dressed in thermal Iron Man pajamas was a three and a half foot tall boy with light brown bed hair and blue eyes watching me curiously.
“Buttermilk,” I answered ruefully. “But maybe next time?”
He inched closer, his curiosity getting the better of him while caution kept him back. “I don’t like scrambled eggs.”
“No?”
He shook his head and moved closer. “You got boiled?”
“Afraid not, but I can make some.”
“Mama lets me peel it myself when it’s not hot anymore.”
“Yeah?” I returned the frying pan to the stove and filled a pot up with water to make his boiled egg. I heard him take a seat while my back was turned and felt him watching me.
“Are you Angel?”
I froze from dunking the egg in the pot and turned to face him. “You know who I am?” He was only one the last time I saw him. He couldn’t possibly remember me.
“Uncle Lucas showed me a picture.” That would explain why he hadn’t been afraid to find me here. “He said…um… he said…” His eyebrows bunched as he fell quiet.
“What did he say?” I prompted.
“He said I couldn’t tell anyone because it’s a secret.”
“Yeah?” He nodded, sure of his answer this time. “Well, Uncle Lucas is my best friend, so his secrets are my secrets.”
He fidgeted in his seat as he seemed to think it over. I was ready to turn away and give him time when he said, “So are you?”
It was my turn to frown as I looked back. “Am I what?”
&nb
sp; “My dad.” His head was down when he answered, and I was grateful. I wasn’t sure the look on my face was one any kid should see.
I was going to kill Lucas.
“Did he tell you I was?”
He shrugged his small shoulders. “He said you were the only one I was going to get.”
I made a mental note to make Lucas’s death slow and painful.
I stepped away from the stove and took a seat across from him. This was not a conversation I wanted to have two minutes after seeing him again. If I could change the past, Caylen would be mine, but I couldn’t, and he wasn’t.
“I’m not your father, kid.”
“Oh.” He looked up and his blue gaze collided with mine. I wanted to erase my words and tell him Lucas had been right. That I would be the only father he ever needed, but I couldn’t go behind Mian’s back. Getting Mian to agree to a future with me was as unlikely as catching a shooting star. If I didn’t win her heart, this kid would still expect a father. I selfishly wanted to claim them both, but I couldn’t do that to them.
“I’m sorry, Caylen.”
He shrugged as if it were no big deal and looked away. Reluctantly, I moved back to the stove and turned off the boiling pot before draining the water and setting the egg aside to cool. I then slid a pancake on his plate and helped him cut it into pieces.
“Your mom still sleeps late, huh?”
He nodded and shoved a piece of pancake in his mouth, smearing syrup at the corner of his lips as he did and making sounds that told me he like buttermilk pancakes too. “It’s Saturday, so I don’t have school today. She’ll wake up soon to make me cereal.”
As soon as he said it, I could hear her moving around upstairs. I forced myself to stay seated, ignoring the light fluttering in my stomach when she called out for Caylen. “In here, Mama! Angel made pancakes.”
Shit. The kid was a snitch.
I braced as I heard her coming down the stairs. “Who made panca—” She stopped mid-sentence when she saw me sitting at the table as if I belonged there. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Mama, you’re not supposed to curse.”
“Caylen, go upstairs and brush your teeth,” she ordered without breaking our stare.
He pouted and stuck his elbows on the table defiantly. “Listen to your mother,” I ordered gently. He sighed and climbed down from his chair before running to the stairs.
“No running!” she called out after him. We could hear his steps slow almost immediately.
“Why are you here, Angel? How did you even get in here?”
“Broke in,” I said as I stabbed a pancaked. “I made breakfast.”
Her laugh held no trace of humor. “I’m still sleeping, and this is a nightmare,” she muttered to herself.
“Pancakes might still be warm.” I shoved more food in my mouth to keep from saying something else stupid.
She shoved her fingers in her already messy hair, and when she freed them, she looked even sexier than she already did in her small short and thin shirt. Her nipples were poking through the pale pink top, which made it hard to keep my gaze on her face.
“What did you hope to accomplish by breaking in and making pancakes?”
“The pancakes were to get you to talk to me.”
“And the breaking in was to make me throw you out?”
“I have about seventy pounds and a foot on you, baby. You won’t be throwing me anywhere.”
“I can call the police, and they can throw you back in prison,” she answered sweetly.
I grinned, feeling like a predator, sinking further into our game. “You’d have to make it to the phone first.”
She avoided my gaze, looking unsure if I’d really hurt her, and I realized this might not seem like a simple game to her. “I’m sorry.” I dropped my fork and stood up from the table. “I’d never hurt you,” I said as I moved across the kitchen to where she stood. “If you want me to go, I’ll go.”
She sighed. “What do you want, Angel?”
“I just want to talk.”
“What could we possibly have to talk about that doesn’t start and end with divorce?”
“I don’t want a divorce.”
“It’s not up to you.”
“I’ll contest it.”
“And I’ll tell the judge you, and I didn’t actually consent to the marriage.”
“Your father will go back to prison.”
I knew I had her when her gaze turned murderous. “Give me one reason why we should stay married?” I started to answer when her finger rested on my lips. “Think about your answer because it better be good, or you’re out of here.” She slowly lifted her finger from my lips and waited.
“Fate could have chosen anything for us fifteen years ago, and no matter how many times we run in opposite directions, fate always pulls us back. I think we owe it to ourselves to find out why. I can’t stay away, and your heart won’t stop seeking me. We’re inevitable, Mian.”
I LEANED AGAINST the wall while Mian talked quietly with Anna by the front door. She kept scowling at me over Mian’s shoulder as she gave her instructions for Caylen.
Mian had agreed to spend the weekend alone with me, but this weekend was all I would get.
No sex.
No lies.
No looking back after Sunday.
I was eager to start this weekend with her, but as she kissed Caylen and shut the front door, I realized I had no idea what my next step should be. She looked as nervous as I felt as she stared back at me a safe distance away.
“Okay…” She held out her arms and then let them fall back down to her sides. “How should we start, hubby?”
I rubbed my nape and took a deep breath. “What do you normally do on a Saturday?”
“Work,” she answered dryly. She had no intentions of making this easy for me.
I nodded and cursed myself for fucking this up already. “I’d like to see what you do.”
“Why?” She looked genuinely confused as her brows pulled together.
“I’m interested in you. Isn’t it obvious?”
“It’s ironic that we spent six years in this house together and you spent most of it ignoring me, and now you’re interested?”
“Fuck, baby,” I groaned. “Cut me some slack. I’m desperate.” She relaxed some and started for the stairs.
“My office is upstairs,” she mumbled. I followed her up, watching her perky ass twitch in her shorts as she climbed the stairs. At one point, she cast a suspicious glance over her shoulder, and I quickly averted my attention.
We reached her old bedroom, which she’d turned into a study area. “Caylen has your old bedroom,” she said as if she had read my mind.
“Are you happy here?”
“My son is happy, so I’m happy.”
“You shouldn’t worry so much about making the same mistakes your father made.”
She swirled on her foot until we were nose to chest. Her hands planted on her hips as she glared up at me. “Who said I’m worried?”
“You didn’t have to. Anyone can see you’re afraid of disappointing him.”
“The beginning of his life wasn’t easy. I’m just fortunate he doesn’t remember any of it.”
“You protected him.”
“I put him in danger. There hasn’t been a day I don’t regret breaking into your father’s home. I had been desperate and didn’t think I had a choice.”
“You think that makes you a bad mother?” She shrugged and tapped the mouse to wake the desktop. It was clear I wouldn’t get much out of her, so I got comfortable in the green cushioned chair and did the pouring instead. “My father risked his life, and it put food on the table, but feeding me was never the reason. He did it to honor his duty, and then he did it for power. I had a place to call home, clothes to keep me warm, and a full stomach at the end of the day, but none of it made him a good father.”
I counted the seconds until she took the bait and spoke to me.
“
And your mother? What did she do for you?” I couldn’t see her face behind the computer, but I recognized the emotion that turned her voice delicate. She knew the answer.
“She stayed.” I closed my eyes and saw the graceful lines of my mother’s face. She was smiling, and it was real. I couldn’t remember a time my mother’s smile hadn’t been forced. “It eventually killed her.”
“Why don’t the cops know she’s dead?”
“People go missing all the time and bodies would have raised too many questions. I wish I could have buried her even though she wouldn’t have thought her life had been worth celebrating.” But she didn’t deserve to be discarded, either.
“I hope they found each other,” she whispered so softly I almost didn’t catch it.
“Who?”
“Our moms.”
I didn’t know anything about Cecily Ross, but the love my mother reserved in her heart for her and the adoration in Mian’s eyes made me want the same thing. “Me too.”
I WATCHED MIAN work for a few hours before she grew irritated with my barrage of questions and kicked me out. It was nearing lunch, so I decided to make us grilled cheese since my culinary skills were limited to the most basic of cuisines. When the food was done, I dragged her from the bedroom, ignoring her argument that she needed to work as I did.
“We’re supposed to spend time together. That means sharing meals,” I said as I pulled her into the living room. As if on cue, her stomach growled, and I remembered she didn’t eat this morning.
She didn’t seem to notice as she took a look around. “What did you do to my living room?”
I’d covered the coffee table with the red tablecloth I found and placed a candle in the center with a place setting on each side. “I’m dating you.”
“You know you can take me on an actual date.” She sat on one side and folded her legs.
“I don’t want what’s out there to ruin what we have in here.”
“But if we can’t make it out there, it won’t matter what we have when we’re alone.” Her voice was empty of emotion. “One way or another, we’d be pretending.” I handed her a can of soda before taking my place at the other end of the table.