A Christmas Miracle for Daisy (Taming of the Sheenans Book 5) (6 page)

“If you work for sixty days. The severance package is for those who give sixty day’s notice, not fourteen.” He shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

She curled her fingers into a fist. He wasn’t sorry. He’d never been sorry for anything. Worse, he had to know, that as she’d come from nothing, and had worked so very hard to get to where she was now, she wouldn’t simply walk away from a generous severance package. She couldn’t afford to walk away from tens of thousands of dollars. Frankly, she didn’t know anyone who could. “Sixty days?”

If he heard the break in her voice he gave no indication. “Yes.”

Her nails pressed harder into her palm, the sharp edge biting at her skin. Sixty more days…?

Two more months…

Two months would mean a big fat severance package, and with the severance package she could finally buy her own home. A condo or small house, something that was hers and only hers…

“You need me to train my replacement,” she said.

“No.”

Her brow furrowed. “But I’d be here in the Denver office.”

“You’d be in Marietta.”

“
What
?”

“I describe what we needed in the emails. The ones with the subject
Important. Please Review
.” He gave her a long look. “I gather you didn’t read my emails.”

“No.”

He took a seat on the edge of the table. “So in short, here’s the position. You’d come to Marietta—”

“No.”

“And help ready the new office building for the publishing group,” he continued, as if she’d never spoken. “It’s an old building and it needs work. I’ve hired a designer and contractor to tackle the remodel but they need direction. You are the Creative Director for Sheenan Media. You know the company inside and out, and you know how to communicate the brand, making you the perfect person to oversee the renovation of the Crookshank Building, and help welcome the Media team as they arrive in December and settle in.”

“How long would I need to be in Marietta?”

“Probably through the holidays.”

He meant Christmas, didn’t he? Whitney looked away, chewed the inside of her lip, trying to imagine spending Christmas in Montana. “You know I don’t like going back,” she said quietly.

“I do.”

She glanced back at him. “Would I report to Jeff, or would I have total freedom?”

“You’d be responsible with the majority of the decision making.” He hesitated for a fraction of a second then continued, “But you’d work with me, not Jeff.”

Her head lifted, and her gaze locked with his. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Same thing.”

“It’s not. And Sheenan Media is a job, not a volunteer organization. You get a paycheck.”

And he wondered why she disliked him so much?

“I’ve handled things wrong,” he said flatly, breaking the heavy silence. “I played hardball with you, and I won.”

“You’re still doing it.”

He shrugged. “The stakes are high. I have to call the shots. Get things done.”

“Cormac, you took a child I
loved
away from me.” Tears stung her eyes. She blinked hard. “You made sure there was no room in her life for me. She was my goddaughter and you cut me out…physically, emotionally, legally.

“I did.”

“You’re not even the least bit remorseful.”

“It was what Daryl and April wanted. I had to respect their wishes.”

“So righteous.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“No, you’re not. You’ve never been sorry you hurt me.”

“That’s not true. You’re the last person I’d ever want to hurt. And Daisy—” He broke off, shook his head. “That was never the plan. Nothing was supposed to happen to Daryl and April.”

But something did.

She exhaled in a rush as the reality hung in the air between them. April and Daryl died two and a half years ago and yet Whitney was still grieving, and still reeling from the loss.

Worse, she didn’t understand how her name had been left off the will. April had asked Whitney to be one of Daisy’s guardians. She’d told Whitney that she was needed—

Whitney rubbed at her forehead, head starting to throb. “This is too painful,” she whispered. “We can’t keep hashing the past.”

“Agreed.”

“We need to let it go.”

“Yes.”

Finally they agreed on something. Whitney nodded, determined to see this through. “Let’s put the past in the past, and move forward.”

“So you will head to Marietta through the holidays?”

“No, I can’t. We’re done. I can’t move forward with you.” Her gaze met his and held. “When I’m around you, there is no forward, there is only back, and back hurts. Everything about our past together hurts. Daryl, April, Daisy, you, me. So let’s just end this. Let’s end it now. Let me go. Can’t we
please
agree to let each other go?”

He drew a slow deep breath. His voice so deep it rasped when he spoke. “What about Daisy?”

She gulped for air, shocked.
What about Daisy?

“You’re really playing dirty now,” Whitney whispered, remembering how she’d been there for all the ultrasounds. She’d gone to the Lamaze classes with April, practiced breathing with April, had helped shop for the nursery and then painted and decorated the nursery when April was put on bed rest.

And then the accident in Las Vegas and Daryl and April were gone and Cormac was raising Daisy.

Cormac, the bachelor, who loved no one and nothing.

Cormac, who’d broken her heart, ending their relationship because Whitney had dared to love him too much, and Cormac Sheenan didn’t love at all. “Still so ruthless.”

“Just reminding you of facts. You were there from the beginning, a beloved aunt…a second mom. You were there in the delivery room, April’s birthing partner, and then her night-time nanny for months when Daryl was in Iraq. So yes, you can let me go. And I can let you go. But what about Daisy? Are you going to let her go?”

Whitney closed her eyes, holding the grief in. “You’re being cruel.”

“I am not trying to be cruel. I’m trying to be honest. Trying to let you know that this…conflict…between us is hurting her. She’s part of this, of us, whether you like it or not.”

‡

W
hitney couldn’t sleep
that night.

She gave up on sleep at two, leaving bed to turn on the TV and stare blindly at reruns on a movie channel. She’d hoped the action adventure drama would help take her mind off of Cormac’s visit to the office today but all she could think about was him, and how he’d put Daisy on the table.

Basically he made Daisy a bargaining chip.

Even now she reeled inwardly, shocked, as well as disgusted. Had he no shame? Was he truly that self-absorbed?

She’d known he was ruthless. One didn’t create a media conglomerate without focus, drive, and ambition, but to use a four-year-old little girl as a bargaining chip? Wow. That was lower than low. She’d lost all respect for him now.

Still fuming, she grabbed her laptop and dashed off an email to him.
I don’t need the money as much as I need dignity and self-respect. My two week notice stands.

She hit send and felt a rush of relief. There. She’d done it. She was standing her ground and it was the right decision. She was sure of it. So no matter what he said in the morning—

An email popped into her inbox from Cormac Sheenan. Oh dear. He’d already responded. What was he doing still awake?

She felt a flurry of nerves as she clicked on the email and quickly scanned the message.
Which part of your dignity and self-respect have I offended?

She battled her temper as she typed back.
For two years you kept Daisy from me and now you’re dangling her as if she’s a prize or treat.

He answered just as quickly.
Not even going to go there, Whitney. Do you, or don’t you, want to spend time with your goddaughter? I’m trying to make this work.

Whitney read this last message once, and again. He had no right to act as if he was the mature, rational one. He was one who’d made life hell.

Whitney had fought hard for the right to be part of Daisy’s life. She’d drained her savings fighting for Daisy, hiring the best attorneys, insisting they try to petition the court if not for full custody, then joint custody, and if not joint custody, then weekends or holidays.
Something
.

And Cormac, who could have made it possible, who could have worked out some kind of visitation rights, objected, refusing to give Whitney any formal rights at all, which meant, she ended up with none.

For over two years she’d had no real contact with Daisy. She’d lost the toddler, a baby she’d loved long before she’d even been born.

Her eyes burned now, her chest tight and aching with emotion, fully aware that the only reason he’d refused to allow Whitney to be part of Daisy’s life was because
he
didn’t want to have to deal with Whitney…not because Whitney would have been bad for Daisy.

This is why she couldn’t forgive him. This is why she couldn’t look at him without pain and deep, seething resentment. He’d put his own needs before the child’s. It was beyond selfish. It was heartless. He was heartless. The original Ice Man. But maybe instead of hating him, she ought to pity him for not being able to love anyone but himself.

She struggled to think of a reply she could send him. But there were no words she could say that wouldn’t be offensive. Because she didn’t trust him. She didn’t like him. She didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

A new message arrived in her inbox from Cormac.
If you lived in Marietta—if we both lived in Marietta—you would be able to see Daisy regularly. There would be no reason that you two couldn’t see each other regularly.

She ground her teeth.
You expect me to believe that?
You
are still in the picture.

He answered swiftly.
My issue was never with you. My issue was with the distance.

Bullshit!
She shot back, hands shaking as she typed.
You kept me out of the picture because you were afraid that if Daisy spent time with me then you’d have to spend time with me and you didn’t want to do that. You didn’t want to have to deal with an ex-girlfriend on a daily basis. When you’re done with a relationship, you’re done. And the custody battle was more about keeping me at arm’s length, than protecting Daisy.

He didn’t answer for the longest time.

Whitney sat on her couch, laptop on her lap, heart hammering. She felt sick and nauseous and she wished they hadn’t started this. She wished he’d never dangled the job or Daisy or made her long for time with Daisy again.

Finally a reply appeared in her inbox.
I’ve made mistakes. I’m sorry.

Her eyes burned. She blinked and crossed her arms over her chest to keep from dashing off something that wouldn’t be helpful. Because his apology didn’t strike her as sincere. His apology was self-serving. He wanted what he wanted—

A new message from Cormac arrived.
What do I need to do to make this right? I want to figure this out for Daisy’s sake.

Whitney read the message once and then again. Seconds passed, and then a minute. She forced herself to wait, to not be hasty and when she couldn’t wait any longer she typed,
Are you willing to share custody with me?

He didn’t answer. But then, she hadn’t really expected him to.

*

Whitney dragged herself
into work the next morning with her head pounding and eyes dry and gritty from lack of sleep. She hadn’t been able to sleep after that middle of the night email exchange with Cormac.

She was in the middle of washing down a couple of painkillers when he walked in, striding into her office as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He hadn’t shaved this morning, his square jaw shadowed with day-old stubble, and yet he wore the look well.

Cormac somehow managed to look good even when worse for the wear.

Whitney took another mouthful of water, before setting down the bottle. She looked at him, lifting one brow, trying to hide the fact that her heart was racing.