C's Comeuppance: A Bone Cold--Alive novel (38 page)

“You’d send me back to her?”

“It’s doing what should be done.”

“Did you not hear a thing I said about my childhood? Two parents don’t guarantee a damn thing!”

“What do you want me to say, Charles? That you can have your cake and eat it, too? That I’ll marry you and raise Abby’s child on the weekends?”

“What if I already had children? Is the role of stepmother so abhorrent to you?”
“No, not at all. This is hardly your typical stepmother position.” She capped the soup container. “I just think you and Abby ought to diligently try to work something out before you divide this child between her nanny and yours.”

Jemma stood up and her fingertips reddened where she pushed on the table. “I’m going now. Don’t follow me or try to see me. Go find the mother of your child and be adult about this situation.”

She turned away from him, but he grabbed her wrist, twisted just enough that she had to face him again. “Okay. I’ll do it. But you have to promise me something first.”

“What?” Her tone was guarded.

“Move out from your mother’s. Buy this place. Norm will sell it to you. You know he will. If you wish I’ll even drop him at your doorstep when I pick him up in an hour.”

“I think this can wait until Monday.”

“Then you’re promising me you’ll buy it?”

“Yes.”

He released her wrist, let his fingers linger over hers. “I’ll be back, Jemma. But not until I have real answers.”

“Don’t come back unless you do.”

He listened to her footsteps retreat down the back steps, listened to the alarm start then hush on the SUV, listened to the roar of the engine as she geared the vehicle around the house and down the drive. He listened until he could hear her no more.

C rose and put the lid on his soup container. He was most definitely not hungry now. He folded down the sacks and carried them to the fridge. Norm needn’t cook for two days. He bent to retrieve the dishes, couldn’t resist the lure of the two fortune cookies left on the table.

His fingers itched. Whatever could they say that hadn’t been said? What spark of evil prediction lurked just under the plastic, just within the folds of the crisp tan cookie? He smashed one with the flat of his hand and tore through the plastic to get to the slip of paper.

“Missed fortune comes with too much play.”
In bed.
Did these things have a sense of timing, or what? He eyed the other one and shook his head. No way was he going to tempt fate twice. He left it in the center of the table for Norm.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“D
id my invitation get lost in the mail?” C enjoyed the look of surprise on Lyla’s face as she opened the door Christmas Eve. Behind him, cars lined her driveway. “It’s chilly out here, Lyla. Let me in.” He shrugged deeper into his leather jacket. He’d cut his hair short, been fitted for glasses, upped his wardrobe from expensive to outrageously so. He not only felt respectable, he looked it. And she wouldn’t let him in?

“C? Did Sam know you were coming?” She closed the door and joined him on the porch.

“Is it a problem that I’m here to spend Christmas?”

“No. No.” She kept mumbling the word as she sat down in the porch swing next to life-size Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus dolls. “I just didn’t expect you. I’ve been so busy with the party. It’s women only, C. We’ve revived an old tradition of a Christmas Eve tea. Not that the group on the loveseat wouldn’t be delighted to see a man as well-turned out as you are.” She openly stared at him. “What has happened?”

“Didn’t recognize me, huh?” He perched on the edge of the porch railing and smiled at her. “Can’t stand the fact that you might have to say something nice to me?” He licked his lips. “Push me and I can still get down and dirty.”

“I believe in miracles, C. But I have my limits.”

He laughed. “Where’s the old man?”

“Down at Dub’s. At least that’s where I sent them. There’s no telling where they actually are. I can find him on the cell. Or just wait another fifteen minutes and he’ll check in again. He can’t seem to believe that I can be this pregnant and still manage to walk and take nourishment.” She rolled her eyes.

“He did invite me.”

“I’d like to say you’re always welcome, but there’s no sense lying at Christmas. You are welcome
this
holiday.”

“Lyla, I might surprise you.”

“It has happened before.”

He studied the tips of his shoes, then raised his eyes to hers. “Is Jemma in there?”

“No.” Lyla pushed herself out of the swing. “I thought she would be here, but her mom is and things have been really dicey between them. You would know about that?”

He nodded as he stood. “I’ll find T and the boys. You girls behave yourselves.”

***

Jemma slowed the SUV even though she was late to the tea. Did Sam have a new car? A little early Christmas? She stopped as they passed each other and rolled her window down. He did the same.

“Santa already been good to you?” Her laughter died in her throat as she noted the details: the glasses, the shorter hair, the sardonic turn to the lip. This wasn’t Sam.

“Guess that depends on what’s in my stocking in the morning.”

“Charles.”

“It’s me.” He paused. “And before you think that I’ve already been kicked out for just being me, I’ve been kicked out for being male.”

She nodded and bit at her lip. Why did her heart feel like it was going to pound out of her chest? Why was she already warm in the pit of her being, warm as if he were kissing her? It was Christmas and he was here to be with his family. His only family. It had nothing to do with her. Nothing.

She decided to make light of the whole thing. “Rumor has it even Shep had to go.”

“Well, I didn’t see him.”

The silence was awkward. He looked so good and she wanted to tell him but didn’t know how to without sounding wistful or needy. Her throat tightened up, but she managed to swallow. “I need to go.” She eased her foot off the brake and didn’t wait for his reply.

She parked behind Doree’s car and started up the steps. She needed to paste a ‘Merry Christmas’ smile on her face and she needed to do it fast! Whatever did she have to be unhappy about? Lake Country was better than solvent. She’d made Carolyn a partner, they were expanding the building and had two more agents working for them. She had her own home now. She was even going to host the Lovelace Christmas brunch around her own table. Jessie had agreed to come and they were going to start the healing process. Life was good to her and the reappearance of Edward Charles Samuels did not change that one little bit.

She was halfway across the front porch when a blur of red caught her eye. He’d come back. The car was jerked into gear and he bounded out of it before she could get to the door. He stood below the steps and stopped her from going in with his words. “Abby and I have worked all this out.”

Jemma turned to him. He was out of breath, as if the car’s speed to reach her had been his own. He flexed his hands, rammed them in his jacket pockets. She walked to the top step and looked down at him. “Oh?”

“That’s why I came back. Not for Christmas. For you.”

The import of his words didn’t quite make sense. “For me? How does whatever you and Abby decided affect me?”

“Us. It affects us.” He raised a foot onto the bottom step. “This isn’t the place to talk. Can we—can we go to Norm’s? I mean, to your place?”

Jemma looked over her shoulder. Through the window she could see Lyla at the piano. The ladies were gathered around and the sound of Christmas carols came through the log cabin walls and the windowpanes. No one knew she was here. There would be no apologies or excuses to leave. She looked back at him.

“Sure. Follow me.”

***

“Hard to believe this is the same old place.” C hung his jacket on the back of the rocker. The living room was warm and vibrant with the scent of a live tree and the candles Jemma was lighting on the mantle. Greenery was everywhere—and twinkle lights and pinecones and reindeer. The wood floors were polished and the furniture, while perhaps not new, was certainly a few steps up from Norm’s.

“Can I say… love what you’ve done with the place?”

“I suppose you can.” She discarded the matches into the wood-stove insert in the old fireplace and turned to face him. “I don’t mean to stare, but I can’t get over what you’ve done to yourself.”

“Like it?”

“I think that would be a fair assessment.” Her eyes searched his. “Do you remember when you first came to the office and you asked me what I thought of Sam’s hair?” He nodded. “You told me real women like long hair on a man.”

“And you told me that I must have mistaken you for a real woman.”

“That seems like a long time ago, doesn’t it?”

“I, ah, I—” he studied the ceiling, “I was a different man then, Jemma.” He brought his gaze back to her. “I didn’t know a real woman when I saw her.”

She blushed. “Would you like some tea or hot cider?”

“Either. Neither. Whatever you’re having.”

“Have a seat. I’ll get us something.” She went into the kitchen and he settled first in the rocker, then quickly moved to the couch where she could sit beside him if she would. “There’s Christmas CDs in the player if you want music.”

Music? He made his own music. Except he was without an instrument just now. He moved to the low bookshelf and picked “shuffle” and “play.”
A canon began. What did he expect?
“Here.” She handed him the mug of cider and he warmed his hands around it. She headed to the rocker.

“Sit by me?” he asked.

Jemma nodded, then hugged herself to the opposite couch cushion. He studied her movement, thought maybe she’d lost a little weight, but beneath the turtleneck and sweater, who knew? It certainly didn’t matter.

“Start, Charles.” She eyed him over the rim of the mug as she took a delicate sip.

He studied the steaming liquid. “Has T or Lyla told you anything about the fall?”
“I didn’t ask. They didn’t offer. I know the tour went well between Thanksgiving and last week. Harrison said so in Sunday school. Said his dad would be home for Christmas, then gone again for New Year’s. That’s all.”

“Tour has been a smashing success. That damn classical guitar number has them standing in their seats.” He chanced a smile. “I won on the ending.”

“So I’ve heard. Can’t turn on the radio without some station having a version of it. Pop, rock, you name it.”

“It’s been good.” He drew his brows together. “Abby and I—” he looked at the tree— “I went to see Abby after I left you here. After I left you.” He swallowed, set the cup between his widespread feet, folded his arms over his knees and stared at the floor. “It became evident rather quickly that if marriage was not an immediate option then living together wasn’t either. So we left it up in the air. I got a lawyer and she got a lawyer and they went to work on custody and money. I went to work and bided my time. I checked in with her or she called me. Last week, we did the tests.” He turned to look at her. She sat so still. If he even blew his breath lightly, she might shatter. “The baby is mine.” He sat up straight, put his hands on his knees. “Abby, however, has a career-making decision ahead of her and it has prompted a chain of events.”

“How so?”

“She’s been offered the head honcho position at a European cable entertainment operation. She’d be headquartered in Paris but would be all over Europe all the time. I told her she couldn’t just waltz off with my baby.”

Jemma’s eyes widened. “And?”
“And Abby’s been soul-searching. This is her big break. They’re not ready for her until May, which happens to coincide with the baby’s birth. I’ve made it very public that I am the father and proud of it. If she ever had a scheme, it has backfired.”

He picked up the cider and took another sip, set it on the end table. He moved to the center couch cushion, reached over and took the mug from her hands, set it beside his. “Meet me halfway, Jemma.”

She felt her heart racing again, her body becoming lead. Would he say he was sorry, but he couldn’t burden her with another woman’s child, a child and situation guaranteed to turn her auburn hair gray? Would he say she was just one more notch on his bedpost, he hoped she’d enjoyed it as much as he? Would he reach into her chest and grab her heart and squeeze it dry? Or could the next words she heard be the ones she’d prayed for since October?

“I don’t think I can move without help.”

He took her hands and helped her to close the distance between them. The warmth of his body spread through his hands to hers, through his thighs to hers. She wanted to circle his neck with her arms and pull him down on the couch and make love to him. No matter what he said, that’s what she wanted to do. But she knew she couldn’t if he didn’t say what she had to hear.

She watched his lips, to read them as she heard his voice, to make sure there were no surprises or mistakes.

“Abby has realized that dealing with me is going to be an on-going continuous monster big headache for her. Passing this baby from one set of nannies to the other is not what Abby wants. But she doesn’t want me either.” He rubbed her hands. “The reason we couldn’t decide to live together or marry was you. Abby actually accused me of changing. Said I was a shadow of my former self. Said she doubted I’d be able to perform in bed. It went downhill from there, Jemma. And that’s just what I can repeat without profanity.” A smile peaked the corners of her mouth. “Eddie C kicked out of two beds in two days. I was near the all-time low in my life.”

“You’re being sarcastic.”

“I was a miserable boy.” He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed her thumbs but didn’t look at her. “Long story short, Abby has made me a deal. She’ll do what’s best for the baby, if I’ll do what’s best for me.”

“Which will be what’s best for the baby?”

“T told me that when he and Lyla went to the obstetrician the first time, he told T that the best gift a father could give his baby was to love its mother.” He finally looked at her and Jemma marveled at the depth of the emotion in his eyes. “What’s best for my baby—what’s best for any baby—is a loving home. Preferably with two parents. They don’t have to be blood-related to the child. You know that. And one loving parent is better than two who don’t care. I know that. But I can supply my baby with it all. I can give her—it’s a daughter, Jemma—I can give her a home with a mother I love. You.”