Gwynneth Ever After (10 page)

“My neighbor is chauffeuring Nicholas to and from kindergarten for me, and Katie’s friend’s mother will pick her up on their way.”

“Good.” He nodded, seeming satisfied that she’d covered all the bases. “Are you ready for a cup of tea or something?”

The
or something
held distinct appeal, but Gwyn managed to hold her tongue. “I’d love a cup of tea, but are you sure you have time? I don’t want to keep you if you have other plans.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

Heat crept across Gwyn’s cheeks. “Of course not. I just thought – I meant – ”

“You tuck Katie in. I’ll put on the kettle.”

She was only too happy to make her escape.

Chapter 13

Gareth watched a wisp of steam drift from the kettle. On the counter beside the stove, a tray stood ready. He sent it a baleful glance. Sugar, milk, spoons, teapot...and one cup.

One, because he still held the other in a death grip while common sense wrestled romantic fancy.

One, because no matter how much he wanted to stay, he shouldn’t. Should never have come here in the first place. He rubbed his stubbled jaw with one hand and scowled at the offending mug he held in the other.
 

What in the hell did he think he was playing at here, anyway? Why couldn’t he just be sensible and walk away? Breaking promises to Catherine, keeping secrets from Gwyn...

He raked his hand through his hair.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t met attractive, sexy, intriguing women before, because he had. Many of them. Some had been mistakes from the very start, some had made a deeper impression than others...

A metallic hiss vibrated through the copper kettle on the stove, and steam wisped from its spout.
 

But none had been like Gwyn.

None had surprised him with a quirky honesty as enchanting as it was refreshing. None had made him, with a simple note of weariness in her voice, want to drop his own life so that he could make hers a little easier. None had made all his complications fade away with nothing more than her smile.

And none had ever made him stand in a kitchen debating the addition of a second cup to a tea tray.

He hefted the cup in his hand.
Well, Connor? You know you want to...and you know you shouldn’t. What’s it going to be?

Things would be so much simpler if he could just be honest with Gwyn. But he’d given his word to Catherine to keep Amy a secret until Amy herself decided to make their relationship public. With so much at stake, he would not –
could
not – break the first promise, however indirectly made, he’d ever given his daughter. Not for anyone.

So, did he put this second cup on the tray, continue to deceive Gwyn for the moment, see where this spark led, and hope that she understood when she eventually found out? Or did he turn around, walk away, keep his promises intact, and, for the rest of his life, wonder
what if
?

Gareth sighed. Bloody hell. When he put it like that...

He set the cup on the tray.

***

For the second evening in a row, Gwyn’s belly twisted into knots as she descended the stairs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so distracted. Lord, she’d stumbled so many times over reading to Katie that her poor daughter had finally heaved an exasperated sigh, taken the book out of her hands, and told her they’d continue tomorrow.

Not even the resulting guilt had stilled her thoughts of Gareth.
 

He waited for her in the sitting room. A tea tray sat on the wooden trunk, her CD of Bach’s violin concertos played quietly in the background, and Gwyn’s stomach did three complete flips before she even stepped down into the room.

He looked up from a magazine as she walked around the trunk to join him on the couch. “Break time?”

“Until the next round,” Gwyn agreed. She motioned at the tray. “Thank you for making the tea.”

“You’re welcome. I won’t stay long, I know you have work to do tonight.”

“Not nearly as much as I’d have if you hadn’t taken over the kids.” She perched on the edge of the couch, her hands alternately pleating and smoothing the fabric of her skirt. “You’re very good with them, you know.”

“And they’re very good kids,” he returned lightly. He leaned forward and lifted the teapot from the tray. He poured a little into one of the mugs. “Strong enough for you?”

Gwyn nodded. He filled her cup, added the bit of milk she requested, and passed it to her. Stirring it, she watched him pour his own. Curiosity finally got the better of her.

“Do you have any of your own?”

Gareth raised a dark eyebrow. “Any what?”

“Kids. You’re so natural with them, I thought maybe...” she trailed off.

Gareth’s hand hovered over his cup for an instant, holding a teaspoonful of sugar. Then he dumped the white crystals into the milky liquid and stirred. “I’ve never considered myself much in the way of father material,” he said brusquely.

Surprise made her speak honestly – and without thinking. “Are you kidding? You’d be wonderful!” It occurred to her how her words might sound, coming from a single mother, and she felt her face heat up. “That is – I mean – ”

Gareth slanted her a crooked, reassuring smile. “I know what you mean. And thank you.”

The strains of Bach floated into the awkward silence between them. Gwyn rested her elbows on her knees and cradled her cup in her hands.

“Can I ask you something?” Gareth’s voice sounded studiously casual.

Gwyn stilled. So they’d come to the personal things at last, had they? She sipped her tea. Well, she supposed she’d started it.

“Of course.”

“Where is he now?”

She didn’t pretend not to understand. “Somewhere on the planet, one would presume,” she said, her voice devoid of expression.

“He doesn’t see the kids?”

“Jack isn’t what
anyone
would consider much in the way of father material.”

“What happened?”

Gwyn sent him a sidelong glance.

“You don’t really want to hear the sordid details of my life, do you?” she asked, in a dry attempt at levity.

Gareth’s eyes flicked to meet hers, brooding and intense. “Humor me.”

She held his gaze a moment, then looked down into her cup again. “Jack decided he couldn’t handle the responsibilities of being a father. He went out to get milk one night, a week after Nicholas and Maggie were born, and called three days later to tell me he wouldn’t be coming home again.”

Gareth frowned. “You must have had problems before that.”

She snorted softly. “To this day, I can’t remember the slightest warning sign. We had the usual arguments, but I thought things were pretty normal. He was thrilled when Katie was born – took her everywhere with him. And when we found out I was expecting twins, he called everyone he knew to tell them the news. Apparently once they were born, however, he panicked. He said he could have handled one child, maybe even two. But three – especially with twins – were more than he could deal with.” She took another swallow of tea and tried again to lighten the conversation. “See? I told you that you didn’t want to hear the details.”

Gareth ignored her attempt. “Does he ever ask to see them?”

“He did once, about a year after he left. My lawyer notified him that I was seeking sole custody and the next day he turned up on the doorstep with his new girlfriend. She wanted to see the kids for herself before they decided whether or not he should sign the papers.”

Gareth muttered a harsh expletive. Gwyn shot him a wicked grin.

“Not to worry,” she said. “Nicholas had the flu that day. He threw up all over the girlfriend’s designer suit the minute she picked him up. Two days later, Jack signed over custody.”

A muscle flexed in Gareth’s tight jaw. “He was an idiot,” he said bluntly.

Gwyn’s fingers tightened on her cup. She didn’t reply.

“It must have been hard on the kids.”

The comment sounded harsher than she might have expected, as if it had been torn from him against his will, and Gwyn sent him a curious look.

“Maggie and Nicholas never knew him,” she pointed out. “But it was hard on Katie. It was three years before she stopped asking when he was coming home.” She paused, feeling her throat close. She hadn’t been down this road in a long time, she reflected, and for good reason. “She thought she’d done something wrong – something to make Daddy angry. She cried herself to sleep for months. I think I could have ripped him apart those nights.”

She swallowed the lump that accompanied the memories.
Stop
, she told herself.
You’ve said too much already.

But Gareth’s questions hadn’t finished.

“What if he wants to come back into their lives one day?” He turned to look at her, his eyebrows a single dark slash above his flat gaze. “Will you let him?”

A question she’d asked herself many, many times. And one she’d been so very, very glad she hadn’t yet had to answer.

She thought of her daughter’s tiny body shaking with sobs, and the times that she’d had to leave her little girl to weep alone at night while she’d tended the needs of newborn twins. Tears blurred her vision, threatened to overflow. She blinked them away angrily, appalled at her weakness.

“Any man who can do what Jack did to Katie doesn’t deserve a second chance,” she said, her voice steady. Cold. “He walked away from his own kids and never looked back. Never called, never dropped by to see them. It was as if he forgot they ever existed.”

Despite her rapid blinking efforts, a tear escaped and slid down her cheek. She swiped it away with the back of one hand. “So to be honest, I don’t know if I’d let him. I don’t know if I could.”

Long seconds ticked by. Then Gareth reached to set his cup on the trunk with careful deliberateness.
 

“It’s late,” he said. “I should go.”

A hollow spot formed beneath Gwyn’s ribs. That was it? No comment, no nothing? She watched him rise.

He paused as he reached the kitchen, looking back but not meeting her gaze. “Don’t forget to lock the door behind me.”

She stared after him, listening to the retreat of his footsteps, the opening of the door, the finality of its closing again. So that was it. The fantasy had come to an end, wreathed in the flames of reality. She closed her eyes. Damn. She’d known this would happen if things turned too personal.

She just hadn’t expected it to sting quite so much.

Chapter 14

Gareth flicked open the newspaper and ignored the half-naked blonde parading through Sean’s living room on route to the kitchen. It was her fifth trip in twenty minutes.In spite of the fact Sean slept soundly just down the hall, she’d made no secret of her interest in Gareth – or her availabilityif he returned the interest.

Which he did not.

Christ, what was she, half his age? He snapped the newspaper again, staring at it without reading. He needed a coffee but didn’t dare emerge from behind his flimsy protection. He also needed a shower and a shave, but he didn’t trust Sean’s friend not to pick the lock and join him. Five more minutes, he told himself. Five more minutes and then –

A door opened down the hallway. Finally.

Gareth peeked over the top edge of the paper. Sean saluted him lazily, tugging a tee-shirt over his tousled head as he wandered into the living room. He dropped into a chair opposite and lifted his bare feet onto the coffee table.

“Morning. You got in late.”

“I’m surprised you noticed.”

The blonde returned from the kitchen. Leaning over the back of Sean’s chair, she wrapped her arms around him, exposing more than Gareth cared to see. He went back to staring at his paper. A muffled giggle reached him, then soft steps padded down the hallway.

“She’s gone,” said Sean.

Gareth dropped the paper onto his lap and rubbed both hands over his face. “Please tell me Bunny isn’t a regular here,” he muttered.

“Her name is Carolyn. And when did you stop appreciating a beautiful woman?”

“Maybe when she started looking the same age as my daughter?” He ignored Sean’s glower. “I need a coffee.”
 

Sean snorted. “You look more like you need a good stiff drink. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“No.”

“Your non-involvement with the single mother getting to you?”

Gareth glared at his cousin. “No. If you must know, I was thinking about Amy.”

“Oh?”

“Something Gwyn said – ” Gareth broke off and sighed. “It messed up her oldest daughter pretty badly when her husband left.”

Sean linked his hands behind his head and regarded him in silence. “You’re worried that the same thing happened to Amy,” he said at last, his voice quiet.

Gareth nodded. He turned his head to stare out the window at the gray morning. “Katie asked about her dad for three years after he left. Gwyn still doesn’t think she understands.”

“How old is Katie?”

“Seven.”

“And when her dad left?”