Gwynneth Ever After (17 page)

Gareth slumped into a kitchen chair as Sean set a mug before him. Taking a swig of the bitter black brew that could only loosely be called coffee, he grimaced. His cousin’s innards had to be made of cast iron.

“So she finally caved to temptation, did she?” Sean dropped into a chair opposite him. “Do I get to say I told you so?”

Gareth rubbed both his hands over his face. He’d had what, three hours’ sleep over the last two nights combined, and that was supposed to make sense?

“I suppose it depends what you’re talking about.”

“Your girlfriend going public.”

Nope. He still needed more. He raised an eyebrow.

“The newspaper story?” Sean prompted.

Ah. He reached for the sugar bowl. “It wasn’t Gwyn.”

“Right. And you know that because - ?”

“Because she wouldn’t.”

“Then how did they find out?”

“Gee, I don’t know. Between coffee and dinner, there were only about three or four dozen people who saw me,” Gareth growled. “I guess I should have asked them all to sign confidentiality agreements.”

Sean eyed him, toying with his spoon. He shrugged. “Have it your way,” he said. “So how ticked is Catherine?”

“Ticked would be a definite understatement.”

“Do you think it’ll affect how things go with Amy?”

“Amy doesn’t know me from a hole in the ground. Catherine, on the other hand, has been the center of her entire life,” Gareth said with a sigh. “What do you think?”

“Maybe it won’t be that bad.”

Gareth snorted his disbelief. “We’re talking about Catherine, remember? If anything, it’ll be worse.”

“Does she really hate you that much?”

“Not me, per se. Just the idea of not being in control. I’m an unknown quantity in Amy’s life.”

“What’s she afraid of? That you’ll turn Amy against her?”

“Not that she’ll ever admit it, but yes.”

“You’ve spent sixteen years giving in to her way of doing things for Amy’s sake – if you’d wanted to stir up that kind of trouble, you’d have done it by now.” Sean reached for the sugar bowl Gareth had finished with. “I’ve always wondered how you put up with that woman’s demands.”

“It was either that or watch my daughter dragged through every court in two countries – and across the front page of every tabloid in existence. Amy was the innocent one.”

“Beats the heck out of me how you’ve managed to avoid the tabloids on this in the first place.”

Stirring his coffee, Gareth offered his cousin a ghost of a smile. “I wasn’t on their radar when all this started, remember?
 
They don’t give two hoots about the struggling wannabes. By the time I made a name for myself, Amy was already four and living with Catherine and Lance in Canada.”

“True enough.” Sean grinned. “And if I remember correctly, you were giving the paparazzi plenty of other things to write about you.”

“Don’t remind me.”

His cousin turned serious again.
 
“You really think she’d have done it? Fought you, I mean?”

Gareth thought of his ex-wife, standing in the doorway of her new home when he’d gone to reason with her all those years ago – to tell her that he’d changed his mind about letting go of his daughter. He remembered the tight, bitter line of her mouth and the cold, sea-green eyes. He’d already destroyed her illusion of a perfect life once. She hadn’t been about to let him do so again.

He nodded. “Oh, she’d have done it, all right.”
 

“Still, sixteen years of hiring private detectives just to keep track of your own kid?”

Gareth recognized his defensiveness and the guilt that triggered it, but he couldn’t help bristling just the same. “You’d have done things differently, I suppose?”

Sean grimaced. “I’d like to say I would’ve, but with what you had at stake...” He trailed off with a sigh and took a swallow from his cup. “Honestly? I think I would have done everything that you did. But I would have been royally pissed about it.”

“Join the club.”

“Then you’re still letting her call the shots?”

“It’s only for a few more days. I don’t know what she’s told Amy so far, and I don’t want to give her any fuel. She could still mess things up for me.”

“I take it that means you haven’t told Gwyn.”

Gwyn. A whole other complication he hadn’t decided how to deal with. Gareth turned sideways on the kitchen chair, leaned against the wall, and drew one knee up to support his forearm. He stared at the mug in his grasp.

“No, I haven’t told her,” he answered Sean.

“But you’re going to.”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Gwyn.”

Perplexion etched itself into the lines between Sean’s sandy eyebrows. “May I remind you that it’s not even seven a.m. on a Sunday morning? In my book, that’s a tad early for guessing games. Humor me with a few more details, will you?”

“Gwyn suggested it might best if I don’t visit any more.”

Sean choked on his coffee. “Excuse me?”

“She’s afraid the kids are getting too attached to me.”

“Well. I’m impressed. I didn’t think any woman had it in her to blow off the famous Gareth Connor in favor of family commitments.” Sean’s gaze narrowed. “You’re going to listen to her, right?”

“Up until yesterday, the answer would’ve been no. Now I’m not sure.”

“What changed your mind?”

“A certain theory someone shared with me.”

“Ah. You think I’m right.”

“Honestly? No. But with all that’s going on in my life at the moment, my judgment might not be at its best,” Gareth allowed. “And if there’s even the slightest chance you
might
be right, I’m not sure I want to risk hurting Gwyn like that. Or her kids.”

Another silence. He watched the digital clock on the stove as the green display changed to reflect the passing of another minute.

“So what’re you going to do?” Sean asked finally.

“I don’t know. Think about it while I’m in L.A., I suppose. Maybe being some time and space – ” He raked his hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”

“You really have a thing for her, don’t you?”

Gareth reflected on the permanent knot that had replaced his stomach these days. “Oh, yeah.”

“So why not tell her?”

“Tell her what? That I have a thing for her?”

“About Amy.”

“Right.” He snorted. “Even if I hadn’t promised Catherine I wouldn’t tell a soul, can you imagine the conversation? Pardon me, Gwyn, I think I’m developing feelings for you, but I have this daughter I haven’t seen in sixteen years, and I’m not sure if what I feel is real or part of a huge guilt complex. Do you mind if I stick around while I figure it out?”

Sean looked him straight in the eye. “Hey, Gwyn,” he mimicked, “now that I’ve led you and your kids on until you’re all crazy about me, did I happen to mention I’ve been keeping this secret from you? Nothing big, only the fact that I have a daughter I abandoned when she was a baby, kinda like someone else you once knew.”

Gareth’s gut snarled tighter. “Touché.” He sighed. “Bloody hell, no matter what I do, she’ll get hurt.”

“So minimize the damage.” Sean stood up and strolled across the kitchen to place his mug in the sink.

“And how would you suggest I do that?”

“Do what she asked. Stay the hell away from her.”

Chapter 24

Gwyn waded into the argument between her children and scooped up the game they’d been playing. Aptly named
Trouble
, it had been at the center of growing dissent for the last fifteen minutes, and tempers were critically near boiling point. Maggie and Nicholas tugged on her blue jeans, tears cascading down their faces, howling for their game. A mutinous Katie scowled up at her from the living room floor, knees tucked under chin and arms wrapped around them.

With grim determination, Gwyn held onto her fraying temper. She was sick to death of the squabbling, sick of trying to work when her creativity seemed to have taken a leave of absence without telling her, sick of sick kids, sick of pretending that Gareth Connor had no effect on her...

She cast about in her mind for an alternative to locking herself in the bathroom. It was like swimming uphill through mud. Ever since Gareth’s call last night, she hadn’t been able to pull two consecutive thoughts together – probably because she’d been so preoccupied with the unnerving desire to call him back and recant everything she’d said. It had taken every ounce of willpower she possessed not to do just that.

Her nerves weren’t going to take much more.

Inspiration finally struck.
 

“I have an idea,” she said, slipping the game board back into its box. “Why don’t we get out of the house for a while? It’s a beautiful morning. We can go for a drive up to Mackenzie King Estate, maybe take a walk down to the lake...”

Peevish tears turned to excitement. After five days of confinement for Maggie and almost four for Nicholas, the idea of an outing held instant appeal. The twins still looked horrific with their faces scabbed over, but neither had sprouted any new spots overnight, so they were safely out of the contagious period.

As for Katie, well, after being cooped up most of the weekend with sick siblings, she’d be happy just to have a change of scenery.
 

Half an hour later, Gwyn turned her face to the unseasonably warm sunshine as the kids combed the paths, amassing pine cones, pebbles, and fallen twigs for crafts. The day was perfect for a walk – one of those rare golden afternoons to be treasured this late in the fall. The kind of day that might make it possible, even if only for a little while, to forget the empty ache that had settled permanently in the center of her breast.

Maybe.

Nicholas ran up with a fistful of tiny pinecones. Gwyn dutifully pocketed them and he scampered off again with a whoop. Oh, yes. It was good for all of them to be out of the house.

They walked for well over an hour. First down to the lakeshore, then through the maple forest to the tea house, closed now for the season that had once been the summer home of Canada’s tenth prime minister. They met several other families along the path, most of whom gave them a wide berth because of the twins’ still-visible spots. Gwyn was just as glad they did, because seeing women arm-in-arm with their husbands wasn’t making it any easier to put aside her romantic difficulties.

Sunshine or no sunshine, putting Gareth out of her mind for more than three consecutive seconds at a stretch was proving impossible.
 

For the first time since Jack’s departure, no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t convince herself she was happier without a man in her life. Neither could she convince herself that it wasn’t Gareth she wanted to fill the suddenly yawning hole.
 

She kicked at a pinecone lying on the path and watched Nicholas dive to recover the abused item from the fallen leaves at the side of the path. Having Sandy’s words from Friday come back to haunt her at every turn didn’t help.

Are you sure it wouldn’t work?

Of course she was sure it wouldn’t work. She’d never expected it to. Not when the first breathless flutters had stirred in her when he’d invited her for coffee, not when the invitation had expanded to include dinner...

Nicholas galloped up to display his find. Gwyn summoned the expected smile, stored the pinecone for him, and watched him run off again. She sighed.
 

She didn’t know where Sandy’s sudden romantic streak sprang from, but she herself knew the difference between fantasy and reality. And as she’d told Gareth, she knew better than to believe in fairy tales.

Which left her scowling over why, then, she kept wanting to let this particular Prince Charming back into her life.

***

Gareth arrived at the restaurant at twenty minutes past twelve. Catherine was already seated, menu in manicured hands and a barely touched wine spritzer on the table before her. She looked up at his arrival, her sea green eyes regarding him with unveiled hostility.

Gareth braced himself.

“You’re late.”

“I got lost.” He pulled out his chair, signaled a waiter, and sat down across from his ex-wife.

“I thought you said you knew where it was.”

“I did.” Gareth tightened his jaw. “It was dark when I drove out the last time.”

And he may have had to overcome a small psychological barrier to being here again without Gwyn.

“Hm. Well, you’re here now, I suppose.” Catherine set aside her menu and raised an arched eyebrow. “Are you planning to order lunch?”

He shook his head. He doubted his stomach could tolerate food just now. “I’m not hungry.”

The waiter arrived at their table side. Catherine ordered a small garden salad with a plain, broiled chicken breast and no dressing, testament to the somewhat gaunt look she’d always favored and still maintained.

Gareth ordered coffee.

“When is she calling?” he asked, the moment the waiter took the menus and moved beyond hearing.