Just Married (More than Friends) (11 page)

“You think I’m going to be a bad father. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“I don’t—” Her throat closed, tight and sharp around wanting to say more. She pressed her lips together, her eyes growing achy and heavy. Of all the times to get hormonal.

He sank down beside her on the sofa, letting his head rest back on the cushions. “You know what’s truly fucked up here?”

They could write a list longer than the baby registry. Because the easy thing would be for her to pack up and go to New York. And be miserable alone. And raise the boys there, alone. After that terrifying night when the policeman had knocked on the apartment door with news her world had ended, she’d swore she’d never be abandoned in that city ever again. And eventually she’d be so broken she’d have to leave, and hate him for it. And wind up right back here anyway.

“I married you because you are your own person. You don’t need me. And that is getting in my way right now.”

“If I’m in your way, imagine being yoked with twin babies.” She forced a smile. How, she wasn’t sure. Because while she didn’t need him, would never allow herself to need anyone, she wanted him. Desperately. But she’d never let that be the reason to add her or the boys to his list of burdens. “You don’t have room for a wife and kids in your life. You knew
that
when you married me. Maybe we’ll rewrite the rules of family just like we did with marriage. Can you really see yourself as my labor coach? Or changing diapers and giving up your sleep because the boys are on a two-hour feeding schedule?”

“So you can be a martyr, but I can’t be? What gives you the right to make that choice for all of us?”

She reached for him then, moving closer until she could take his beautiful face in her hands. “Because it’s not a burden for me. I want to do this. I want to experience the highs and lows of motherhood. Hopefully more highs. And I want you to be happy, truly happy. I saw that when I was with you in New York last weekend. You were free of the expectations for the first time in your life, you were in control of where you wanted to go and what you wanted to be. All of that will change if the boys and I are there. Their schedule will dictate everything and you’ll never get that sense of freedom and control back again.”

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his, her heart breaking wide open. No wonder people were so afraid of love. It ripped away your ability to protect yourself.

Cal shifted, taking her with him until she found herself on her back against the couch with him on top of her. She gasped instinctively, but instead of air she got Cal. Not the rough and needy pursuit she’d grown used to. This was simply a kiss. The kind they used to play with. A kiss, followed by another. Warm brushes of his firm mouth until she opened for more.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and pressed closer, needing the strength of him. But he didn’t rush, just deepened the kiss with a teasing flick of his tongue, leaving her to chase as he withdrew. She knew how to tease as well as he did, and took her time exploring him, remembering when they didn’t race to the finish. Just enjoyed the bliss.

She bent one leg to cradle his body closer, sensations dancing through her like gentle rain. Constant, steady, easing the flood of emotions. It was these kind of moments with Cal when she felt so at one with him any separation seemed impossible. Because she’d never tire of the deep masculine scent of him filling her lungs, or the way the bunching muscles of his shoulders filled her hands. She tugged at his shirt, wanting his skin on hers, wanting him.

“Mommy?” A tiny voice crackled in the stillness.

They both froze, not even breathing. It took a moment to remember where they were, and that Anna’s baby monitor sat atop the TV.

“Mommy?” Anna’s tone grew worried and fretful.

Cal jumped off her like he’d been stung by a thousand scorpions. He glanced about the room as if he were looking for ghosts.

Mira couldn’t help the laugh as she pushed herself up. She pointed to the monitor, complete with a video display of Anna sitting in bed holding an empty sippy cup. “I’ll be right back.”

Which she intended to be, only a toddler woken in the middle of the night wasn’t easy to settle. Instead of spending the night in her husband’s arms, she wound up curled beside a kicking child. Soon enough that would be their life. As disappointed as she was, it was probably best he learn the truth sooner rather than later.

Hand trucks and packing boxes cluttered the freight elevator as Cal rode to the penthouse. He hadn’t slept in days and had meetings in an hour, so he didn’t have the patience for one of his mother’s projects. Only the mess got worse in the storage room. And by the time he made it into his own apartment, he was damned near homicidal.

“What the hell is going on?” His words came out like a roar, but he was too exhausted to care. At least a dozen people were in his space, putting his things in boxes and moving aside his furniture.

Everyone froze, as well they should. He dropped his bags at the door and pushed his hands through his hair and squeezed, the pull on his scalp just enough to keep him from exploding. His rugs had been rolled and propped in a corner, his art removed from the walls. He braced his hands on his hips.

“Everything back as it was. Every goddamned thing.”

No one moved, which would not do. He was in no mood.

“Darling, you’re home.” His mother rushed in through the laundry room. She looked like she was organizing a charity brunch, not uprooting his life. “I told you, I’m having the apartments switched.”

“And I told you no.” The words were louder than he’d like, but she was obviously hard of hearing. He turned back to the apartment. “Everything back where it was.”

He strode through the living room, spying workers in every corner of his space. All he’d wanted was a shower and a quiet minute. The only room free of the chaos was next to his bedroom, in the room he’d cleared for Mira. His mother followed him there, closing the door behind them.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“Really? Because I could have the police clear it up for you. I want my home back the way I left it. Immediately.”

“You’re not thinking clearly. There is much more room for the babies—”

“The babies aren’t coming here. And this circus, this is a prime example of why. Would you want to raise a child in this?”

“I did.” She leveled her gaze at him. “What do you mean the babies aren’t coming?”

“My wife lives in Seattle. Since my things have all been boxed up, I have half a mind to liquidate Kerr Industries right now and move.”

Her pale eyes widened in shock. “That’s not funny, Callum.”

“Try me.” He struggled to control his breathing. He rarely struggled to control anything. He simply did.

“Fine. I’ll see to it. But I will be consolidating my things because you
will
want to switch apartments. There are rooms for each boy and two nannies, which you’ll want if Mira chooses to stay in Seattle.”

The chill in his blood froze his heart. She might be his mother, but she needed a reality check. “My children will be with their mother, wherever she chooses to be. And you’ll be wise never to suggest such a thing again.”

She blinked at him, as if the undercurrent of things unsaid had swept her away.

“You will not taunt her, you will not threaten her, you will do nothing to make her feel anything but welcome. If she ever comes here again. Which might not even happen. Because her life, her support system, is in Seattle. The only thing for her in New York is me.” And he wasn’t enough. A fact that gutted him.

“Then move her friends here. Into the building even.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you’re sure about staying—”

“Mother.” He pulled his hand down his face, wiping off any emotion.

“I was trying to help, Callum. To make room. To make things easier for you.”

“You want to make things easier for me? Stop trying to orchestrate my life to suit you.”

Mira counted forward eight hours and figured it was late enough in Scotland for Cal to be back at whatever hotel he was staying in. She hadn’t heard from him all week, not since he left the hospital with a goodbye and a nod. Not a text, voicemail, email, phone call. Nothing.

Even meeting sweet baby Emma hadn’t moved him. She’d hoped seeing a newborn might jar him a bit, show him how precious a fresh life could be. While she’d taken one look at Emma and been brimming with hormones and expectations about how soon she’d get to see the faces of their boys, Cal hadn’t shown any emotion at all.

She wanted him to have his space and think about what he truly wanted, but after her conversation with Rob this morning, she realized she’d given him too much time to plan his next attack.

She leaned back in her office chair and dialed his number, twice. She’d played this conversation in her head a dozen times and wasn’t in the mood to leave a message. When he answered he sounded far away and sleepy.

“Hello, wife. Are you right?” His brogue was thick, which happened whenever he spent time in Scotland.

“I’m always right.”

“You’d like to be.”

“So, I had an interesting conversation with Rob this morning.” She took a deep breath, waiting for his excuses, but he didn’t respond. “And then I called Helen, who filled me in on the rest.”

“Of course she did.” He yawned, distracting her with the vision of him naked in bed. Which she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever see again.

“You can’t move a dozen people to New York. We have lives and families and careers and no amount of money is going to make them want to relocate. Everyone is asking if you’re serious about these job offers.”

“I am serious. You want your support system; I want you in New York. Problem solved.”

“These are people, Cal, not interchangeable parts. You cannot buy friends.”

“I bought them before.”

Her pulse jumped. Even though she knew he’d had a lifetime of people seeing him as nothing more than dollar signs, she and the rest of the group had never reduced him to his assets. “You owned the house we lived in. You did not buy our friendship. No matter what you think, you are likable outside of your bank account. At least to them. All I want to do right now is slap the living hell out of you.”

“That’s because pregnancy makes you violent.” He had the nerve to laugh.

“Maybe it’s just that you’re being especially stupid?”

“No.”

“Well, you are.” She clenched her fists, fingernails biting into her palms. Thank goodness she didn’t have to have this conversation in person. She truly did want to shake him. “You should still pay for IVF for Tina and Dave.”

“Not a problem. We need more kids for those play dates you want the boys to have.”

“Here in Seattle.” Tina and Dave had been saving for it for so long, she didn’t want anything to get in the way of their chance to have a baby of their own. Especially now that she knew how it felt to hear those heartbeats, to be able to look at the ultrasound images whenever she wanted.

“Here in New York, where you’ll be able to support Tina. Twins are more common with IVF, so you’ll be able to give her tips.”

She threaded her hands into her hair and tugged at the roots. She’d married a broken record. “I am not moving to New York.”

“Why?” He asked as if they’d never had this conversation before.

“Because my life is here in Seattle.”

“The father of your children is in New York.”

“Not very often. He travels more often than not. In fact, he’s in Scotland right now. Building a castle of all things.”

“If I asked you to live here, would that work better for you?”

A blast of nervous laughter shocked her. “Why, do you have a turret you want to lock me in until the babies arrive?”

“As much as I want to tie you down . . .”

“You’re all talk. But I’m serious here. These offers to move our friends into your building, it’s insulting. We don’t need you to find jobs or places to live. We’re adults. You’re acting like a petulant child.”

“Pretty sure wanting to take care of my children makes me a responsible adult.”

“You’re acting like you chipped a tooth on your silver spoon.”

“Before you look down on my upbringing, remember your children will have the same.”

“Hardly.” She grabbed her upper arm and squeezed herself tight. “I’m not sending them to boarding school in another country before they can tie their own shoes.”

The silence hung in the air. She wanted to take back the sting of her words, but not the reality of them. As a child she’d been adored, and that memory kept her going after losing her parents. It was their greatest gift to her, and she intended to pass that feeling on to her boys.

“I know you’re trying to do what you think is the right thing. And I appreciate the thought. I do. But think about how this is going to play out in a year, or five years, or fifteen. I’m going to enjoy these boys and their childhood. Play dates and swimming lessons and soccer practices. At some point, we’re going to clash over that and I’d wind up back in Seattle anyway.”

“You know what’s insulting? How you think you know the outcome of conversations we’ve never had. You think you know how I want my children to be raised, and we have never discussed it.”

She let out a slow breath. “You’re right.”

“Finally.”

“It’s a rare occurrence. Next time you’re in the country, we’ll grab some ice cream and discuss your stance on preschools.”

“It depends on your workload at the time.”

“What does?”

“My take on preschool. Childcare in general, really.”

She blinked, her world tilting. “You’ve thought about childcare?”

“My mind is working around the clock, packing a lifetime of thinking about parenting into the last week or so. It’s making business difficult to say the least. And the architect here at Kentigern may very well wish me dead after all the changes I made.”

“Like what?” Hope bloomed in her chest, because he loved that castle. Had dreamed of restoring it his entire life. If he made room for the boys there, he might want to be a bigger part of their lives than she realized.

“I may have changed a grand ballroom into an indoor playroom. And changed plumbing directives so their room would have a tub. Moved a few rooms around so we’d have a view of the lake from our bedroom. Kentigern was meant to be a family home and I’d been turning it into a showpiece.”

“Wow.”

“It won’t be ready to be lived in this year, but I’ll have it in working order soon enough.”

“Are you sure you want to change it? You’ve been working on this renovation for years.”

“I think this is why it’s taken so long to get through things. I was trying to make it something it wasn’t. The village seems to approve. No one was too keen on a bachelor building up a castle for his opulent parties. Now that it’ll be a family estate, suddenly there are twice the people available to work.”

“So long as the changes are what you want, not what you think you should do.”

“Mira, stop handling me. I want my sons to be proud of Kentigern. Our family started here, came to power here. Knowing they’re a part of that tradition will give the boys roots.”

She swiped at her brimming eyes. “You’re right. They’ll love that.”

“Twice in one day, doll. That has to be some kind of record.”

“I believe it is. Why are you in Scotland again? You were just there.”

“Because this is where I have lawyers who understand the nuances of Gaelic without having to use a translator.”

“And why is that important?”

“Because we need a loophole in this estate. Something that allows for it to be shared. I’m not going to let history repeat itself.”

She knew a bit of the story, how his uncle had been marginalized in favor of his father, all the responsibility and energy directed to the heir and not the spare. He’d drank himself to death the first year Cal was at boarding school, so he’d made more of an impact in his life by absence.

“Besides, the main production facility for Kerr Textiles will always be here. The village needs the jobs. When you come to see Kentigern, you’ll understand.”

“I’d like that, so long as we stay away from the turrets. Maybe next summer.” She pressed a hand to her belly, tight and itchy. She hoped her body would bounce back after the boys, but there were no guarantees. And she wasn’t sure how Cal would react to a stretched, swollen version. “I can look through the estate, if you’d like.”

“I thought you didn’t want to see anything pertaining to my bank balance.”

“I have a vested interest in it now. And I do speak Gaelic.” She grinned, her father’s thick brogue dancing through her mind. He’d always used his native tongue with her because it was important to him to give her some of her Scottish heritage, even in Brooklyn. “Re-creating the legal trail of the estate would be fascinating.”

“Try mind numbing.”

“This is what I love to do. If it were some kind of business merger, you’d enjoy it more.”

“There is nothing enjoyable about companies that exist with the sole goal to make more money. It’s very mercenary.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about doing what makes me happy. I’ve been thinking of letting it all go.”

“Didn’t you just marry me a month ago to hang on to it?”

“Fatherhood is giving me new perspective. Every choice I make has an impact on their lives.”

She knew the feeling. “Are you sure you’re just not hatching a plan to get your way?”

“Perhaps. But I have a castle with six turrets as a backup plan.”

Cal rarely rode the main elevator in his building. It felt odd to stand there, surrounded by people who filed out as the car climbed. But Mickey was working from home today, and had relocated their scheduled meeting. As he walked down the hall to Mickey’s door, he rolled the tension from his shoulders. The last week had been nonstop meetings, where little got reported on and less got done. The redundancy in the management structure of his father’s companies made his head ache.

Before he finished knocking, his godmother pulled open the door, the sweet vanilla of her perfume rising up to greet him. He didn’t know Vera well, had no idea how to engage her. She ushered him in with a smile, talking about everything and nothing as they walked back to Mickey’s home office. She was everything his own mother was not—warm, emotive, and thoughtful. She’d sent him care packages every month through boarding school and college. He should have made a point in the last ten years to ask where she bought the chocolate chip cookies she sent.

Mickey was on the phone as they entered the office, the receiver tucked between his chin and ear while he focused on the computer screen. Vera told him to sit, kissing the top of Mickey’s bald head before leaving them.

Mickey ended the call and sighed as he set the receiver in its cradle. “That Irish lawyer you hired is a pain in my ass. I don’t have time for his questions and he’s not helpful.”

“He came highly recommended.” For someone who usually made smart decisions, he only seemed to make wrong ones lately.

“I recommend you fire him.” Mickey set his forearms on the desk and leaned forward. “But that’s not why I asked you here.”

“I called this meeting, you just rescheduled it.” Cal leaned back in the chair, confused about where this was going.

“We’ll have your meeting in a minute. First, I get to teach you how to behave properly. Is there anything you’d like to tell me? As your godfather, not your lawyer.”

“I’m sure you’ve talked to my mother.” He blinked his scratchy eyes, exhaustion catching up with him.

“Almost daily. Go on.”

“You already know Mira is pregnant.” It consumed his every thought, and yet he still had no idea what to do, how to make it all work.

“Yes, I’ve put that much together. But you announce a pregnancy, Cal. That way I get to say congratulations and slap you on the back and joke about how much fun it will be to find out if you’re as terrified of small children as your father was. Because I’m really looking forward to that.”

“Okay, Mickey, Mira is pregnant. We’re having twins. Boys. In February.” He loosened his tie and undid the top button of the collar choking him.

“Hold on, February? That means—”

“She was pregnant when we were worried about whether she’d marry me.” He shook his head as his pulse raced. At least Bridie hadn’t broadcast the details behind the headline. “She found out at a routine checkup. It was a birth control failure, but given her medical history it shouldn’t have been possible anyway. And yet, two boys arrive in less than five months.”

“And you’re sure—”

“This is Mira. I’m sure.” He flexed his hands, tension racing through him the way it did whenever he thought about the situation. It made him want to run far, like a marathon or two. Burn off this feeling of not knowing what to do. He always knew what to do. “When does the parental feeling start?”

“For me or for you?” He leaned back in his chair, grinning.

“I’m not sure I’m capable of it.” And neither was Mira, who knew him better than anyone.

“Oh, you are. This panic you’re feeling, that’s totally normal.”

He dropped his voice to a whisper. “It’s normal to think about your children with a sense of dread?”

“Absolutely. You’re about to be completely responsible for another person. Two of them in your case.”

“Responsibility isn’t an issue for me. They’ll never want for anything.”

“Financially, you’re covered. Making sure they know the monster in their closet won’t eat them while they sleep? That takes more effort.”

He swallowed, his throat tight and thick. “I needed to meet with you to discuss the trust, not the boogeyman.”

“I’ve heard. The team you hired is picking things apart. If you would have asked me first, I could have told you that your grandfather did the same thing.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“And your father looked into it as well before he decided against having more children. I personally went through it word for word. The line of succession is very clear. There isn’t a twin clause. But there are things you can do to divide things, after the boys are born. Once an heir is in place, it is at your discretion how to distribute the assets to make the main trust as strong as possible.”