“Gamma,” Scott piped up, grabbing her by the leg. “Pick up.”
“This isn’t a good time, Mother. I think it would be better if you headed out.”
“Hi, Scott,” her mother said ruffling Scott’s curly hair. “How’s Grandma’s little boy?” It was just like her mother to ignore Rachel’s request.
“Goodbye,” Rachel said. “We can talk when it’s a better time.”
Susan held out a hand to block the door from closing, then pursed her lips like she was tasting something sour. “I’m sorry.” The words clearly hurt her to say. Susan Lincoln hated apologizing even more than she hated bad photos of her in the press, which was a lot. “I’m sorry for the pressure tactics,” she continued. “Could I come in?”
Rachel did not want her mother in her apartment, but Scott had different ideas—her son ushering his grandmother in through the front door via tugging on her pant leg. “Come,” he said. “Come.”
Rachel took a steadying breath; the sound of the door clicking into place meant she wasn’t going to get what she wanted. Again. It didn’t help that she felt every inch of her apartment around her right now, every inch of the carpet that wasn’t high-end and the paint that they’d left intact from when they first moved in. It wasn’t like her mother’s oasis at home, something her mother never stopped judging her for.
“I just want you safe.” Her mother’s expression brightened into a parody of excitement and love. “And I want you to be cared for.”
She stopped herself from rolling her eyes, but it was a near thing. “I’m an adult, Mom. I’m managing fine on my own.” Never mind that Annabeth had stayed the night—that wasn’t a sign of a bad mother or an incapable one. People needed help sometimes. Something she needed to keep reminding herself.
“But wouldn’t it be better if you married Jonas?” Ah—that was why she looked so excited. She’d checked out the Elk Lodge and found it a suitable status symbol for her daughter, and thus herself, in the next election. “I know he’s interested. We both do. Unless you somehow botched that deal.”
Wow. Rachel wanted to say so many things, but she couldn’t choose just one, and they withered and died before she could select the perfect retort. That left an opening for her mother to continue.
“And if you did botch it, then I have other candidates.” She hiked the strap of her purse higher on her arm. “Men who would be more than happy to take Jonas’s place, just like I suggested before.”
So much for her hopeful mood. “You sound a little unhinged, Mom. I’ve made it really clear I don’t want to be with anyone right now.”
“Well, you should.” Her mother’s eyes burned with a fervency that made Rachel want to run away. “If you’re out here alone, then you’re vulnerable. If your photography business went under, what would you do?”
Susan pressed her fingertips to her lips as if she was sick with worry about Rachel’s business. “It seems to me your career is hanging in the balance, and if you were to lose all your work, then you might not be able to care for Scott.”
Her son ran around the living room in a wide circle and dropped to the floor to play with a set of blocks, oblivious to the conversation. No doubt Susan would have a problem with the way the blocks were arrayed on the carpet. It wasn’t photo-worthy, and things always needed to be photo-worthy, just in case.
Keep cool. Don’t give her the satisfaction of losing it on her. “I will always be able to care for my son,” Rachel said in the most even voice she could muster. “If my photography studio had to close, I’d find another way to make money.”
“And how long would you go without?” Susan raised her hands in front of her like Rachel was committing to closing the studio today, with no plan. “If you didn’t have the money to take care of Scott, then you know that we, as your parents, would have to step in.”
Step in. Such small words, but they packed an enormous threat. Stepping in meant using all her power as a senator to take custody of Scott. Rachel saw it play out before her eyes—the court hearings where she’d get steamrolled, no matter how good a lawyer she hired. The inevitable ruling in her mother’s favor. Even her mother loading Scott into the back of her car, the same pinched look on her face. Her mother would consider it her highest duty to raise Scott “properly.”
The threat made her sick. “I don’t think that’s in Scott’s best interest. Or yours.”
Her mother’s eyebrows shot up. “Having an out-of-wedlock single mother as a daughter who is also an unfit mother would be the last thing that would look good on the campaign trail, especially if that daughter wound up talking to the press. What would people think?”
Rachel pretended to think about it. “They might wonder how a woman like you raised such a terrible child.”
“This kind of talk is completely unnecessary.” There—there it was. She was leaning back on her own self-righteousness. “You know I would only do this to save Scott from harm.”
“He’s not in danger of being harmed.” This time, some of the acid in her heart leaked into her voice. “If you think that, then you’re delusional. And you should back off right now before I have you removed from the building.”
Her mother sniffed, and for a moment, Rachel felt the woman who had been so domineering all her life rise like a giant shadow that encompassed the room. It was like she was sixteen again, and in trouble for missing curfew by five minutes, only the stakes were so much higher. “Fine.” A tight reply from her mother. “I only wanted to discuss things with you. You’ve been having a difficult—”
“Mom.” She kept her voice sweet because Scott was in the room, but she couldn’t have felt less sweet. “I’ll have you removed from the building. And while I wait for security to arrive, I’ll call the local news.”
“You are insufferable.” Susan turned on her heel, giving a cursory wave to Scott, and wrenched open the door. “I’ll wait for you to come to your senses,” she said over her shoulder, and then she was gone, out into the winter morning.
When the door shut behind her, Rachel felt like a book was closing, or a doorway—or both. That chapter in her life was over. Her mother had crossed too many lines this time, and in a way, it freed her. She did not, under any circumstances, have to keep entertaining the woman who had threatened to try and take custody of her son.
“Mama. Pick up,” Scott said, and Rachel scooped him up into her arms and pretended to tickle his belly. This made him laugh, a deep belly laugh. Rachel never actually tickled him and that was a game between them. I’m free, she thought wildly. We’re both free. She reached for her phone on the table next to the couch, flipped through the contacts, and blocked her mother’s number.
Yes. She had never been more triumphant, except on the day that she gave birth to Scott—that was the strongest she’d ever been in her life. Except for now. “I did it, buddy. Mommy did it.”
He clapped his hands, cheering for her, even though he had no idea what she’d done. It would be a long time before he understood, if he ever did. The two of them danced around the living room in the bright light of morning. There was no music playing, just the beat of Rachel’s own heart.
She hadn’t felt this fierce in a long time. Confident. Strong. And ...alone. When she set Scott down on his feet, he dove back into his blocks.
Threatening custody. What had ever given her mother the nerve? Years of being clear with her, of trying to set boundaries, and it had come to this. And you shut it down, she thought. You sent her packing.
Celebrating with Scott felt good, although Rachel ached to share her victory with someone else. Someone who would understand and rejoice with her. Hug her.
Someone like Jonas.
Rachel dropped onto the couch and watched Scott play, trying to sort through what to do with the feelings that raged through her, trampling her heart. Why wasn’t he here? Why didn’t the phone ring? Because she’d told him not to call. But it seemed almost incomprehensible that he couldn’t feel her out here, missing him.
<
br /> Rachel couldn’t call him after one day apart and take it all back, even if she wanted to. It would only prove she needed him, and that she relied on people like her mother. There was no way she could give in to the urge.
Scott was the living image of Jonas, a constant reminder of everything she’d walked away from. Scott abandoned the blocks and sprinted across to the stack of the rest of his toys, going straight for his favorite—the stuffed elk. He buried his face in it, crushing it to the floor. “Dada,” he said, the word breaking Rachel’s heart into a million pieces.
“I know, buddy,” she said. “I miss him too.”
21
Another knock at the door that afternoon had Rachel nearly jumping out of her skin. The place was like Grand Central Station. She prayed Scott wouldn’t wake up from his nap. She braced for it to be her mother again, driven back from wherever she’d gone to lurk in the city. Or Annabeth. She’d mentioned calling to check in on her, and Rachel wouldn’t put it past her to show up instead, ice cream in hand.
Rachel opened the door to find a young man standing there in black slacks and a blue polo shirt. He glanced down at the tablet he held. “Ms. Alexander?”
“Yes, that’s me,” she said, eying the slim envelope he held in his other hand with curiosity.
“I have a special delivery for you. Please sign here.” He held the tablet out toward her.
She scrawled her name on the tablet, and the man handed her the envelope.
“Enjoy your day,” he said, turning to leave.
I’d enjoy it a lot more if people stopped knocking on my door. Rachel turned the envelope over and over in her hands. It had her name written on the outside, and that was it. No return address.
Dear Rachel,
I never knew how much I loved my family until I met you. I knew I loved them, of course, but I didn’t know—not consciously, anyway—how far I’d go to protect them until I saw you becoming a part of it. You and Scott. Meeting you again, after all this time, woke something up in the deepest parts of me.
I got your pictures. That’s why I’m writing this, even though it seems silly to send a handwritten letter when we both have phones and emails and all of that. In those pictures, I saw the man I want to be. A man who’s satisfied with his family. A man who’s committed to protecting them but not overwhelmed with the responsibility. A man who can enjoy his days, just because the people he loves are nearby.
The other day after you drove away, my grandmother retired to her room for the day. She was distraught over the fact that I hadn’t told her about you or Scott. I’ve been trying so hard to protect everyone, taking so much responsibility for things that aren’t mine to control, and it’s because I’ve been terrified.
Every day of my life since my parents died, I’ve been terrified of living a full life. But I’m tired of never experiencing the joys of life. Especially the joy I can share with you and Scott. I’ll try my best to let go of the need to control everything, but I will always want to protect you and Scott.
I love you.
I know it’s too soon to say it. And I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it in return or to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. I don’t expect you to call or text even, if that’s your wish. I just thought you needed to know the truth about how I feel. Whether you’re with me or not, I want you to always be safe and happy.
If you need anything—and I mean anything—just ask, and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.
All my love,
Jonas
Rachel held the letter to her heart, an ache spreading through her chest at the simple vulnerability of it. The stiffness of the envelope made her look inside, where she discovered two photographs. One of them was a copy of an older photo. A sob escaped her throat as she gazed down at the older photo. A picture of Jonas, at about Scott’s age, looking just like her son. And a man who looked just like Jonas, but older, held him in his arms, grinning at the camera. A dark-haired woman stood nearby, leaning in close—his parents.
The other was a clumsy selfie he’d snapped of the three of them. Scott was in Jonas’s arms, his head thrown back, laughing. Rachel was laughing, too, but trying to smile for the camera. Jonas wore a half-smile that spoke volumes about how happy he was. To a photographer, the photo was off-center, and Scott was laughing more than he was posing. But none of those things mattered, except for the fact that the image radiated happiness.
She traced their faces in the photo, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Beautiful,” she murmured to herself.
The rush of love overwhelmed her, slamming into her like an avalanche. Love. It described everything she’d been feeling but failed to admit. It was the answer she’d been searching for.
Jonas had made it clear he was standing back, honoring her wishes and letting her decide their future. Something her mother and her ex never let her do. She’d been so busy defending herself against the past—and, frankly, parts of the present—that she hadn’t noticed her future trying to find a way in.
* * *
The email confirmation of delivery assured Jonas that Rachel had received his letter. The temptation was to call, but he’d promised he wouldn’t do it. And he’d honor that promise no matter how difficult it was. Focusing on work, he went through the motions, doing anything and everything not to watch his phone—waiting for it to ring.
Jonas sat at a computer in the meeting room behind the front desk, checking on VIP records. This was, technically, a task he should delegate, but it required total focus and was therefore perfect for him. His mind wandered away from the words on the screen and back to Rachel at every opportunity.
And now he was hearing her voice.
He clapped both hands to his face and rubbed hard. Hearing things—that was beyond anything he’d ever expected. He should just go home before he made a costly mistake.
Jonas stood, knees cracking, and made his way out toward the front reception area. “I’ll be at home,” he said softly to Marcia, one of his staff members, so they’d know where to find him. “If you need anything—”
“Thank you so much,” a woman who sounded like Rachel spoke from the other end of the desk. “The room will be perfect, I’m sure.” This was no sound-alike—it was Rachel.
His heart stopped. His breath stopped. He blinked—once, twice.
“Dada,” Scott squealed when he spotted Jonas, reaching for him.
Jonas moved out from behind the desk in a daze. Some of the staff were taking down the tree and putting up silver tinsel and stars for the New Year’s Eve party tonight. All the Christmas music had stopped, but it still felt like a holiday. The greatest holiday of his life.
He took Scott into his arms and hugged him tightly. “Rachel,” he said, wanting to reach for her, but afraid that if he touched her, she would turn into a hallucination and be gone. “You’re—”
She slipped the key card into her coat pocket and smiled. “Yes. I’m here. I mean we are here.”
“But how? Annabeth? You don’t—your car—”
“I’ve never seen you this speechless before.” Her eyes glittered with pleasure. “I took an Uber.” Her radiant smile deepened.
“You took an Uber from Denver?” Scott patted the sides of his face, nuzzling Jonas’s cheek with his nose.
“It was the most expensive Uber of my life.” Rachel laughed, but when she finished, her expression turned serious. “I paid an enormous amount, but it was worth it.” She patted the handle of a single suitcase at her side. “There’s something I need to say to you.”
“What’s that?” he asked, never taking his gaze off her.
“I love you.” The words sounded so sweet coming from her lips, that it felt like champagne in his veins.
“I love you, too,” he said raggedly, not particularly caring that this scene was playing out for the front desk staff.
“I’m willing to give you a chance.” Relief. Complete relief.
“You are?”
“Yes. But if you
get pushy or bossy, I’ll flatten you,” she said, poking her finger into his chest for emphasis.
Scott laughed. “Flat,” he said, clapping his hands.
“Flat,” Jonas agreed. “As a pancake.” He winked at his son.
“You gave me the respect I asked for, and now I’m giving you my trust. I’m not going to run away again, Jonas,” Rachel said, her voice low and soft, every word meant solely for him.
“Good. Are you really planning to stay here in the lodge?”
“I didn’t know if you’d want me at your place.” She glanced down at the suitcase. “After—you know. After I left.”
He drew her to him, kissing her forehead, breathing in the scent of her hair. Rachel tilted her face up and caught him on the lips. She let out a sigh as she did so, and it struck him that she’d missed him, too—Jonas hadn’t been the only miserable one. The proof was there in the lines of her body, in the way she simultaneously pressed against him and relaxed like he was the only person she trusted to hold her upright.
“Come home with me,” he insisted, as Scott tugged at the collar of his shirt. “I want you there more than anything.”
“Anything?” She crooked an eyebrow.
“One step at a time,” he warned, and then he grabbed the handle of her suitcase, pulling it quickly across the lobby. Rachel did her best to keep up, huffing a laugh. “First things first, I’m driving you back to my place. And then—”
“Anything could happen,” said Rachel.
“Anything,” he said.
“Thing,” said Scott, thrilled to be part of it.
22
Jonas had just put Rachel’s suitcase in the bedroom when a text came through. He checked his phone screen.
Gabe: Sources say Rachel Alexander just checked in. Is this true?
Jonas: Yes, she’s here. With Scott.
The Billionaire’s Christmas Son: Elkin Brothers Christmas Book Three Page 13
