by J. Kenner
He reached for her hand and returned the smile. “Well, you know how much this place means to me. I’m glad it shows.” He cast his gaze around the large room where Nikki and Jamie were about to announce the reason for this celebratory cocktail party that the foundation was hosting for its supporters.
She chuckled, then lifted a hand, signaling to someone. Across the room, he saw Frank Dunlop lift his chin in acknowledgment, then start making his way toward them.
“Of course I know,” Evelyn continued, and he heard the truth in her voice. She’d been with him during the worst horrors of his childhood. She hadn’t known all of the details, but she had known some, and she’d definitely seen the big picture.
She’d been one of the few who had kept his biggest secret over the years, a dark secret, that had haunted him, that he’d never thought he would have the power to overcome, at least not until Nikki had come into his life.
Now, with her, he knew that anything was possible.
He was smiling, thinking of her, as Frank moved in closer and slipped an arm easily around Evelyn’s waist.
Damien forced himself not to react or comment. Not to smile, not to hope. But he did hope. For Nikki’s sake he hoped that these two people who loved them—and whom he and Nikki loved—were truly together. That Evelyn and Frank’s relationship was another brick in the fortress that was the family that they were building, stone by stone, relationship by relationship, friend by friend.
“I know,” Evelyn repeated, “but it’s not the foundation that I was talking about.”
Damien cocked his head, eyeing her with surprise. “No?”
She shook her head. “I’m talking about Nikki,” she said gently, nodding to where his wife stood by the stage, ready to climb the steps to the podium. “I’m talking about how good she is for you. How good you are for each other.”
Damien swallowed, moved by her words.
“I don’t know if I somehow knew what you two would be to each other that day I met her on my patio,” Evelyn continued. “But I’m going to say that I did. Might as well take credit where credit isn’t due.” She flashed him a wicked grin. “Isn’t that the Hollywood way?”
Damien laughed, catching Frank’s eye as the older man grinned. From what he’d seen, Frank cared about Hollywood as much as his daughter did—as in, not at all— but he cared completely about Evelyn, and as far as Damien was concerned that was the true measure of the man.
Damien reached out for Evelyn’s hand, then squeezed it. “I’m not going to argue with a word you’ve said.”
”Good. Plus, you know how proud I am of Nikki for what she’s done here, too.”
“I know,” he said sincerely. “Me, too.” He’d been hesitant when Nikki first told him that she wanted to become a youth advocate at the foundation. They’d still been so close to coming out the other side of the horror of Anne’s kidnapping—so close to when she’d once again taken a blade to her skin.
His heart had broken for her, but he understood. Hell, at the time she’d cut, everything felt as though it was falling apart, and God knew he’d been hanging on by a thread himself. When you got right down to it, the only difference was he’d beaten himself up with fists and fury, whereas his wife had turned to the steel of a blade.
He’d understood, sure. But he’d also feared that she was too raw to take on the pain of these kids as well, and when she’d told him she wanted to publicly discuss her cutting and work with the kids as a Youth Advocate, he couldn’t help but worry.
Now, of course, he knew that Nikki had made the right choice. He’d seen her with the kids, and he knew damn well that this was something she was born to do. He glanced around the room and saw Mellie, the teen who had come to them broken and scared, and who now had so much confidence and laughter in her eyes.
Mellie saw him looking at her, then rolled her eyes as she cocked her head, then pressed a finger over her lips before pointing to the podium, as if to tell him to be quiet, idiot, his wife was about to speak. He grinned in acknowledgment, then turned to look at his wife.
For years, he’d been telling her that she was strong, and there had never been a day when he didn’t believe it. But today he saw it fully. She looked powerful as she stood up there, as in-control as he’d ever been in a boardroom. His wife, his love. The woman he would give his life for, and the woman he admired more than anyone else in this world.
“That’s it,” Evelyn whispered beside him. “That look in your eye right now. That’s the kind of pride I have for both of you.”
He swallowed moved by her words, and he squeezed her hand in silent acknowledgement as Nikki began to speak. Her voice was strong, and she made eye contact with several members of the audience, just as he’d been taught by all the PR people who used to circle him back in his tennis days.
He’d seen her speak before, both at functions like this and to potential clients and partners. More than that, he knew that she’d had training. She’d been forced into various pageants that her mother had made her enter. It had been her own personal hell—he knew that—he couldn’t deny that she’d walked out of that experience poised and articulate, and he supposed in a way, she’d turned something horrible into something good. Like a diamond out of coal.
“—and that’s why we’re taking today to honor you, our volunteers and donors,” Nikki said, well into her speech by now. An acknowledgment of all the people who donated their time and money to help the kids that the SCF sponsored. “Please, give yourself a round of applause.”
She met Damien’s eyes as he clapped with the rest of the crowd, then smiled. “But this isn’t just a day to celebrate what we already have,” she continued as the applause died down. “We have something special in the works, and it’s my honor to announce to you all that starting next month we’ll begin filming for a documentary series that follows the journey of several of the kids who’ve been the recipients of aid from the Stark Children’s Foundation or scholarships from the Stark Education Foundation. We have so many wonderful—I—I mean, so many wonderful stories to tell, and…”
Damien frowned as she continued, only half-listening as she talked about the series that had recently been green-lit. As far as he could tell, he was the only person in the audience who had even noticed the hitch.
But he had noticed, and it wasn’t a simple stumble of words. He knew her too well. And even now he heard the tremor in her voice as she said, “A-and now I’ll turn the microphone over to our producer, Jamie Archer Hunter, who—, um, who can give you more details and answer your questions.”
Damien frowned, still concerned, and he barely noticed as Jamie approached the podium as Nikki stepped away. He barely noticed, because his eyes were searching the room, and stiffened when he saw what had made Nikki stumble.
Elizabeth Fairchild, Nikki’s mother, standing right in the doorway.
Chapter Six
I keep my eyes on Mellie as I finish my speech. I want to find Damien in the crowd. Want his strength to fuel my own. But I keep my focus on Mellie because I have to. Because I can. Because I told her I’m strong, and dammit, I am.
There is no way I’m standing up here and letting her see my weakness betray me. If anything, I’m going to be the proof that it’s possible to fight your demons.
All of which is good and well, I think as I descend from the stage, but what the hell is my mother doing here, anyway?
I draw in a breath and paste on a smile as I quickly introduce Jamie. Her smile is equally wide, but I know her well enough to see the question in her eyes. I’m not fooling her at all. More than that, I hear the quick little intake of breath as she casts her gaze out over the audience, obviously catching the coiffed blond-gray hair of my mother.
She turns back to me, and for what seems like an eternity but is surely only a brief moment, our eyes meet and hold. Then she pastes on her camera-ready smile, reaches for my hand, gives me a quick squeeze for solidarity, and says, “Let’s all give Nikki Stark a round of applause.
She was instrumental in bringing this program to life, not to mention all the work she does here at the Stark Children’s Foundation.”
I nod my head in acknowledgement, then quickly descend from the platform, taking care to hold the handrail. Not because I’m unsteady because of my pregnancy, but because my mother has knocked me completely off-kilter.
I’m not surprised to find Damien waiting for me just a few feet away. When I’d been on the podium, he’d been standing in the center of the room, right in the middle of my focus. I don’t know how he’s gotten to me so quickly—the room is packed—but he’s there, right where I need him.
He pulls me into a tight hug, telling me in a voice loud enough for anybody standing nearby to hear, that he’s so proud of me and the work I’ve been doing as a Youth Advocate and in getting the docuseries off the ground.
All of that is true, of course, but what he’s really saying is that he’s proud of me for not losing it at the unexpected sight of Elizabeth Fairchild.
We slip off to the side, knowing that no one is going to judge us harshly for leaving while Jamie is providing more information about the upcoming series. As soon as we’re out of the main area and in one of the halls, Damien reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes hard on mine.
I nod. “I’m fine.”
He studies me, then extends his hand. “Maybe we haven’t met...”
I laugh. I used that same line on him once when he was bullshitting me.
“I’m surprised,” I admit. “And she definitely knocked me off my game. But I guess I’m okay. I’m just kicking myself, because I should have confronted her. I should have shown myself and Mellie that I’m strong.”
“You are strong,” Damien says. “And you confronted her before. Kicked her very squarely back to Texas, as I recall.”
That’s true. I had. And I was damned proud of myself, too. I still am. But that doesn’t answer the big question—why the hell isn’t she still halfway across the country?
“I don’t get it,” I say. “She has to know she’s not welcome.”
“No,” Damien says. “She’s not welcome at all.”
As I watch, he pulls out his phone and taps out a message. He doesn’t say what he’s doing, but I’m certain I know, and I take a step backward so that I can see out into the main area from where we are in the hallway.
Jamie is still speaking, showing slides of some of the kids who will be featured in the first episodes, and the audience is rapt. As she speaks, I see two security guards move towards my mother. I watch, amazed and thrilled, as Elizabeth Fairchild is escorted off the premises, her eyes going wide as she passes my father in the process.
I press my hand over my mouth to hide a smile as I see my mother’s eyes widen in recognition. Her mouth drops open, but she doesn’t get a word out before the security guards have led her away, removing the interloper from this exclusive, ticketed event.
As soon as she’s out of sight and out of the main building, Frank and Evelyn join us in the hall. Immediately, I fold myself into Evelyn’s warm embrace. “I’m proud of you, Texas,” she says.
I grin up at her, my brows raised. “For managing to not lose my shit, you mean?”
“Damn right,” she says, and we all laugh together.
”I’m sorry,” Frank says, and I think how perfect those simple words are as he pulls me into a hug.
That’s the moment that every bit of doubt is erased. The moment that I know how right it was to let him back into my life, and that no matter what mistakes he made, this man is my father again.
But over the years, I’ve also learned a hard truth—that Elizabeth Fairchild is never stepping into that role again. For that matter, she was never really a mother to me. Not in the sense of what that word really means.
And as I hold my husband’s hand and lean against Evelyn, all I can think is how grateful I am for the people in my life who really do love me.
“The kids are gone,” Damien says, “and I believe that I promised you a long, lazy night of making love.”
I sigh and snuggle closer to my husband. We’re on the couch, my head in his lap, and I’ve been randomly flipping through channels, bouncing back and forth between various streaming services, looking for something that strikes our fancy. “That sounds wonderful,” I say, setting the remote beside me on the cushion.
He gently turns my head, so he can look at me more directly. “I think I hear a but,” he says, and I have to laugh. He knows me so well.
“I like this,” I say. “This lazy moment of just being with you, on the couch, maybe watching TV, maybe talking, maybe reading.” I reach up and brush my fingers over his beard stubble as he strokes my hair.
“Are you saying that you’re turning down sex with me for a long, lazy night just sitting here talking with me?”
I grin. “Shocking, I know, but do you mind?”
He chuckles. “Baby, you know there’s nothing I would rather do than spend time with you. Do you want to pick a show?”
I move my head back and forth, feeling lazy. “If there’s something you want to watch, I’m up for it. Otherwise, I’m happy to just sit here, maybe talking, maybe just listening to you flip through the magazines you’re trying to catch up on.” I’d seen the stack when we’d come into the living area, a huge pile of various engineering and science-related reading material, which is not only Damien’s jam, but a key part of how he stays on top of his industry.
He laughs. “Busted.”
“Go ahead,” I say. “I’m happy just being here.”
His fingers slide through my hair once again, then he picks up a magazine and puts it in his lap. I feel the brush of the pages against my hair every time he turns one.
I close my eyes, enjoying the moment. This lazy time, where everything can just drift away. Not the good things—those are surrounding me, keeping me warm and safe. My husband. The kids nearby at Gregory’s house. The warm embrace of our home.
I relish the way this moment acts as a barrier against the cold, hard thoughts that had bothered me earlier this evening. That nagging question of why my mother is back in town and what the hell she wants.
I don’t know the answer, and that uncertainty bothers me. But being with Damien like this—knowing that I’m truly loved—makes all of that wondering bearable.
I draw in a breath and let my eyes flutter open as I look at his gorgeous face. He smiles at me, then presses a kiss to his fingertips and gently brushes them over my lips.
“I love you, baby,” he says.
“Yes,” I tell him. “I know.”
Chapter Seven
“Mommy! Guess what, Mommy!” The words greet me as I step into the kitchen area. “Mr. G’s taking us on a nature hike!”
I glance over at Gregory who lifts his shoulders in a hint of shrug. I hide my smile, and turn my attention back to Lara. “And where are you going on this nature hike?”
“Between our house and Mr. G’s,” she says. “We’re exavating.”
I fight a smile. “Are you really?”
Gregory hides his own smile behind a hand as Anne pipes up and adds, “We’re very ’portant.”
Lara nods. “We’re gonna collect the rocks and flowers and stuff, but we’re looking for the best position, too.”
“Position for what?” I ask.
“The secret room,” Anne says, her eyes going wide.
I do my best not to laugh. “Wow. That really is cool. I’m impressed Mr. Gregory has asked you two to help him with that very important project. You’ll do a good job, right?”
They both nod solemnly, and I shoot Gregory a wink even as I wonder what location they’re going to come up with.
The Malibu house was originally intended to have a wine cellar as a sub-basement, but the builders ran into some sort of trouble during construction. That was all before Damien and I were together, and I never did ask Damien what exactly the problem was.
Recently, though
, he’s gotten into collecting wine, and we’ve decided to build a cellar on the property. The goal is for it to be accessed from the house if possible, but if the engineering of that won’t work, it will simply have a hidden door in the hills, much like Damien’s twenty-car, Bat cave-like garage does.
“I thought it would be fun for the girls to get out and look at the land. Of course, Mr. Steele will make the final decision as to location, but I told Mr. Stark that I’d come up with a few preliminary options.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say, wishing that Gregory would call us by our first names, but knowing he never will. As for Mr. Steele, that’s Damien’s brother, Jackson, and he’s designing the cellar for us, since building wine caves does not fall within Damien’s varied skillsets. Or mine, either. Jackson, however, is a world-renowned architect. As far as I’m concerned, we’re lucky to have him in the family.
“The girls will enjoy getting a closer look at the rocks and plant life,” he adds. “We’ll end the day with some sort of craft project using whatever they collect.”
“You are so great with them,” I tell him honestly. “But are you sure you want to set them free in the wild? They’ll run you ragged.” We have a lot of property. And while the girls will—I think—behave, I can just imagine how much they could wear Gregory out.
He flashes a grandfatherly smile. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle it. And Mr. Steele will be arriving in less than an hour.”
“Will he?” I look to Anne and Lara. “Does that mean your cousins are coming today?” They both nod, looking giddy. Ronnie and Jeffery are not only cousins, but also best friends with our two, and the four kids always have an incredible time when they’re together.
