by J. Kenner
“I do.” He draws a breath. “Now my fear is that you feel the same way about your mother.”
I sink back into the cushion as Damien moves to sit on the coffee table, so that he’s directly in front of me. I look between the two of them and shrug. “I don’t want to,” I say honestly. “And I really don’t. Trust her, I mean.” I take a long, deep breath. “But I am second-guessing myself. She seemed so sincere. What if I’m wrong and she really does want to make amends?”
“Even if she does,” Damien says, “and to be clear, I don’t believe it at all. But even if she does, you don’t have to accept the apology or open our life to her. She made her bed.”
“I know,” I say, wishing I wasn’t a walking mass of hormones so I could think more clearly. “I really do know. I just feel … weepy,” I finally say. “I just want to curl up and cry about all the lost potential.”
“Sweetheart,” Frank says, giving my hand a squeeze. “I understand that. After all, we both know how much I screwed up, and you let me back in. It makes sense that you’re wondering if you should do the same with your mother.”
I nod, because it’s exactly that. What I don’t know is whether I should act on that.
“I don’t think you should,” he continues. “But I also don’t think I’m in a position to help you make that call.”
“I am,” Damien says firmly, then he leans forward and takes my hand. “I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
I draw in a deep breath. “And I don’t want to be.” I glance at Frank, then back to Damien. “But don’t people deserve second chances?”
I’m thinking out loud, still not sure what I believe, but not wanting to make a misstep in something so important.
“I mean, think about Sofia,” I continue, looking into Damien’s eyes.
I see the amber one fire with regret. The dark one with loss. “Nikki…”
“No.” I reach for his hand. “I mean it. Think about how many chances you gave her.” He’d grown up with Sofia, a disturbed young woman, who had very much had it in for me. “In the end, she really did do the right thing,” I remind him. “Despite everything, she ended up doing the right thing.”
“She did,” he agrees, “but I always knew her heart. I always knew that she loved me. But baby, your mother ... baby, I’m not sure she’s capable.”
I swallow. He’s not wrong. Even so, I say, “Maybe she’s trying.” But even as I speak the words, I know they’re not true. I’ve known my whole life that I was nothing more than a doll to my mother. Something pretty and malleable she could dress up and bend to her liking.
“I can’t trust her,” Damien says. “But if this is what you want, then we can let her back into our life.”
I draw in a breath, surprised he’d agree to that after everything she’s put us through. But at the same time, I’m not surprised. After all, Damien loves me, and I know he’ll support me. He’ll also protect me. Because God knows if I let her back into my life, everything might come crashing down around me again. And it will be Damien who picks up the pieces.
I look at Frank, who is obviously working very hard to keep his expression bland. I know that he feels the same as Damien. He doesn’t trust my mother either. And although I know he believes that he once stood in the same position as my mother, that’s not actually the truth.
Frank left my mother, not me and my sister. He loved us. But by leaving us behind with Mother, he believes he failed us. In a way, he did, but it wasn’t because of lack of love; it was because of his own insecurities and incompetence. Things that he’s now acknowledged and is trying to make amends for.
Is my mother trying to make amends?
The truth is, I don’t believe it. As much as I want to, I didn’t hear sincerity in her voice. At the same time, though, I don’t want to be wrong, and I so desperately want my children to have grandparents.
But then I look at Frank. I think about Evelyn. I think about Jackson and Sylvia and their kids, and all our friends.
My children have love—so much love—and that’s something that I never had. Why would I open the door to a woman like my mother, and expect her to love her grandkids when she never even loved her own daughter?
I take Damien’s hand. “No,” I say, firmly, certain the decision is the right one. “Elizabeth Fairchild isn’t welcome here.”
Chapter Ten
“What if we put a tower right here?” Damien said, taking a green LEGO Duplo block and stacking it on top of a red one.
They were in the first floor playroom, him on the floor with the girls, Nikki parked in a chair at the little table scattered with children’s books and toys. He grinned up at her. “You know, if the girls and I make this big enough, it could fill the whole room. We wouldn’t have to buy a playhouse.”
She laughed. “I think you’re delving into your brother’s territory.” She cocked her head, frowning as she studied the building or castle or fort or whatever it was that he and his girls were putting together. “I think Frank Lloyd Wright is probably turning over in his grave right now.”
“Honestly? I wouldn’t doubt it.”
Anne called for him, and he started to turn toward his youngest, but he paused when he heard Nikki wince. He started to rise, but she lifted a hand and waved him back down.
“I’m just uncomfortable. Only time will fix that,” she added, patting her belly. “Just a few more weeks. That’s what I keep reminding myself. Are you listening in there?” she said, bending her head to talk to their son. “Don’t make Mommy wait, okay?”
“You know,” Damien said, “I’ve read that S-E-X sometimes gets labor started. We could give it a shot. I’m all about being helpful.”
“Yeah, I bet you are.” Laughter colored her voice. “But if that’s really true, then this baby should have been born one month after conception.” She batted her eyes at him. “And I don’t think my math is off at all.”
“Well, you might have a point there.” He pushed himself up to his feet, went to her, then very soundly kissed his wife. “Fortunately we didn’t induce premature labor, despite our very best efforts….”
She rolled her eyes, then pointed across the room. “Go. Build a city with your children. I’m going to sit here and rub this goo on my tummy.” She had a tube of coconut scented moisturizing cream that she’d been rubbing on her belly, and now she leaned back, lifting her shirt a bit and sighing as she started to rub it in.
Damien had just dropped down to the floor next to Lara, who was very carefully stacking blocks, when Nikki’s phone rang. He glanced over out of habit as she pressed the button for the speaker, mouthing Jamie. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Am I on speaker? Are the girls there?”
“Auntie Jamie, Auntie Jamie!” Both Lara and Anne stood and jumped and ran towards the phone. “Are you coming over? Hi, Auntie Jamie.”
“Hey, girls! I’ll see you guys soon, okay? I just called to talk to your mom for a minute. Okay? I love you.”
“Love you too! Love you!” both girls shouted at their aunt, then hurried back to Damien and the business of building.
“So what’s going on?” Nikki asked. “My hands are gooey, so you’re still on speaker.”
“I was calling to see how you were doing after the whole situation with your M-O-M.”
Nikki laughed. “You Know Who knows how to spell that word, you know,” she said, referring to Lara who was reading far above her age level. “But she’s also busy doing something else at the moment.”
She met Damien’s eyes as she glanced towards their eldest. Sure enough, the little girl was busy drawing on a pad of paper, apparently designing the next wing of their building. Or possibly drawing a horse. He wasn’t entirely sure.
“Right,” Jamie said. “Damn they grow up fast. Oh, shit, I’m on speaker aren’t I? I shouldn’t have said damn. Or shit. Oh, shit.”
Now Nikki really was about to laugh, and Damien didn’t blame her.
“Okay,” Jamie said. “Trying
again. I just wanted to ask you what you were going to do. Did you decide?”
“I did,” Nikki said. “I don’t know what I was thinking even hesitating for a moment. I know who she is. I know who she’ll never be. And I don’t want her around my kids.”
For a moment Damien heard nothing. Then he heard Jamie’s phew!
Nikki’s brows rose. “Okay. What gives? That’s more than relief that I made the right decision.”
“Honestly I hesitate to even tell you, especially since your husband is in the room, and I don’t want to be an accessory before the fact.”
“Jamie…” He made sure the warning was clear in his voice.
“All right, all right. Just remember, you don’t have to actually do anything about it.”
“Do anything about what?”
“I decided to do a little poking around. She told you that she came to town with somebody, right? Somebody from Dallas?”
“Yeah,” Nikki said. “A friend.”
“Nope. Not a friend. The woman lives in Dallas now, but that’s only temporary. She’s a producer on one of those reality shows that follow local celebrities. Apparently your mother is hustling for a spot, wanting to get in as the mother-in-law of Damien Stark. But she wants to be on your good side, because who wants to be the woman that Nikki and Damien Stark shunned?”
“Oh!” Nikki made a low grunting sound, and Damien almost laughed at the way she cut off what must have been a curse so the children wouldn’t notice.
Other than that though, he wasn’t laughing.
At the same time, he wasn’t surprised. He certainly wouldn’t put anything like that past Elizabeth Fairchild.
“I knew it,” Nikki said. “I mean I didn’t know it, of course, but I should have guessed. And everything you’re telling me confirms what I’ve already decided. That woman isn’t part of our life anymore. Whatever strings were left, are now completely snipped.”
“Good,” Jamie said, echoing Damien’s thoughts. “Because as far as I’m concerned you’ve had more than enough of that woman in your life. You don’t need her.”
“No,” Nikki agreed. “I don’t need her at all.”
“I’m going to come over and see the girls tomorrow, okay? You’ll tell them.”
Damien saw Nikki look over at them to see if they had acknowledged that they were being talked about, but they were both deep into coloring now.
“I’ll tell them,” Nikki said. “They’ll be thrilled to play with Aunt Jamie. Beware that they’re currently in a LEGO kind of mood. You’ll probably be building the pyramids or something.”
“I can get behind that,” Jamie said. “Although I thought we might make a little movie.”
“Lara would absolutely love that. She can play director and editor. And Anne can be their star.”
Or their gopher, thought Damien. Though he knew that with either job, Anne would be in heaven, too.
He tuned the women out as they finished their conversation, his attention turning back to his children, so much so that he didn’t even realize they’d ended the call until Nikki’s phone rang again. She hit the speaker button once more, and this time it was Gus, the front gate guard, whose voice filled the room.
“Mrs. Stark,” he began, “there’s a woman here asking to enter the property. She says she’s your mother.”
Damien started to rise off the ground, but Nikki shook her head and put her hand out. “Would you mind handing her the phone?” Nikki said, and he heard Gus’ confused, “Well, sure,” followed by Elizabeth’s smooth, “Nikki, darling, your guard apparently needs assurance that I am who I say I am.”
“Mother, you are exactly who you say you are. But as far as I’m concerned you’re not part of this family. I’m sorry you drove all the way to Malibu. For that matter I’m sorry you came all the way to California. But I think it’s time for you to go home now.”
“Nikki, this is your mother you’re speaking to. I have a right to see my grandchildren.”
“The hell you do. You don’t have any rights at all where they’re concerned,” Nikki said. She started to reach for the phone as if she was going to stand and go into another room, but then she settled back in the chair again, her face contorted with what he assumed was anger. “You need to just go, Mother.”
“I absolutely will not.”
“Yes,” she said. “It’s time—” She drew in a sharp breath. “Mother, just go. It’s time.”
And then she ended the call abruptly, her eyes cutting straight to Damien’s. “Damien,” she said, her voice laced with excitement. “It’s time.”
For a moment he just sat there, not sure what she meant. Then it hit him, and he felt that mixture of terror and excitement. That same mashup of raw emotions he hadn’t felt since Anne was born.
“Right,” he said, and despite having gone to the mat on more billion-dollar deals than he could recall off hand, in that moment he forgot everything on the checklist they’d had ready for months.
He drew a breath, dredged up the memory of what he was supposed to do, and met his wife’s amused eyes.
In a few minutes—when the next contraction hit—he knew that expression wouldn’t be so warm.
He lifted his wrist, looking at his watch face. “Okay, okay we need to time the contractions and get you to the hospital.”
“No.”
He looked up, frowning at her. “What? Am I forgetting something? I’ll call Gregory for the girls, Edward for the car. Your bag’s by the door.”
“No,” she said, breathing hard and bending over in pain as she clutched the table.
He felt panic rise. She shouldn’t be having another contraction so soon.
“They’re coming too fast,” she said when it subsided, confirming his fear. “Way faster than Anne. Call Dr. Albright. Damien, call him now.”
After that, everything was a blur. The doctor agreed that she didn’t have time to get to the hospital. For that matter she didn’t really have time to get upstairs to the bed.
Instead Damien had Gregory get the girls out of the room as Damien converted the playroom’s sleeper sofa into a bed. The contractions were coming about two minutes apart, and Damien was a wreck as he managed to get Nikki onto the bed and settled.
He held her hand through the contractions as she crushed his fingers and cried out that they were coming too fast, that this wasn’t right, that something had to be wrong.
He soothed and consoled, but he had the same fear. She’d been in labor all night with Anne. This wasn’t going how he had imagined, and he was terrified that his son was in distress and the damn paramedics hadn’t arrived yet. Damien had done a lot of things in his life, but delivering a child was not among them.
Time seemed to crawl, but it was really only minutes before the EMTs arrived, escorted in by Gregory, who hurried back out again quickly. Damien barely noticed. All he could focus on was Nikki, helping her through the pain, and praying that their son was fine despite things moving so damn fast, his poor wife drenched in sweat and crying in pain.
Finally, the female paramedic, Jenny, told him to hold one of Nikki’s legs as she held the other to help Nikki bear down, and then—oh God, how had that happened? How had he actually been a participant in that happening?—he saw the top of his son’s little head.
And then the boy was there in the world. And before Damien could even catch his breath, the paramedic was putting the baby on Nikki, and Damien was cutting the cord with a shaking hand, as Jenny smiled and congratulated him.
He had a son. He had a wife, two beautiful daughters, and a son who kept his own timetable and had one hell of a set of lungs. Dear God, how did he deserve this?
Nikki smiled, her eyes drooping. “He’s perfect,” she whispered, her voice going straight to his soul.
“Yes,” Damien said, holding her hand. “You both are.”
Epilogue
The morning sun streams through the window as I sit propped up in bed with my son sleeping in my arms. He’s ju
st been fed, and although I’d hoped he’d stay awake for his Grandpa and “Evie,” as Evelyn wants to be called, he’s completely conked out.
They’ve left now to take the girls down to the beach, and it’s just me and Damien and our son in my arms.
Damien sits beside me. “He came early, the rascal.”
“Like his daddy, he has a mind of his own.”
“I hope so,” Damien says, and so do I.
“Do you want to hold him?”
“He’s falling asleep. I don’t want to disturb him.”
“You won’t,” I assure him, shifting my arms so that I can pass our precious bundle to his daddy.
“Hey there,” Damien says, once the baby’s settled in his arms. “He’s gorgeous. Just like you.”
I shake my head. “He’s obscenely handsome. Like you.”
Damien grins, then shakes his head. “No. He’s his own man.”
“Baby Boy Stark,” I say, as Damien cups his son’s tiny head. “We’re going to have to do better than that.”
“He’s strong,” Damien says, his voice full of pride.
“Like his daddy. Nothing’s getting the better of our little man.”
“He’s a fighter. He needs a name that reflects that.”
“Yes,” I coo, to my son. “That’s exactly what my baby boy needs.” I glance up at Damien. “Does Daddy have any ideas?”
Damien starts to shake his head, then I see the light bulb flicker behind those dual-colored eyes. “As a matter of fact, Daddy has the perfect name.”
“Tell me,” I say, then tap my ear. “Whisper it.” I don’t want our baby hearing his name until we’re certain. Superstitious, maybe, but I think that’s allowed.
Damien leans forward, looking pleased with himself, and when he tells me the name, I have to agree that he has reason to be. “Yes,” I say, then pull him down for a kiss before returning my attention back to our son. “That’s an absolutely perfect name.”
THE END
