by J. Kenner
As I study Stone’s photo, I remember what prompted the conversation with Jamie in the first place. “Apparently he was getting offers for television and movies. At least that’s what Jamie told me.”
“He flirted with acting?” Damien asks. “I didn’t know that.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think he was interested. But look at him—he’s got those sexy Hollywood hunk looks. Almost as good-looking as you, Mr. Stark. And you were only offered cereal boxes.”
I say the last airily. It’s not true, of course. Damien was pretty much offered any and all of Hollywood on a silver platter. He turned it down, and Evelyn and Charles helped him navigate the endorsements that he’d thought appropriate for a sports star who didn’t have his eye on being an action hero.
I expect Damien to respond with a tease of his own, but his attention is still on the screen. “That picture’s from a while back, right? How old is he now?”
“His late twenties. This is an old clip from that race he won.”
“Regretting not sponsoring him?” I’m still wondering what it is about this guy that has drawn Damien’s attention.
“No, just filling in the pieces.” He turns to me. “While it might be fun to own a racing team, at the time he asked, I wasn’t inclined to open the door to more scandal.”
“Scandal?” I lean against the bureau beneath the wall-mounted television so I can face him while we talk.
“It was all very vague, but there were whispers of assault and possibly a murder and a cover-up. Not public, but my people are good at digging. Probably would have turned out to be nothing, but this would have been about the time we adopted Lara and the fallout from Germany was finally fading. It seemed foolish to open the door to more potential scandal, so I declined to sponsor him.”
“You regret it.”
“A bit. The guy is talented. Brilliant, too. But he’s also reckless as hell, like he has something in him he needs to burn out.”
He’s wearing nothing but a towel as he sits on the edge of the bed, and I cross to him, then hike up my skirt and straddle him. His brows rise. “Something on your mind, Mrs. Stark?”
I hook my arms around his neck. “Just that I’m glad you’re not into racing.” Damien loves cars, as our huge underground garage proves. Collecting them, rebuilding them. And while he definitely enjoys opening an engine up on a long stretch of road, racing has never been on his radar. At least as far as I know. “The idea scares me,” I admit.
“Does it? I seem to remember you handling the Ferrari with incredible skill.”
We’d barely started dating when he’d let me open one of his Ferraris on a long stretch of desert road. The speed and the power had been exhilarating—and so had what came after.
I wiggle my hips and feel him harden beneath the towel. “Shall we go for a spin, Mr. Stark? I’m still pretty good at driving a stick.”
“You are indeed. But I believe we have a busy day.”
“True.”
“And no worries. Racing won’t become my new hobby.”
“Very glad to hear it.” I frown, remembering something else. “Didn’t Stone crash?”
“He did. It was bad, too, but he walked away. If I’m remembering right, the official word was mechanical failure, but the whispers all cited Stone’s recklessness. And his temper.”
“He’s lucky he walked away.”
“I think he knew it, because he quit racing after that, though he does the occasional exhibition now.”
“So what’s he do now? Own a racing team?”
“I think he might, actually,” Damien says. “But it’s not his primary focus. Turns out that in addition to being extremely talented behind the wheel, he has an exceptional head for science and technology. He blew through MIT and recently pulled together funding for his own startup.”
I bite back a smile. Apparently Ashton Stone resembles my husband in more ways than one. “He’s working on something that interests you,” I say. “He’s the meeting. The one you mentioned when you got that text earlier.”
“How well you know me. Yes, he’s come up with the design for an automotive power system that intrigues me, especially if the rumors I’m hearing about how far he’s developed it are true. He described it to Noah, and told him he was looking for financing.”
“He knows Noah?”
“Apparently they met at a function. Someplace Kiki was performing,” Damien adds, referring to Noah Carter’s wife, a multiple Grammy Award winner.
“And you either want to buy out his company or license the design.”
Damien grins at me as he puts a hand over his heart. “It’s like you know me.”
“Let me guess, you already have a meeting on the books?”
“Next week, actually.”
“Well, he’d be an idiot not to want to work with you.”
“We’ll see,” he says, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “But I very much appreciate the endorsement.”
5
I check on the girls and find them in the guest cottage located off the patio with Bree, where she’s biting her lower lip as she holds a curling iron near Anne’s head. With skill reminiscent of a superhero, she pulls it away, releasing my little girl’s head in almost the same instant as Anne turns, squeals, “Mama!” and leaps toward me.
“You are one lucky little rug rat,” Bree says. “What have we talked about moving when I’m curling your hair?”
Anne turns to her, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout. “I’m sorry, Ms. Bree.”
Bree meets my eyes, clearly fighting a grin. “It’s okay, princess. I just don’t want to burn your sweet little skin.”
Crisis averted, Anne returns her attention to me. I scoop her up and hug her next to me. “Are you about ready for the party?”
“It’s not a party, Mommy. It’s a wedding.”
“I stand corrected. Where’s your brother?”
Anne points to the bedroom. “He’s in with Lara.”
“I decided to set up the beauty salon in here. That way they could watch cartoons in the back while I’m working on the other ones.”
Bree’s been working as our nanny for a few years since returning from a short stint in grad school in New York. Originally, this guest cottage had a television in both the bedroom and the living room, but when she moved back, Bree asked us to remove the one in the living room.
“Too distracting,” she’d said, and since she’d returned to Los Angeles to work on a novel, I could hardly argue. We replaced the television console with a huge writing desk. Today, that desk has been transformed into a station for dressing my kids.
“You could’ve done this in their rooms, you know.” I hear the amusement in my voice.
She shrugs. “They like coming over here. And I think it makes them feel special to go out to get all fancied up. It’s a big day, after all. It’s not often that kids get to be involved in their grandparents’ wedding.”
That much was true.
Anne slides down my body, then tugs at my hand. “Bradley and Lara are already dressed. Come see? Come see?” I let her drag me into the bedroom then bend down as my little boy and oldest daughter run towards me.
“Hold up a second, let me look at you.” I lean back, pretending to eye them critically. “Well, the good news is that the three of you look absolutely amazing. The bad news is, I don’t think you can stay clean until the wedding.”
“Yes, we can, Mommy,” Lara says indignantly.
“All right. I believe you. I’m going to put you in charge of making sure the others stay clean, too.”
She crosses her arm and nods her head. “Aye aye, Captain Mommy.”
Behind her, Anne starts to twirl, making the skirt on her pink party dress flare out. The girls and I are dressed in the same shade of pink, while Bradley wears a pink shirt under his toddler suit. They look like precious little dolls. And I wonder if there’s even the slightest chance that they really will manage to stay tidy for the next hour. Or
at least until Evelyn and Frank can see them.
Since confidence is low, I pull out my phone and snap a few pictures. Better safe than sorry.
Today, only the girls are walking down the aisle ahead of Evelyn. At our vow renewal next week, the girls will walk with their little brother. I have a feeling it may all devolve into chaos, and I honestly can’t wait to see what happens.
“Do you want me to get them out of your hair?” I ask Bree, as I leave the kids in the bedroom and return to the living area.
“No, no, don’t be silly. In fact, if you want I can get the girls all the way to the staging point with Damien. That way you don’t have to worry about them and take all the pictures you want.”
“That would be fabulous. Thanks, Bree.”
“It’s no problem at all. I’ll bring Bradley to you as soon as I have the girls in place.”
“No, no. I can take Bradley. That’s not a problem. But thank you for helping with the girls. And they will love the adventure of doing this with you.”
She grins. “I’m really excited about today. I love Evelyn and Frank. But, Nikki, I’m even more excited about next week. I see the way you guys are together, and I’m so glad that you’re doing this ceremony. It just seems special, you know?”
I feel the glow of happiness running through me. “Yes,” I say. “I know exactly what you mean.”
I pop back into the bedroom long enough to give the girls kisses, then I hoist up Bradley and tell him we’re going to go see Paw-paw before the guests arrive.
I give Bree a quick one-armed hug, then head out to go find my father for a quick pre-wedding chat. Then my plan is to find Evelyn and help her with the dress. I know she can manage on her own, but a bride should have girls around her before she walks down the aisle.
I find Frank in one of the first floor guest rooms. We don’t use this part of the house very often, but it was designed to allow for entertaining several overnight guests, so there are rooms tucked away in the back down a different corridor from either the gym or the kitchen.
I give a quick tap on the door, then push it open when he calls out, “Come in!”
I find him pacing the room in a dapper gray suit, and I’m struck with a childhood memory of him nervously pacing backstage at one of my toddler beauty pageants. He’d left when I was a baby, but knowing he’d come back to see me in those pageants made all the crap my mother put me through more bearable.
“Oh, sweetie,” he says when I tell him as much, “I may regret admitting this to you, but I only went to one of your pageants. I didn’t approve of what your mother was putting you through, and when I talked to you on the phone, you never seemed to be having fun.”
“We talked on the phone?”
He nods, looking ashamed. “I should have kept it up once I started traveling after the divorce was final. I didn’t.” He runs his fingers through his tidy hair, mussing it.
I’m not sure what to say, so I stay quiet.
Silence lingers, then he finally clears his throat. “The truth is, I went to that one pageant only because I was bringing your mother divorce papers to sign. Seeing you was a perk, but it wasn’t the reason I went.”
“Oh. I hadn’t realized that.”
He sighs, then comes over and puts his hands on my shoulders. “I was a horrible father to you. I’m so sorry.”
“Frank,” I say. “Dad. We’ve been over this. I’m not going to disagree. You sucked. But you’ve made it up to me. Do I have to keep repeating that?”
He chuckles. “No. I believe you. I do. It’s a miracle, but I believe that you’ve really forgiven me for those years.”
“You need to forgive yourself.”
This time, he doesn’t chuckle, but his mouth twists into something that almost resembles a smile.
“I think I have. Almost. Because it’s important to you. And because I need to accept the mistakes in my past so I can move past them.”
“Exactly.” I know he’s gotten some counseling about his issues, and he’s told me that it’s helped. But when I look at him now, I see shadows, and they scare me. “Daddy? What’s wrong?”
On my hip, Bradley squirms, and I put him down. The floor is pristine, thanks to Gregory overseeing the housework, so I know he won’t get his cute little suit too dusty.
“I’m fine. Fine.” Frank shakes his head, but his expression is haunted.
“Okay, now you’re scaring me. Seriously. What’s going on? You’re not having cold feet are you?”
His eyes widen. “Oh, no. No. About marrying Evelyn? Never. Except, okay, yes.”
I feel an icy chill. “What do you mean?”
He starts pacing again, and I realize we’re back to whatever was bothering him before Bradley and I interrupted. “I don’t know how to do this.” His voice is so soft I can barely hear him. “I was a terrible father to you. I was a terrible husband to Elizabeth. What if I’m a terrible husband to Evelyn?”
“You won’t be.” I tell him. “And you were not a terrible husband to Elizabeth. She was a terrible wife.”
“Sweetheart, I appreciate the loyalty. But I left when you were barely walking. You don’t know what I was like.”
“But I know her. And I know you now. And there is no doubt in my mind that Elizabeth Fairchild destroyed both of us. But it’s not going to be that way with Evelyn.”
I move closer to him and take his hands. “You love her, Daddy, and she loves you back. My mother didn’t know how to love. She still doesn’t. She’s like a horrible monster that takes your emotions and turns them into something ugly and hard. That’s not Evelyn. And it’s not you.” I squeeze his hands. “You’ve got this, Dad.”
“Do I?”
I hear contempt in his voice and frown, unsure where this is going.
“I thought I had this fatherhood thing down, and then Anne went missing. And what did I do? Did I come to you? Did I offer my support? No. I bolted. I left you, and I left Evelyn. I was so scared I wouldn’t know what to do. And you know what? I didn’t know. I didn’t have a single clue.”
My mouth has gone completely dry. Everything he’s said is true, but that doesn’t make it right. “None of us knew what to do.”
“But the rest of you stayed. You dealt with it. You offered each other comfort. But me? I ran.”
“And then you came back.”
He scoffs. “Well, guess I win a cookie. But here’s my fear—what if it gets hard again? What if I run and just keep going?”
“Then we’ll all be incredibly pissed at and disappointed in you. But not any more than you’ll be pissed and disappointed in yourself.”
I take a breath and take a step back so that I can look him up and down. “But the fact that you’re even suggesting this means that you’re not going to do it. You know the cost. You know what you would be giving up. And who you’d hurt.”
“You don’t think I knew it would hurt you when I ran like a scared rabbit after my granddaughter was kidnapped?”
“Of course, you knew. But you hadn’t figured out the whole dad thing, and I get that. Do I wish you’d done it better? Sure. Was I hurt and angry? Hell, yes. But you got there, Daddy. You came back and you explained. It’s fine now.”
“It isn’t fine. I hurt you. I’m going to spend the rest of my life regretting hurting you.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” I say, deliberately keeping my voice level. “How about you spend the rest of your life loving your wife and your daughter and your grandchildren and your son-in-law and your friends instead? Do that, and we’ll call it even.”
He chuckles. “Well, I guess that’s fair. I think that I can handle that. God knows I want to.”
I pull him into a hug, then kiss his cheek. “I’ve got faith in you, Dad. When we started this journey, we didn’t know how to be a family. Hell, when I got together with Damien, I had no idea what a family was. The idea of what we have now? A home? Kids? A cat? It terrified me. But now here we are, and I can’t imagine anything different. An
d now that you’re in my life again, I can’t imagine not having you here.”
“Oh, sweetheart, neither can I.”
“I’m so happy you’re marrying Evelyn. She’s one of my favorite people. And believe me, I wouldn’t be happy about her marrying anyone I didn’t think deserved her. But you do. Just don’t let your ego get too big, okay, Daddy?” I add the last with a grin, and as I hoped, he laughs.
“Fair enough. Thank you for the pep-talk. How did I get so lucky to have such an incredible daughter?”
“Well, I think you can take most of the credit, actually. God knows, I don’t particularly approve of the parts of me that came from Elizabeth Fairchild.” I shrug, and we both laugh. That, sadly, is true.
I zip across the room to distract Bradley from the lamp he’s determined to knock over. “So you’re all packed for the honeymoon?” I ask as I deposit my son on the sofa and hand him a throw pillow.
I glance up at my dad. “Damien’s arranged to have a limo take you guys to the marina first thing in the morning. Then you’ll have a quick cruise to the resort.” Tonight, of course, they’re staying in the bungalow after the reception.
“I’m packed,” he says, but something in his voice gives me pause.
“What’s wrong? Oh, God, Dad, you don’t feel pressured into staying at the resort? Do you?” The Resort at Cortez is a vacation destination that boasts a family friendly area along with a more secluded section featuring spacious, intimate bungalows. The resort is absolutely gorgeous, and Evelyn thought that it would be a good interim place for a honeymoon since they don’t want to leave the country until after Damien and I renew our vows.
But maybe it’s not where Frank would’ve chosen. I bite my lower lip, worried we’ve strong-armed my dad into a honeymoon he doesn’t want.
“No, no,” he rushes to say. “The pictures look fabulous. It’ll be a wonderful place for a honeymoon. I’ve been reading up on it, in fact, and I already know all the restaurants we’re going to try.”
I laugh. “There are only three restaurants on the island, Dad. That, plus the candy and ice cream shop.
“Exactly. Those are the ones we’re going to be trying,” he says, making me laugh.
