Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  Cam’s deep voice vibrates against my skin. “Oh, you’ll pay all right. But I was thinking more along the lines of a trade.” I feel his lips curve into a smile. “And it’s going to cost you a lot.”

  Cam holds my hand as we walk through the airport. His palm is sweating, and he grows quieter with each step. The closer we get to the gate, the more furious my heart pounds. A part of me has been missing for the past few months. I won’t feel whole again until I have both my babies with me.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “I’m a little nervous,” he says. “This is important. What if they don’t like me?”

  I squeeze his hand, and try not to smile at his concern. He’s arrogant and confident in the boardroom, but two children have reduced him to a bundle of anxiety.

  “You’ll be fine. I like you, and that’s all that matters.” When he doesn’t smile, I stop walking and force him to look at me. “Just be yourself. It’ll all work out.”

  Even with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, he’s still recognized. Cameras flash and fingers point in our direction. We haven’t made any formal announcements to our friends or family about our relationship. I haven’t told the children about him either, but I will.

  When Gaston and Lisle come through the gate, accompanied by their nanny Ruth, Cam drops my hand and moves aside. Emotion too strong for description brings tears of joy to my eyes. Lisle runs into my arms. I sweep her into a hug. She smells wonderful, like sunshine and shampoo. Gaston sidesteps my attempts to touch him. His gaze narrows at the sight of Cam.

  “Who are you?” Gaston asks Cam, his tone confrontational.

  “I’m Cameron Blackwood. You must be Gaston.” Cam extends his hand. When Gaston ignores him, Cam drops his hand. Disappointment clouds his eyes.

  “Don’t be rude, Gaston. Cam is a friend.” I nudge Gaston’s shoulder.

  “Nice to meet you,” Gaston says, his tone petulant.

  “Hi.” Lisle turns round eyes to Cam. “You’re very tall. It makes my neck hurt to look at you.”

  Cam’s laughter breaks some the awkwardness surrounding us. He crouches to her eye level. “Is this better.”

  “Yes.” She studies him. He takes the scrutiny with good grace. “I like your eyes. They’re pretty. Like Gaston’s.” A red flush creeps up Cam’s neck, but he stays cool.

  “Thank you. Yours are very pretty, too. They’re the same color as your mother’s,” Cam replies without missing a beat, but my chest tightens. The resemblance between father and son is obvious even to a six-year old.

  “I know.” She smiles at him, showing her dimples, and takes his hand in hers. “Okay. I’m ready to go now. Can we get something to eat? I’m starving.”

  “I’ll call the hotel and have them bring something up,” Cam says. “What would you like?”

  The children fill the last remaining empty space inside me. They’ve grown so much in the few months we’ve been apart. Even though we Skyped every day, I missed out on the subtle changes. Gaston is taller, and Lisle’s hair is longer by a few inches. They are quiet for the duration of the ride back to the hotel, and I try not to read anything into it. After all, they’ve been on a plane for the better part of a day, and must be exhausted.

  Gaston stares out the window, a sullen scowl on his face. Lisle snuggles into my arms and falls asleep within minutes. Cam withdraws into a corner of the car and types incessantly into his phone. New worries fill my head. This arrangement is foreign for all of us. What if my family is too much for Cam? Two children are a huge burden for a man who’s lived his entire life alone, not to mention a surprise son.

  When we arrive at the hotel room, Gaston frowns. “We’re living in a hotel? Seriously?” An angry sigh raises his chest. “Does Dad know about this?”

  Inside my head, I count to ten. “Yes, he does, and he’s fine with it. Besides, this suite is bigger than our Paris flat.”

  “I like it,” Lisle says.

  “But it’s a hotel.” He flops onto the sofa and puts his shoes on the coffee table.

  “Gaston, feet.”

  “Camilla lets me put my feet on the furniture,” he says. I wince at the mention of Giles new wife. Before I left, we had more than a few arguments over ground rules for the children.

  “No, she doesn’t,” Lisle says.

  “You know how to behave, Gaston. Good manners are not negotiable,” I reply. “Now, go wash your hands before we eat.” He shuffles toward the powder room. Lisle skips at his side, chattering happily.

  The food smells delicious. Silver chafing dishes line the top of the buffet in the dining room. I lift the lids and peek inside at a smorgasbord of food. Hamburgers, hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, pizza—the list continues.

  “Did you order everything on the menu, or what?” I ask Cam.

  “I wasn’t sure what to get,” he said. “Is this okay? I can call them back.”

  “It’s fine.” His concern touches my heart, reminding me of all the reasons I once loved him, and why those feelings have resurfaced.

  “Yay! Pizza.” Lisl bounces back into the room and begins to sing. “Pizza, pizza, I love pizza!”

  “You found your second wind, didn’t you, peanut?” The sound of her cherubic voice lightens my heart. I give her a squeeze.

  “Yes, mamma. I’m so happy.” She clings to my hand. “Tomorrow, can we go to the zoo and the museum?”

  “I hate the museum.” Gaston groans and crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Mamma has to work tomorrow, but we can go this weekend, if you’re good.”

  “Is Cam coming?” She turns hopeful eyes on him. At the sound of his name, he looks up from his phone. A smile brightens his dark features.

  “I’d love to, if your mom doesn’t mind.”

  “She doesn’t.” Lisle squirms into a chair at the dining room table. Her feet dangle above the floor.

  “It sounds like a great idea,” I say. “But Cam’s a busy man.” I don’t want him to feel obligated. He needs to take this transition at his own pace.

  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do,” he replies.

  35

  Cam

  Today

  Two days later, I’m convinced these kids—Gaston in particular—are more than I can handle. Bright sunshine graces our visit to the zoo. Lisle skips from one exhibit to another, teeming with energy. She clings to her mother’s hand, like she’s afraid Vanessa will disappear. Her cheerful attitude and plentiful smiles are infectious. Gaston, however, is unimpressed and drags along behind us.

  Boardroom negotiations have always been my strong suit, but this kid is intimidating. He’s tall for his age, like me, and full of attitude—also like me. Whenever I touch Vanessa, he visibly bristles. It’s going to take more than pizza and a visit to the monkey exhibit to win this boy over.

  “The zoo isn’t your thing?” I ask during a quiet moment.

  “No.” He snorts, giving me a boatload of pre-teen disdain.

  “Me neither.”

  The girls go to the edge of the duck pond to feed a pair of swans. Lisle’s giggles travel across the water. Gaston stands a few yards away, tossing pebbles into a tiny stream. When I approach, he stiffens and jerks his chin in the opposite direction. A classic move, one that I invented. The truth hits me hard in the gut. If I didn’t believe it before, I do now. This is my kid. My son. He’s got my characteristics plus Vanessa’s stubbornness to deal with. The boy is going to need my help.

  “What, exactly, is your thing?” I ask and lean my forearms on the rail fence separating us from the creek bank.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugs.

  “Come on. You’ve got to be into something. Video games? Baseball? Music?” I grab a handful of pebbles and chuck one across the water.

  “Baseball’s okay, I guess.”

  “Ever been to a game?” My next throw ricochets off a rock and lands between two geese. They squawk, flapping their wings. Gaston’s lips twitch. Before he can smile, he ca
tches himself and restores his scowl.

  “No.”

  Man, this kid is the king of short answers. He’s going to make a terrific negotiator someday. I try again.

  “I’ve got box seats at Wrigley Field, if you want to go sometime.” A flicker of interest sparks in his eyes then extinguishes. I try one more option. “Or, if you’re into cars, we could visit the track.”

  “You mean the racetrack?” For the first time, he faces me fully.

  “Yeah.” Finally. Jackpot. I swallow and try to remain cool. “NASCAR or Indy car?”

  “Either. Both.” His voice shakes with repressed excitement, and his accent thickens. “My dad took me to watch the Le Mans once. It was really cool.”

  “Really? I always wanted to go.” A feeling I’ve never known sweeps through me. It’s a combination of awe, relief, and excitement.

  “Oui, I mean—yes. It was the most amazing thing.” The words pour out of him. His face lights up, transforming his features from petulant to enthused.

  “Are you guys ready to head home?” Vanessa asks, stopping at my side. She drops a hand onto my forearm. The casual contact sends a ripple of pleasure up to my shoulder. Gaston’s gaze drops to where she’s touching me. I lift an eyebrow, and he glances away. Sooner or later, he’s going to have to accept our relationship. It might as well start now. Vanessa looks from me to our son. “You two are up to something.”

  “Tell you later.” I whisper in her ear and brush a kiss across her cheek.

  Vanessa and the kids transfer to my house the following weekend. Once they’re settled in, I travel out to visit and make sure things are going smoothly. Lisle runs out the front door to greet me in the driveway. Her excitement warms my heart. We’re becoming fast friends. Beneath her arm is a glass pickle jar.

  “What’s this?” I kneel in front of her and point to the jar.

  “Swear jar,” she replies brightly.

  “Explain, please.” I raise an eyebrow, sending her into giggles.

  “Every time someone says a bad word, they have to put a dollar in the jar.” While she speaks, she dances in a circle around me.

  “Is that so?” I ask. She nods vigorously.

  “Yes.” Vanessa says from the front steps. Her hair is piled high on her head in a messy bun. Dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a flowing T-shirt, she looks about nineteen. My heart beats faster at the sight of her.

  “Mama says you’re going to put me through college,” Lisle announces proudly.

  “No way. Hell, that’s a bunch of shit,” I say. Lisle giggles and extends the jar toward me. I pull out my wallet and stuff two dollars into the jar. Vanessa shakes her head, feigning annoyance, but a smile plays on her lips. “Sorry.”

  I stand and give her a kiss on the lips. When we part, my heart is still pounding. We haven’t had sex since the night at the club. I don’t want to rush our relationship. It’s important to take things slow, but I’m dying to feel my underneath me again.

  “Thank you for being a good sport,” she whispers in my ear.

  “My pleasure. Where’s the boy?” I ask.

  “He’s down there.” She points toward the red-roofed buildings behind the house. Gaston stands next to one of the garages, the two-story storage facility where I house my cars. “He’s ticked off because I grounded him from his video games for smarting off.”

  “Well, what can you expect with parents like us?” I ask. Vanessa laughs. I love the way her eyes sparkle when she’s amused. “The kid comes by it honestly.”

  “True.” Her hand finds mine at my side and squeezes. “He doesn’t have a chance.”

  “Give me a kiss for luck. I’m going in.”

  “You guys kiss an awful lot,” Lisle says from behind me. “Are you going to be my new dad?”

  A blush spread across Vanessa’s cheeks. “Honey, please.”

  “Well, I was just asking. I wouldn’t mind.” She shrugs, unfazed, then skips off to follow a butterfly across the courtyard.

  “Good to know.” I wait for panic to set it, but it never arrives. Instead, I feel the slow burn of warmth and affection. Vanessa smooths a hand along the side of my face. Her palm rasps against the stubble of my beard. “I wouldn’t mind either. What’s your opinion?”

  “I guess you won’t know until you ask.” She stares into my eyes. The look travels down to my groin. I think I will ask. Not right away, because we’re still finding our way together, but later, when the timing is right, because she’s the only one for me.

  “At least we have one of them on our side.” Gaston has been less than receptive to our relationship.

  “He’ll come around,” she replies and gives me a playful shove in Gaston’s direction. “Go on. Go see your son.”

  I like the sound of those words. My son. He’s my boy, through and through. The more I get to know him, the more evident it is. A happy smile curves my lips as I walk across the courtyard to him.

  Gaston doesn’t look up when I approach. He kicks a rock across the pavement. An irritated frown mars his straight features. He’s going to be a handsome man, and a very rich one, too, if my bank accounts keep growing.

  “How’s it going?” I ask and casually walk past him. At the enormous bay doors, I pause and study the security key pad.

  “Fine,” he replies. I can feel his eyes on my back. “What’s in there?”

  “Come on in and look.” I key the combination into the lock. The mechanism beeps and clicks. The lights flash green. The press of a button causes the doors to slide apart silently. I flip on the overhead lights and watch for Gaston’s reaction. His eyebrows rise and his jaw drops.

  Row after row of expensive and exotic cars gleam in front of us. These beauties are my pride and joy. I lean my back against the wall while Gaston races from one vehicle to the next. At the front of a red Ferrari, he pauses. It’s the first time I’ve seen a genuine smile on his face.

  “These are yours? All of them?” he asks.

  “You bet. Which one is your favorite?” The sight of his excitement is better than any twelve-cylinder, high performance engine I’ve ever driven. “Pick one out, and we’ll go for a drive.”

  “Any one I want?” He stops, disbelieving, and waits for reassurance.

  “Yes. Your choice.”

  “This one.” He jogs to a classic 1956 Porsche 356 Speedster, my personal favorite. It’s silver with a red interior. What can I say? The kid has good taste. Like father, like son, I guess.

  I toss the keys to him. “Start it up.”

  “Really?” His body vibrates with excitement. “Can I drive?”

  “Do you have a license?” I ask, fighting the urge to laugh out loud at the look on his face.

  “No. I’m only eleven.” He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitch. I see a flash of my father in him, the good one, the man he was before the alcohol and abuse. The memory brings with it a sharp stab of pain. Was this how Vanessa felt for all those years?

  “Well, when you’re sixteen, we’ll talk about it.”

  I do, however, let him slide behind the wheel on the back roads of the estate. He’s cautious to a fault, rolling along the pavement at ten miles an hour, eyes round, white knuckles gripping the steering wheel. When I’m back at the helm, we race down the winding roads. The wind whips our hair. Gaston laughs and extends his arms over his head, reveling in the speed of the convertible. I love the sound of his laugh. It’s more rewarding than the biggest business deal.

  Once we’re back at the garage, his good humor continues, and he talks incessantly while I lock up the building. How many cars do I have? Who takes care of them? Can we drive the McLaren next time? I try to keep up with his chatter, but it’s almost impossible. On the walk back to the house, I hold up a hand. He bites his bottom lip in a gesture that’s purely Vanessa.

  “While I’m gone, I’m trusting you to keep an eye on my cars. I’ll pay you a decent a wage. You’ll need to check in with Jim, the mechanic. He’ll get you started.” I’v
e already spoken with Vanessa about it. Gaston needs a sense of purpose to keep his mind occupied and keep him out of trouble. He can help Jim wash and wax the cars after school. “Do you want the job?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” His blue eyes shine. “How much?”

  “Twenty dollars a week.”

  “Twenty-five?” he asks, hopefully. My chest swells with pride. He’s going to be a terror in the business world someday.

  “Fine. Twenty-five.” A grin stretches my lips until my face aches.

  We walk a few more steps. The sun shines brightly overhead. A few curious horses trot to the fence in search of treats and affection. Gaston pauses to rub the nose of a bay mare.

  “Since you’re the man of the family, I wanted to ask for your blessing with your mom. I really like her, and I want to ask her to be my girlfriend. Do you think that would be okay?” I ask.

  He cocks his head, thinking for so long I begin to worry. Finally, he nods his head. “I’m good with it. As long as you don’t yell at her.”

  “I give you my word.” I place a hand over my heart to underscore my sincerity. Gaston’s face sobers. “Is there something wrong?”

  He ducks his head, studying his shoes. “I know who dated my mom a long time ago.” My pulse quickens. “Are you my real dad?”

  36

  Vanessa

  Today

  I’m in the living room with Lisle when Cam and Gaston arrive. By the expression on Cam’s face, something is terribly wrong. His complexion is pale, his eyes stormy. Gaston flops on the sofa and scowls.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. I can only imagine what these two obstinate males have done. Gaston is full of pre-teen angst and Cam’s more pigheaded than I am. I expect they’ll be butting heads for the rest of their lives.