He didn’t know how much of the memory was memory or how much was his mind desperately trying to connect the dots of his checkered past. Bits of information were missing and colored in with other bits from an entirely different life. He’d yet to piece himself together.
“Wesl—Tate,” came his mother’s voice from behind him. “Darling, what are you doing?” She bundled a thick parka around her. “It’s freezing out here, you’ll catch your—”
“Death?” he finished for her. “Too late.”
She gave him a light shove in the arm. “Comedian like your brother. Bloody hell! It really is freezing out here.”
“We can go in.”
“No, no it’s fine.” She assessed him, something sad in her eyes before she said, “Your adoptive parents contacted us.”
He felt the blood rush from his cheeks. He’d had no idea.
“Don’t be angry. We contacted them first, hoping if we reached out, they’d reply. I begged Marion—ah, your mother—not to say anything to you. By the look on your face, I assume she complied.”
“She didn’t tell me.” He felt his worlds colliding, fearing that collision and at the same time anxiously anticipating it. He couldn’t be two people the rest of his life. At some point he’d have to accept that he was Tate and Wesley. Son of Marion and William and son of George and Jane.
“I wanted to...understand, I suppose,” Jane said. “They’re lovely. And as much as I wanted to rage at the couple who kept my son from me all those years, I realize it’s not their fault they loved you so fiercely. At least that’s what my therapist says I’m supposed to feel.” Her mouth quirked. “But I love you, Wes—Tate. And that means I will prioritize your happiness above my own.”
A surge of emotion pushed against his rib cage. After a month of damming it up, only allowing it to release at a trickle, he was due for a tsunami.
His chin shook as another memory crawled out of the recesses of his mind. Jane jumping into the pool after his favorite stuffed toy. He hadn’t imagined it. It wasn’t made up. The memory was from his toddler-height point of view. And when Jane handed it back sopping wet, he’d cried more and George had helped Jane to her feet, his rumbling laughter encompassing them.
It was real, his life here in London. No longer a fuzzy impression he was trying to bring into focus.
“Call me Wesley, Mum,” he wrapped an arm around his mother. “That’s the name you gave me.”
This time when she cried, he held on and cried with her. For the many years they’d lost, and the many years, God willing, they had left.
Sixteen
Dinner was set on the Singleton table, the candles lit, tablecloth spread, and the poinsettia table markers next to embroidered cloth napkins. The Christmas tree was bedazzled with lights in the corner, though Jane mentioned to Hayden they didn’t often buy a tree.
“It’s a special occasion,” Jane had said with a warm smile.
George and Jane sat at either end of the mahogany table while Drew and Reid took their seats side by side. Hayden settled in next to Tate, surprised that spending the holiday away from home, and in a strikingly different environment, hadn’t made her feel out of place. She suspected the Singletons had something to do with that—all of them.
Her family holidays were hectic and loud, and not in the charming way. Usually her mother was arguing with her grandmother, who was pouring her third cocktail before dinner. Mom’s cooking was good, though—Hayden wouldn’t begrudge her that. But one look at the Singleton spread hinted that Jane knew her way around the kitchen, as well.
A whole turkey was the centerpiece, carved in neat slices and glistening with butter, its skin a crisp golden brown. Sides of diced potatoes and onions, stuffing—though it looked more like hush puppies to Hayden—and vegetables like cabbage, parsnips and a dish of green peas filled in the gaps.
“Right, then. Let’s get started.” George unfurled his napkin and held out his hands on either side of him. After a beat, Drew and Hayden gathered that they should each take hold of the patriarch’s hands for prayer. Hayden held Tate’s hand and he in turn held his mother’s, who gripped Reid’s fingers as he reached for Drew’s.
The prayer was brief and proper, and by the time the word Amen was uttered, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Could’ve had something to do with George giving thanks for “Wesley” being home. “For the first time in nearly three decades,” Tate’s father had said, “both my sons are under this roof again.”
“Gravy,” Jane announced, dousing her plate of food with the stuff before passing it on. Hayden politely took the dish from Tate after he’d put some on his potatoes before handing it to George without partaking.
“No sense in watching your waistline, love,” George teased with a wink. “All of the veg on this table have been cooked in duck fat.” He offered the dish back as though passing on the gravy wasn’t an option. She put a dollop on her potatoes. When in Rome, and all that.
Dinner was delicious, if heavy, and once the meal was finished, no one moved to scurry from the table. Typically, at her house, her mother had the food in the fridge the very moment the last plate was cleared. Here, though, Jane made no move to rush around putting food away. Instead she tossed her napkin onto the table saying, “Crackers! I nearly forgot the crackers!”
“Crackers?” Tate asked, and Hayden shared his mild alarm. After stuffing themselves with a rich, two-helpings-of-everything Christmas dinner, who could possibly have room for crackers.
“Oh! I’ve been wanting to do this!” Drew applauded from her seat.
Jane came out from under the tree with gift-wrapped oblong paper packages tied with ribbons on both ends. They looked like giant, festively wrapped Tootsie Rolls.
“Tradition,” Reid explained to the three Americans. He took the gift his mother passed out and explained. “I hold one end, Drew holds the other.” A delighted Drew gripped one end of the wrapping. “And then we pull.”
A small cracking sound came and the paper tore. Out fell a bauble and a few bits of folded paper. “Looks like I’ve won a ring.” Reid, pleased with his trinket, stuffed it onto his pinky, the purple stone set in plastic not exactly his style. He then unfolded a gold crepe-like paper crown, which he proudly perched on his head. “There, now. I’m ready for my joke.”
He reached for the square of paper on the table and read, “What do Santa’s little helpers learn at school?” When no one answered, he shared, “The elf-abet.”
Jane, George and Reid chuckled. Drew raised an eyebrow. “These are supposed to be bad jokes, right?”
“Oh, the worst.” Reid kissed her. “Now yours. Come on then.” Drew’s cracker held a tiny stapler that couldn’t have been longer than her thumb. George’s contained a bag of marbles, Jane’s a puzzle game with a ball and a maze. Their included jokes were as lame as Reid’s.
Tate’s Christmas cracker held a small stuffed bear. One he stared at for an inordinately long time. His eyes tracked to his mother’s, who blinked away tears as she shook her head.
“What a silly coincidence.” She waved a hand but Hayden knew that symbol of a special moment between mother and son was anything but silly.
“Your turn,” Tate told Hayden as she took the end of her cracker and he took the other. After the pop, a gaudy ring fell from her cracker. “Look at that. A matching set.”
“Not quite. Mine’s bigger than Reid’s.” Hayden eyed Tate’s brother, trying to keep things light.
“Maybe you should see if it fits.” Drew’s winked, pure, adorable evil. Not at all interested in keeping the focus off Hayden’s ring.
Hayden cast Tate an unsure look but he didn’t waver. He took the ring from her hand and slid it onto her ring finger, admiring it in the candlelight.
The tacky plastic trinket shimmered, silver glitter swimming within the blue stone. It was gumball-machine quality, and com
pletely ridiculous, but there was something symbolic about Tate slipping it onto her hand in front of his family that caused a lump to rise in her throat.
“The perfect placeholder while yours is being sized, then,” Jane said, repeating the false story Hayden had given about why she wasn’t wearing a ring.
“Right.”
“My boys. Married and happy. It’s all I ever wanted.” Jane folded her hands at her chest and Hayden hoped it escaped notice that she and Tate were silent on the matter.
The only real part of their relationship was that she and Tate liked each other a whole hell of a lot.
“Your crown,” Tate slipped the thin paper ring over Hayden’s hair and, following tradition, she reached for her joke.
“Why does Santa have three gardens?” She waited a beat and then wrinkled her nose. “So he can ‘ho ho ho.’” She groaned but everyone at the table erupted in laughter.
“Worst one yet.” Tate leaned forward to kiss her. It occurred to her that he’d been careful about being affectionate with her in front of his family, and she him. Now he lingered over her lips, placing a second kiss there before murmuring, “Merry Christmas, Hayden.”
* * *
“Jane wants us to delay our flight,” Tate said as he packed away another sweater into his suitcase. They’d stayed downstairs after dinner, drinking and laughing and enjoying his their family’s traditional Christmas pudding.
That brought discussion of more of his newfound family, which had led to photo albums. Turned out he had a lot of cousins, aunts, uncles and one living grandfather in the area.
“When you return, we’ll have a visit,” Jane had told him, hinting that she’d been careful not to overwhelm him this trip.
“It’s Boxing Day tomorrow, which is a national holiday here,” he continued telling Hayden, who sat on the bed. Things had gone well so far, but staying longer seemed to be pushing his luck. “They go to a restaurant and out shopping, and then there’s a duck race with rubber duckies for charity in the afternoon.” He raised his eyebrows. “I had no idea.”
He’d booked their flights to be in and out quickly, figuring he’d be ready to retreat to the sanctity of Spright Island as soon as possible. But he wasn’t as ready as he’d originally thought. He was enjoying his parents, Reid and Drew, and Hayden.
She still wore the ring he’d put on her finger at dinner. When Drew had suggested she try it on, Tate hadn’t hesitated. Part of living dangerously included not overthinking moments like that one. But he couldn’t deny the part of him that wanted it to be real—as real as the family who, before this trip, had been no more than a story. Would bringing Hayden deeper into his life be the same as it’d been with the Singletons? At first a vague notion, and then 3D reality come to life... Did he want to be in deeper?
Discomfort bubbled in his gut, and the thought of “don’t push your luck” occurred again. There was fun and then there was stupid, and he’d been walking that razor’s edge.
“You should take that off before it turns your finger green.”
Hayden gave her finger one lingering look before agreeing, “I guess you’re right.” She tugged the ring from her hand and set it on the night table next to the bed.
See? She doesn’t want to go deeper either.
“With everything going on, I hadn’t so much as thought about putting a real ring on your finger for show. I should’ve known everyone would expect it.” Not that he’d have even considered giving her the one Claire had worn. That thing was a bad omen. He hadn’t gotten around to selling it yet, but he would. Another act in the one-man play he was calling Moving On.
“You’ve had a lot on your mind.” Hayden came to him and traced the lines bracketing his mouth. “This will become easier, Tate. You’ll see. You’ll get used to having extra family, and then you’ll find a way to include them all into your big, amazing life.”
“You always know what to say.” Always knew how to put everything into instant perspective. His lips hovered dangerously close to hers. “Thank you for coming. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
He meant it. Considering the depth of the emotional pitfalls he’d experienced recently, he’d tackled them with relative ease. Hayden had his back, and he didn’t take that lightly.
Hayden tilted her face, her lips brushing his. “I’m glad I could help.” One eyebrow lifted impishly. “You owe me, Duncan.”
He gave her bottom lip a gentle nip. “Will you take payment in sexual favors?”
“My favorite kind of currency.”
He kissed her, his lips sliding over hers as he settled against her in bed. He lost himself in her plush mouth, the friction from her writhing hips into his crotch giving him a damn good idea.
Her soft moans urged him on, and Tate had them out of their clothes a short while later. He was suddenly very grateful he’d stopped in the rain outside her studio that night.
Grateful for her in any capacity, even a temporary one. Maybe they were only meant to be together through this particularly difficult part of his life. Maybe once the storms cleared and the sun shined, they’d be ready to move on.
Somehow, though, he doubted it.
He took his time kissing every inch of her he exposed. Every soft, muscular, firm yet giving bit of her, until her breaths were short and fast.
She stroked his jaw with cool fingertips as she murmured her praise. And he took his time, memorizing the details of her beneath him just in case their time together ended before he was ready.
Seventeen
“Are you sure you don’t want to come along?” Tate asked his mother.
“You kids go on without us. I’ve had my fun.”
After making love to Hayden last night, she’d convinced Tate to stay another day. She argued that she didn’t have classes until after the new year, anyway, then added, “You’re enjoying yourself. It’d be good for you.” When he hesitated, she resorted to teasing him. “What’s wrong? Can’t afford to change our flight times?”
That had earned her a tickle fight that turned into slow, openmouthed kisses. When he tried to pull her under him again, she’d shoved him in the direction of his laptop. He’d reluctantly left the warm bed and made the necessary changes to their tickets.
“Listen to your mother,” George warned now, beer glass raised. They’d spent the Boxing Day in downtown London for the most part, shopping and visiting a variety of booths in what was normally a concrete jungle. From there they’d gone to a pub for a beer and snacks, when Jane mentioned “you’d better see yourselves to Hyde Park before it’s too late.”
“Yeah, listen to your mother,” Reid echoed George. “Look at her. A woman her age probably needs to rest her weary bones.”
Jane Singleton was nowhere near “weary.” Her blue eyes were bright and sparkling, her smile soft and easy. No longer did she have that haunted look in her eyes like she’d seen a ghost—though Tate reasoned that he was a ghost in a way.
“She needs tea,” Reid continued, not heeding the warning glare from Jane. “And a nap.”
“Careful, son, or you’ll be wearing that drink,” George warned with a chuckle. “The truth of the matter is we want the house to ourselves.” He wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her neck while Jane laughed and gave his arm a halfhearted swat.
Tate smiled at the display, grateful they’d had each other while he was missing. Grateful that what had happened to him hadn’t torn apart their marriage.
“What do you think?” Tate asked Hayden, but he could’ve guessed her thoughts given the size of her grin.
“I’d be remiss to leave London without seeing a light garden in Hyde Park.” She turned to Jane. “And I’d never rob you of an evening with your very handsome husband.”
“Hear, hear,” Drew said with enthusiasm, holding her club soda in the air.
“But take photos!”
Jane requested. “Of the light garden, the observation wheel, roller coasters and, oh! Ice skating!”
“Do you ice skate, darling?” Hayden asked, her syrupy tone teasing.
“You’ve seen me move,” Tate murmured into her ear before kissing her warm cheek. “What do you think?”
Reid, ever the encourager of public displays of affection, put his fingers between his lips and whistled.
* * *
London had been culture shock for Hayden since she arrived, so she was pleasantly surprised to find the winter wonderland event in Hyde Park was similar to what she’d come to expect of carnivals and fairs back home.
Well, aside from the aged, regal architecture she’d seen driving in, which had been preserved from another era entirely.
The park itself was overdone in the best way imaginable. Gaudy, blinking bulbs decorated every stall and stand, including on the huge lit entrance sign announcing “Winter Wonderland.”
Entry was free, but there were opportunities to buy everything from food to shirts and jewelry to artwork. Bars dotted the park as well as venues for live shows, a funhouse, and a Ferris wheel—which must’ve been what Jane meant by “observation” wheel. The ice skating rink was enormous, children and adults alike moving across the slick surface with various stages of skill. Some gliding, others flailing.
Hayden would probably manage something between a glide and a flail if they ventured that direction.
Tate waggled their hands. They were connected by interlocked fingers and she’d gone without gloves given the mild weather. It was chilly, but not cold and while fog threatened, it hadn’t brought rain.
“Since I can’t have beer, I insist upon sugar,” Drew announced, pointing at a stall with candy bins filled with lollipops, candy necklaces and gummy everything.
“Done. Should we meet up at the light garden?” Reid asked.
Christmas Seduction (The Bachelor Pact Book 4) Page 10
