by Leslie North
“Something special going on?” he asked, making her jump as he walked into the room.
“Several somethings,” she said, giving him a smile. “I thought we deserved a celebration.”
“Okay.” He took the chair next to her and reached for the sandwich platter. “What for?”
“For starters, my apartment’s ready for me and the girls to move back into.” She watched him closely for anything that might suggest he didn’t want them to go, but his face was carefully blank. Perhaps he was just being guarded since he didn’t know how she felt, so she kept her tone cheerful. “They’ve improved the design, so it’ll be better than ever.”
“That’s good,” he said almost as if he hadn’t heard her.
“And, of course, we’re celebrating the end of the threat against us.” She put as much enthusiasm into her voice as possible.
“Yeah, that.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “The whole damn thing’s been a shitshow from beginning to end. I just spent hours on a call debriefing from it.”
She wanted to ask if the SEAL team had caught the man behind the attacks, but she was worried that he’d snap at her, so she said nothing. She wasn’t getting through to him anyway.
“If only I could figure out where I went wrong with my planning,” he said. Was he back to reliving his failed mission? “And why the intel was slow to catch up to the reality,” he continued. He stabbed at the salad that he’d piled on his plate. “That bugs me. The incident at the fall festival should never have happened if I’d had better intel.”
Mia sat back in her chair, trying to decide her best course of action. Talking about family seemed out of place now, and she was tired of listening to him blame himself and rehash the mission. It did no good.
“You can’t make the past better by thinking about it. You have to move on and look at the positives,” Mia said. She’d understood that long ago, when she was recovering from the grief of her parents’ deaths.
“Right,” he said, his tone sarcastic. “Some reflection would be a good thing for you.”
“What do you mean?” She straightened, his words feeling like a slap across her face.
“If you thought about your actions more, past and future, you could do better with your nieces. They’re only going to get more complicated as they get older, you know.”
“I think I’m doing just fine.” The girls were healthy and about as well-adjusted as children who had lost their parents at so young an age could be.
He gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. “You don’t even have a stable job. It’s only seasonal work. You hadn’t mentioned that detail to me. I learned it when I talked to the owner about you taking a leave of absence.”
“Maybe it was none of your business.” She hadn’t intentionally kept that fact to herself. She just had felt no need to tell him, for the obvious reason that she’d get a different job when she needed to. No big deal. “Besides, I’ve always been able to find work.”
He shook his head. “You may have been able to live that way when you were single, but not with the girls. Kids take planning and commitment,” he concluded, slapping his hand down on the table. “And you have to have some personal goals. I mean, what kind of career do you want to have? You should finish your education and get a degree, the kind that gives you enough income to raise two kids.”
“Thanks for your advice,” she said, rising from the table. “But I’m not here to have my life planned for the next five years.” She shoved her chair in as she spoke. “And maybe, just maybe you would do better to let things go, to not torture yourself with the past. Move on, move forward, and take things as they come. People might even like you more if you weren’t so uptight.”
Kenton’s face hardened, and his body went rigid. She’d said more than she should have, but her anger and frustration had boiled over. But she had to finish this conversation. “I have just two more things to say to you. One, the bakery called this morning, and they’re taking me on full time, year-round.” She managed not to vocalize the so there she wanted to add. “And two, the girls and I are moving out today. I’ll pack what’s necessary and come back for the rest another time.”
She left the nearly untouched lunch on her plate, striding past him on her way to the stairs. Part of her wanted to burst into tears. That was the biggest confrontation she’d ever had with anyone in her life. It left her shaking, but that was nothing compared to the sense of loss that hit her as she walked into the girls’ room. Any hope she’d had for a life with Kenton was completely dashed.
Fine, she thought, grabbing a bag and starting to stuff it with clothes. She was fine on her own. She didn’t need him and his dictatorial ways. She sucked in a breath. But, god, it had been nice for a while to be with him.
17
“Christ, who now?” Kenton muttered when he heard his front doorbell ring. Since he was at his desk, he brought up the security camera feed and saw his mother standing on his porch with a shopping bag in her hands. He groaned. He loved his mom, but he wasn’t in the mood for company.
It had been a hellish two days. He was on edge because the SEAL team in North Africa had failed to apprehend Ocampa, and Mia had left with the girls. He shouldn’t miss them as much as he did, but he’d damn near shed a tear when he’d found a zip bag of training pants that he’d stashed in his office in case of emergency. On top of that, the playhouse he’d ordered for them as a surprise had shown up that morning. He could hardly look at the box’s image of happy kids climbing on brightly colored plastic. He’d stashed it in the garage unopened.
He’d give it to Mia eventually, for the kids, but he wasn’t ready to see any of them. He couldn’t be in control of himself in Mia’s presence yet. He had so botched that last conversation with her. She’d made him lunch and wanted to talk about her job and apartment, and he’d been nothing but negative. And self-centered. That’s what bothered him the most. She’d been reaching out to him, and he’d ignored her feelings. Hell, he’d belittled her. He didn’t think he’d ever done that to a human being before. Why he did it to her, he couldn’t say.
The damn bell sounded again. Shit. He made his way toward the front door, knowing that his mother wasn’t going to give up and go away. She’d have seen his truck in the driveway and know he was home.
“Hi, Mom,” he said as he opened the door.
“Hello, honey.” She ran a hand over his cheek. “You really should shave off this scruff.”
“I like it.” They’d had this same conversation a million times. “What brings you over?” He’d texted her yesterday to accept an upcoming dinner invitation because he’d known he wasn’t going to be able to put off seeing her much longer. Her visit today, though, was a surprise.
“I brought some toys for the girls. Where are they?” She was looking around his entryway. Until two days ago, the girls’ sweatshirts had hung on pegs near the door.
“They moved out. Mia’s apartment was ready ahead of schedule.” He hadn’t mentioned that in his text.
“Oh,” His mom put the shopping bag on the floor. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She looked disappointed. What the hell was that about?
“Why?” he asked, going for a half-joking tone. “I’m not enough for you anymore?” He knew he was attempting to use humor to avoid thinking about his feelings and explaining them to his mother. He didn’t want to think about how empty his house felt.
“Of course you are, but…”
“I’ll get to work on getting you grandkids soon, I promise. It’s in my five-year plan.” House, wife, kids. That had been his mantra. One had to follow the others in an orderly pattern.
“It seemed that you had a perfectly lovely family already started,” his mom said.
“Mine? They weren’t my family,” he said. Mia had made that very clear when she walked out.
“And why not? Mia’s a beautiful woman who’s also fun. The girls are adorable, and I thought you liked them.” His mother’s face was full of disappointment.
“I did. I do,” he stammered.
“So why not keep the family that landed in your lap and work on something else for the next five years?” His mother pinned him with the same look that she’d used to interrogate him when he was five and stole an extra cookie from the jar.
“Because I have a plan, Mom. I would think you of all people would understand that.” He didn’t say what came to his mind first, which was that Mia and the girls weren’t his. They never had been, and that was just as well.
“What does that mean?” She turned away from him and walked into his living room. “Too quiet in here,” she observed before sitting down. “Now, explain what you just said.”
He followed her, since he wasn’t going to get out of this conversation. “Well, you get it. You’ve been a planner since I was a little kid. We had a family calendar, remember? Every soccer practice, scout meeting, and dentist appointment was carefully documented.”
“Sure,” she readily agreed, “parents need an organizational system or it’s chaos, but that was a daily or weekly schedule. That wasn’t life.”
“It sure as hell looked like it. You were regimented. I didn’t have an issue with the rigid rules in the Navy because I’d grown up with you. Breakfast at seven, dinner at six. No snacks. Bedtime based on age. Precisely one hour of TV per day. You should have been the captain of a ship.”
“Is that how you saw it?” his mother said softly, her disappointed expression shifting to hurt.
“How could I see it any other way? Do you remember when Uncle Ned came home after failing in Nashville? You used him as an example of what not to do. I was twelve, and I took it to heart.” Before that, he’d harbored a secret desire to just take off on a trip with no destination. Go and not worry about where he was going to spend the night or what places he’d visit. He’d pictured doing that after he graduated from high school. He’d enjoy complete freedom, at least for a time. But that dream had died when his parents made it clear that taking chances and trusting in fate was a mistake, and he’d switched his attention to the creation of a master plan for his life.
“God, I’m sorry about that.” His mother seemed truly stricken. “It wasn’t Ned’s first time attempting something like that, and I was frustrated with his unwillingness to… play by the rules of society.”
“Wait,” Kenton said. “What are you saying?”
“Oh, sweetie. You’re right, to a point. I did try to play by the rules. I read all the parenting books and listened to people’s advice, and you know what I discovered? They contradicted each other. Dreadfully, at times. No two books ever agreed on how to handle a problem. When you were little, I was lost, and your father decided we needed a system. You know how he is.”
Trent Fitzpatrick was an electrical engineer. He never tackled anything without a clear plan and a schematic on paper. Kenton was beginning to wonder if he’d misunderstood his parents completely. Maybe all kids did.
“What we learned, though, was that no answer ever worked all the time. We had to use our instincts to decide what the right path was. And maybe we erred too much on the side of caution by exerting so much control over everything, but we only did so because we knew control wasn’t truly possible. We were faking it half the time. Am I making any sense?”
“Yeah,” he said. Before he found Mia and the girls living in his home, he wouldn’t have understood this conversation. Like his parents, he wanted to give the appearance of having everything under control. He might be able to do that in his life as a SEAL, but raising a family was different.
A family. The family he wanted. For the first time, Kenton let himself feel the emotions that he’d been doggedly storing away, and he recognized that they weren’t a box he could put in the back of the garage. He missed Mia and the girls with all his heart, but they were gone from his life.
He dropped into a chair and buried his head in his hands. He was such an ass. He hadn’t even helped her move out. She’d texted to let him know she was picking up the rest of her stuff after work, and he’d made sure not to be there, which meant she’d had to lug the girls’ cribs and all their toys and clothes by herself. Was that forgivable? Was the way he’d acted for the past several days forgivable? Shit, he didn’t know.
“Is there a book on how to tell someone you’re sorry?” he finally asked after a long silence.
“Probably a thousand, and none of them are any good,” his mother said. “All you have to do is speak from your heart. That’s what will matter.”
“Mom, can you let yourself out?” Kenton got to his feet, knowing what he needed to do. He didn’t know how to do it, but he’d figure it out, use his instincts. Hopefully, they’d guide him right when he was standing in front of Mia.
“Sure. I’ll leave these toys in the girls’ room.” She lifted the shopping bag.
He grabbed his truck keys, hoping his mother’s confidence wasn’t misplaced. He was running down the porch steps when Patrick’s ringtone sounded from his phone.
“Hey, buddy. I can’t talk right now—”
“Get to Mia’s apartment building pronto.” Patrick’s voice was calm but insistent. “We’ve got trouble. I’ll meet you there.”
18
Mia wandered her redone apartment while the girls were playing in their bedroom. She liked everything she saw, from the pearly white walls and laminate flooring to the shiny new kitchen. It was all so much better than she’d expected. Her neighbors in the building felt the same way. She’d spoken with her fellow residents in the stairwell while she’d moved her things up the afternoon before.
Fortunately, Shasta had offered to help her when the bakery closed for the day. Together, they’d gotten everything from Kenton’s house and placed it in the apartment before picking up the girls from day care. Since he hadn’t been home, she’d slipped her house key under the mat by the front door and texted him to let him know she was out. It was an impersonal way to say goodbye to someone who had become so important to her, but she didn’t see she had a choice.
Even though she’d stormed out of his house, her anger hadn’t lasted long. Not past the drive to her apartment. Now all she had left was the hurt. Despite their argument, he was special to her, probably the best man she’d ever known. But she’d seen their relationship differently than he had. He couldn’t picture them beyond the short term, since it wasn’t in his plan. She could see the potential for their happiness, but it wasn’t meant to be.
“I’m okay,” she whispered to herself while standing in her kitchen. “I’ve got Ava and Emma to love, and that’s all that matters.” She had to remember that. Her little family was the only important thing. If Kenton didn’t want them, that was his choice. She shook her head. She just didn’t know how he could shut his heart off like that. Maybe he didn’t love her, but the girls? Who could not love them? And he had seemed to when he took care of them. Maybe he’d been overly dedicated to his routines, but he’d taken the time to get to know both girls while they’d lived in his home.
“Aunt Mia,” the two girls chorused, “come here.”
When she got to their room, she found them both on the floor, coloring on the same large sheet of paper. Coloring at this age wasn’t about staying in the lines. Large blobs of color in random shapes covered the paper.
“What’s this? A decoration for your room?” Most of her decor had been lost in the fire, and she hadn’t yet replaced it. She wanted to take the girls to the store and allow them to select pictures and curtains they liked.
“It’s for Kenton,” Emma announced. “Put his name on it.”
How had the girls known she was thinking about him? And how much did he mean to them? It broke her heart.
“If you’re asking me, you should say, ‘Will you please put his name on it?’” She waited, and Emma dutifully repeated the phrase. Mia knelt on the floor and selected the red crayon. Along the top edge, she wrote “Kenton” in blocky print.
“Add a heart,” Ava said, her voice soft.
“Sure.” Mia gave her niece a smile.
“One for me, too.” Emma pointed to where she wanted hers.
Mia felt tears gather in her eyes, but she placed the hearts where they asked. The images on the paper were unrecognizable, but the girls’ sentiment was priceless. Mia would have to get it to him somehow, and the thought made her shaky. Could she face him?
“Is it all done now?” she asked, and they both nodded. “Clean up your crayons, then. How about you watch a movie while I make dinner?”
Both girls hopped up at the offer of a rare treat. She kept screen time very limited. Since the only television hooked up was in her bedroom, she let them climb onto her bed and lounge against the pillows, which was another treat. She started a princess movie for them, then headed back to the kitchen and put a pot of water on the stove for pasta.
While she waited for the water to boil, Mia pulled out her phone to make two calls, ones that she wouldn’t let herself put off. She wanted to speak with Patrick and Anderson and express her gratitude for helping to protect her and the girls. She got through to both of them on the first try. They were good men. A lot like Kenton, but more relaxed about life. She thanked them, and they politely asked how she and the girls were, but neither made any mention of Kenton. And she couldn’t bring herself to ask if they’d spoken to him.
She’d been hoping the gesture would give her closure, but it didn’t work that way. Talking to Kenton’s friends only made her miss him more, made the pain of being away from him stab deeper.
Everything did, if she was honest with herself. When she tried to choose the best drawer for her silverware, she thought that Kenton would analyze the configuration of the kitchen before making the decision. The same was true when she moved on to the spice rack. He probably would have put the bottles in alphabetical order so each one was easy to locate.
She drained the pasta, added three kinds of cheese, and put the mixture in the oven to bake. The girls loved homemade mac and cheese, and she wanted their first memories of the “new” apartment to be good ones. While she waited for dinner to cook, she continued to work her way through the purchases she’d made earlier in the day to restock the kitchen supplies. With two minutes left on the oven timer, she put the last items away.
