“Then maybe I could watch that with you. I give excellent foot rubs.”
“Thanks, but the credits are rolling.”
He sighed. Why did conversation with her suddenly feel difficult? Because it was over the phone and not in person? “Then maybe we could just talk.”
“You have a lot to process,” she said.
I do?
“We can talk after Christmas.”
“Or now, since I’m standing in your front yard.” He’d been waiting for her to officially invite him over before he volunteered that, but since an invitation didn’t seem to be forthcoming... “You should probably let me in before Abe Martin across the street mistakes me for a prowler and call the cops.”
“Probably.” The call disconnected, and a moment later, he heard the locks. She opened the door, her hair rumpled and backlit from the kitchen. She was wearing a battered robe over Christmas pajamas and was easily the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. Even with her melancholy expression.
“You look like you’re worried you won’t get what you wanted for Christmas,” he said lightly. “Want me to put in a last-minute word for you with Santa?”
The corner of her mouth turned up in a wistful smile. “Bringing your brother over here to play Santa was such a nice thing to do for the girls. You’ve done more nice things for them, for me, than I can count. And I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, but...”
A horrible pressure tightened in his chest. “But what?”
“I was already starting to wonder if we’ve been spending too much time together. And—”
“You have?” Because he’d been having pretty much the opposite reaction. The more time he spent with Megan, the more he thought about her, the more he wanted to be with her.
She gave him a look that was affectionately pitying, one that reminded him uncomfortably of an expression he’d seen before. On Tasha’s face, the night before their wedding. Oh God, not again.
“We’ve been thrown together by circumstances,” Megan said, her voice starting to shake, “and it’s easy to get confused. Especially if you’re three years old. Tomorrow, Spencer is going to tell the girls that he’s remarrying. I don’t want them getting the wrong idea about you and me just because we’ve been spending so much time together. Distance would be good for all of us.”
“I disagree,” he said quietly. “If they got the idea that I cared about you, that I cared about them, it wouldn’t be the wrong one.” Jarrett had been right—best to face his feelings head-on and let Megan know how much she meant to him. “I’m falling—”
“Please don’t!” She shook her head, wild-eyed. “With Tommy gone, you just got your life back. Your freedom. The Christmas season is nostalgic and sentimental, but that doesn’t last. I don’t want you to realize a month from now you’ve made a horrible mistake. We’ve had a great time, but I think it’s come to its natural end. I hope we—”
“Do not ask if we can be friends,” he interrupted, nauseated with déjà vu. He was furious. Furious with her for this emotional sucker punch, and furious that he’d allowed himself to fall for someone again with no better results than the first time. You’d think I would learn. It took effort to speak, his throat was so raw with emotions. “Is this really what you want, Megan?”
Her eyes glittered. “It makes the most sense. You can resume making up for lost dating time, and I can focus on my girls and help them adjust to the idea of a stepmom.”
“But is it what you want?” He took a step closer, half tempted to try to kiss sense into her.
“Yes.” Her voice was a broken whisper.
He knew she was lying—they both knew it—but as she pulled away and closed the front door between them, he also knew he couldn’t coerce her to give them a future. With Tasha, he’d tried for hours, talking until he was blue in the face, suggesting they postpone the wedding instead of canceling it out right. Nothing he had said had changed her mind.
At least this time, he was walking away with his dignity intact.
Chapter Thirteen
In an excited rush to get to their Christmas presents, the triplets were up at dawn. Normally, this would have been difficult for Megan, but since she’d spent a sleepless night second-guessing herself and her taste in men, three hyper girls were a nice distraction. For the two hours that it took them to open their gifts and ooh and aah over the contents of their stockings, Megan managed to keep most of her focus on her daughters. She doled out smiles and hugs and hot cocoa that was 90 percent melted marshmallow. But as the time drew closer for Spencer to arrive, her mood soured.
She got the girls dressed and cleaned up the shredded wrapping paper that decorated her living room like confetti. Then she considered her own clothing options. Frankly, she would just as soon spend the whole day in her robe. Then again, there was a sliver of female vanity that insisted she put on a good face in front of her ex and the new woman in his life. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a festive Christmas sweater that felt ironic in her current frame of mind, then brushed her hair until it shone. She was securing it into a high, bouncy ponytail when the recently repaired doorbell rang. She winced, immediately thinking of Will as she made her way to the front of the house.
And that is the last thought you spare him for the rest of the day, she chastised herself. After all, ending things had been her idea. She needed to own her decision and move forward, confident that she was doing the right thing for herself and her daughters. It was so tempting to believe that Will might really love her, that his feelings would continue past the rose-colored Christmas season even though he no longer needed her help with Tommy. She wanted to give him—wanted to give them—the benefit of the doubt. Just as she’d given Spencer the benefit of the doubt when she listened to him instead of her own instincts, taking his word for it that there was no affair. After her worst suspicions had proven true, and he’d tearfully told her that it was a onetime panicked reaction to learning they were about to have not just one baby but three, she’d given him the benefit of the doubt again. And had been burned.
How foolish would she be not to trust her instincts now, to take a man’s word over what she felt was true? She knew Will cared about her, but she came as a package deal. How long would it take before he resented the loss of his freedom, before he balked at the responsibility of three little girls? I can’t take that chance.
The doorbell sounded again, this time accompanied by Spencer’s voice. “Megan?”
Oops. She hadn’t realized that she’d stopped dead in the foyer, no longer making any progress toward the door. But she forced herself to reach for the knob, pasting a big smile on her face. “Merry Christmas,” she said as she swung the door open.
There stood Spencer, looking exactly the same as he had the last time she’d seen him, right down to what she was pretty sure was the same tie. Honestly, who wore a suit to spend Christmas morning with his children? She turned her attention from him to the woman at his side, trying not to gape in surprise. “You, um, you must be Bonnie.”
Like Megan, the woman had long, dark hair and light eyes. Her height and shape were roughly the same as Megan’s, too. He definitely has a type. She heard Will’s voice in her head. I’m partial to brunettes.
Dammit, so much for her vow not to think about Will. She scowled. Then, realizing that Spencer and Bonnie were staring at her, forced her features back into a smile. “Come in, come in. The girls are excited to see you both.” She’d debated telling the girls about the engagement, so that they had time to get used to the idea and didn’t startle their father with any meltdowns. In the end, however, she’d decided against it. Not only wasn’t the engagement her news to share, they’d never even met Bonnie. She had decided it would be less traumatic if they could see she was a kind, normal person; based on the evil stepmothers prevalent in animated fairy tales, they might imagine the w
orst. Also, since Spencer was not the most reliable man on the planet, Megan wanted to make sure that he actually went through with the proposal—and that Bonnie accepted—before anyone potentially upset the triplets.
“Here, let me help you with those.” She reached out to give them a hand with the tower of presents they carried, trying to sneak a glance at Bonnie’s ring finger. Sure enough, a diamond engagement ring glittered there. It was funny how numb Megan was at the sight. She would’ve expected to feel more upset, more betrayed, more wistful for what-might’ve-been. But she was so emotionally wrung out over Will that her only response was a mental shrug. I hope Bonnie knows what she’s getting into. And I hope Spencer does better this time around.
In a low voice, she said to them, “Looks like congratulations are in order. I have a bottle of champagne in the back of the fridge we can open later. It’s cheap, but sincere.”
Bonnie’s eyes widened. “Thank you. That’s unbelievably kind.”
“My pleasure.” Maybe this day would be easier with a glass of alcohol. But as much she wanted to believe it, she doubted anything would make this day easier. Or the next day, or the one after that. She’d dealt with a broken heart before, and she knew it would take lots and lots of time.
She just had to take comfort in the fact that she’d ended things with Will before they got any more serious and her daughters’ hearts were broken, too.
* * *
WILL’S GOAL HAD been to make it through Christmas dinner; if he could make it that long, then he could excuse himself to go home without suffocating guilt. Traditionally, there was a Christmas-themed game night after the table was cleared and the kitchen cleaned, but he knew he was lousy company. The only saving grace was that everybody was so distracted—the kids with presents, Kate and Cole with each other, his parents with maintaining order—he doubted anyone had noticed.
As it turned out, he was wrong. But then, that was becoming a pattern.
“What gives?” Jace asked out of the side of his mouth.
“What are you talking about?” Will paid heavy attention to the glass pan he was scrubbing, not meeting his brother’s gaze. “And why are you talking like an old-school movie mobster?”
Jace set down the plates he’d been carrying and folded his arms across his chest. “I was trying to be discreet. I figured that if you haven’t mentioned by now what’s wrong, then you don’t want everyone to know.”
“What makes you think I want you to know?”
Jace studied him for a long minute. “It’s Megan, isn’t it?”
He flinched at the sound of her name, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of pain that accompanied it. Her voice echoed in his head, taunting, telling him that their relationship had reached its natural end. What a load of crap.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jace said. “Man, I was hoping to be wrong. But she made you happier than I’ve seen you in a long time, so it stood to reason that maybe she is what’s making you so miserable.”
“I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“Talk about what?” Cole asked as he carried in two tumblers and set about refilling them with iced tea.
“Will and Megan got into a fight.”
“It wasn’t a fight.”
“What did you do wrong?” Cole asked.
Will glared. “What the hell kind of brotherly support is that?”
“Arguably more supportive than you were,” Cole said. “Do you happen to recall when Kate and I first started to get serious and she was tentative about being involved with a cop? Your supportive words of wisdom included something about how if there was an obstacle in the road, maybe it was better to avoid the road altogether.”
Heat crept up his neck. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled. “I just didn’t want to see you get hurt.” The way Will had been hurt before, the way he was hurting again now.
“Understood.” Cole clapped him on the back. “So what did you do wrong?”
Will balled his hands into fists. Not a damn thing. He’d been attentive, passionate, thoughtful. Admiring of her skills as a mother, kind to her children. Yet none of it had been enough. “The only thing I did wrong was fall for another woman without the good sense to appreciate me.”
* * *
THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS, her daughters gave Megan the best gift possible—a quiet morning. After all the excitement yesterday, they slept well past nine on Monday, and she decided not to wake them up. Forget organized schedules and keeping the girls on track, knowing she’d need to wake them up early again tomorrow; right now she needed the peace.
So, naturally, her mother called two minutes after Megan sat down to enjoy her chai tea.
Megan reached for the phone grudgingly but unwilling to let it keep ringing, for fear it might wake the girls. “Hello?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Megan? Are you sick, dear? Your throat sounds scratchy.”
Yes, say you’re sick. Maybe she’ll let you hang up without a massive guilt trip. Then again, a lie could backfire horribly, if her mother showed up for another surprise visit, determined to nurse her back to health. “I’m fine.” Funny how that felt more like a lie than saying she was sick.
“I left you a voice mail yesterday, to wish you and the girls a merry Christmas.”
“I know, thanks. I heard it right before I went to bed. I was planning to call you later, when the girls are up and can tell you about their presents from Santa. Yesterday was crazy with Spencer here.”
“And that woman? Did he actually bring her?” her mother asked disdainfully.
“Bonnie. She seemed nice enough.” Megan didn’t bear the woman any ill will. “As far as I know, he met her a few months ago. She had nothing to do with our marriage ending, and she was friendly to the kids. Daisy and Iris really liked her. Lily mostly hid in the corner behind the rocking chair, eyeing her skeptically, but that was her reaction to Spencer, too.” He’d been humiliated that he had so much trouble coaxing out his own child in front of his fiancée. Megan had empathized, but she refused to force Lily to interact with virtual strangers. If Spencer wanted to be treated like a beloved daddy, he needed to start acting like one.
“Is he still in town?”
“They were planning to leave this morning and spend a few days with Bonnie’s mom in Oklahoma.”
As it turned out, when Spencer had said they were spending Christmas with Bonnie’s parents, he’d meant her father and stepmother, who’d primarily raised her. It was her background as the child of divorce, she’d told Megan, that made her understand how important it was for Spencer to maintain a relationship with his children, for all the adults in the situation to behave cordially. Apparently, it was only in the last few years that her own parents had been able to enter the same room without screaming at each other.
“I think Bonnie might actually be good for him,” Megan said.
“And have you given any more thought to what’s good for you and the girls?”
“You’re talking about Will?” She did not want to discuss this. But why not get it over with so that she didn’t have to endure any more well-intentioned, unsolicited advice? “Actually, he and I are no longer seeing each other.”
“Honey, I’m so sorry. But I did try to warn you. You have three daughters. You can’t be surprised that a man like him—”
“I broke up with him, Mother, not the other way around.”
“Oh.” That shut her up.
They sat in awkward silence, Megan sipping the tea that had started to grow cold.
Finally, Beth Ann offered, “I think being involved with him would be a mistake—I’ve made no secret of that—but I’m truly sorry for any interim pain. All I wish for you is happiness. I didn’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“Neither did I.” And yet here I am.
* * *
AT THE UNEXPECTED knock on his front door, hope rushed through Will. Maybe Megan had changed her mind? He knew from experience that she was unafraid to admit when she was wrong, one of her brave qualities, and if she’d missed him the last two days half as much as he’d missed her...
He hustled to the door, banging his shin on a table and stubbing a toe along the way. But he knew any pain would fade at the sight of her face. Unfortunately, the woman on his front porch was a pretty blonde he’d never seen before in his life.
“Can I help you?” Maybe she was visiting relatives for the holidays and had shown up at the wrong house by mistake.
She gave him an appraising look. “Are you Will Trent?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Nadine Reynolds,” she said, grasping his hand in both of hers.
“You’re Aunt Nadine?” She could hardly be ten years older than Amy. “You’re a lot younger than I expected.”
Her grin brought out two dimples. “Back at you! The way Amy talked about how ‘solid’ and ‘wise’ you are and your experience as a fireman, she made you sound... I hesitate to use the word fatherly.”
“Please, hesitate. Let’s go with big brotherly.”
She picked up a gift basket that had been sitting by her feet. “This is for you. As both a Christmas present and a thank-you. You were a genuine lifesaver.”
“She’s the one who was willing to admit she needed help and sought it out. I can’t take all the credit. I can, however, accept these delicious-looking goodies.” He reached for the basket of cheese and sausage and gourmet crackers, trying to look appropriately grateful. But it reminded him of the baskets-in-progress that frequently lined Megan’s counters and took up space in her spare bedroom. Refusing to glance toward Megan’s house, he ushered Nadine inside before he did something stupid. Like stare next door and sigh longingly at the rain gutters. She doesn’t want you. Have some pride.
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