by Ciara Shayee
“She went part-time to move here, though, right?”
“So she said,” Mom snorts, picking apart the napkin in her hands. “It was all a ruse to get Kellan to believe she was committed to the relocation. She never intended to live here full-time. Between him moving here and finishing the house, she switched positions at her firm. She never had to go into an office if she didn’t want to, she worked from home. She could have worked from anywhere.”
My frown deepens. “So…she lied?”
“Yes, she lied.” Seeming to remember that it’s her friend’s life she’s gossiping about, Mom blinks and plasters a smile on her face. “He’s well rid of her, that’s for sure.”
Before she can get up and walk away, I force myself to ask one more question. “Did she leave him?”
Hesitating, Mom gazes at me. “Yes,” she finally sighs. “She waited until the funeral was over and handed him divorce papers the following day.”
My eyes follow her as she crosses the patio to crouch by the pool, her lips moving but her voice drowned out by the rushing in my ears.
I flew back for the funeral—Willow’s funeral. Jaxson and Finley were two weeks old by the time the coroner released her, and I couldn’t miss it. Jude watched the boys for me, so they were in great hands, and I couldn’t not be there for Kellan, even though I couldn’t begin to grasp the depths of his despair.
The image of him, silent and broken at his daughter’s graveside, will be burned into my memory for the rest of my life. Flashes of newspaper clippings fly through my mind; a Jeep on its side, a totaled sedan, and a little girl’s toothy smile lost forever.
I have vague memories of Shannon being there. She was distraught, obviously, but it was clear her heart wasn’t here in Jackson Bay. When she left just days after the funeral, the day before I flew home to my babies, I assumed it was to return to her family for comfort. I thought it was odd she didn’t stay with her husband, but I didn’t realize it was because she’d already filed for divorce.
Less than a month after their daughter died.
Back in England, busy caring for two newborns, I missed most of what happened right after Willow’s funeral, but I heard bits and pieces from Mom, Everly, and Rosie.
I know Kellan spiraled downward into depression and wound up seeing a therapist. I know Dad took over running the restaurant until Kellan showed up for the first time, six months after Willow died, and insisted he could handle it. I know that he still lives in the house he renovated with his wife and future children in mind, and that everybody worries about him working himself into an early grave to keep his memories and grief at bay.
I also know that my teenage crush is back, and it’s stronger, deeper, growing into something more permanent. Falling for Kellan is as unexpected as it is likely to cause issues, but it’s happening. I know enough of love to recognize my feelings for what they are, and I’m falling hard.
The sudden blare of my cell across the table makes me leap up. Mom shoots me an odd look but nods and promises to stay with Everly and the boys while I take the call inside.
“Hello, Kellan?”
“Hey, short stuff,” he breathes, a smile stretching across my face because I can hear his in his voice. “I’m sorry for running away this morning. I just needed some time.”
“No, I’m sorry, Kellan. I pushed you too hard.”
“Can I come over? Can I come see you?”
Twisting the end of my plait between my fingers, I contemplate. “I’m at Mom and Dad’s. we’re not staying for dinner…you could come over to my place, I’ll cook?”
He’s silent for a moment before he agrees, and it’s only as I say ‘goodbye’ and hang up that I realize it might be hard for him to be around the boys after such an emotional conversation last night.
*
When the doorbell rings later that afternoon, my heart sputters before taking off at a sprint.
“I’ve got it!” Arlo yells, running for the door. Kellan texted a few minutes ago to say he was coming over and ask if he could bring anything, so I feel confident letting my son open the door unaccompanied, but I pause tossing the salad to listen to the conversation in the other room.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Kellan! Momma says you’re havin’ dinner with us.”
“That’s right. Is that okay with you?”
I guess Arlo shrugs or nods, because it’s quiet until Kellan chuckles and I hear their footsteps moving toward me. As they step into the kitchen, Kellan says, “I like your shirt.”
My eyes drop to the writing on Arlo’s tank top even though I already know what it says.
Having a weird mom builds character
“It’s cool, huh?” Arlo beams, flashing me a grin. “Momma’s weird but she says it’s okay, ‘cause all the cool people are weird.”
Butterflies take up residence in my stomach as Kellan offers me a soft, lopsided smile and nods, resting his hand on Arlo’s messy mop of hair. “Your momma’s right, bud.”
“Okay, Lo, dinner is almost ready. Can you go wash up and get your brothers, please?”
“Sure!”
With Arlo thundering down the hall, yelling for Jaxson and Finley, I’m left alone with Kellan. Electricity crackles between us as he sighs and closes the gap in two big strides, the warmth of his hand burning through my thin tank top as it comes to rest on my waist. After all the high emotions of last night, I promised myself I wouldn’t jump him as soon as he walked in the door. I didn’t anticipate the way my entire body would yearn to be closer to his the second he came within a few feet of me.
“H-hi,” I stutter, my cheeks flaming.
His lips curl up higher, his eyes crinkled with amusement. He’s trimmed his beard since last night, I notice, the strands a little less unkempt, his jaw a little more defined. “Hi.”
Just when I think he’s going to lean in for a kiss, the boys’ thumping footsteps sound on the hardwood and we spring apart; him with a groan, me with a wry, apologetic wince.
“Later,” he mouths as the wolves descend on him, Jaxson, Finley, and Arlo all demanding his attention. Leaving him to it, but keeping a careful eye, I tell them to get comfy at the table while I finish up the sides for our pizza feast.
When I finally set three large pizzas on the wooden boards on the table, I smirk at the dramatic rise of Kellan’s eyebrows. He’s seeing the smiley face made out of peppers on one and the less-than-even coverage of pepperoni on one of the others.
“That’s my one, Kellan,” Arlo tells him proudly, pointing to where he spread a thick layer of pepperoni over two thirds of the dough before leaving the last section bare except for a sprinkle of cheese.
“It looks, uh, great?”
Arlo beams, puffing up with pride, as Kellan helps himself to a big slice and makes a show of giving him a thumbs up after taking a bite.
It makes my momma-heart happy, seeing Kellan and my boys together. Throughout dinner, they give me enough butterflies to make my head spin. Over pizza, salad, and homemade cheesy garlic bread, Kellan patiently listens to all their stories. They range from topics like swim school with Aunt Everly, to hanging out at In The Bay with Mom and Dad, to playing soccer with Bailee and Lakely at the park.
“Lakely is my girlfriend,” Arlo tells him frankly, wiping tomato sauce from his chin with the back of his arm.
“Is that so?” Kellan asks, glancing my way. I roll my eyes and don’t bother hiding a grin.
“Uh-huh. I had a girlfriend in England, but she’s too far away now.”
Kellan barks a chuckle, trying and failing to disguise it as a cough. “Long distance relationships can be hard.”
Arlo narrows his eyes, but I can see him fighting a smile. “What? It’s true! Tell him, Momma.”
“It’s true.” I manage to sound somewhat sincere—enough to placate Arlo, at least. He settles back down, and normal conversation resumes.
When we’re all done, Kellan insists on tac
kling the dishes while I sit at the breakfast bar and enjoy a glass of the lemonade Mom sent home with us earlier. It’s delicious, sweet and tart at the same time, but it’s the new memories that I associate with it that have me grinning as the boys attempt to ‘help’ Kellan load the dishwasher.
The night of the almost-kiss at Burger Co., we were drinking Mom’s spiked lemonade.
Kellan glances over at me at one point, his gaze narrowing slightly. “I think we’re all done here, boys. Do you think you’re up to showing me some tricks on the trampoline? I just want to talk to your momma for a sec, then we’ll be out.”
“Yes!” Jaxson yells, always a decibel too loud for being indoors, hopping down from his stool. “Can we, Momma?”
“Sure. Be careful, though,” I say, my eyes on Kellan and the darkening moss of his gaze.
The boys don’t need telling twice. They take off without hesitation, leaving me in an increasingly warm kitchen with a man who looks like he’s two seconds away from devouring me.
I don’t have a chance to say a word before Kellan is around the counter and spinning my stool, his lips coming down hard on mine in a demanding kiss full of passion and building expectation of where it might lead. I exhale a breathy sigh into his mouth, holding him to me by his soft hair. The rasp of his beard against my skin is heaven, his large hand gripping my thigh weighting me to the seat; without his hold, I feel as though I’d float clean away.
As is common with three young sons, the moment is broken by the sound of yelling through the open window.
“Hey! You jumped on my foot!”
“Shit,” I pant, dropping my head to rest my forehead against Kellan’s heaving chest. His hold on me loosens as he sucks in a deep breath and presses a lingering kiss to the top of my head.
“I’ll go,” he offers, squeezing my leg before stepping out. I’m left with a foggy head and a dawning realization that resisting Kellan is going to prove almost impossible now that I know how good it is when I cave.
*
“You have got to be kidding me.”
I say that a lot when I’m at Vaughn’s. When I head in for my shift on Monday morning, I can immediately see that I’ve got my work cut out for me. The store is a mess, there’s stock piled up all over the place, and a line of confused people waiting to pay while Paulette’s voice echoes loudly from the store room.
“So I told her, ‘Beatrice, you can’t just steal her man,’ and she said—”
“Paulette!” I yell through gritted teeth, rushing behind the counter where I toss my bag down and punch my log-in details into the register and offer Amelia an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry for the wait.”
“Oh, it’s no problem, honey.”
Thankfully, the four customers who’ve been waiting Lord-knows-how-long are pleasant and accept my apology for their wait with grace. In the time it takes me to get them all rung up and waved out the door, Paulette manages to wrap her call and join me, her usual scowl firmly in place.
“What was so important you had to disturb my business call?”
Business call, right. And I’m the queen of bloody England.
“There were customers lined up out here, Paulette,” I sigh, rubbing my forehead. I can already feel a headache coming on and I’ve only been here five minutes. “They were standing out here waiting while listening to you on the phone to your friend.”
Her lips tighten into a sneer. Her uncle is the biggest wet lettuce I’ve ever met; he lets her get away with everything. She’s not used to being called on her bullshit “I’ll have you know—”
She’s cut off by familiar, pounding footsteps and my youngest son’s face appearing in the doorway. He looks around, grinning when he spots me. “Momma, look what Kellan gave me!”
My smile at the personalized ‘Arlo’ cup in his hands evaporates when nobody appears behind him.
“What is this, Mommy Daycare? You’re working, Piper.”
“Lo, kiddo, who brought you over here?” I ask, crouching in front of him and ignoring Paulette bitching over my shoulder.
“Nobody, I came by myself. Nana and Jax and Finn are in Burger Co. with Kellan and Papa, so I came to see you.”
Frustration and fear worm their way up my spine as I briefly consider all the things that could have happened to him in the twenty or so feet between the restaurant and here. There’s a busy road, the parking lot, anybody could have been passing by and seen him by himself…
“Arlo, does anyone know you left?”
“No, Momma,” he tells me with a smile. “I’m a big kid, I wanted to come see you.”
I’m halfway through explaining to him that he should never run off by himself when Paulette opens her vicious mouth. At the same time, I hear a door slam and thumping feet on the sidewalk outside.
“Look, you little brat. Piper has to work, she doesn’t have time for you—”
“Hey, lady, I’m not a brat!” Arlo snaps, little hand on his hip as he stamps his foot.
I see Kellan skidding into the store as I stand, spinning to face Paulette with fire licking my veins. “What did you just say?”
“Chill, buddy, your momma has this,” Kellan says quietly, Arlo harrumphing behind me.
Paulette’s eyes widen as she takes a small step back.
That’s right, bitch. You’ve just woken Momma Bear.
Nobody calls my kids names except me, and that’s only because I’ve earned that right through hours of labor and years of wiping their boogers, holding them when they fall down, and putting up with their shenanigans. This bottle-blonde with less brain cells than my left shoe hasn’t earned the right to even look at my babies, let alone speak to them like she just dared to.
“Nobody, least of all you, gets to speak to my child like that. You don’t get to call him names, either. Not unless you want me to hand you your ass on a platter. Do you understand me?”
“Ooh, Momma, you said a bad word.”
If I weren’t spitting-feathers mad, I might have laughed, like Kellan does, at Arlo’s gleefully hissed words.
Cocking her hip and sticking her nose in the air, Paulette screws up her face and attempts to look threatening. I can see the nerves in her eyes as she takes another step back. “You don’t speak to me like that. I’m your boss—”
“No, you’re not.”
Impulsive decisions aren’t my thing. They never tend to work out well for me. However, in this case, I don’t see another option. I can’t work in a place like this with someone like her. I’ll end up in jail.
“I quit,” I decide with a sudden burst of confidence, enjoying the worry that takes hold of Paulette’s features. She knows as well as I do that with me gone, she’ll have to buck up and actually work for a chance. Feeling unexpectedly relieved, I unsnap my name badge from my shirt and slap it into her hand. My grin remains as I lean in. “If you ever, and I mean ever, speak to any of my sons again, I will wipe the floor with you.”
“You have to work a week’s notice!” she bleats as I round the counter to get my purse. “You forfeit this month’s wages if you walk out without working your notice period.”
Shit. She’s right. I remember agreeing to that when I signed my contract. “Fine. I’ll work my notice period, but that’s it. And I won’t be coming in early or leaving late, either.”
Before she has a chance to say another word, I grab Arlo’s hand and all but drag him from the store, mindful of Kellan following close behind us. It isn’t until we’re in his office in Burger Co., Mom following once she’s settled Arlo back at their table, that I deflate a little.
“Shit. I just quit my job, didn’t I?”
Kellan nods with a faint smile. I can see pride and amusement there. Worry, too. “In pretty spectacular fashion, short stuff.”
“What happened?” Mom frets, brushing my hair away from my face. “Are you all right? I’m so sorry Arlo got away from us. He was there one second, but he’d disappeared the next.
”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I sigh, closing my eyes as adrenaline drains from my body and reality sets in. “I need a new job. Crap.”
“I think we can work something out.”
The offer doesn’t come from Mom, but Kellan.
My eyes flash open, finding his face as he shrugs, a definite twinkle in his eyes as he says, “I’m sure we can put you to work.”
Chewing my lip, I mull it over. “You’d do that?”
“Of course. I was going to offer you a job, anyway. I decided after you helped me out that night, I just wasn’t sure how to broach it.”
Mom grins and claps her hands together. “See? There we go, what a perfect solution! Kellan here will look after you, won’t you?”
As Mom loops her arm around his waist, she misses the wink he shoots me along with a mouthed “You bet I will.”
“Absolutely. The position will be full-time until Ash comes back, but we’ll still need somebody part-time when she returns.”
Mom excuses herself to head back out to Dad and the boys, leaving Kellan to run through the hours he’s proposing. “You can keep your later shifts on Wednesdays and Thursdays if they work for you, and we can fit the rest in around the boys. New Kid—uh, Xavier—he’s been asking to switch his lunch shifts to lates, so you could take the shifts he drops.”
“That sounds…pretty perfect, actually.”
Could it really be this simple?
I’ll have to take on an extra day to what I’ve been doing at Vaughn’s, but it’s a good tradeoff for working somewhere like this.
My mind wanders to the perks of having Kellan at arm’s reach, then to the cons of working in such close proximity when he’s already such a huge distraction. He pulled his glasses on to look at the schedule pinned to the back of the door, and I don’t have words for how ridiculously hot he is with them perched on his nose as he rubs his nose and studies the board.
