by Karen Cimms
Despite the despair she’d been feeling all day, she couldn’t help but smile. “Seriously.”
Once inside, Kate slipped into the bathroom. Other than the dark moons beneath her eyes and the pink rimming her lashes, her skin was colorless. She could go upstairs and reapply her makeup, but for what? A fresh coat of mascara wouldn’t change anything.
In her absence, the dishes had been cleared and piled on the counter along with the half-empty bowls and platters. Coffee was brewing, and dessert waited on the table, along with bowls of fruit, nuts, and a tray of assorted chocolates.
She refilled her wine glass, which might make it easier to endure the rest of the holiday.
When the twins began to fuss, Billy brought out his acoustic and pulled a chair in front of the fireplace. He started with one of his own songs, but seeing that he was losing his target audience, he began to make up silly songs using the boys’ names. Rhiannon pulled two boxes of pasta from the pantry and handed one to each boy so that they too could make music, or so she said.
To see her family happy and enjoying each other would normally fill her with joy. Instead, it made her sad that she couldn’t join them. Even worse. She envied them.
A yawn caught her off guard. She tried to stifle it, but Billy must have noticed. He finished his version of the Blues Clues song and set down his guitar.
“All done,” he said as the boys rushed him yelling for more. “Nonna’s tired. Poppy has to put her to bed.”
They turned on Kate.
“No, Nonna,” Dalton cried. “No bed!”
“Bad Nonna!” Dayton stomped his little foot.
“I beg your pardon?” She snatched him up and planted several raspberries on his belly as he dissolved into hysterical laughter.
Doug shoveled the last of his pumpkin pie into his mouth, then began collecting the dessert dishes.
Rhiannon stood. “You need to help me get the boys ready. It’s past their bedtime anyway.”
He grabbed a handful of silverware. “We need to help your mother with the dishes.”
Help was exactly what Kate wanted, but she wanted something else more. “It’s okay. The boys are tired.” She ignored the smug look her daughter shot at her husband. “But while we’re all here, I was hoping we could talk about Christmas.”
“Christmas? Geez, Mom,” Rhiannon said. “I haven’t even digested Thanksgiving.”
“I know, but this is a good time to talk about it.”
Now that she had their attention, she wasn’t sure how to proceed.
“What is it, Kate?” Doug asked.
She mashed the untouched sliver of cheesecake on her plate into an untouched shred of pumpkin pie. “I was hoping we could do Christmas at your house this year.” She studied her daughter as she spoke. “I just think it’s going to be too—”
“Our house? I can’t manage an entire holiday by myself.”
Doug reached for her hand. “Honey, I’m sure we could—”
Rhiannon swatted him away. “Absolutely not. Besides, it’s tradition. We always have holidays here. It wouldn’t be the same.”
“What would we eat?” Devin’s question earned him a nasty look from his sister. Undaunted, he continued. “Rhiannon can’t cook, so who would do the cooking? I’m not eating kale for Christmas. I don’t care if it is green.”
Rhiannon glowered. “Ha-ha.”
Kate felt nauseous. “I would help you. It’s just that this was so hard on me, and you have that big, beautiful house—”
“You don’t think it’s been hard on all of us?” Rhiannon pressed an open palm to her chest. “You forget, not only do I have a husband and two children to take care of, I’m also taking care of Daddy.”
Kate had expected some pushback, but this? This was ridiculous. “Really, Rhiannon. Your father’s hardly there, and it’s not like he’s a doddering fool who needs to be coddled.”
“That’s beside the point. It’s out of the question. I have all I can manage taking care of two small boys. You have no idea how difficult that is.”
She did not just go there. “True,” Kate answered, channeling her late best friend. “You and Devin were born as very short, wholly functioning adults.”
“Very funny, Mother. You forget we weren’t twins, though.”
“Rhiannon.” Billy’s voice carried a note of warning, but Kate was on a roll.
“No. There was an entire fifteen months between the two of you. I had all I could do to find enough to fill my days, with your father on the road three hundred days a year and me home alone with two small children. And you know what? In all those years, I still decorated, cooked, cleaned, and shopped for every single holiday. I was the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and Santa Fucking Claus. And I must’ve done such a good job no one wants to take my place.”
Kate rose so quickly her chair toppled over. “I’m just asking for a break. For just one fucking holiday off!”
Dayton and Dalton had begun to cry, but Kate could barely hear them over the clanging in her ears.
“Good going, Mom!” Rhiannon cried.
“That’s enough!” Billy pounded his fist on the table, rattling dessert plates and wine glasses.
“We’re done.” Rhiannon threw her hands up and stalked out of the room.
Kate slumped against the wall. What the hell had come over her? She’d never spoken like that to either of her children. Ever.
Devin stared at the table, his napkin twisted in his fist. Kate wouldn’t look up, but she could feel Billy’s eyes on her. She could only imagine what he was thinking. Probably the same thing she was thinking: that she’d completely lost her mind.
Rhiannon returned wearing her coat and carrying her purse and the diaper bag. She thrust the boys’ jackets at Doug, then without a word to anyone, walked out the front door, taking the long way back to her car, presumably to avoid having to pass Kate.
Doug spoke softly to Dayton, calming him, before helping him into his jacket.
“I’ll talk to her,” Doug promised, zipping the boy’s jacket. He reached for Dalton. “I’m sure we can have Christmas at our house. We’ll hire some help if need be. Please don’t worry about it.”
Kate waved him off. “It was a silly idea. It’s better if I stay busy anyway.” She pointed to her glass. “I think I had a little too much vino. I got all maudlin on you.”
“We’ll talk anyway,” Doug promised.
Billy hoisted Dayton into his arms and carried him to Kate to kiss goodbye. His eyes sad, he looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he pressed his lips against the top of her head and followed Doug out to the car.
Other than the sound of Devin clearing the table, the house was strangely silent. Kate picked up the cheesecake and what was left of the pumpkin pie and followed him into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”
He finished scraping the plate he was holding and placed it next to the sink. He picked up another, scraped it, and carefully set it on the pile. Then he turned to face her.
“I get it, Mom. I do. And I’ll be the first to call Rhiannon a brat. But try looking at it through her eyes. In some ways, she’s just like you. Married young, two kids right off the bat. Thing is, I’m not sure that was in her master plan. Marrying Doug? That was all her, but I think there were things she wanted to do first that didn’t involve changing diapers and scrubbing toilets, at least not right away.”
“Your sister doesn’t scrub toilets.”
“Maybe not, but it’s still her job to make sure all the toilets in her McMansion are clean.”
It had to be the wine, because none of this was making much sense. No one had said anything about cleaning toilets.
“I think she’s kinda lost. To ask her to do something you’ve done effortlessly is setting her up for failure, and you and I both know she wouldn’t like that very much.”
“Effortlessly?”
Devin reached for another plate. “Y
ou make it seem that way. Our holidays have always been perfect. The best. Even when Dad couldn’t be here, you made them special. She wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“I said I would help. And besides, you’re the one who made that crack about her cooking.”
“Yeah. My bad.” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I was trying to break the tension. I’ll call her tomorrow and apologize.”
Kate felt as if she weighed a thousand pounds. The thought of letting down one more person was just too much. Being angry would’ve been easier.
She reached up and kissed Devin on the cheek.
“Tell your father I went to bed, will you? And ask him to help you with this.” She motioned to the mountain of dirty dishes. “If not, just leave it for me. I’ll do it when I get up.”
She passed through the dining room and snatched the half-empty bottle of wine off the table. Her foot hadn’t even hit the steps before she yanked out the cork and lifted the bottle to her mouth.
Chapter Fifty-One
Billy cringed at the fear in his son’s eyes. He’d bet anything Rhiannon was frightened as well; she just had a hell of a way of showing it. He rested a hand on Devin’s shoulder.
“She’ll be fine,” he said, praying he was right. “I’m going to insist she start seeing a psychiatrist immediately, even if I have to carry her there.”
Devin nodded and tore off a strip of plastic wrap.
“Where is she?” Billy peeked into the dining room, surveying the damage. It was hard to believe so few people could make such a huge mess.
“She went up to bed,” Devin said, his voice flat.
“I know you have a date. If you could just put the food away, I’ll deal with the rest of it later.” He headed for the steps. “Lock up behind you.”
The bedroom was empty, but the bathroom door was closed. Billy tapped gently. When Kate didn’t answer, he turned the knob, relieved it wasn’t locked.
Steam filled the room, coating the mirror and the windows. Kate sat upright, the claw-foot tub filled to capacity, her hair floating around her shoulders like a dark nimbus. The slightest movement would send water cascading over the edge.
He knocked on the open door.
“Yes?” She didn’t open her eyes.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” She reached for a bottle of wine sitting on the floor beside the tub and raised it to her lips. Water cascaded over the edge of the tub as she stretched to set it down.
Billy rescued the bottle and took a mouthful before placing it on the counter. He leaned on the edge of the sink.
“We’ll work it out. Don’t worry.”
“Whatever.” Her arm snaked out, searching. He handed her the bottle. Another wave flowed over the side and splashed onto the floor.
Billy unfastened his watch and set it near the sink. He pulled his shirt over his head and snagged an elastic from a sea shell on the counter and slipped it into his hair. Kneeling beside the tub, he plucked the sponge from the mass of bubbles and swept Kate’s hair to the side, running the sponge along her neck and shoulders. She rocked under his touch.
He lifted her arm and slid the sponge from her wrist to her ribs. Despite the sauna-like atmosphere of the room, she shivered. He dipped the sponge again and squeezed, allowing the water to flow over her. Eyes still closed, she bent her legs and rested her cheek on her knee as he drew the sponge across her shoulders and over her neck.
When he’d finished, he took her hand. “Can you stand?”
Kate squinted as if he’d just woken her. Water sloshed over the sides, pooling onto the floor as he helped her up.
He gripped her waist with one hand, the other he slid upward along her ribs, up to her breasts, where he lingered, his thumb sweeping over her taut nipple. He repeated the movement, increasing the pressure.
Her chest rose and fell with short breaths. Her eyes, dark and hooded, remained fixed on his.
He grasped the soap and lathered his hands, running them over her body. The sweet, citrusy scent filling his nostrils as he explored her skin, moving over her hips and around the curve of her ass, where he lingered, gently kneading the tender flesh and hoping she wouldn’t push him away.
She didn’t. Instead, her lip caught in her bottom teeth and her fingertips dug into his shoulders.
He slipped his soapy hand between her legs, running his thumb into the softness of her.
Thoughts of rejection clouded his mind. His need for her was powerful, but more than that, he wanted to free her; give her a release. Even if it would be no more than a few stolen minutes.
He steadied her with an arm around her waist as his thumb probed deeper, moving quickly, strumming the small, round bead. He dropped his head and captured a nipple in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth. Her body vibrated against his.
Holding tight, he plunged two fingers deep inside her. Her head rolled back and she pressed her hips against his hand, her muscles tightening around his fingers. Her arms grasped his shoulders; her fingers tangled in his hair. This woman was the sweetest instrument he’d ever played, and the sound of her coming undone was music to his ears.
“Let go, baby. I got you.”
It started from deep within her, a soft, low moan that rose until her cries echoed off the tiled walls. With a deep, low growl, she nearly collapsed in his arms. Billy softened his touch, massaging her gently as her orgasm faded. He buried his face in her neck, kissing the spot below her ear, and gently biting the curve of her shoulder.
“I want you.” Her words were barely a whisper, but he heard them.
“You’re drunk, Katie.”
“I am.” She sighed. “But I still want you.”
His brain went to war with the rest of him. He had little self-control when it came to his addictions, and his greatest weakness was standing before him, wet, naked, and wanting him.
“Are you sure?” The question was almost painful.
Her head bobbed slightly. “Yeah.”
He lifted her from the tub and draped a towel over her shoulders. Between the makeup smudges below her eyes, the wet hair trailing over her shoulders, and the pink flush of her skin, she had a just-fucked look that on its own threatened to derail him. He grabbed the edges of the towel and pulled her closer.
“God, you are so beautiful.”
She shrugged off the towel and linked her hands around his neck. She pulled the elastic from his hair and rubbed her fingers against his scalp and through the long, thick strands.
He let her set the pace, waited to see where she would take them. What he wanted was obvious, but it had to be what she wanted. He needed her, but it was so much more than sex. She had been his salvation, his safe harbor, no matter what.
Now it was his turn. She was drifting away, and he would be her anchor.
She gazed into his eyes as if she could read what was written on his heart. Her hands cradled his face.
“I need you, Billy,” she whispered. “Save me.”
He stepped out of his jeans, then he lifted her up and laid her on the quilt.
The desperation evaporated. The lines in her face faded. There was a softness there now, and a contentment he hadn’t seen in months. His lips touched her eyelids, her nose, trailing along the edge of her jaw. He kneaded her earlobe gently between his teeth. Her skin pebbled when his tongue tickled the hollow behind her ear.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and he rolled, flipping her on top, letting her take the lead.
Her skin was velvet against his, and they rediscovered each other, slowly, deliberately. Touching her, holding her. He had missed this more than anything.
Later, Kate slept with her head in the curve of his arm, her hair spread across his chest like a soft, warm blanket. He lovingly stroked each strand, fighting to stay awake. In the morning, she’d be sober, and the safety net he’d managed to wrap around her might snap, leaving her exposed and vulnerable, and tumbling away from him yet again.
Chapter Fifty-Two
/> Sunlight played across Kate’s face. She blinked lazily and tried to remember how long it had been since she had woken to the sun and not the moon? The deadweight of Billy’s arm rested across her chest, his leg flung carelessly over her own, pinning her in place. His head rested on her pillow and his hair, golden threads of amber, honey, and wheat mingled with her own chestnut strands. Her head throbbed, but having more than a couple of hours of sleep made the pain tolerable.
She had escaped last night from the jagged edges of her life. For a brief, blissful time, she had not only regained her passion, she had found softness and warmth in Billy’s arms. She had remembered what happiness felt like.
But darkness had returned with the dawn, dragging her deeper into its never-ending pit. In spite of the sunlit morning, she was as empty and hollow as ever.
She watched Billy sleep, her heart turning inside out. When she couldn’t bear it anymore, she slipped out from under him and headed downstairs.
The mess from yesterday remained spread across the dining room table and kitchen counters, triggering memories of the angry conversation of the night before. More heartache. It would take hours to clean up, but at least it was something to occupy her mind.
Charlie was dancing by the back door, so as soon as she’d set the coffee pot to brew—first things first—she opened the door to let him out.
Billy’s truck wasn’t in the driveway. The clock on the stove said it was just after seven. Too early for Devin to have gone out, which meant he’d never come home.
Hands shaking, she clawed through her bag for her cell phone. The goddamn battery was dead. She snatched the charger off the counter and plugged it in, then reached for the house phone.
Devin’s cell rang several times before he picked up.
“Where the hell are you?” Fear amplified her voice.
“Mom?” he asked, sleepily.
“Yes. Mom! Where are you?”
“I sent you a text.” He yawned in her ear. “We went to a party and since we were drinking, we spent the night. I sent you a message.”
