Sarah caught up to her. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Fine. Just craving coffee and food.”
“Umm. You’re not even going to tell me who those idiots were?”
“Well, you nailed it. They’re idiots.” Kenzie’s smile was hard though. “Let’s get a table okay? I need to eat.”
There was a story there, but obviously Kenzie wasn’t about to get into it. Not now anyway. Sarah tucked away that little tidbit of info.
“Sure.” She nodded slowly and gave her friend a reassuring smile. “I’m actually pretty hungry myself.”
After work Ian walked from his shop to Sarah’s house since it was only a few minutes away.
But when he spotted Kenzie’s car in the driveway, he hesitated.
Hell. He didn’t really want an audience for this whole apology scenario he had in his head. But then again, maybe it would help to have her there. She could be a diffuser to the situation. Ensure he wouldn’t try to jump Sarah’s bones again, because that would just be awkward with his sister watching.
After knocking on the front door a few times and getting no response, Ian dug his cell from his pocket and sent his sister a text to find out where they were.
She replied back a moment later saying they’d walked into town to have dinner out on the wharf. And why did he want to know where she was anyway?
He gave a slight smile and shook his head. Shite. Maybe the apology would have to wait.
Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he turned to walk back down the porch steps. The car that turned into the driveway slowed him down.
Chevy Sedan. A few years old. Looked like a rental. It came to a stop a few feet away.
With the sun behind the car, it wasn’t easy to make out the driver, but she emerged a minute later.
Eleven years had passed, and Ana Thornton had barely aged. Maybe a few more wrinkles and some gray hairs in her short bob, but Sarah’s mother could almost pass as her older sister.
Uncertain of how she’d react to seeing him, he hesitated on the porch, thrusting his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.
“Ian McLaughlin.” She took a cautious step forward. “Is that you? Or am I confusing you with Colin?”
“You had it right the first time.” A faint smile tugged at his lips and beneath his discomfort there was a familiar fondness for Sarah’s mom. “You look well, Ana.”
“And you’re a good liar, but thank you. I’m sure I look about as awful as I feel after traveling all day, I guess.” She grimaced and glanced past him toward the house.
“Has your husband come with you?” he asked mildly, trying not to let his expression turn bitter with the words.
The idea of seeing Sarah’s dad made his gut clench, but he’d face the man if needed. He’d never been one to walk away from a confrontation.
“No.” Her lashes fluttered down. “Ed died from a heart attack three years ago.”
Now he struggled to hide his shock. Ed had passed away? Sarah had never mentioned it since her return.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured a bit lamely.
“Thank you.” She gave a brief smile and glanced up again, looking past him. “Are you…spending time with Sarah?”
“No. Well, aye. A bit.” He paused. “I didn’t realize you were coming out.”
Guilt flickered in Ana’s eyes before she cleared her throat. “No. Neither does Sarah.”
Really? Sarah had no idea her mother was coming to Whidbey? Now that was going to be a shock and a half.
The sound of another car door opening had his attention shifting beyond Ana.
He stilled at the sight of the small girl exiting the vehicle. Sarah’s daughter. No doubt about it.
“Emily, I asked you to wait in the car.”
The little girl shrugged, her pretty face—so much like her mother’s—crinkled into a scowl.
“I was bored in there. And I feel sick, Grandma. We’ve been driving for too long.”
She was Sarah’s mini-me. Her hair wasn’t quite as dark as Sarah’s, maybe a little more brown than black, but it was long and shiny just like her mother’s. She was adorable and delicate in her denim shorts and a pink glittery tank top with matching sparkly pink sunglasses.
“We drove here straight from Sea-Tac,” Ana explained. “Before that we had about five hours on a plane.”
“Understandable. That’s a long time to travel.”
Shite this was a trip. Sarah’s daughter was here, standing right in front of him. Staring up at him with blatant curiosity, her hands on her hips.
“Where’s my mom?”
“Umm, she’s gone for a walk.”
“I don’t understand why people walk for fun. Who are you?”
And here came the questions.
“Ian.”
“I’m Emily. Sarah’s my mom.”
“So I gathered.”
“Are you friends with her?” She continued, barely taking a breath. “Did you know she’s single now? She can date.”
Christ. How old was this little matchmaker again? He could feel the heat in his neck as he struggled to answer that question. Children were just filterless little explosives, weren’t they?
“Emily, don’t be rude.”
Even while grateful for Ana’s intervention, Ian still couldn’t help but be amused by Emily.
“I’m not rude, Grandma. I was just telling him.” Emily rolled her eyes, before glancing curiously at the house. “Was this my great-grandma’s house?”
“Yes,” Ian answered before Ana could.
Emily’s attention slid to the yard that circled the entire house. “Grandma, is that grass part of the house?”
“Yes.”
“Woo whoo!”
Ian watched as she kicked off her flip-flops and sprinted toward the stretch of grass that was the widest.
“Emily.” Ana sighed and shook her head, but it was the only effort she made to stop her granddaughter as she launched into a handspring.
Just like her mama.
Somewhat alarmed that she was going to break something, Ian clenched his hands into fists and held his breath until Emily landed safely on her feet.
“She nearly gives me a heart attack every time she does that,” Ana muttered. “She’s just like her mother was. Gymnastics is in her blood.”
He watched as Emily grabbed her sunglasses, which had fallen off, from the ground and slid them back on.
“I remember Sarah loved it as well. Emily’s quite good for being so young, aye?”
“I suppose.” Ana gave him a considering, sidelong glance. “So Sarah’s gone on a walk?”
“She and Kenzie are at the wharf having a bite to eat. I could walk you both down there and we could meet them?”
Now why had he offered that? He knew that Ana had lived on the island for at least eight years while her husband was stationed in the navy. She probably knew exactly where the wharf was.
“That’d be great. Thanks, Ian. I desperately need to run inside and use the bathroom first, though.” She paused. “Do you mind keeping an eye on Emily?”
Alarm slid through him and his mouth flapped a bit. She was trusting him with a child? As in babysitting?
“I, well—”
“Five minutes.” Ana laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. She’ll probably keep doing flips the whole time I’m gone.”
And then Ana disappeared into the house, leaving him alone with Emily.
But instead of doing flips and keeping her distance, Emily approached. Then, just feet from him, she kicked herself into a handstand.
“So how do you know my mom?” she asked, from upside down.
Oh boy. Not going there. “We were friends when she lived on the island.”
“Were you her boyfriend?”
He mumbled something she wouldn’t hear. Shite, man, change the topic.
“So how long have you been doing gymnastics, Emily?”
“Four years. I love it.” She fixed
her ponytail, which was falling down. “This is a great yard. We don’t have a yard right now. We live in an apartment and there’s nowhere to practice my gymnastics. I hate it.”
“I’m sorry.” And he was. Emily was obviously an energetic kid who needed lots of space to run around.
“It’s okay. Mom says with the money we get from selling this house we can maybe buy a new one.” She glanced around. “But I like this house. I wonder if we could live here.”
That nearly had him guffawing out loud. Sarah moving to the island permanently? Not likely. She’d probably faint at the idea.
“You seem nice,” Emily said lightly.
Nice wasn’t generally a word that people described him with, but all right.
“Uh, well, thank you?”
“You’re welcome.”
“Neil was a real asshat.”
Ian blinked, nearly choking on a reply. Had this child had just referred to her father—in third person at that—as an asshat?
“An asshat, you say? Do you even know what that means, Emily?”
“No. But I heard some teenagers call a mean guy it at the mall once.” She came out of the handstand and landed back on her feet.
Damn, she really was good. And she amused him. He almost found himself eager to hear what she’d say next, because there sure didn’t seem to be any boundaries.
“I think that’s why my mom divorced him. Because he was so mean. He made her cry.” She strode forward, closer to him. “Do you make girls cry?”
Ouch. He struggled with the guilt over having made Sarah cry in the past, and the brewing fury that her husband also brought her to tears.
“Not intentionally,” he finally answered cautiously.
“Intentionally? Does that mean like on purpose?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good then.” She spun away and did a series of cartwheels. “And you shouldn’t hit girls either.”
A chill swept through him at her seemingly casual words, but he could sense the intensity behind them. Anger. As if she’d witnessed something no child should have had to.
Fuck, what kind of asshat—as Emily put it—had Sarah married?
He wanted to ask if she’d ever seen her dad hit Sarah. It was on the tip of his tongue. But he didn’t have the right. Emily was just a child.
“Aye, hitting is quite bad.”
“You talk funny. Are you from England?”
“Scotland. Long ago, though. Most of my accent is gone now.”
“I still hear it.” Emily returned to his side. “It’s pretty.”
Lovely. He had a pretty voice.
His lips quirked and he glanced furtively toward the house. Where the hell was Ana, and what was taking her so long?
“So, uh, how do you do in school?” he asked conversationally.
“I do good in school, but it’s so boring.”
“Yeah. It can be.”
“You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to tell me it’s fun and it’s good for me. Don’t you know anything about being an adult?”
“Hmm. Apparently not.” He shook his head. “You’re a rather smart little girl, aren’t you?”
She placed a hand on her hip and gave him a look of disgust. “I’m not a little girl, I’m a tween.”
What the hell was a tween?
“Gonna be a teenager in three more years.” She turned away and did another cartwheel, sending her sunglasses flying.
Three? Wait. What? Ian, paused, wracking his mind for that conversation he’d had with Sarah a few days ago. Hadn’t she said Emily was eight?
“Five more, right?”
“No, I’m ten now. Ten plus three is thirteen. You should totally know that.” She picked her sunglasses off the ground and slipped them back on, but not before he’d seen the vibrant green of her eyes.
Ian reared back, almost stumbling over his feet. His heart pounded twice as fast and the gears in his mind were cranking.
She was ten years old, not eight.
It wouldn’t be the first time you forgot a condom.
Sarah’s words raced through his head. The condom they’d forgotten on prom night.
No. She wouldn’t have. There was no way Sarah would hide this from him. No way…
“What month is your birthday?” he rasped.
“February.”
One word. And it changed his entire world.
Chapter Thirteen
“This isn’t happening.” Sarah re-read the text on her phone, struggling to even see the words because her hands were shaking so badly.
Emily and I are on the island. Just arrived at your house. And Ian’s here, interestingly enough. We’ll come down to the wharf shortly.
“We need to go.” Shoving her phone back in her purse, she scrambled up from her seat. “Now.”
“Why? What’s up?” Kenzie grabbed her coffee and followed suit.
Her mom was messing with her, right? Only her mom wasn’t a prankster by any means. Which meant Emily and her mother really were at Gran’s house just up the road. And, apparently, Ian was with them.
She increased her stride; her stomach churning as she practically ran out of the building and back down the wharf.
“Hold on already?” Kenzie struggled to keep up. “Sarah, you look like you’re about to puke. What is it? Emily? Is she hurt?”
“No. She’s here.”
“Oh. Really?” Confusion clouded her friend’s tone. “Is that such a bad thing? I mean I know you didn’t plan on her coming out, but Whidbey is a fun place for kids.”
Kenzie had no idea. Was completely clueless of the potential damage control Sarah was facing.
They were just blocks from the house when she spotted them. Ian, Emily and her mother were walking side by side down the street toward them.
Her stomach heaved as she noted the way Emily seemed to be chatting a mile a minute. The closer they got, more nauseous Sarah became. Her mother looked almost stunned, and Ian…
Oh. Fuck.
He knew.
Outwardly, Ian didn’t look too upset, but she knew him well enough to read the signs. The tension in his shoulders and the way he stared her down. If his gaze could shoot bullets she’d be bleeding to death right now.
“Mom!” Emily broke free from her grandma and ran the short distance that separated them, throwing herself into Sarah’s arms.
“Hey, baby.” She clung to her, squeezing probably much tighter than she should’ve.
“Grandma said we were going to come out here and surprise you. Make it a mini vacation.”
“I’m…surprised.” She lifted her head and stared at her mom. How could you, she asked silently.
The guilt on her mother’s face showed she’d known exactly what she was doing. What she’d risked.
“So, you’re Emily?” Kenzie asked brightly, as oblivious to the tension among the group as Emily was. “You must be Sarah’s daughter who I’ve heard so much about.”
“Yeah.” Emily nodded and pulled away from Sarah, but still gripped her hand. She stared up at Kenzie curiously.
“Well aren’t you pretty?” Kenzie grinned. “You’ve got that long pretty hair, just like your mom. And those green eyes… Wow, you almost could pass for a McLaughlin…” Her voice trailed off and her brows knit. “Wait. How old are you?”
“She’s ten,” Ian said flatly.
Kenzie’s gaze darted from Emily and then up to Ian, before finally back to Sarah.
“Sarah?” There was accusation in Kenzie’s tone. Disbelief.
The world spun around Sarah. Bile rose sharply in her stomach as panic clawed at every inch of her being. Instinct had her trying to step around Ian, to rush to the house with Emily, but he stepped in front of her.
His green eyes—the same eyes as Emily—shimmered with a thin layer of shock, but more than that there was such a fierce rage that had her trembling.
“Kenzie, do me a favor and take Emily and Ana down to the ice cream shop for a cone.�
� Ian’s words were remarkably calm. Soft even. “I need to have a chat with Sarah for a bit.”
Kenzie was quiet for a moment, still completely flummoxed. “I…ugh, yeah. I can do that. Do you like ice cream, Emily?”
“Do fish like water? Ugh, yeah, I do. Bring it on!” Emily tugged on Ana’s hand. “Come on, Grandma.”
Ana gave a slight nod and moved to take Emily’s hand again.
“Mom, are you sure you don’t want to come?” Emily asked.
More than anything. Actually, she wanted to grab her daughter and run like hell for the next ferry off the island.
She tried to speak past the lump in her throat. “You go and have fun. I’ll spend time with you soon, Em.”
“Okay.”
Sarah didn’t move. Likely couldn’t have, as she watched the three trudge back down the street toward the ice cream shop.
Ian didn’t say a word, but she could feel his stare. She nearly quaked under it.
“Ian—”
“Back to the house. We’re not going to do this here.”
He turned and strode back to the house, leaving her no choice but to follow.
Do this. She didn’t even want to imagine what do this entailed. She’d feared this moment. Had gone almost eleven years without having to face it, and had naively assumed it would never occur.
And then one trip back to the island unraveled everything.
She wondered if being left the house, and its stipulation, had been part of a bigger plan of Gran’s. That maybe it had very little to do with being left property, and everything to do with tying up loose ends between Sarah and Ian.
Gran, tell me this wasn’t your plan all along.
Ian opened the door and let her walk in first before closing it behind him.
She wasn’t sure what she expected. Not violence toward her. Not from Ian. But she didn’t doubt he wanted to throw his fist through a wall or something.
“Why?” It was just one question, so heavy with disbelief and pain. A hard shrug accompanied it as he stared down at her.
She wasn’t even sure how to answer. Struggled to find an acceptable one.
“You didn’t tell me about my own child,” he ground out. “She is my daughter, isn’t she? I will hear the truth from your lips.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Emily is your daughter.”
Good Girl Gone Plaid: The McLaughlins, Book 1 Page 13
