Stone Rules (A Mitchell Sisters/Stone Brothers Novel)

by Samantha Christy

  Charlie and I have gone to every home game, and it’s nice to see her enjoy football again. She’s even started to open up to me more about the times she and her dad bonded over the sport.

  Although she hasn’t seen George since that day at the office, they have been corresponding by email. Emails she shares with me, and I’m more than delighted to see a relationship blossoming between the two of them. My hope is she will see him again soon. Maybe even when the baby comes.

  “Are you guys up for some drinks?” Griffin asks after dinner. “I know a great club down the street. That is if Charlie isn’t too tired.”

  “I’m not,” she says. “That sounds fun.” She rubs her belly. “Obviously, I won’t be drinking though.”

  “Well, if Charlie’s not drinking, neither am I,” Skylar says. “You shouldn’t have to be the only sober one there.”

  “I’m with you two,” Baylor says. “It’ll be fun watching everyone else make asses out of themselves.”

  “Did you just call us asses, darlin’?” Gavin drawls.

  “Not you,” she says, laughing. “Everyone else at the club.”

  “How about it, Piper,” Skylar asks. “Are you with us? You know, one for all?”

  “Are you seriously putting peer pressure on me not to drink?” she asks, looking at each of them.

  “Looks like we may all have our designated drivers,” Mason says.

  “You are the only one who drove, Dix,” Griffin says. “The rest of us took a cab.”

  “Oh, right,” Mason says, turning to his fiancée. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

  Piper rolls her eyes. “Fine. I won’t drink. But you owe me one, babe.”

  When we get up to leave the restaurant, Charlie asks me a question only I can hear. “Did Griffin just call Mason a dick?”

  I laugh and explain, “He called him Dix. It’s a nickname, because his name is Mason. You know, Mason Dixon?”

  “Do you call him that?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No. I’m not into nicknames, except with you, darlin’.”

  “Darlin’?” she looks up at me with disapproving eyes.

  “What?” I say. “Gavin pulls it off.”

  “That’s because he’s from Texas,” she tells me. “There is nothing southern about you, Ethan.”

  We walk one block over to the club and are ushered through the main door in front of everyone else who is waiting. I’m not sure if Griffin knows the owner, or maybe it’s Mason’s recognizable face that gets us in. Either way, I’m glad Charlie didn’t have to wait in that long line in those heels she’s wearing. And she hates it when I use money to ‘make things happen,’ so I’m glad this special treatment has nothing to do with me.

  We get escorted to the top level of the club to a special VIP area. There is a couch, a few lounge chairs, a table, a big-screen television and a private waitress all at our disposal. Charlie shoots me a questioning look. I hold my hands up. “Don’t look at me,” I tell her.

  “The owner is the guy who hired me for a private shoot this week,” Griffin says. “His wife just had a baby and they wanted pictures that are going to be released in next month’s People Magazine.”

  “People Magazine?” Piper asks. “Wow, he must be famous. Who is he?”

  “I’m sworn to secrecy,” he says with a smirk. “Not many people know he owns this club.”

  Skylar swats him. “They are family, Griffin.” She turns to Piper and whispers the name.

  I can’t hear it, but it makes Piper’s eyes bug out. Piper tells Charlie and Charlie tells Baylor and then they all giggle and swoon over the discovery. I know it’s not a movie star. Charlie would never swoon over a movie star. In fact, I don’t think she’s ever swooned over anyone but me. Damn it. Now I’m jealous of the guy who owns this club. But I’m too stubborn to ask who it is.

  We spend the next few hours drinking, laughing and talking. I even managed to get Charlie on the dance floor, but she went barefoot because the high-heels had taken a toll on her feet. So instead of enjoying the dance with my future bride, I worried the whole time that someone would step on her feet.

  Around eleven o’clock, I can see her begin to fade. “I think Charlie and I are going to call it a night,” I tell the group. “You guys stay and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  The girls say their goodbyes, hugging like they aren’t going to see each other tomorrow or the next day. I look at Charlie’s round belly, thinking we should have more children right away. I want our kids to be close, not only in age, but emotionally, like Charlie is with her adopted sisters. Like I am with my brothers.

  Plus, I’d have the added benefit of Charlie being pregnant all the time. Pregnancy for Charlie is like having a sex kitten on steroids. Even as big as she’s getting, she’s still horny all the time. All. The. Time.

  I’m the luckiest bastard alive.

  But the best part is getting to feel the baby move inside her. I’ve been able to feel it for a few months now and it’s incredible. Cara and I never had that kind of relationship. Even though we became friends after our breakup, we weren’t the touchy-feely sort of friends that would go around feeling each other’s bellies.

  We’re walking through the club, trying to make our way to the front door. It takes time. The club is really crowded, even more so than when we came in. It takes us several minutes to navigate through all the drunken party-goers without getting trampled.

  Just as we’re about to make it to the front door, I hear Charlie’s named being shouted. We turn around to see which one of the guys called out to her. Maybe she forgot her purse or something. But it wasn’t Gavin or Griffin or Mason who had shouted her name. It was Zach fucking Thompson.

  I grab Charlie, pulling her in front of me as I turn us back around and push our way through the door. He was twenty feet or so away from us, so I’m hoping we have time to get around the corner and into a cab before he can follow us.

  We don’t. I hear his voice call out behind us. “Wait.”

  I pull her close to me and we keep walking.

  “Aw, come on, I just want to talk, Charlie,” he says, still following us.

  We turn the corner and I look for a cab.

  “You’re not scared of me, are you, Stone?”

  I swear to God that is probably the only thing the asshole could have said to make me turn around. I’ve got to hand it to him, he’s a good manipulator.

  “Turn around and walk away right now, Thompson, or I will call the police on your ass faster than you can steal quarters from that parking meter. You are harassing Charlie.”

  “You can’t call the police on me. I haven’t done anything. This is a public sidewalk and I have every right to be here. And as far as I’m concerned, I was just the one who was threatened here.”

  I don’t want to take my eyes off him for a second, not even to hail a cab.

  He eyes Charlie in her form-fitting maternity dress. “Holy shit, you’re fat,” he says. “You must be feeding my kid well.”

  I lunge forward, but Charlie puts a hand on my arm. “Don’t, Ethan. He’s not worth it.”

  I take a step back and he laughs.

  “Don’t Ethan, he’s not worth it,” he mimics in a high-pitched voice. “Do you always do what slutty bitches tell you to do?”

  Faster than Charlie can try to hold me back, I have him turned around and pinned against the building, holding both his hands behind his back as I press the side of his head hard into the brick wall. “Don’t you ever talk to us again, you piece of shit. You may think you have something on us. You don’t. This kid isn’t yours and you won’t get a goddamn cent out of us.”

  “If you were really sure about that, she’d have taken the test,” he says into the wall. “You may have me against this fucking wall, but I’m the one with the upper hand here.”

  “Ethan!” I hear a male voice shout. I turn to see Mason, Griffin and Gavin surrounding Charlie, ready to pounce on Thompson if I give the word. “Ev
erything okay?” Mason asks.

  “Fine,” I say. “I was just nicely asking Mr. Thompson here to stay away from Charlie.”

  “You know, there’s an easy way to make all this go away,” Zach says.

  “And I suppose you’re going to tell me how much I should write the check for.”

  “It’s probably not as much as you’d think,” he says. “A couple mil is chump change to you. But it will get me off your back. I don’t want a snotty-nosed kid. But I’ll take it if it means the money will follow. And believe me, I have a pretty good idea of the money that will follow. But, hey, I should look at the bright side; I can always bang the babysitter I’ll hire with it.”

  The thing that pisses me off the most right now, other than the fact that this asshole’s dick has been inside my fiancée, is that if John hadn’t warned me about this, I’d probably be whipping out my checkbook right now. And it scares me that I’m this worried about him being the biological father.

  “You can take your bribe and shove it up your worthless ass,” I tell him. I give him one more push into the wall so he’s sure to feel it in the morning. Then I step back and release him. “Now get the fuck out of here before I make it so you can’t walk away.”

  He walks to the corner before he turns around and stares me down. “I may have dipped my stick in your girlfriend, but you’re the one who’s getting fucked, Stone.”

  He disappears around the corner and Charlie runs over to me, wrapping me in her arms. “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Me?” I run my hands over the outline of her face. “What about you? Are you okay? Do you need to sit down or something?”

  I notice she’s not pale. She’s not panicking. She’s not even shaking.

  “I’m good,” she assures me with a smile. “I’ve thought about this a lot these past few months. And I’m not going to let him get to me anymore. Whatever happens, happens. As long as you and I are together, we can get through anything.”

  “Charlie.” I smile down at her. “You just made a rule.”

  “What?” she asks.

  “Rule number seventeen—whatever happens, happens. I must be rubbing off on you.”

  She laughs, pulling me tighter against her. “Have I ever told you how much I love your rules?”

  “No, but now that you have, I’ll never stop making them.”

  Chapter Forty-four

  Once again, I catch myself watching Charlie sleep. She fell asleep on the couch after we got home from Sunday brunch with the Mitchells. I can’t take my eyes off her stomach. Through her tight, thin shirt I can see the baby kick and it’s fascinating. A hand, foot, knee, or elbow works its way across the left side of her belly. I put my hand on her lightly so I can feel it. I wonder how she can sleep through this. I wonder how it must feel to have something growing inside you.

  I wonder how a woman can experience this and go on to hit the very child she gave life to. How she can loathe her own flesh and blood to the point of becoming her child’s worst nightmare.

  I look at the journal lying on the coffee table. The journal I found when I was looking for something in our closet. It fell on the floor and as I was picking it up, I caught a glimpse of what was written. Vile words from a woman so selfish, she would sell her own child’s body to get what she wanted.

  Out of respect for Charlie, I didn’t read any more words than what my eyes caught when I leaned down to retrieve it. But I need to let her know I found it. I need to let her talk about it.

  “The baby is really active today,” she says, startling me.

  “How do you sleep through that?” I ask.

  “Sometimes I don’t. But most times, I’m so exhausted that he could be kick-boxing in there and I’ll sleep right through it. I think I’ve just gotten used to it.”

  I keep my hand on her and lay my head down on her stomach to talk to the baby. “Listen up, Junior. You need to let your mom get some sleep. Save the kick-boxing for later, say seven weeks or so from now.”

  Charlie runs her fingers through my hair. “Seven weeks,” she says. “I can’t believe it. On the one hand, it can’t get here soon enough, but on the other . . .”

  I look up at her. “On the other, what?”

  She sighs, looking slightly guilty. “I like our life, Ethan. Things have been so great the last few months. Once the baby comes, I feel like everything will change. Not just because of the Zach thing, but because it won’t be just us. What if everything changes?”

  “The only thing that will change is that I will love you even more,” I assure her. “Charlie, this baby will only bring us closer. No matter what. I promise.”

  “You don’t know that. Having a baby can change people, Ethan. What if it changes me? What if I become someone you can’t love?”

  I know she’s thinking about her mother. “That won’t happen. You aren’t her, Charlie. You could never be like her.” I reach over and pick up the journal. “You are nothing like the woman who wrote this.”

  Charlie gasps, her hand leaving my hair to cover her mouth. “Oh my God. Where did you get that? Did you read it?”

  I drop the journal and sit up. I take her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me so she knows I’m sincere. “No. I didn’t. I was in the closet looking for your sweater—the soft one you love so much— I was going to cover you up with it after you fell asleep. But when I pulled it from the shelf, the journal fell to the floor. I only caught a few words of what was written before I closed it up and brought it out here. But those few words were enough for me to know who had written them. I don’t want to read it, Charlie. And neither should you. Why are you torturing yourself by keeping it?” I pick up the journal and slam it back down on the table. “The woman who wrote this is dead. She can’t hurt you anymore. The only one who can let her continue hurting you is you.”

  She cocks her head to the side, studying me.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” she says with a sad smile. “It’s just that I think I remember saying something along those lines to Piper last year when she was running away from Mason.”

  “I knew I was marrying a smart woman.”

  She shakes her head. “You might not want to marry me if you knew what was in that journal.”

  “There is nothing in there that would change the way I feel about you, Charlie. I know everything I need to know about your past. And that’s just what it is, the past. As far as I’m concerned that damn thing should have been buried with your mother.”

  She looks down at the journal, studying it. Then she looks at me and something happens. Her eyes go from being dark and guarded, to shining bright with hope. “Will you help me do it? Will you help me bury the past?”

  “I’ll do anything for you, Charlie. You know that.”

  She gets up and walks back to our bedroom. A moment later, she returns with a file folder. “In here are all the files you gave me from the list. I want it all gone.” She slams it on the table next to the journal. “I want it gone before the baby comes. I want it gone now, this second. I don’t want any more reminders of her. Of them. Let’s bury it with my past, Ethan.”

  I think about what she’s telling me. This is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. But how do we do it? I was being metaphorical when I said the journal should be buried with her mother. But I feel like that’s what she needs. A burial. A funeral. Closure on her past so it can’t haunt her anymore.

  I stand up and wrap my arms around her. “I don’t think I want to risk you getting thrown in jail for desecrating your mother’s grave. How about cremation?” I ask. “We can burn it. We’ll burn everything right here in the fireplace.”

  She looks at the fireplace. Then down at the journal. Then up at me. “I’ll get the matches,” she says.

  I bring the file folder and the journal over to her, but I don’t put them into the fireplace. That’s for her to do. I lay some kindling and start a fire with the matches she hands me. We watch it for a minute to mak
e sure it catches. Then she holds her hand out and I give her the documents.

  She opens the file folder and takes out the piece of paper on top. She glances at it and then crumples it up into a ball. “Fuck you, Karl Salzman,” she says, throwing it into the fireplace.

  She takes the next paper and does the same thing. “Rot in hell, Joe Mitchner,” she says.

  And another. “Karma’s a bitch, Peter Elliot.”

  I can’t help but smile as I stand behind her and watch this cathartic moment in her life. As she throws each piece of paper into the fire, I can almost see the healing. I can hear it in her voice. I can feel it radiating from her.

  When she’s done with all the papers from the folder, the only thing left is her mother’s journal. She stares at it for a long time before speaking. “Thank you, Mother,” she finally says. “Thank you for showing me the kind of mother I don’t ever want to be. For showing me how ugly life is without love. But most of all, thank you for dying, which brought me back here so I could meet Ethan.”

  She tosses the journal into the fireplace and we watch it burn. We watch the edges curl and blacken. We watch the ashes swirl up the chimney. And along with them, I watch Charlie become free from her past.

  I stand behind her and wrap her in my arms.

  “Not exactly forgiveness,” she says. “But it’s the best I can do.”

  “It’s everything, Charlie.” I hold her tighter. “Marry me,” I say.

  She leans back into me. “I already said yes.”

  “I mean marry me today.”

  She laughs. “We can’t get married today. We have to get a marriage license first. Plus, I’m not ready, Ethan. One big thing at a time, remember?”

  “Fine.” I blow out a breath into her hair. “But let’s at least get the license. That way I can ask you every day until you cave.”

  “I’m not going to cave. Not yet. But if it makes you happy, we can get the license.”

  I kiss the top of her head. “You make me happy.”

  She turns around after every last paper has been reduced to charred ash and soot. “You make me happy, too. Thank you for this.”