Brady giggled. “Auntie Lyd, we’re your only niece and nephew,” he pointed out.
“Well, you’re still my favorite,” she said with another squeeze. She leaned in to stage whisper to Peyton. “Go on into the kitchen. There might be some peanut butter cookies waiting for you in there.”
The children cheered and ran off toward the kitchen. Kenzie called out after them, “Only one until after dinner!” She turned to Lydia. “You spoil them, you know,” she said, leaning in to hug her sister-in-law.
“Auntie’s prerogative,” Lydia retorted, turning to Carter. “You look better.”
Carter smiled slightly. “Feel better.”
Lydia took a step back from the door. “Well, come on in. Mom and Dad are here. And Stitch has already confiscated the remote,” she added with a laugh.
Kenzie rolled her eyes. “Typical.”
“Oh, cut the guy a little slack, Kenzie,” Lydia replied, linking her elbow with Kenzie’s. “It’s the holidays. Let him have his fun.”
Carter trailed behind them, closing the door quietly and shrugging out of his coat. He followed Kenzie’s lead, hanging it in a closet off the living room before they converged on the kitchen. Noah was stirring something on the stove, a ruffled apron wrapped around his waist. Carter finally noticed that his friend wore a wedding band, as did Lydia. He wondered how long they’d been married.
“It smells wonderful in here,” Kenzie said, crossing to kiss Noah on the cheek. “Anything I can do to help?”
He waved her off. “No, we’ve got it under control. Go and say hello to Mom and Dad. Violet’s in there, too,” he said, casting a warning glance toward Carter. “You might want to steer clear of her.”
Carter grimaced. “Yeah, she’s not too happy with me.” He watched as Lydia and Kenzie headed toward the family room. “She almost didn’t let me in the house this morning.”
“Well, you can hardly blame her,” Noah pointed out. “It’s not the first time, Carter.”
Carter sighed heavily at the reminder that he had a pattern of letting Kenzie down. “It’s going to be the last,” he said quietly.
Noah studied him for a moment. “You seem different,” he observed. “I can’t put my finger on it, but . . .” He shook his head, adjusting the heat on the stove. “Anyway, Vi brought her new boyfriend, so she’ll be on her best behavior.” He pulled a masher out of a drawer and starting in on a pot of potatoes.
“Boyfriend?” Carter repeated. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Macon Bridges.”
Carter choked slightly. “You’re kidding.”
Noah grinned. “Nope.”
“But . . . she’ll eat him alive!”
Noah laughed. “I thought so too, but the guy can actually hold his own. And Vi really likes him. It’s sickening really . . . she’s putty in his hands.”
“Putty? Violet?” Carter scoffed.
Noah added some butter to the potatoes. “You’ll have to see it for yourself.” He dumped the mashed potatoes into a bowl and placed them in the oven to keep them warm. Carter eyed him carefully.
“Noah, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he said distractedly.
“It’s going to sound weird,” Carter warned.
Noah’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, wiping his hands on a towel as he turned to face his friend. “Shoot.”
Carter took a deep breath. “Why didn’t Kenzie finish grad school?”
Noah looked at him in confusion. “What?”
“Just humor me, okay?” Carter said in a rush. “Why didn’t she finish?”
Noah replied slowly. “Well, you know, after you got laid off at the Times—”
“I got laid off?”
“What’s this all about, Carter?”
“Please, Noah, just tell me.”
Noah stared warily at Carter for a moment. “You were reporting at the Seattle Times. Kenzie had maybe a year left to get her Master’s, but you got laid off . . . budget cuts.”
“I never went to New York,” Carter murmured, half to himself.
“No,” Noah replied slowly, still confused by the strange conversation. “You turned down the internship before you and Kenzie got married.”
He paused, but Carter nodded, motioning for him to continue.
“You decided to come back here to start your own weekly paper. Kenzie already had her teaching certificate because she was subbing to make ends meet. She got a job at Woodlawn Elementary and you started the Weekly.”
“So she gave up writing?” Carter asked.
“Carter, you know this.”
“Please, Noah . . . please.”
Noah sighed, evidently worried his best friend had lost his mind. “She published a few short stories and magazine articles, but then she got pregnant with Brady, so she had to give it up,” he told him. “Then Peyton came along, and you had to spend so much time at the paper . . . there just wasn’t time for her to get back to it.”
Carter’s eyes drifted to the doorway as he heard Kenzie’s laughter drift through. “Does she hate me for that?”
Noah laughed. “Kenzie doesn’t hate you for anything, Carter.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“Kenzie loves you,” Noah said emphatically, drawing Carter’s attention back. “But a girl can only put up with so much.”
“What have I done?” he asked. At first, Noah thought he was talking to himself, but Carter turned pleading eyes toward him. “Tell me, Noah. What did I do to her? Did I . . . Did I cheat on her?” He couldn’t imagine doing such a thing, but given Kenzie’s feelings, he had to ask the question.
Noah gaped at him for a moment. “What are you talking about?’
“Did I? I have to know what I’m up against here. Is there another woman?”
His friend stared at him for a long moment. “There are lots of ways to cheat, Carter,” he pointed out. “Every time you put your job before your family. Every time you let your resentment about New York show. Every time you lashed out at her because life didn’t go exactly the way you planned—”
Carter held up a hand. “I get the idea.”
Noah turned off a burner and they stood in silence for a moment. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” he asked.
Carter rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m not exactly sure,” he admitted. “I just know that I have to make things right. I . . . I need her, Noah.”
“You got that right.” He chuckled.
“So what do I do? How do I fix this?”
Noah smiled sadly at his friend. “I don’t have any great words of wisdom, man,” he said. “I’m afraid that’s one you’re going to have to figure out on your own.”
Carter nodded. He was beginning to believe the very same thing.
“Here, take this,” Noah said, handing Carter a bowl of rolls. “It’s time to eat.”
Carter helped Noah carry the food to the dining room table, but was distracted by a familiar voice in the other room. He set down the bowl and walked into the family room.
“Carter!” His mother, Claire, crossed the room, enveloping him in a tight hug. “Merry Christmas!”
To Carter’s surprise, he had to swallow a lump in his throat. How long had it been since he’d hugged his mother? A year? It was before the assignment in Afghanistan. God, that was almost two years ago.
“Merry Christmas, Mom,” he finally managed to get out before turning to hug his father. He smiled at the familiar scent of pipe smoke and his father’s aftershave. “Good to see you, Dad.”
“You too, son.” David Reed pulled back to pat his shoulder. “How’s everything at the paper?”
“Umm . . . good . . . good, I think,” Carter stammered.
“I saw the exposé on the local nursing home,” he said with a proud smile. “That was some solid work.”
A non-committal grunt came from the leather recliner in front of the television. Carter gulped. Sheriff Jeremiah “Stitch” Monroe, so named bec
ause he once sewed up his own gunshot wound (although whether or not that was actually true, Carter never had the courage to ask), sat in the recliner, eyes focused on an old black and white movie. Besides being the most intimidating man Carter had ever known, he was also Kenzie’s father.
Carter cleared his throat. “Hello, Sheriff,” he said with a nod toward the man. Stitch glanced at him, brown eyes the mirror of Kenzie’s, minus any sign of softness.
“Carter,” he said gruffly before turning back to the TV.
Carter fought back a sigh. “Uh . . . Noah said it’s time to eat,” he announced, trying to divert the attention away from himself. He was acutely aware of Kenzie watching from the other side of the room where she stood next to Violet and the tall, lanky form of Macon Bridges. Carter remembered him as a bit of a geek in high school—a quiet, non-intrusive guy into computers and video games—and thought he’d heard he got a scholarship to MIT or something equally impressive.
“Hey, Macon,” he said, extending his hand. “Good to see you again.”
Macon shook his hand with a bemused smile. “You say that like we don’t see each other every day.”
“Oh.” Carter laughed nervously, trying to cover his blunder. “Well, it’s still good to see you . . . as . . . you know . . . kind of a member of the family.” He eyed Violet significantly and Macon flushed bright red. To Carter’s surprise, Violet didn’t glare at him. In fact, she didn’t seem to notice him at all. Her rather dreamy gaze was focused only on Macon.
“Well, thanks,” Macon replied with a nervous laugh. “Should we eat?” He took Violet’s hand and pressed an absent kiss to the top of her head as the group moved into the dining room. Violet all but glowed under Macon’s attentions, and Carter fought not to laugh out loud.
It appeared the tigress had been tamed.
Dinner was a loud affair. Carter, for the most part, was an observer. He listened closely, and learned a lot. Like Macon was a mechanic and owned his own garage only about a block from where Carter worked.
“What happened to MIT?” he asked before he could think better of it.
Macon shot him an odd look. “What do you mean?”
Carter cleared his throat, his cheeks heating as attention focused on him. How would he get himself out of this one?
“I mean, owning a garage is awesome,” he said, fingers drumming on his thigh under the table. “I just thought you’d be an engineer or computer analyst or something, you know?” His voice drifted off at the general looks of confusion heading his way. “Because you’re so smart, and uh...”
Macon’s brow furrowed and he lifted his napkin to wipe his mouth. “Well, after MIT—”
So he did go.
“—I just decided that I’d rather work for myself than a big tech company. The garage gives me a decent living and time to develop my own projects.”
“You should see the things Macon’s working on,” Violet gushed. “He’s going to invent something amazing and change the world, I swear.”
Macon blushed, but smiled at her shyly before turning back to Carter. “But we’ve talked about all of this before.”
Crap. “Yeah, I know. Sorry . . . I just . . . forgot? For a minute?”
It was the worst excuse in the history of time, but Macon, nice guy that he was, let it go with a curious tip of his head and a nod.
Carter kept his mouth shut after that, and found out his father, David, was still at the hospital—chief of staff—and doing a little teaching as well. His mother did volunteer work with the senior center, as well as working with local foster families. Stitch Monroe was stoic as ever, speaking only occasionally to ask someone to pass the potatoes. His eyes softened when they lit on his grandchildren, however, and Carter could tell they were equally as crazy about him. Carter still wasn’t completely certain what Noah and Lydia did—some kind of online business having to do with art—but they seemed to be doing well.
Carter absorbed the energy at the table, eating quietly and only interjecting when a question was addressed to him directly. He found himself laughing along with the others, however, enjoying the interactions between what was now his family.
It was almost perfect.
Except for the fact that he could feel the tension emanating from Kenzie where she sat next to him . . . the slight jerk every time her arm accidentally brushed his. The hurt and pain from her was almost palpable, and he wondered how no one else in the room noticed it.
Or maybe they could. Maybe they, like him, were glossing over it, trying to make the best of an uncomfortable situation . . . trying to ensure a happy holiday for his children.
As Lydia sliced the pumpkin pie, Carter let his eyes drift around the table. He smiled at Lydia and Noah, playfully arguing over how much whipped cream to put on each piece . . . to Violet and Macon, their heads together, talking in hushed tones as she squeezed his arm . . . to Stitch, who was having a heated discussion with Brady about whether Batman or Superman was the best superhero. On the other end of the table, his parents were smiling at Peyton as Claire wiped a smear of mashed potatoes off his daughter’s chin. Then, of course, there was Kenzie.
Always Kenzie.
As his thoughts returned to the strained relationship with the woman who was now his wife, his smile fell.
What was he going to do?
He looked up as Lydia offered him a piece of pie, his hand trembling slightly when he passed it to Kenzie. She took it from him, but didn’t take a bite.
How could he fix this?
Noah had told him he’d put other things—everything from what he could tell—before Kenzie. He supposed that he’d have to dig his way out of this mess the same way he got into it, bit by bit. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as she poked at her pie.
He’d have to show her that she was important to him . . . the most important thing to him.
He’d have to win her heart, romance her . . . seduce her. At that thought, he felt a telltale stirring under the table and grimaced at his inappropriate reaction.
Obviously, that would have to wait. He couldn’t deny the fact that he wanted Kenzie. He wanted her badly. Even being this close to her was absolute torture . . . the smell of her hair . . . the warmth of her body.
But he couldn’t screw this up, pardon the pun.
He’d all but lost her, and he’d have to heal the pain in her heart before he could even think about gaining access to her body.
He just prayed it wasn’t too late.
He slept on the couch.
When they’d arrived home after dinner, he’d helped Kenzie bathe the kids and put them to bed, enjoying the task more than he thought he would. When little Peyton wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her nose against his, his heart melted.
“’Night, Daddy,” she said.
“’Night, Peyton.”
“You’ve got to say it, Daddy,” she said sleepily.
“Say what?”
“Good night, sweet dreams . . .” she began.
“. . . my love is in the moonbeams,” Carter concluded, remembering the rhyme his mother always recited at bedtime.
“That’s right,” she said on a yawn. “’Night, Daddy.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “’Night,” he whispered.
He turned off the light as he left the room and made his way to Brady’s bedside. Kenzie was sitting next to him, running her fingers through his hair.
“Can I ride my bike tomorrow?” he asked.
“If it isn’t raining.”
“I can ride in the rain.”
“We’ll see.”
Brady frowned. “That means ‘No.’”
Kenzie laughed and kissed his forehead. “That means we’ll see. Now go to sleep.”
“Okay.”
Carter passed her as she left the room and leaned over the little boy. “I’ll see you in the morning, buddy.”
“Okay.”
“Good night, sweet dreams . . .”
; “. . . my love is in the moonbeams,” Brady finished, his eyes already drifting closed as Carter pulled the sheets to his chin and kissed the little boy’s head.
He walked out into the hallway, only to see Kenzie standing in front of their room, her arms crossed over her chest. Carter stopped, his gaze dropping to the floor.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll just sleep downstairs.”
Kenzie replied quietly. “I think that would be best.”
“Can we talk tomorrow?”
“Don’t you have to work?”
Did he? Carter had absolutely no idea.
“I’ll be home by five,” he said, a plan forming in his mind. “I want to take you out to a special dinner. I’ll ask Lydia or my parents to watch the kids.” He lifted hopeful eyes to Kenzie. She stared at him for a moment.
“Are you sure?” she asked tentatively. “You always say going out is a waste of money.”
He did? What kind of idiot was he?
“It’s a special occasion,” he replied. “We need to talk, Kenzie. I . . . I don’t want to lose you, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes for us to make things work.” She began to speak, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“I know I’ve said this before, and I know actions speak louder than words,” he continued. “So let me do this. Let me show you. Please?”
Kenzie took a deep breath, and for a moment, he thought she might deny him. Instead, she said one word in a small voice. One word that made hope swell inside him and a wave of relief rush through his body.
“Okay.”
He smiled and turned to hop down the stairs, confidence beginning to blossom. He would show Kenzie the time of her life. It had been a while, but he still remembered how to win a woman over.
She wouldn’t know what hit her.
He woke with a grunt to the feeling of Brady plopping down onto his stomach.
“Morning, Daddy,” he said, bouncing slightly. “Did you fall asleep watching TV again?”
Carter winced at the reminder that he’d probably spent more than a few nights on the couch. “Uh, yeah. I guess I did.”
“Mommy said it’s time to get up!” Brady shouted, sliding back to the floor. “She’s making pancakes!”
Second Chances Page 5
