by Lacey Silks
My mother examined me from the bottom up. “Oh, my gosh, she’s glowing,” she gasped.
“Why is she glowing?” Mr. Cross narrowed his brows.
I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face, and neither could Tristan. Perhaps this was the right time to tell them? Emma was doing everything in her power to keep her mouth shut, but I could tell from her reddening face it wouldn’t be long before she spilled everything anyways. She looked like she’d been holding her breath for over a minute and wouldn’t last much longer.
With a quick look at Tristan, I knew he’d agree, so I gave him a little nod.
“Mom, Dad, Mrs. Green. I guess the house warming surprise is not the only one we’re getting today. Allie’s expecting.”
“I’m going to be an aunt!” Emma screamed, jumping up and down. She then grabbed her mother by the collar, and with her bulging eyes, she repeated, “I’m going to be an aunt!”
My mom’s face paled. I knew what she was thinking, and my heart broke. It was only thirteen years ago that she was in my shoes, waiting for my sister to be born. Except she miscarried the child because of the bastard who’d assaulted and raped her. But she rushed toward me and took me into her arms. As we embraced I felt her salty tears fall on my shoulders. My eyes welled.
“Really?” I heard her ask into my ear.
I nodded my head because I couldn’t get a word out and broke out the happy tears. I would have never imagined I could be filled with so much emotion while expecting.
“I guess you’re going to be a grandpa, Fred.” Mrs. Cross patted her husband on his back and then embraced Tristan. “Congratulations, honey. Finally one of my boys is expanding their family. At least you’re young and have the energy for a little one.”
“And I’m going to be an aunt!” Emma squealed again, jumping up and down. “I’m so happy I have no more secrets. This month was so stressful. People, don’t tell me any more secrets. I can’t stand it!” She raised her arms and started texting and most likely updating her social status as an aunt to be on Facebook.
“So maybe it’s too much stress to choose the baby’s name?” Tristan interrupted her.
“Oh no, you don’t! I made the deal fair and square. I will be naming your first baby, and the next two after that.”
Tristan gave me a puzzled look.
I shrugged. “She drives a hard bargain.” But inside, I trusted Emma. As frivolous as she appeared, I knew she’d choose the most amazing name in the world and I’d love it.
“And if you even think of breaking our deal, I will have you know I can find another favorite brother.” Emma lifted her head high and resumed the clicking on the iPhone. Her fingers on the touch screen seemed to be moving at lightning speed.
Tristan wrapped his arm around me.
“I’d show you all around the home, but I don’t really know where to start.” I looked up to him.
“Why don’t we start with some appetizers, and then I’ll give the grand tour to everyone.” Tristan motioned the family inside.
I followed the curious glances at our new home, excited to learn about the property myself, and then leaned into my mother. “And I guess this is my new home as well. Are you all right at your place?”
“I’m down to three locks and the rifle’s tucked in a closet.”
That was definitely a statement coming from my mother. Before Tristan assured her Wright was nowhere near, she lived locked up under ten bolts and chains, with the rifle always within arms reach.
“I’m so happy you can finally live the way you should have,” she said.
“You don’t think it’s too much? I mean, I’d be fine in an apartment.” Getting used to the Cross luxuries would take a while. Knowing Tristan was well endowed had never come between us. His fortune was never an item of discussion or worry for me, simply because it wasn’t important. He was the one who mattered, and I hoped he knew it.
“It would be if that’s what you were striving for. But you’re not like that, dear. You love Tristan for who he is.”
There was that word again. I bit my lip.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
My mother’s instinct never ceased to surprise me. How in the world could I tell her I was still waiting for Tristan to say the “L” word? How could I explain that neither of us had said it just yet?
“Nothing, Mom. It’s not a big deal.”
“I know we haven’t talked about relationships much. But I want you to know I’m here for you, always.”
“I know.” I kissed her on the cheek and followed our curious Emma who was leading the entourage.
The main hall narrowed as the ceiling dropped to accommodate the upstairs library. When we passed, it opened up into two sections. On the left a man dressed in white wearing a toque sprinkled something green on top of a set of colorful hors d’oeuvres displayed on white platters on the marble counter like pieces of art. Were they even real? The bright colors and appetizing smells made my mouth water, yet they looked like they belonged on a display. My stomach grumbled. Would anyone notice if I snuck one in? Perhaps two?
“Hello, Olivier. Everything looks delicious.” Tristan greeted the chef with a firm handshake.
“Thank you, sir.” He held his head higher.
Somehow I’d expected him to have a French accent, but he didn’t.
“Why don’t you try some?” Tristan passed me a plate from the neat stack of porcelain. The tiny thing fit in the palm of his hand. I, on the other hand, was ready to grab a dinner plate of a more appropriate size for woman eating for two.
Instead, I said “Thank you.” And reached for the biggest piece I could find. I’d had my eye on the delicious bruschetta since the moment I stepped into the kitchen. Then something else caught my gaze. On another plate, melted cheese dripped off sautéed mushrooms. I licked my lips.
“It’s your home. You can have them all, Allie,” Tristan whispered.
“You don’t know what you’re offering,” I laughed, patting my stomach. “Puss’s appetite has been increasing.”
I sank my teeth into the crunchy bread. The tomato juices fused with a touch of parsley and garlic melted in my mouth. A hint of butter completed the tasty platter. I think I moaned, and my soul left my body for a moment to reach heaven.
“If I were you, I’d save some room for dinner and dessert. You don’t want to miss that.”
“Trust me, there’s always room for dessert.” I patted my belly. “These are delicious, Olivier.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Why did that make me feel old? Shouldn’t it be another decade or so before people called me that? Once I went over the three-oh mark? Perhaps it was Tristan’s company and his overwhelming demeanor that made others respect him more than they would have if they knew just how young he was—only four years older than me.
“Please, it’s Allie. I’m looking forward to dinner.”
“Of course. In addition to the stuffed turkey with gravy and cranberries, I’ll be serving duck in a honey glaze with twice-baked sweet potatoes, spinach with goat cheese, and pomegranate salad.”
That sounded so homey. I think I drooled. The smell of something delicious baking in the oven filled me. My head whipped past the chef as I tried to sneak a peek inside the oven, but Tristan guided me toward the family room where the rest of the clan was marveling at the home I would now live in. Part of me wished I could go and discover the bedrooms and bathrooms and cozy nooks I could read books in at night. But the other part couldn’t resist munching up another piece of garlic bread. Luckily I was able to grab one before Tristan snuck me away, and I mouthed a “thank you” to Olivier who bowed his head just a fraction.
The gratitude in his eyes made me smile, and I hoped he didn’t know I was pregnant. I wouldn’t want him to think it was my hormones doing all the eating. I truly enjoyed the food.
My mother sat in a leather chair near a crackling fireplace. I’d never been in a home with a real fireplace; you know, the kind you ac
tually add wood to instead of flicking on a switch that miraculously turned the gas on. The warmth seeped through the home and the smell of smoldering wood brought back so many memories. I saw my mother getting lost in her thoughts too, the before memories: the happy ones when Dad was alive.
Olivier brought in the platters from the kitchen and placed them on the coffee table, for which Puss and I were extremely thankful.
Tristan opened a bottle of wine and poured it for everyone.
“Non-alcoholic.” He tilted a different bottle toward my glass.
“Of course,” I smiled. It warmed my heart to know he was always looking out for me and the baby.
“So, when is the wedding?” Mr. Cross asked.
I think my face resembled a ghost’s. Wedding? I had barely gotten used to the fact we were having a baby and finding out I owned a new house with Tristan.
“Dad, this is the twenty-first century. You don’t have to be married to have children.”
“No grandchild of mine is going to be born out of wedlock.”
“John!” Mrs. Cross scolded.
“What? Is it too much to put a ring on it?”
I wondered whether Mr. Cross knew he’d quoted a song. It made me chuckle on the inside.
“Yeah, Tristan, put a ring on it.” Emma scrolled through her iPhone and played the song, giggling, then turned toward me, “Can I be your maid of honor?”
“Uhm...” I looked to Tristan for help but he appeared as dumbstruck as me.
“Well, aren’t you going to raise this baby together?” Mr. Cross asked.
“We are,” Tristan replied, “but why don’t we settle in with the idea of having a baby before you have a priest over, dad?”
“Good idea. We can discuss the wedding date over dinner,” Mr. Cross said as if he weren’t leaving the house today until we gave him a wedding date.
“How about we enjoy dinner and not put too much stress on the kids?” Mrs. Cross asked, gently squeezing her husband’s hand.
“Whatever you choose, we’ll support you,” my mom added. “But let me be the first to tell you both, I think you’ve found a soul mate in each other.”
Everyone hushed. Tristan looked at me with dumbfounded puppy eyes. Did he think we were meant to be? Did I? At that moment I was sure we had plenty to discuss. My heart ached at the thought that Tristan might not think of us as forever, the way I did. Was it too much for him, too soon? Pushing him away or scaring him was the last thing I wanted.
My head cocked to the side as I tried to see what lay beneath his hazel eyes. Like he’d hid something inside him, layers deep, and I’d need to peel each layer off before I got to the truth. And if there was anyone who was good at solving a crime, it was me and Laura. Somehow, I needed to involve my friend more in my life so we could figure out what ached Tristan Cross. And how come I was so calm about it all? I wasn’t one of those girls who had a scrap book full of wedding dresses, color-coordinated accessories, and sample flower bouquets. I’d never thought about my wedding because I’d never considered sharing my life with anyone. I’d been preoccupied with school, work, and our safety, and marriage sort of fell on my list of priorities at the rank of “non-existent.”
“Why don’t you get married?” I overheard Emma ask her brother. “I want to be a real aunt.”
“It’s complicated,” Tristan said.
Was it? Again I questioned where our relationship was going. We’d never defined it. Was it necessary to define? Or should we just keep following our hearts, the way we had so far? I wasn’t sure myself if I was ready to get married. So much had happened in the past month; things were moving too fast. I needed time to think. I needed a vacation. And it was a good thing I was about to get one.
Well, sort of.
CHAPTER 7
The doorbell rang and Tristan jumped up as if he’d been burnt by fire.
Saved by the bell, I thought.
When he returned, his brother Julian came in to embrace me.
“I’m going to be an aunt!” Emma screamed out.
“Seriously?” he asked, looking at me, his expression so similar to Tristan’s I wondered whether Julian’s past was connected to Tristan’s more than the brothers cared to share. Julian had explained his feelings for Kendra to me, but did Tristan know just how deep they were? And why did it seem like they’d shared a secret no one else was privy of?
Julian embraced me in his bear arms as I explained, “Yeah, it sort of happened.” It was the first time I felt heat rush to my cheeks.
“I bet it did. I’m very happy for you.” He turned around, waving a cream envelope. “But I have a surprise as well.”
Tristan’s nose flared, and I wondered why.
“We’re all invited to a wedding,” Julian announced, and then turned to Tristan with pride. “And you’re the best man!”
“Whose?” I asked as Tristan took the envelope.
“Gabe and Sam,” Julian said. “They’re getting married in two weeks. It’ll be a small ceremony. Family only.”
“See, Gabe did it,” Mr. Cross mumbled under his breath, but before anyone could answer, Olivier walked into the room.
“Dinner is ready, sir,” he said to Tristan.
The dining room had been set. White plates, silver utensils, and crystal glasses reflected the dimmed light from above. The olive green tablecloth and a center piece made of leaves, squash, mini pumpkins, apples, and nuts set a perfect mood for the Thanksgiving dinner. I had to admit it felt weird being served food I hadn’t cooked (not that I cooked often or even knew how to), by someone I’d just met in a home I’d just moved into. But I couldn’t deny Olivier had prepared a meal worthy for the president, and definitely worthy of a pregnant woman. If I ever got married, Olivier would be my number one pick for a caterer. Even Emma stayed quiet for most of her meal.
“Where did you find him?” I asked Tristan. “The food is delicious.”
I was glad my stomach and Puss decided to agree with me. I couldn’t stand wasting this food by throwing it all up in the bathroom.
“Olivier worked as a sous-chef in the restaurant I told you my mother staked out once. She helped him when the head chef wanted to frame him for spoiled cooking – which pretty much is like murder for a chef – and they’ve stayed friends ever since.”
“I want him catering my wedding,” I blurted, thankful it was only loud enough for Tristan to hear.
Tristan’s face contorted for a fraction of a second before he replied, “You’re getting married?”
I chuckled. “One day, maybe.”
“To whom?”
“I don’t know yet. But he needs to be smart and loving and caring. And I have to want him all the time, every minute of every day. If you play your cards right, it could be you,” I winked. Would this scare him off?
“Now that’s a proposal a man dreams of.”
“It’s not a proposal,” I said.
“But you just listed all my charming qualities.”
“Really? Did I mention I’m attracted to powerful men who trust me, give me space and make me feel safe and secure? Oh, and who rock my world better than Alphaville!”
“Really, Alphaville?”
“It’s a fact. “Forever Young” is The. Best. Song. Ever.”
“I learn something new about you every day. And as strong a woman as you are, please note that I’m still more of a traditional kind of guy, and if anyone would be doing any proposing, it would be me.”
“That’s good to know.” I felt my face drain because suddenly what Tristan was saying seemed so real. He wasn’t joking around anymore. The fear I’d seen on his face earlier completely disappeared. Was it because he thought I’d propose?
“Is marriage something you envisioned in your life?” he asked.
“No. Never.” I shook my head.
“Because of what happened to your mother?”
“Yes, it never really crossed my mind. Not that way, at least. I was preoccupied with keeping my mother saf
e, and trusting another man after what I’d seen... It just never happened. Until I met you.”
“Are you trying to propose again?” he teased.
“I’m a quick learner, Mr. Cross. If I was going to propose, you wouldn’t even expect it and you would definitely not hear it coming out of my mouth ahead of time.”
“That’s good to know.”
I yawned, feeling the fullness of my belly lull me. There was nothing better than a little siesta.
My mother said from across the table, “You should take a nap, Allie. We can see ourselves out.”
“That’s a good idea.” Tristan helped me up from the table. Even if I wasn’t showing yet, I felt like my stomach was about to burst, or at least tip me over to the side. “Let me show you up. I’ll be right back,” he said to the rest of the family.
There was no way I could argue with him. My eyes suddenly felt like they’d been glued together.
“I’ll be just fifteen minutes,” I said.
Mrs. Cross and my mother shared a knowing glance and chuckled.
“Take your time, dear,” Mrs. Cross said.
Upstairs the wooden theme continued. Tristan guided me to the most beautiful bedroom I’d seen in a long time. The bed with white sheets and plush rug looked surreal, like the decorations and crisp linens had been stolen from a ski chalet. Chocolate curtains flowed to the breeze of the warm air that puffed from the ducts. I removed my dress and crawled under the covers and felt Tristan snuggling in behind me.
“You sleep. I’ll take care of our guests.”
“Okay.” I felt my eyes lower. “I’ll only be fifteen minutes”
“Of course, baby.”
His soft kiss on my shoulder was the last thing I remembered. When I woke up, the room had darkened. I shot off the bed, trying to find my bearings.
“What time is it?”
“It’s ten o’clock,” Tristan answered from the other side of the bed.
“At night?”
“Yes,” he laughed, “at night.”
“That’s so embarrassing. I just abandoned my family in the middle of Thanksgiving.”
