After saying his goodbyes, Brady tucked his phone in his pocket, leaned his head back and smiled. For the first time since the divorce, he couldn't wait for the holidays.
His argument with Clarissa had flipped a switch in his heart. Though he refused to apologize for working long hours to support his family, he did accept responsibility for not devoting more of his free time to them. Looking back on it, instead of kicking back to watch football and drink beer, he should've taken Lola to the park. Taken Clarissa out for dinner and dancing and movies like they used to before having a baby consumed their lives. He'd dropped the ball. Big-time. And for that, he was sorry. Though it was too late to change the past, from here on out, Lola was getting the absolute best he had to offer.
And Steph? What will you have left to give her?
At the moment, he didn't have a clue.
* * *
"DO YOU THINK SHE'S HAVING FUN?" Stephanie asked, standing alongside Brady at Valley View's ice skating rink. For two weeks every Christmas season, city workers set up an artificially cooled skating pond in the park surrounding the city square. It was most fun when the weather cooperated by staying chilly. But even on years when the temperatures rose into the sixties, it seemed as if the whole town came out to have a good time. Too bad her twins apparently didn't notice, as both girls were snoozing despite blaring Burl Ives and plenty of laughing shrieks when skaters took a dive.
"Duh. Look at the size of her smile."
"Speaking of which, her grin is identical to yours—minus the stubble."
"Let's hope she doesn't inherit my whiskers. My mother's side of the family has some freakishly hairy aunts."
Elbowing him, she said, "Seriously, she's a beautiful girl. When she's not giving me dirty looks, she seems poised for her age. I see why you're so proud."
Eyes welling, he nodded.
"I think you made a good call in staying at a B and B. Less confusion. You know, us being just friends and all."
"Right." His expression darkened. Tone turning serious, he said, "About that…our friendship."
Stomach tightening with dread, in a heartbeat her excitement over his visit lessened.
"Hey, whoa," he said with the lopsided grin she adored. Slipping his arm around her shoulders, he kissed her forehead. "I can tell by your pretty pout that you took that the wrong way."
"I'm a grown woman," she was all too happy to point out. "I don't pout."
"If you say so."
Lola came around to their section of the fence. "Look at me, Dad! I'm in the Olympics!" She performed a flawless skip and a hop.
Applauding, Stephanie shouted, "Perfect ten!"
"I say eleven!" Brady chimed in.
Lola waved before heading back out to the skating rink's center where she'd been playing with a group of girls.
"She's adorable," Stephanie said. Kneeling in front of the stroller, she noticed that Michaela had woken from her nap. She wasn't fussy, just wide-eyed at the commotion.
Lifting her from her seat, Stephanie said to her baby girl, "Just think, one of these days, that's going to be you out there."
Michaela didn't look impressed.
"Back to your pouting…" Brady tweaked the baby's nose.
"Oh, whatever." Ignoring him, she hugged her daughter.
"So, like I was saying. After talking with Clarissa, I had an epiphany."
"Uh-huh." Jiggling Michaela, she said, "And I had an early visit from Santa."
"I'm serious." Once smiling eyes turned somber.
"Sorry."
Lola skated around again, hollering at them.
After pasting on a bright smile and waving to the girl, Stephanie asked, "What happened?"
"Clarissa and I had an argument—nothing new. But…" Rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger, he seemed to struggle with what to say next.
With one hand around his back, and her other resting on his abs, she asked, "Everything okay?"
Voice cracking, he said, "Truthfully, I don't know."
"Take it slow," she urged. "One issue at a time."
What was it about her that always made him feel as if no problem was insurmountable? "Everything I thought I knew about what went down between us. In putting the pieces together—little bits from my mom and you, and now Clarissa, for the first time, I'm understanding what role I played in our family falling apart and I don't like the man I see."
"But that was in the past, right? Now, you're doing everything you can to make things right between Lola and you, and as for Clarissa, it is what it is. She's happy. You can't keep beating yourself up for something irrevocably broken—unless you do want to try winning her back?"
"No." It was the second time Steph had mentioned him patching things up with his ex. Did she honestly think that was a possibility?
"If you wanted to, you probably could…"
How badly he wanted to twine his fingers with Steph's. Maybe in another time, it would've been all right. But for now, he settled for surrendering his pinky finger to Michaela's pinching grip.
"Ouch!" he said in an exaggerated cry. "You're a bruiser."
The baby giggled.
The sound warmed him through and through. Made him want a second chance he didn't deserve. If only he'd done things differently the first time around, maybe he'd still have his own family instead of being on the outside looking in?
With Michaela still in her arms, Stephanie asked, "You look like you just lost your best friend. What gives?"
"Just wondering…"
"Look at meee!" Lola called out, whizzing along at top speed.
"About?" Steph adjusted Michaela's red hat to better cover her tiny ears.
"What our lives would have been like if we'd met each other first."
Still fussing over the baby, Steph said, "You mean, if I hadn't met Michael and you hadn't met Clarissa?"
"Yeah." He stared out at the swirl of colorful skaters. "Suppose I'd still have Lola and you'd still have the girls, but we wouldn't have so much emotional baggage, you know?"
"That would be nice." Gazing up at him, she looked as if she wanted to say more.
"Like the ultimate do-over." In the rink's center, Lola fell, only to hop right up. For a split second, the part of him who would forever worry about her was ready to charge to her rescue. But then she fended for herself, not needing him after all.
"Is that what you're looking for? Redemption in the form of a new family?"
"Absolutely not." Liar.
"It wouldn't be the end of the world if you were, you know? Lots of women would be lucky to have you."
But not you?
Chapter Twelve
"Those are kind of cute." Lola frowned at Stephanie's manger-scene cookies. "How did you get all of the faces so perfect?"
"Lots of practice," Stephanie said, piping the edge of the manger.
"Can I try?" the girl asked.
"Sure. Pick out any of the cookies on the racks, and then some frosting." This time of year, Stephanie had piping tubes standing by in a rainbow of colors with all sorts of tips. Though Brady had arranged to take vacation time during Lola's entire school break, a friend's wife had gone into early labor and he needed an emergency replacement. Brady had offered to help by covering a few of his flights. Stephanie loved that about him—that he was willing to give so freely of his time to help a friend in need. Lola, on the other hand, wasn't too thrilled about the idea of Dad being gone.
Though Brady and Lola had been staying at the town's only B and B, during his absence, his daughter was bunking with Steph and her twins.
"The different tips give you different frosting patterns—like this." Using a sheet of wax paper, Stephanie showed Lola an assortment of decorations ranging from petals and basketweaves to hearts and stars. "You try," she said, handing over a tip that made perfect mini Christmas trees that could then be decorated with gold balls and sprinkles.
"This is actually kind of fun," Lola said, sticking out her tongue whenever she concentrat
ed on getting her cookie just right. "Mom's always on a diet, so we don't bake. She says white flour makes her butt big. She does buy me lots of good white stuff, though. She's really, super pretty and I love her lots. She's my best friend in the whole world."
"I'm glad…" Stephanie wasn't surprised that Clarissa was still on a perpetual diet. She'd kept herself in top-notch shape even back when they'd been friends. "I'm sorry your dad had to leave."
"Me, too."
"Sounds like he won't be gone very long."
The little girl actually snorted. "He always says that. I think he leaves all the time because he doesn't want to be with me. Now, he doesn't want to be with you, either."
As much as Lola's words stung, Stephanie was the adult. This was hardly the time to get defensive. Starting a new cookie, she said, "First off, that's totally not true. Your dad adores you. Talks about you all the time. And second, he can't help having a job that makes him go places. It's in his blood."
"Eeuw." Lola made a classic disgusted kid face.
"Not like that," Stephanie said with a laugh. "I mean, that flying is something he really loves—kind of like you love mall shopping—only more."
"If he really loved me, he'd stop flying."
"Oh, honey…" Drawing in her lower lip, Stephanie stood a moment to let the full meaning of the girl's statement sink in. When they'd first married, Stephanie remembered having the same thoughts about Michael. About how if he just loved her as much as she loved him, he'd give up flying to be something nice and safe and boring. Gradually, she'd grown to see that flying was as important to Michael as breathing. It wasn't something he merely liked to do, but something he had to do. Only now, in retrospect did she get the full gist of what that truly meant. That if Michael had given up his passion for her, he wouldn't have been the same man.
Stephanie explained all of that to Lola, but judging by the girl's blank expression, her words hadn't sunk in.
"Mom said you're a floozy and that you and Dad are shacking up. I asked Dad what floozy means, but he wouldn't tell me."
"Oh?" That hurt. Especially since when Stephanie put her mucked up feelings for Brady aside, she still had a soft spot for her old friend. She and Clarissa used to shop together and cook together and, most important of all, commiserate together on the trials of being married to a pilot. "I'm guessing it means that even though they're divorced, your mom might also be having a tough time sharing your father. But I promise, I only want the best for your dad, and that means encouraging him to spend as much time as possible with you."
"Know what I think Mom meant?" Lola asked, the whole of her concentration focused on outlining a cookie manger. "That you're a really nice lady, because being with you is more fun than Girl Scout camp—and that's pretty amazingly fun."
"Thank you." High praise from an eight-year-old. Seeing this new-and-improved soft side to the little girl opened Stephanie's heart to her even more. It was hard enough being married to a pilot, she couldn't imagine the confusion and heartache of having one for a father.
"You're even more fun than Free Fridays at school when we get to raid the craft closet and make anything we want."
"I don't know," Stephanie said, trying to ignore suddenly stinging eyes and a knotted throat. "Making anything you want sounds pretty incredible to me."
"It is," Lola said with a grand nod, "but you can't eat friendship bracelets or picture frames." After that observation, she took a huge bite of her latest creation—a pink-and-green reindeer, smiling while she chewed. "So is a floozy like the same thing as a princess or angel? And you never did tell me what's shacking up?"
* * *
"STEPH, I'M SORRY." FROM his bed in the Miami airport Marriott, Brady groaned into the phone. "I never wanted you to find out about that."
"Well, I did," she said, sounding as if she was slamming dishes into the cabinet. "And it was mortifying. I didn't know what to say, so I just stuck with Lola's assumption that a floozy is a good friend and shacking up means that you have slumber parties with ice cream and pizza."
"Damn," Brady said with a whistle. "That's some pretty impressive fibbing."
"Like you did such a great job of explaining? When I asked what you said, she told me nothing, but that your face turned all red and splotchy."
Clearing his throat, he managed, "Red, maybe, but I don't do splotchy."
She laughed.
"Does that mean I'm forgiven?"
"I'll take it under advisement."
He rearranged a pillow to tuck under his neck.
"In the meantime, your daughter is an adorable minx who's interested in everything and has become a talented baker and babysitter."
"She gets along with the twins?"
"Famously. They're inseparable." Her smile rang through her tone, filling him with deep satisfaction. "You should see Lola hauling them around. At first, I was worried, but they laugh and giggle and play epic games of peekaboo."
"Thank you for showing her such a good time." He wished he could give Steph a hug. He missed her. Her sugary scent and laugh and habit of speaking whatever happened to be foremost on her mind.
"It's been my pleasure. I'll be sorry to see her go."
"Is she excited about Christmas?"
"Does Santa carry a few extra pounds around his waist?"
Chuckling, Brady said, "I take it she's driving you nuts with anticipation?"
"Not at all. I love it. It makes me excited for when my girls are old enough to help wrap gifts and decorate the tree."
Closing his eyes, Brady imagined the scene. The twins as chubby toddlers with Lola showing them the ropes. Teaching them all sorts of tricks like searching out their mother's hiding spot for gifts and sneaking bites of holiday sweets before family and guests arrive.
"When are you getting back?" she asked.
"Tomorrow," he said. "And I'm glad. It feels like coming home."
"Y-you'll always be welcome." Was there hesitancy in her tone? "Everyone should have one place in the world where they feel they best belong."
"But? I sense you're holding back more."
Laughing, she admitted, "You're starting to know me too well."
"So? Out with it."
"I was just going to say that as much as the girls and I love having you here, your true home is with your first family. Lola loves you so much, Brady. Please be careful with her heart. At the moment, she's good, but if you were to do something nutty—say, like spending too much time here and not enough with her—I'm afraid she may never get past the sense of betrayal."
"Betrayal?" He clenched his fists. "You've got to be kidding? So Clarissa marries my brother, has full custody of my kid and lives happily ever after, while I do nothing but dote on Lola for the rest of my life?" Rubbing his suddenly throbbing forehead, he backpedaled. "That came out wrong. It's not that I don't want—and plan—on taking great care of Lola, but is it too selfish to want a little more for me?"
"No, but—"
"When we were at the zoo and Fall Festival and the skating rink, I got this longing to belong to a family—my own family—that struck with enough intensity to actually hurt my chest." He was no doubt crazy for admitting any of that, but it was almost Christmas and he was alone in a hotel room, he was too road-weary to hold anything in. "Sometimes I feel like my whole life has been a screwup. But then I found you again. And since then, I have purpose beyond just treading water with Lola. I'm not sure how or when, but, Steph, I've fallen in love with you. I want to be a real dad to not only her, but your girls. I want a second chance at being a good man for you."
For the longest time, the only sound on the other end of the line was silence. Then muffled sobs. "B-Brady, I'd like that, too, but I can't—won't—be the one who comes between you and your little girl. Not only that, but I'd be crazy to let another pilot into my life. You're a hopelessly nomadic breed who—"
"I get all of that," he said, not in the mood for a play-by-play of why the two of them as a team would never work. It was Chris
tmas, and what he needed was hope. Good, old-fashioned, warm-your-belly hope. Not only for a better future, but a better him. "What I want to do is not dwell on all of the reasons why we shouldn't be together—which Lord knows I've done enough of myself, but let's think about how many ways we're right. Think about the insane odds it took for us to even have been on that same flight bound for Miami. Don't you ever get the feeling something's going on behind the scenes? Some force greater than us?"
"I—I want to believe, but if that were truly the case, why did Michael have to die?"
Michael, Michael, Michael. As much as he'd once loved the guy, Brady was now genuinely sick of hearing his name, of constantly being compared to him and in ways, held accountable by his ghost.
Sighing, Brady sliced his fingers through his hair. "When I get back to Valley View, I want the two of us to talk—really talk. In a proper, grown-up setting. We've spent months calling what we share friendship, when if both of us were truthful, what we've really been doing is dating."
"No, we're just friends, and—"
He hated cutting her off, but he wasn't in the right frame of mind for hiding behind labels. "Steph, I don't mean to come off as an insensitive jerk, but face it, something more is simmering between us than mere friendship. We owe it to ourselves to figure out what."
More silence.
"Steph? You there?"
"Brady, I—I'm not sure if I'm emotionally up for—"
"One real date." His pulse took off at a runaway pace. "That's all I'm asking. Think your sister would babysit?"
* * *
"MY WARNING ALARM'S SHRIEKING," Lisa said, holding open her condo's front door while Stephanie handled the bundled up twins in their carriers. Having volunteered to carry the diaper bag, Lola brought up the rear. The night was brutal. Clear, but cold.
Lisa's favorite show, Project Runway, blared on her TV.
"Do you always have to be such a downer?" Steph asked low enough that Lola hopefully wouldn't hear. Setting the carriers on the tile entry, she closed the door and took off her coat.
The Baby Twins Page 11
