by Jane Porter
“You’re very hands on.”
“I have to be. She’s been through a lot.” He hesitated. “I want this move to Marietta to be good for her. I’m doing this for her. I think she needs cousins and family and all those traditions I had growing up that I took for granted.”
It was such a surprising thing to hear him say. He’d never been overly interested in family or tradition before, and he certainly hadn’t been fond of big family get-togethers. If anything, he was the Sheenan who didn’t attend the birthdays and celebrations. “You have changed.”
“Daisy’s influence,” he said.
“She’s good for you. You’re not the Ice Man you used to be.”
“Ice Man?”
“You could be pretty chilly when you wanted to be.”
He was silent a moment. “I suppose that’s true. I’m sure it’s true. I froze you out, didn’t I?”
There was something so open and real in his expression that the air caught in her throat, reminding her of a time when they’d been so close. When he could do no wrong. It hurt remembering. And she couldn’t help wondering if it would always hurt, remembering. “That’s the past, right?”
“Right,” he said grimly.
She wagged her finger at him, determined to keep things light. “And we can’t live in the past.”
“True.”
“And everyone makes mistakes.”
He was smiling faintly now. “Yes, you’re right. But that’s also why we’re back in Montana. Life is too short, not to do the right thing, and in this case, the right thing for Daisy is to be here, close to April’s parents and my family.”
The bronze elevator doors opened behind them and a couple stepped out but neither Cormac nor Whitney paid them any attention.
“Have you stayed in touch with April’s parents?” Whitney asked, surprised.
“We’ve tried to stay in touch with both sets of grandparents but after Daryl’s mom died, his dad, who has dementia, was put in a home and isn’t able to really participate in Daisy’s life. Fortunately we do see April’s parents a couple times a year. We always see them once a year in Bozeman and then I try to fly them out to Orange County each year, too. The last time Joe and LuAnne visited we all went to Disneyland, but I know they’d love to see more of Daisy, and by being here in Marietta, they can see her regularly.”
Whitney was moved. April would be so happy if she knew. And maybe she did know. “That’s wonderful. I’m impressed.”
“I can do the right thing, Whit.”
“I never said you couldn’t.”
He lifted a brow.
She grimaced. “Well, maybe I have expressed my doubts.”
“Maybe.” He started away and then turned. “But there is a reason we moved now instead of at the end of the year. Something happened in California that woke me up, made me question everything. I’m meeting Heath at the house now but would you be free a little later? I’d like you to hear it from me before Daisy says something.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“It wasn’t good.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re scaring me.”
“Don’t be scared. Daisy is here, fine, and everything is going to be fine. But it was a wake-up call. I realized Southern California was just too crowded. There’s too much traffic and too many people and she’ll be safer here in Marietta. More secure.”
The idea of anything happened to Daisy made Whitney physically ill. “When will you be back so we can talk?”
“I hope to be back here by five, and then I’m supposed to meet everyone for dinner at six.”
“How about we meet at five thirty? Would that work?”
“I’ll meet you here.”
He turned to go but she reached out and caught his sleeve, stopping him. “Just tell me one thing. Did anyone touch her? Hurt her?”
“No. Nothing like that. I promise.”
*
He’d said it was nothing like that, but still, whatever had happened to Daisy had to be serious for Cormac to want to move her back to Marietta…the one place he never wanted to live.
Whitney found it hard to concentrate on her calls and work that afternoon, waiting for her meeting with Cormac.
It wasn’t easy keeping her imagination from running wild, either, but she was determined to stay as calm and focused as possible until she talked to Cormac.
Finally it was time to head downstairs. She was a few minutes early but he was already there.
They entered the hotel’s bar for an espresso-style coffee. The bar was cool and dark, reminding Whitney of an elegant pub. Cormac went to the long counter and ordered coffees, carrying them back to their corner booth.
“So what happened?” Whitney asked once they were both seated, facing each other.
“There was an incident at her school.” Cormac’s eyes met hers. “A shooting.”
Whitney’s jaw dropped.
He nodded. “Her school went into lockdown. Two were injured, one a child.”
“Why didn’t I hear about this?”
“It was in the news, but there were two other shootings that week so…” His voice drifted off and he ran a hand across his jaw. “So…here we are.”
“Who was the other person injured?”
“The PE teacher. She’s a woman in her fifties and a total bad ass. Tried talking to the gunman and when he pulled the trigger, charged at him, taking him down. Her actions saved countless others.”
Whitney just stared at him. “I can’t believe it.”
“I couldn’t, either. And I was in L.A. meeting with Hartag Media when I got the first text, alerting me that the school was on lockdown. I left immediately, but I couldn’t get there for hours.” His voice dropped, deepening. “I couldn’t reach her when I needed to. The traffic. The distance—” He broke off, lips flattening into a hard line. “I thought I was going to lose my mind.”
She sat back in her seat, still trying to process everything. “Wow.”
“I know there are those who think this is extreme…me moving my entire company here, to Marietta, because of one incident—”
“I don’t think it’s extreme at all,” she interrupted.
“You don’t?”
“No. I think it’s remarkable, and one of the best moves you’ve made in your life.” Her eyes burned and she felt ridiculously close to tears but they were the good kind. “Well done, Cormac. I approve.”
*
She was smiling at him, and her eyes shone, and his chest grew tight. It was the first time she’d smiled at him since…
…since….
It was too long ago to remember.
So long ago that there was no point in trying to remember. It was just good to see her smile now. No one had a smile like Whitney. It lit her face, warmed her eyes, turning her into one of those Disney princesses Daisy loved so much.
Belle maybe, the one that loved the Beast.
“Why are you smiling?” she said challengingly, holding her cup between her hands, eyes shimmering with light.
“I watch a lot of Disney princess shows,” he said. “And I was trying to decide which Disney princess you’d be.”
“I can’t picture you watching anything Disney, much less Disney princess shows.”
“I have a little girl.”
“Yes, you do.”
He saw her smile falter and he hated to see the light dim from her eyes. He reached across the table and tipped her chin up so that she couldn’t hide.
“Belle,” he said, holding her gaze. “That’s the princess you look like.”
Color swept through her cheeks. “I don’t think Belle is a princess. I think she’s the daughter of an eccentric inventor, a girl who longs to leave her little village behind to find adventure and a new exciting life in a big city.”
“Just like you.”
She laughed huskily, lips curving, and it was all he could do to keep from leaning across the table and kissing her.
He’d missed her. He had. There had never been anyone in his life quite like Whitney. She’d charmed him from the start. And she wasn’t just beautiful; she was ambitious, creative, smart.
She’d been everything he’d wanted. Perfect. But he’d let her go. He’d cut her loose. Why?
Looking at her now, older, more mature, and yet even more beautiful, he struggled to remember why he’d panicked at settling down. The details were fuzzy, just the overall memory of him needing to end things, of needing to escape. Get distance and space.
Whitney suddenly snapped her fingers. “Oh! Before I forget, as you know I met with Heath and Josie today. And I know you requested a bank of flat screen TVs for the lobby to broadcast your networks. In the plans, Josie shows them on the center wall so you see them the moment you enter the building, but I think it’s too obvious. Are you open to other ideas?”
“I’m giving you free rein.”
“You say that now, until you’re disappointed.”
He grinned, amused, because it was true. “What would you do?”
“Set them in the floor, like this,” she said, tracing shapes on the wooden tabletop. “Here’s the entrance. This is the wall opposite where Josie thought the TVs should go. I think we put them here, here, and here, in a line just outside the back of the big couch and then perhaps another two behind the shorter end of the sectional. People can still see the screens but the TVs won’t dominate your headquarters and they won’t distract from other work being done.”
“Won’t they be lost in the floor?”
“No one is going to sit in your lobby and watch TV. They’re there to make a statement, and we’ll make sure they remain a key element in the design, but you’re more than cable networks. You’re broadband, publishing, and radio, and whatever else you choose to do next.”
“You’ve run this by Heath?”
She nodded. “We talked just a bit ago on the phone. I think it was right after you left the house. But Heath had run some numbers for me and it won’t be that much more. You already had to replace the floor as the original wooden planks are rotten, and so instead of laying down stone or new hardwood, we discussed poured concrete. It’d be sleek and modern and seriously cool.”
“Floor wouldn’t be too heavy?”
“Not with the new lightweight aggregate. It’s really impressive material, great for heating and insulation, and it can also be colored or stained then sealed making it very durable.”
“I like it.”
“Heath likes it, too. He can run a hot water radiant floor heating system beneath the concrete. He’d have access from the basement should repairs be necessary. I think he told you that a hot water radiant heater is more expensive than electric, but you’re going to save a lot in electric bills. And the building will be toasty, which should make your staff happy.”
“Done. Sold.”
“Good.” She reached for her coffee and took a sip. “I think you will be happy, too,” she added, looking at him from over the rim of the cup. “Marietta winters are colder than Denver winters. Why throw away money on high electricity bills?”
Her eyes were a warm golden brown and beautiful. With her pale oval face and high cheekbones and full lips she really did look like Belle.
“What would make me happy,” he said, “is hearing that you’ve decided to stay on as Creative Director. I don’t want to see you leave. You’re a big part of the company. You’re really good and very valuable—”
“Cormac.”
“What?”
He could see she was struggling to choose her words, and he wasn’t sure why she felt as if she couldn’t be candid with him. He certainly had always been straightforward with her.
“I’m in the process of job interviewing. I’ve had a couple offers now. Decent salary and benefits. But neither was quite right. One was with a big non-denominational church that does a weekly televised service and was looking for a media manager. The other was an educational publisher.”
“You’re speaking of both in past tense. You turned them down.”
“I did. Neither one was right, but if the right one does come along, I’m going to take it.” Her gaze met his again and held. “I don’t regret working for Sheenan Media for the past eight years, but I’m not growing anymore. I’m just kind of stuck. And while I love what you’re doing for Daisy—and fully support your decision to move here—I need to think about what’s best for me.” Her lips curved but her expression was sad, even wistful. “And as much as I love Daisy, and will always love Daisy, and would like to remain in her life, I’m not her family.”
“Whitney—”
She lifted a hand, stopping him. “I’m not saying that to upset you or to fight with you. I love Daisy. I will always be her godmother, and while I’m here I’d like to have a regular Daisy-day, where she and I do something fun together, but I need more than a weekly date with Daisy. You have more than that. You two are a family, and someday you’ll marry and have more children and Daisy will have younger brothers and sisters and it’s going to be good for her. I’m excited for her. So please forgive me if it’s selfish, but I need something for me. I need to have my own family…marriage…babies… and I’m not going to get that here in Marietta.”
“You might.”
“No, I won’t. Not when my boyfriend lives in Denver.”
Chapter Seven
‡
Cormac couldn’t get Whitney’s words out of his head as he exited the Graff and headed across the street for the hotel parking lot.
She had a boyfriend.
He didn’t know why he was so shocked by the news. She was beautiful, and smart, and successful. Of course she’d have a boyfriend, and it made sense that she’d want to return to Denver where her boyfriend lived.
But the news didn’t sit well with him and he didn’t know why. He was the one who’d broken it off with her all those years ago. He was the one who’d set her free. He should be happy that she was with someone who cared about her…
Except that he wasn’t.
And it hadn’t crossed his mind that asking her to go to Marietta might mean she was leaving someone behind. She’d never hinted that there was anyone she was leaving behind—
No, not true. She did say her life was in Denver. Denver was home.
If that was a reference to having a boyfriend it was fairly cryptic, but he understood why she’d be vague. They’d agreed years ago to keep the personal and professional separate so of course she wasn’t going to confide in him about her life outside work.
But it jarred him, hearing that she was hoping to marry and have kids. It also jarred him hearing her say that one day Cormac would marry and his new wife would become Daisy’s mother.
He couldn’t picture anyone but Whitney being Daisy’s mother—
He stopped himself there.
He wouldn’t continue along that path. These thoughts were nonsensical and even a little bit dangerous.
*
Okay, maybe that was stretching things a bit, Whitney thought, stepping onto the treadmill in the hotel gym, thinking what she needed was a good run to clear her head.
Jason wasn’t exactly her boyfriend. They’d only had a dozen dates but Cormac didn’t need to know that, and it’s not as if things with Jason couldn’t progress in the right direction if she gave him more of a green light. He’d indicated more than once that he was into her, possibly seriously into her, but she was the one uncertain. She was the one insisting they take things slow.
Whitney did not date a lot, and when she did, she struggled forming new romantic relationships. She was just so cautious now. She didn’t just dive in headfirst anymore, but took her time—a lot of time—wanting to be sure they were truly compatible. However, very few relationships stood up to such close, critical inspection and Whitney would end it.
She’d told herself that she ended the relationships because they weren’t right, but maybe she was ending them because she was afraid of getting hurt.
Because she did want more. What she said to Cormac in the bar was one hundred percent true. She did want a husband and children. Not necessarily now, today, but someday and she wasn’t going to find that husband if she kept hiding.
Or living in Cormac’s backyard.
*
Cormac was the last to arrive at Trey and McKenna’s. Brock, Harley, the twins and the baby were already there. Troy and Taylor were there, too, and Taylor was obviously expecting, her pregnancy bump quite pronounced.
Cormac greeted his brothers, kissed his sisters-in-law, and did high fives and shoulder bumps with his niece and nephews.
Daisy had gravitated to thirteen-year-old Molly and was talking her ear off. Molly, thankfully, didn’t seem to mind.
“You have good kids,” Cormac said to Brock who was lounging against one of the kitchen counters while Harley, McKenna and Taylor organized dinner.
“Thank you,” he answered. “How are you doing?”
“All right.” Cormac took the cold beer Trey offered. “Glad to be here. It’s good to be back.”
McKenna glanced up from the oven where she’d just checked the temperature on the big roast. “You guys want to head into another room and give us girls some space?”
“Sure.” Trey shepherded them out of the kitchen, leading them to the family room where the fire was blazing. Brock sat down in one of the leather armchairs but Trey, Troy and Cormac all remained standing.
“How is that teacher doing? The one that was shot at Daisy’s school?” Troy asked.
“Still in the hospital, but she’s stable,” Cormac answered.
“And Daisy? How is she?”
“She’s had those nightmares I was telling you about, but otherwise I think she’s okay.”
“Crazy world we live in,” Brock said quietly.
“Yeah,” Cormac agreed.
The sound of quarreling voices down the hall caught their attention and once Trey and Brock identified the voices as their boys, they left to settle the argument, leaving Cormac and Troy alone.
