I turned on my little second-hand oven and let it preheat while I cleaned up. The screen took a chemical bath to remove the stencil, and the squeegee was scrubbed within an inch of its life. Even the cleanup routine was a bit meditative.
When the oven was hot, I baked the dress. A silicone tray protected the thin fabric from the hot metal rack. This part always set my nerves on edge; too little time and the design would fade. Too much time and it would bubble, any more time and the dress would catch fire. I had to remind myself to breathe as I glued my eyes to the window. Four minutes and fifty-two seconds later, I pulled the dress out of the oven.
“Perfect.”
At that same moment, a shriek hit my ears at just the right frequency to make me panic. Tossing the dress over the rolling rack, I dashed out of the garage and into the kitchen. Vincent was wailing and holding his head as my mom struggled to hold him.
“He ran under the table,” she explained breathlessly, her hair and eyes as wild as my son. “Too tall to manage it.”
“Come here, baby,” I said, holding out my hands.
He launched himself through the air, forcing me to catch him before he face-planted on the tile floor. He buried his face in my chest and sobbed as Frida looked on with wide blue eyes and a thumb in her mouth.
“He’s okay, Frida,” I told her as I combed his thick hair away from the bump to check for blood. “Yeah, you’re okay, buddy.”
His screams shuddered to a halt; then, he lifted his head so fast he nearly head-butted me in the jaw. He slapped his two pudgy hands on my cheeks and looked deep into my eyes. The familiar lump rose in my throat as I saw Miles reflected in Vincent’s perfect little face. I swallowed it—which was getting easier as time went by, but I doubted it would ever really be easy—and kissed his forehead.
“No running in the house,” I told him firmly.
He grinned at me and wriggled in my arms. I put him down so I wouldn’t drop him, and turned to my mom.
“Where’s the to-do list?”
“Right here.” She puffed out her cheeks and swept the list up off the table. “Okay, so we need to get pizzas and chips, pick up the cake and balloons, set up the ball pit, fence off the lawn, set up the bubbles, and make the punch.”
“Great. I’ll take Vincent and run the errands if you watch Frida and get started here.”
She tried to hide her relief, but failed. She was still a few years short of fifty and had plenty of energy for most kids, but Vincent was a special kind of trouble, and he managed to exhaust both of us most days.
Splitting the kids and the chores up allowed us to have the house set up half an hour before the first kid toddled to the door with his hand wrapped around his mother’s finger.
“Hi, Charlie! Hi Mary, how are you?”
Vincent toddled up behind me and grabbed Charlie’s hand. Together, the two boys made for the living room in that weaving, half-drunk sort of way that toddlers run.
“Oh, thank God,” Mary said under her breath as she shot me a grateful smile.
“Long day?” I asked.
“Long year,” she said as she stepped inside. “I swear, he’s gotten clingier since I went back to work. He wasn’t exactly standoffish before, you know? God, you’re lucky.”
Startled, I asked, “What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know, just that you don’t have to work.”
I smiled tightly. “I do work,” I reminded her.
“Oh? You don’t mean those crafts you’re always doing? Or the babysitting? Come on, Shelley, that’s not really work. Not the same way! You don’t have to leave the kids, for one thing. And honestly, isn’t that more like a hobby? You aren’t exactly making a living at it.”
My sharp retort was delayed by the arrival of Jill and her mother April. April and I had been friends in high school, and had picked up right where we left off when I moved back to Monterey. She smiled sunnily at me as she released Jill to go find the other kids.
“Hey chick! How’s business?”
“Booming,” I told her as I embraced her warmly. “Just finished a new piece this morning.”
“On top of all this?” she asked, sweeping an arm to take in the festooned house. “Girl, I wish I had your stamina.”
“Shelley, don’t let her lie to you; this girl can go for days.” April’s husband Dean grabbed her from behind and nuzzled her neck with his fuzzy beard. She squealed and slapped him, and I rolled my eyes. They always had been loudly affectionate, and I still found it amusing after all these years.
“I didn’t mean like that, Dean,” she said exasperatedly. “I meant like Shelley, with her passion for screen printing of all things. Not that there’s anything wrong with screen printing, I just wish I had passion like that for…well, anything.”
“Aw,” Dean pouted.
“Again, not like that,” she shook her head at him, then kissed him firmly. “Go play with the kids.”
He beamed at her and trotted away.
“He listens so much better than he used to,” I said, my eyes twinkling.
“Yeah, gotta get them trained early. They’re virtually unbreakable after they can legally drink.”
We shared a laugh and she stood with me by the door while I greeted more parents and their children.
“Bet you’re not thrilled to be back in this place,” she said with a conspiratorial glance. “I guess you’re planning to make a break for it as soon as the kids are in school, right?”
Her question hung in the air as I answered the door for three kids I babysat regularly and their poor harried mother.
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s starting to grow on me. Don’t get me wrong, this town is still as exciting as a bowl of oatmeal, but…” I shrugged, gazing out the door at the line of unlocked cars parked on the quiet, sunny street. “That’s kind of what I like about it. I don’t have to worry about the kids growing up here. There’s so little trouble for them to get into, you know?”
“True,” she said pensively. “I guess the responsible thing would be to stick around until they grow up.”
“Don’t sound so depressed about it,” I laughed. “Why, were you thinking about leaving?”
“Only all the time,” she said with a wry twist of her lips. “I don’t know, I think having Danni right out of high school sort of threw me. I had all these big plans to see the world, and then suddenly, I was a mother. I never had the chance to get homesick, you know?”
I did know, but I only had the chance to send her an understanding smile before the living room exploded with the offended shrieks of toddlers.
April and I hurried out together to see what the trouble was, and the chaos lasted up until the minute lunch was served. Mom had taken the time to cut the pizzas into half-bite-sized bits for the little ones, which was as much a curse as it was a blessing, since smaller bits made better projectiles.
Jenna arrived in the middle of lunch, and I answered the door.
“You have pizza stuck to your forehead,” she told me.
“Oh. Thanks. How was your drive? Did Anita come with you?”
Jenna gave me a look that was just shy of a death glare. “She did not.”
Overwhelmed with children and mess, I was oblivious to what she wasn’t saying. “That’s too bad. It’s a long drive to make on your own. Why couldn’t she make it?”
“Because she was caught with her hand in someone else’s cookie jar,” Jenna seethed.
It finally registered for me. “Oh. Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, Jenna.”
“Thanks. I’m not too broken up about it. She liked to keep ferrets, and I was not looking forward to the ‘moving in together’ conversation.” She shuddered violently and I laughed.
A chorus of “Oh, no!” met my ear from the dining room, and I hurried away to manage the latest spill. The pizza was mostly eaten or destroyed at this point, so with the help of a few other parents I cleaned up, turning over the dining room for cake. The kids were getting restless in their chairs, so I hurried to
retrieve the double-chocolate cake for the twins.
The way their little faces lit up just about broke my heart. Those blue eyes blazing with excitement in the low light, they were the very image of their father.
I sang to them around the lump in my throat, but was quickly losing my composure. As soon as they blew out the candles, I pressed the knife into my mom’s hand and fled to the kitchen. I couldn’t bear to have the whole neighborhood see me cry, and I just couldn’t hold it back any longer.
“I was wondering how long it would take for you to break,” my mom said sympathetically when she walked in several minutes later. “There must be a dozen toddlers out there. Maybe more. That’s too much for anybody to take on.”
“Oh, it’s not the kids,” I sniffed, wiping my eyes. “Not really.”
She sat down across from me and held my hand, worry shining in her eyes. “Then what is it, honey? What’s wrong?”
His name caught in my throat, a dam holding back a flood of tears. It hurt my heart to keep it there, but I knew it would break all over again if I let it fall. I took the heartbreak. The constant ache had hurt me enough for one lifetime.
“It’s Miles,” I sobbed as the floodgates came crashing down. “He should be here! He should see them; he should know them! How can he sleep at night knowing that they’re out here, fatherless, while he runs around the country with gold-digging models and never…never…they’re his! How can he?”
Tears washed away my babbling words and I dissolved once more into sobs. Mom moved around the table to wrap her arms around me, and I buried my face in her shoulder.
“Shelley, we swore that we wouldn’t speak that name in this house. Remember what happened last time? When he was the world’s most eligible billionaire or whatever, and had that candied giraffe on his arm? You just about lost your mind and called him. He isn’t worth your pain, my love. He isn’t worth your tears.”
She was right. He wasn’t. But, damn it, the twins were worth his time. I fed my despair into the furnace of my anger, letting the heat dry my eyes.
“You’re right,” I told her. My voice was still shaky and I cleared my throat. “You’re absolutely right. He isn’t worth that, any of it.”
I cleaned my face and hugged her again, grateful that she and I had managed to build a solid relationship after all. Before I went away to college, I’d never thought that would happen.
Just as I was steadying myself to brave the horde of children again, Jenna popped into the room, virtually vibrating with excitement.
“You are never going to guess what just happened,” she gushed. “I just got a call from the newspaper to tell me that they just got a call from the California Press Association—”
“Who did they get a call from?” I asked.
“Oh shut up,” Jenna laughed. “I’ve been named tech journalist of the year!”
“Oh my God!” I jumped on her with a bear hug, squeezing the breath out of her. “That’s super exciting! Are you excited? You should be excited; that’s exciting!”
“Shelley, don’t suffocate your sister. Congratulations, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Jenna said as her face turned from tomato red back to her usual pinkish glow. “Best part is, there’s this awards ceremony. Very glamorous, a lot of who’s-who of the tech world. I’m going to be doing some monstrous networking, and I have the best dress in the world for it picked out already. Shelley, how would you like to be my plus-one to this thing? Since I’m a single woman once more as of today—thanks, Anita—I don’t want to go by myself, and you’d be better company anyway.”
Vincent squealed in delight from the next room, answered by groaning parents. I didn’t want to imagine what he’d done to get such a reaction, but I figured it was something messy or destructive. It usually was.
“Where is the ceremony?” I asked hesitantly.
“San Bravado, next week. You and I will go, then spend the night in a fancy hotel on the newspaper’s dime. You’ll flirt with rich young men, I’ll keep my eyes peeled for a cute assistant in desperate need of some attention…we’ll have a great time!”
It did sound like a great time, in spite of the idea that I might have to share a room with Jenna and one of her conquests. But San Bravado…
“It’s too far away,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve got the kids.”
Jenna cast a pleading look to our mother.
“Shelley, go,” Mom said. “You’ve been in mommy mode for way too long. Go, have some fun! You’re only twenty-five; you can’t bury yourself yet. Trust me, honey—you need this.”
“You so do,” Jenna agreed emphatically. “When was the last time you got dressed up? I mean really dressed up.”
“I… God, I can’t even remember.” It was easier to say that than the truth, which was that the last time I’d gotten dressed up, I’d subsequently been stood up and had then discovered that I was knocked up. An involuntary shudder shook me at the memory.
“Exactly,” Jenna said firmly. “You’re drowning under mom duties, Shell. Come with me. Please?”
“But Vincent…”
“Oh, I complain a lot, but he’s not that bad,” my mom intercepted. “I just gotta be quicker than him, is all. Don’t worry about a thing, Shelley; I can take care of the kids for a night or two.”
I was feeling the pressure from all sides. Still, I hadn’t been away from the kids overnight…ever, I realized. It made me nervous. Just then, Frida began banging her spoon on the table.
“Mama! Mama! Up! Mama, up!”
“Yes,” I told Jenna quickly. “Yes, I’ll come.”
Chapter 9
Miles
The Multi-Billionaire Life
I grew up on songs about fast cars and fast women. I guess most people do. The music might change, but the lyrics pretty much stay the same. I’d always thought that was the dream. To make it rain money. To have super models and starlets throw themselves at your feet. The upgraded American dream, you know?
It wasn’t until I had it all that I began to hear the loneliness behind the lyrics. It had all been a flurry of parties and booze and sex at first, dazzling to my young and naive mind. It didn’t take long for the magic to fade. I was still passionate about my work; the company had grown to be everything I had dreamed of, and more. The first app had been more successful than I could have imagined, and we rode its success to develop more and more.
The fastest rising star in the tech business. I’d never thought I would be at the top of something like that. I had wanted to be, but I used to dream a lot smaller. Now, with business booming at the speed of light and cash pouring in faster than I could count it, I realized that Nathan and I had built something that would last generations.
The only problem was, there were no generations for me, and no prospects to create them. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of girls—lines of them, girls as far as the eye could see—but no wife material among them.
“What do you want to settle down for, Miles? You’re not even thirty yet; what are you even thinking about parenthood for?” Nathan poured himself a drink in the large shared lounge between our offices, and offered me one. I declined.
“It’s not that I want the whole lot right now—wife, kids, dog,” I told him. “But I want more than what I’m finding. I want the potential for a real, lasting relationship with someone compassionate and three-dimensional, someone who’s passionate about something other than fame and money.”
“Oh, you want passion? Have I got the girl for you! She’s a wildcat, man.”
“I’d rather not lick up your leftovers, thanks.”
“Oh, come on. I dated her a year ago; it’s not like you’re diving right in after me. We still keep in touch, and she’s mentioned you more than once. She’s interested, and she hasn’t even met you yet.”
“Which means it’s my wallet she’s interested in,” I sighed.
“Or your good looks. Or the rumors about your skill in bed. I swear, I hear more about
you than I ever wanted to know. You sure you don’t want a drink?”
I glanced at the clock. “It’s barely noon.”
“What does it matter? We’re rich, Miles! The normal rules don’t apply. We could be drunk off our asses at nine in the morning, and who’s going to chastise us? Nobody, that’s who. Because we run the show now.”
He walked to the window and looked over the city, gesturing with his martini glass.
“You and me, standing on top of the world, squinting down at all those peasants just dying to catch a glimpse of us. Doesn’t that get you high on life?” His eyes blazed as he turned the question to me, glittering as if he’d breathed in the most intoxicating smoke.
“I don’t know,” I said dismissively. “I miss being able to get lost in a crowd, or have a normal conversation with a woman. Every date I’ve been on lately feels like an interview, with her as the prospective employee.”
“Exactly! That’s the whole point, Miles. You have your pick of the most beautiful, successful, sexy women on the planet. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”
I shifted uncomfortably—it was difficult to do, seeing as the chair I was in was arguably the most comfortable chair I had ever sat on—and searched for a way to express what had been tumbling around in my head for months.
“I want that feeling again,” I told him.
“What feeling?”
“That feeling of…completeness. Like I could talk to her for hours and never run out of things to say, or listen to her for hours and never get bored. I miss that subtle chemistry, where you both know what’s up but nobody’s pushing. I want a woman who’s a friend as well as a lover, someone fully developed in her own right who doesn’t need my money to feel complete.”
Nathan smirked. “Good luck, man. I’ve never even met a woman like that. I’m pretty sure they only exist in girl-next-door movies.”
“They exist,” I said confidently, recalling a pair of laughing green eyes peering out from beneath strawberry-blond hair. “I know they do.”
Second Chance Twins - A Steamy Billionaire Secret Babies Romance (San Bravado Billionaires' Club Book 1) Page 7
