“I knew she was keen, but I hadn’t realized it was that strong.” Whenever she’d met with Grace, they’d talked about babies, but it had seemed appropriate when their connection was the surrogacy. She hadn’t guessed that Grace would be the same everywhere.
“I tried to be understanding—I wanted children, too, and I knew the need was stronger for her. But it took a toll on our marriage. All we talked about was babies, and eventually, we stopped knowing each other. There was no room to talk about our day, or our dreams about anything else.” His tone was fairly neutral, but there was a deep pain in his eyes—the hurt from the breakdown of his marriage still lived inside him. “By the time Flynn came along, the damage was done. The only thing we had in common was him. That was enough for the first year, when everything revolved around the baby, but at some point, we realized we were strangers who shared a house and a son.”
“Oh, Matthew,” she said, her heart bleeding for them both.
“We started to discuss a divorce and even touched on how we’d share custody of Flynn. Then I pushed too far,” he said, his voice becoming rough for the first time.
She moved closer, so their knees were touching, wanting to give him as much support as he’d given her so many times over the last few weeks. “Tell me.”
“I thought she needed some time away to make sure divorce was what she wanted. I left the house every day for work, but she was home all day, and really only spoke to her parents, me and Flynn. Separating was such a big decision—life changing—I wanted her to have really thought about it and be sure. For both of us to be sure.”
“Grace didn’t want to go?” she asked with a sinking feeling in her stomach.
He swallowed hard, then again before continuing. “She was worried because she’d never been away from Flynn for a night. I thought that was even more of a reason for her to have a break. Time to focus on herself and think about our marriage. I’d always been a hands-on father, so Flynn and I would be fine for a weekend.”
Her stomach clenched tight. Despite knowing the story had to end badly, part of her still kept hoping Matthew and Flynn could be spared somehow. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“The TKG jet was already booked, so I chartered a private plane to take her to her parents’ place for the weekend and pretty much pushed her out the door.” His eyes closed and he pressed fingers to the lids, as if trying to erase the picture in his mind.
She remembered the day she’d returned to Charleston and Matthew had told her Grace had died—he’d said it had happened in a small plane crash. “Something happened to the plane.”
“It went down over the water.” He flinched, eyes squinting, as if it was happening in front of him. “It took them days to retrieve her body.”
She felt physically sick just imagining that day. “Oh, poor Grace.”
“She never would have gone if it wasn’t for me,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. He turned to watch the flickering of the fire and when he turned back, his eyes held more anguish than she’d thought was humanly possible. “It was my idea, I’d chartered the plane, I’d pushed her to go. It was my fault Flynn lost his mother, her parents lost their only child, and a beautiful soul lost her life.”
Seeing his naked pain almost made her lose control of the tears that threatened, but he needed her now. She gripped his fingers tight. “Matthew, it was an accident. There’s no one to blame. Certainly not you.”
“I failed her in the most primal of ways—I didn’t protect my wife.” His mouth twisted, the skin around his lips so pale. “The only thing I had left to offer her was to keep the secret about being Flynn’s biological mother, and to honor her where I could.”
“That’s why the house feels like a shrine to her.” He couldn’t bear to move anything away because of the guilt.
He shrugged one shoulder. “For Flynn, too—so he had reminders of her as much as possible.”
“You’re not still in love with her,” she said, finally understanding.
He slowly shook his head. “I wasn’t in love with her when she died. I’m sure she wasn’t in love with me by then, either.”
She wriggled to his side and he wrapped his arms around her. For a long time, neither of them moved more than to give a light caress, neither spoke.
“Stay with me,” he whispered.
He was tearing her in two. He might not still be in love with Grace, but he hadn’t moved on. Having a temporary relationship with him was one thing, but staying indefinitely? Changing her job and moving interstate for a man who was living in the past and would only ever see her as a replacement for his dead wife? The wife whose death filled him with guilt. Since she’d been in Charleston, she’d been tagging along in Matthew’s life like an accessory—attending the Barclays’ fundraiser, letting him buy her a dress, drinking fancy wines, fitting into his family’s schedule visiting the hospital, cooking family meals. She’d been glad to do what she could, to help. But it had just been the list of tasks that had needed doing. It wasn’t about her. It had been the person Matthew had needed her to be, so she’d slotted in.
It was no foundation for a relationship, even if she felt more for him than she’d expected.
She hated society fundraisers, hated being part of the world her grandparents and the Kincaids inhabited—they prioritized money and power, and thought family secrets were par for the course. She couldn’t stay in that environment. Yet she couldn’t walk away from this man. Or Flynn. What other option was there?
“Tell me, Matthew, what are you really suggesting?”
“If you need a ring to stay, I can do that,” he said, the muscles in his neck taut with resistance to the idea.
The blood in her veins turned cold. “You’re proposing marriage?” She could barely believe he’d said the words, no matter how reluctantly.
“If you need that,” he repeated. “It might be better for Flynn anyway.”
Something inside her withered. He thought that she—that any woman—could be happy to be offered marriage “if she needed that”?
“You don’t think marriage should be about love and commitment?” Things that would make the union solid and able to weather storms.
“Susannah, I have to be honest. I’m not ready to love again. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want you to stay.”
As she looked into his deep green eyes, the pieces finally fitted together. “You don’t think you deserve love again, do you?”
His eyes slid away. “How about we just keep it simple? You stay with Flynn and me, and we’ll all be happy.”
Matthew looked down at Susannah’s sweet face with no idea what was going on in her head. All he knew was that she was overthinking this. Why fix what wasn’t broken? This was working, so they should leave things as they were.
“Matthew, I can’t stay.”
Before he could answer, his cell buzzed and he reached for his trousers on the floor to find it. The ringtone was the one he’d programmed for immediate family—if one of them was calling this late, it must be important. “We’re not finished on this subject,” he said as he thumbed the answer button.
“Hello,” he said, his eyes still on Susannah as she chewed on her lip.
“Matt, it’s Laurel.” The tension that vibrated in his sister’s voice had him sitting up straight, heart in his mouth.
“Is it Flynn?” Even knowing Laurel wasn’t with Flynn tonight, his son was always the first place his mind went when he worried.
“Flynn’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’m here with him now.”
Laurel was at his house late at night—that couldn’t be good. “Then where’s Mom?”
“The police have taken her in for questioning.”
His mother had been taken by the police? His stomach plunged into free fall. “Questioning about what?”
“About Dad’s murder,” she said, her voice wavering.
His temples began throbbing in a heavy drumbeat. His mother
was the last person on Earth who would have anything to do with a murder, let alone her own husband’s—surely even the police could see that?
“I’m leaving now,” he said reaching for his trousers.
He disconnected and tugged his trousers up his legs. “We have to go back.”
“Is your mother in trouble?” Susannah asked, her eyes round and full of concern.
God, he hoped not. But who knew what the justice system would do? “They’ve taken her in for questioning about Dad’s murder.”
Her face paled and he offered her a quick reassuring smile. The fire had burned down but he couldn’t leave it alight with no one in the house. He looked around and found a fire blanket discreetly hanging in an alcove nearby and ripped it open. Making a mental note to send someone out to replace the safety blanket, he smothered the fire.
Susannah zipped up her dress, frowning. “I’ve only met your mother a couple of times, but that sounds crazy. She’s not capable of something as violent. As horrific.”
“Of course she isn’t. Any fool could see that.” He grabbed his shirt, shoved his arms down the sleeves and left the sides hang open, unbuttoned. “The detectives are wasting time by interviewing her while the killer walks the streets of Charleston.”
He let out an oath as they hurried out the door to the plane.
Susannah followed Matthew through his front door and slipped off her heels. The trip back had been tense and he’d spent much of it on the phone to a lawyer and his siblings. RJ, Kara and Lily were already at the station or on their way, and Matthew’s unspoken words were clear—he hated being so far away when his family needed him. She understood. The Kincaids were a family who stuck together and were always there for each other, and yet…they were a family of privilege, secrets and lies. Not a life she could ever be part of.
When they stepped into the parlor, they found a beautiful woman with long, dark auburn hair and green eyes—the picture of Matthew’s mother.
“Susannah, this is my sister Laurel,” Matthew said brusquely. “Laurel, this is Susannah Parrish.”
Laurel held out a hand. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, but nice to meet you, anyway.” She had tension around her eyes, but her tone was unfailingly polite.
“Likewise,” Susannah said, then stepped back to let the siblings talk.
Matthew rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck. “Flynn’s asleep?”
“Since before I got here. He won’t know anything’s happened.”
“Thank goodness for small mercies. I don’t know why they had to do this at night.”
“When I arrived, Detective McDonough and his partner were still here—they’d waited with Mom till she could leave. They said some new evidence had come to light just today, and they were following it up.”
“New evidence?” He threw up a hand, palm out. “It’s ludicrous to think there could be evidence against her.”
Laurel flicked her hair over a shoulder. “I did happen to mention that once or twice.”
Matthew showed the first glimmer of a smile since he’d taken Laurel’s call. “I bet you did. As I’m sure the lawyers will, too. Have you heard from Mom since they took her?”
“No, but Kara rang when she arrived at the station and said they were all there. Mom’s still being questioned. Matt, I—”
He gave a quick nod. “Me, too.” He turned to Susannah, reaching for her hand and interlacing their fingers. “Would you mind staying here with Flynn while Laurel and I go down to the police station?”
“Of course I will.” She’d been about to offer anyway. “And let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”
He tugged her closer and cupped her cheek with his palm, apparently not caring that Laurel was witnessing the gesture. “Hopefully we won’t be long, but even if they drag it out, we should be back before he wakes up.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said, hoping to at least relieve him of one concern. “We’ll be fine. I just hope your mother is okay.”
He looked down at her for one beat, then two, the worry for his mother in his eyes, but also the fire that had been there when they’d made love still burned. Then, with no warning, his head swooped down and he kissed her, one hand sliding into her hair, the other behind her back. Helpless, she leaned into him, into the kiss.
Then he pulled back and met her gaze. “Thanks for staying with him.”
He turned to Laurel, indicating his rumpled tuxedo with a hand. “I’ll just get changed and we’ll leave.”
He strode for the stairs then took them two at a time, and Susannah dared to peek at Laurel. Matthew had just pretty much announced to his family that they were sleeping together. Now he’d asked her to stay, secrecy was obviously not high on his agenda anymore.
Laurel smiled. “Thank you from me, too.”
“Really, I don’t mind staying with Flynn.”
“Not for that,” Laurel said, stepping closer so she could drop her voice. “Matt’s my baby brother and he’s had a rough time the last few years. Anything that makes him happy gets a ringing endorsement from me.”
Susannah felt the blush creep up from her chest to her throat. It was sweet of Laurel to say that but her relationship with Matthew wasn’t what Laurel had probably imagined.
She’d be going in a few days, as soon as her leave was up. Despite Matthew’s request to stay, there was no way she could.
Matthew came running back down, buttoning a clean shirt as he cleared the stairs, threw a quick kiss on Susannah’s cheek, then she was suddenly alone.
She woke on the couch with a start. After a quick shower, she’d been waiting in the parlor for Matthew’s return but when she opened her eyes, it was Flynn who stood before her, clutching his favorite teddy, the corners of his mouth turned down.
Fear had her wide-awake in an instant, but she kept her voice calm. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”
“I had a bad dream,” he said, his bottom lip trembling.
Her chest clenching at his sad little face, she held out her arm and he climbed onto the couch with her, snuggling his warm little back into her chest. She pulled a throw rug from the back of the couch over both of them.
“What was the dream about?” she asked gently.
“I don’t mer’ember.”
She racked her brain for ideas to deal with childhood bad dreams, but came back to Flynn’s own suggestion from when he was in hospital. “Would you like me to sing an Elvis song?”
He nodded, his messy hair brushing under her chin as he did. Holding him a little bit tighter, she sang a verse of “Teddy Bear.”
“Sudi?” he said, tipping his head back in an attempt to see her face. “Can I call you Mommy?”
Her heart fell like a stone into her stomach. She and Matthew had tried so hard to be clear with Flynn about her role. Matthew had taken Flynn aside when he first arrived home from hospital and explained that Susannah was only staying temporarily. Then during the week they’d been sure to regularly drop phrases into conversation like, “When Susannah goes home next week,” and “During my special little vacation here,” to reinforce the message. Obviously their efforts hadn’t been clear enough.
Carefully she sat up, bringing him with her, and sat him on her knee. “Sweetie, we’ve talked about this. You know I’m not your mommy.”
“But, maybe you are.” His face was serious, as if he’d had an idea that had possibly missed her notice.
She was almost afraid to ask, but forewarned was forearmed. “Why would you think so?”
“You live in our house,” he said, his solemn eyes barely blinking.
“I don’t really live here. I’m just staying for a little vacation.” Though she knew that distinction might be lost on a three- year-old.
Undeterred, he pressed on. “You cook for us like a mommy.”
“That’s only because your daddy can’t cook. In some families, it’s the daddy who cooks. And in your family, Pamela makes most of your meals,
doesn’t she?”
Reluctantly he nodded. Then he perked up. “Daddy kisses you like a mommy.”
She could have slapped herself. They thought they’d been so careful, not kissing anywhere Flynn could see them. Apparently their attempts at being discreet had failed.
Although, perhaps Flynn had been on the lookout as he collected his list of evidence. Now his list encompassed that she kissed like a mommy, sang like one, cooked like one, lived in their house and kissed the daddy.
And the worst part was he was right.
She’d slipped into the role of wife and mother so easily. But it wasn’t her role. And neither Kincaid saw her as anything more than that role.
“I think it’s time we put you back to bed,” she said, moving him onto the couch beside her. “You can talk about this tomorrow with your dad.”
His smile drooped and it broke her heart. Everything inside her wanted to say that she would be his mommy. That she was his mommy.
But Flynn deserved a mother who had a proper relationship with his father, where there was love and marriage and plans of forever. It was the only way to create a secure family unit for the little boy. One day Matthew would be ready to move on, and he’d find the perfect mother for Flynn. But Matthew wasn’t ready yet and, therefore, it wasn’t her.
Now she just had to tell Matthew.
Eleven
When Matthew finally arrived home from the police station, the sun was peeking over the horizon. Dark circles underlined his eyes and his every movement conveyed exhaustion. Susannah walked over to where he was closing the door behind him, her entire body vibrating with tension about what she would have to say, knowing she would be adding to the stress lining his face.
He pulled her into an embrace, slumping a little of his weight onto her shoulders, and let out a deep sigh. She wanted nothing more than to take him upstairs and hold him while he slept, but that was not on the agenda—now or ever. She closed her eyes and saw Flynn’s little face, solemnly asking if he could call her Mommy. This couldn’t wait. So she simply held him in her arms, and wished things could be different.
What Happens in Charleston... Page 13
