What Happens in Charleston...

by Rachel Bailey

  He straightened and yawned and she stepped back, folding her arms tightly under her breasts. “How’s your mother?”

  “Tired. Upset.” He speared his fingers through his short hair. “But they’ve finished questioning her and Laurel’s taking her home.”

  She had only met Elizabeth a couple of times but she’d liked her, and hated to think of her going through something so awful—being questioned at a police station, being a suspect in a murder investigation, or the horror of knowing your husband had been murdered. She repressed a shiver.

  “Have they eliminated her from suspicion now?”

  “I’m not sure what they’ve decided. Our lawyers have told us not to worry, which is a little hard to achieve. Detective McDonough told Mom not to leave town while they further their investigations. Which could mean they still suspect her, or could have been a parting shot to keep us all on our toes.”

  “Matthew,” she said, then paused to moisten her lips, “I’m sorry about the timing, but there’s something important I need to tell you.”

  He checked his watch then glanced at the window where the sun’s first rays were shining. Turning back to her, he opened his mouth and she knew he was about to ask if it could wait, but something of her anguish must have shown on her face because he rubbed his eyes and said, “Sure, shoot.”

  Part of her wanted to jump at the reprieve he’d been about to offer, to delay the inevitable heartache, but that would be cowardly and only make things worse for Flynn. For everyone. “Thank you. It’s already waited too long.”

  His eyes were wary as they regarded her, then he nodded. “This looks like a conversation I’ll need to pay attention to. Let me get a coffee first.” He headed through to the kitchen and asked, “Do you want one?” over his shoulder.

  She was already wired enough without the caffeine. “No, thanks.”

  Belly churning, she watched his hands work efficiently and methodically filling the machine with coffee grounds before turning it on. His eyes were preoccupied, weary, and she remembered this was a man who’d lost his wife and father in a twelve-month period, whose son had suffered a major illness, and whose mother had as good as been accused of murder. And now she was about to add to his burden. I’m sorry, Matthew.

  Once his mug was full and steaming, he leaned back against the counter and drank. Then he leveled his gaze at her. “Is this about our conversation at the farmhouse?”

  “No.” She felt a tear escape and roll down her cheek. “And yes.”

  “Hey,” he said, setting his mug down and pulling her against his chest. “What’s happened?”

  You happened, she wanted to say. My life was fine then Flynn fell sick and you called me and now nothing’s the same. Despite Flynn’s health improving, it was too late—she’d been drawn into their lives and could barely see a way out past the entanglements, past the caring.

  She rested her cheek against his chest and focused on the half-empty mug on the counter beside them. “Flynn woke during the night and we had a talk.”

  He lifted her chin with his thumb, his eyes one hundred percent alert now. “What kind of talk?”

  “He’s been collecting more evidence that I’m his new mother,” she said, trying not to wince as she remembered Flynn’s earnest little face.

  Matthew’s arm stiffened around her. “What’s he got?”

  “I live here, I cook and—” she drew in a trembling breath “—I kiss the daddy.”

  He closed his eyes and swore. “I had no idea he’d seen us.”

  “Matthew, it’s gone too far. Flynn’s already going to be disappointed when I leave. I have to go today, before he can ask again.”

  He shook his head, dismissing the idea. “Flynn wants you to stay—that only strengthens my case.” He kissed her cheek, the tip of her nose. “You fit in here. Stay with us.”

  How easy it would be to say yes, to stay here forever, to lose herself in their lives. She knew she couldn’t stay as a replacement, but her heart ached to do exactly that, despite the price....

  She couldn’t think straight in his arms—the very reason she’d become so entangled in his life in the first place. Calling on every ounce of willpower she possessed, she extracted herself from his embrace and leaned back against the opposing counter. The cool air stung her skin where Matthew’s body heat had warmed her only seconds ago.

  “The thing is I fit in here a little too well.”

  “How can you fit in too well?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

  She swallowed, trying to moisten her parched throat. “It’s like you and Flynn have just been waiting for someone to fill the Grace-shaped hole in your family. I tick all the boxes—there’s an attraction between us, I’m Flynn’s biological mother, I cook.”

  He snorted. “How can it be a bad thing that we meld together as a family?”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle and held herself tight as if she could stop herself from falling to pieces in front of him. “Because when I eventually have a family of my own, it will be somewhere I’m wanted for myself.” Her eyes were stinging, and she tried to stop the tears from forming. “My worth in this house is primarily as a replacement.”

  His eyes widened. Blazed. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I know you didn’t mean it to happen this way, and that it’s partly my fault, but neither of you know me.” Was it so wrong to want to be seen for herself? Wanted for herself? She cast around for a way to explain. “When people start a relationship, or a family, it’s like the edges of their joining are elastic, and they move out around the things both people bring to that relationship. But nothing changed here. I fitted in the spaces that were already vacant. There’s nothing about me here.”

  “That’s crazy, Susannah. To start with, your desserts were new,” he said with a little grin.

  “Grace cooked, Pamela cooked.” She lifted one shoulder and let it drop again. “I continued the tradition. That my dishes were different hardly matters.”

  He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, frustration shining in his eyes. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I know you’re not Grace.”

  Her bottom lip quivered but she wouldn’t let the emotion overtake her, not until she was on her own. “I don’t think anyone here can be sure of what they know,” she said slowly. “Everything is smoke and mirrors—you’re living in the past because you can’t let go of your guilt, your father had secrets, you have secrets. I’ll bet there are other secrets in your family yet to come out.”

  His eyes hardened. “You know why I can’t tell people about Flynn. I swore to Grace I wouldn’t tell a soul. And even if I could break it, her parents would be destroyed if they found out—all it would take would be one person who knows to slip up. You and I are as far as the information can ever go.”

  “I do, Matthew, I understand.” She could feel the tears that welled in her eyes begin to spill over, and she swiped at them. “But you have to understand that I need to leave today, both for my own sake and for Flynn—before he gets any more attached.”

  He grabbed his mug and cast the remains of his coffee down the sink, then turned to face her again, hands low on hips. “So you’re just walking away? From Flynn?”

  Had he forgotten what he’d asked of her? Nothing as simple as taking another week’s leave. He’d asked her to confront a mother’s deepest instinct and decide whether she’d stay with the son she’d borne. Yes, she’d originally felt the baby had been his and Grace’s, but that was before she’d spent time with Flynn.

  “I have to, Matthew,” she whispered, suddenly cold all over. “Please don’t make this harder.”

  He raised his eyebrows pointedly. “If it’s hard, then maybe it’s wrong.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut—she couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t keep discussing why she had to go. It hurt far too much.

  “I’ll say goodbye to Flynn this morning,” she said, looking out the window. “And I’ll send him a couple of letters and pres
ents from Georgia so the cut isn’t too abrupt.”

  “What about me?” he asked bitterly. “How are you going to ease the break for me?”

  “The same way I’ll ease it for myself. Time.” She choked in a breath. “I’ll miss you, Matthew.” She couldn’t deny it, even if she wanted to.

  His face softened, and he pulled her roughly against him. “I’ll miss you, too.”

  She melted into him and for the last time, just let herself feel him against her. Let herself smell the scent of his skin through his shirt. Feel the day-old stubble against her temple. He leaned down and gave her a lingering kiss that tasted of coffee but felt like sadness. She needed to pull away, yet she couldn’t make herself. And then she realized why.

  She’d gone and fallen in love with him. Her stomach swooped low.

  He was right. If it was hard, then it was probably wrong—it shouldn’t be easy to leave the man you loved. But it only made things worse. It was an unrequited love—Matthew had made no secret of the fact that he’d never let himself love again. If she’d been the woman to change his stance, he’d have changed it already.

  And, even if he could love her, Matthew didn’t see her, the real her. If she stayed, she’d forever be living Grace’s life, not her own. A life as a Kincaid in a world she’d escaped once as a teenager.

  Drawing a shaky breath, she pulled away and dashed for her bedroom to pack. Hot tears streamed down her face freely. If she didn’t go today, she might settle for this half life and stay forever.

  A few hours later, Matt watched Susannah climb into a taxi in his driveway, his chest ripping open. Everything was good with her here—they fitted together, their strengths complemented each other, he couldn’t imagine he’d ever have enough of her in his bed and Flynn adored her.

  But that wasn’t enough for this woman. Susannah Parrish wanted it all. More than he had to give. His temples pounded. He’d given his heart away once and it had been decimated when things had collapsed between him and Grace. Realizing they’d fallen out of love, that all his dreams of the future for his marriage and their little family were gone, had been almost more than he could bear. He’d never offer his heart again.

  And Susannah wouldn’t settle for anything less.

  When she’d stood up to his brothers at the hospital, he’d admired her refusal to back down, her stubbornness. And though he was desperate to make her stay, a little part of him still had to admire her commitment to what she wanted.

  Flynn was inside with his grandmother. He’d cried when they told him Susannah was leaving, but the promise of postcards and presents from Georgia had mollified him somewhat. The taxi crawled down the driveway and paused before turning onto his quiet street. Susannah looked up and he caught her gaze. Her face was pinched as she refused to let herself cry. Damn it. Why was she doing this?

  She thought he didn’t see her? Every time he closed his eyes, it was her smile that appeared. She’d invaded his dreams at night, his thoughts during the day. How could she think he didn’t see her?

  The taxi moved off down the street and he forcefully locked away everything he was feeling. He couldn’t afford to fall apart—he had a little boy depending on him.

  He thumbed the keyless lock on his car, climbed in and headed for the TKG building. The first order of business was to explain to RJ why he’d lost the Larrimore’s account last night. Not something he’d been looking forward to, but compared with Susannah leaving, it no longer seemed to matter as much.

  He picked up two coffees from their favorite coffee shop on the way, wishing it was late enough in the day for Scotch instead.

  “Good morning, Brooke,” he said to RJ’s secretary. “Is my brother in?”

  Brooke looked up from her computer screen and smiled. “Good morning, Matthew. I just took him a pile of papers to sign, so he’ll probably be glad for the interruption.”

  RJ was sitting at his desk and stretched his arms over his head when Matt knocked on the open door. “You’ve come bearing gifts. Excellent.”

  Matt walked across to the desk and put a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. “Thought we could use the extra caffeine today.”

  RJ had been at the police station by the time Matt had arrived last night, and had probably had as much sleep as he’d had—none.

  “Have you spoken to Mom today?” RJ asked after taking a sip of the dark brew.

  Matt nodded. “She’s at my place. She’s still a little shaken, but seems fine. She insisted on staying with Flynn to give her something to do.”

  Matt never would have asked her to do it—he’d have preferred to keep her wrapped up in cotton wool today. Perhaps send her off to a spa to be spoiled for a few hours. But his mother had rung early and insisted looking after Flynn was what she wanted. She said seeing Flynn healthy put everything else that was going on into perspective.

  RJ put the coffee on his desk and frowned at it. “She was with him last night when they took her in, wasn’t she?”

  Matt nodded. Time to come clean. “I went to the Barclays’ fundraiser. Which is what I need to talk to you about.”

  “You were hoping to tie things down with Larrimore, weren’t you?”

  Matt’s blood simmered thinking about Larrimore’s offer last night to deliver Susannah in exchange for the account. He should have said or done more, but at the time, his first priority had been getting Susannah out of there. He took a swig of his coffee and drained the cup. The next time he met the old man, things would be different. He had no idea what he’d do, but someone needed to bring the man down a peg.

  He crumpled his empty cup and pitched it into the wastebasket. “The deal’s off the table.”

  RJ swore. “Did he give a reason for canceling?”

  “I ended it,” Matt said evenly, confident he’d done the right thing.

  RJ’s jaw dropped. “Why the hell did you do that?”

  “Turns out Larrimore is Susannah’s grandfather. Due to some history between them, she’s estranged herself.” Rightly so—the man was a bully. And Matthew would never let anyone hurt Susannah, grandfather or not, potential client or not. “When he saw her with me last night, he offered a new deal—I get Susannah to make nice and we get their business.”

  “You sided with her,” RJ surmised, raising his brows.

  “Beyond the point that I’m not willing to manipulate people to get an account, she had a solid reason for estranging herself in the first place.”

  “You’re pretty tight with this Susannah. What’s your plan there?”

  Despite his heart beating like a freight train, Matt schooled his features to be neutral. “No plan. She’s gone.”

  “That surprises me,” RJ said, leaning back and interlocking his fingers behind his head. “That day at the hospital, there was definitely something between you.”

  Something? What had sparked with Susannah had been more than something, more than he could have dreamed. A tidal wave of anguish threatened to crash over him and he steeled himself against its power. “There might have been, but it’s over.”

  “Is this about Grace? You’re still hooked on her?”

  Matt looked up sharply. Seemed Susannah wasn’t the only one who’d thought that. He heaved out a breath. He owed his brother the truth. “Grace and I were talking about a divorce when she died.”

  RJ dropped his arms and sat up straight. “Lord. I had no idea.”

  “She was going away for the weekend to think about it.” The guilt still burned in his gut, but the story was a little easier told a second time. Had lost the sharpest edges, thanks to Susannah’s gentle listening. “We had to make sure it was what we really wanted.”

  RJ’s head tilted to the side, his eyes incredulous. “All this time I thought you’d put your life on hold because you were still in love with her.”

  Matt frowned. “What do you mean, I’d put my life on hold?”

  “You walk around like, I don’t know, your insides are bound tight or something.” RJ winced, clearl
y uncomfortable, but willing to proceed anyway. “The only time there seems to be a spark of life in you is when you’re with Flynn. Kara said to me once that your eyes say you’re closed for business.”

  It’s like you and Flynn have just been waiting for someone to fill the Grace-shaped hole in your family.

  Waiting.

  The room closed in on him until he couldn’t breathe. He ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. Had he put his life on hold? Waiting for…waiting for what?

  Abruptly he stood and headed for the watercooler in the corner of RJ’s office and poured himself a drink. Susannah had accused him of thinking he didn’t deserve to love again. Deep down, he knew that was true to some extent. But added to that, he could see that because Grace died when they were talking about a divorce, he’d never had closure. He’d been in limbo about the end of their relationship.

  He’d been unable to grieve his wife as a man in love, and hadn’t been granted divorce papers the way a man leaving a relationship would. With neither avenue open, he’d stood still. Stagnant.

  He turned to find his brother watching him warily. “I really have had my life on hold, haven’t I?”

  RJ nodded, clearly relieved the awkward part of the conversation was over. “Have you opened the letter Dad left you yet?”

  When their father’s will had been read, they’d all been handed a letter their father had written. Each of Reginald’s five children, his wife, his mistress and his mistress’s two sons. Matt had watched RJ open his straightaway but he simply couldn’t bring himself to do the same. He’d been too angry. If his father had been standing in front of him instead of lying in his grave, he’d have walked away, too angry to talk to him—he hadn’t wanted to talk to him via a letter, either.

  He rubbed his fingers across his forehead. Maybe it was time he gave his father a hearing.

  “I’ll catch you later,” he said to his brother on the way out the door.