She couldn’t get enough air. Mason couldn’t be crazy about her. Even if he was, it didn’t change anything. She wouldn’t sneak around behind his mother’s back again. The family dynamic was so screwed up now, any secret keeping could make the whole house of cards come tumbling down. She wouldn’t be the cause of more arguments. She honestly didn’t know if he could forgive her for forcing him into doing something he hadn’t been ready to do.
“It will never work out between us. I love you, and I love that you’re concerned for me. But you gotta let this one go, okay?”
He shook his head. “Most stubborn man on earth, remember? Let me talk to Martha. Maybe she’ll come around.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Amy wouldn’t let herself hope. Martha’s disapproval was only a minor obstacle to a relationship with Mason. They had too many other issues.
“You just let me worry about that. So, do you think World War III is over yet?” he said.
She grinned. “Probably not.”
“Well, then, let’s make ourselves useful and get breakfast going.”
She nodded, and they got to work. She pulled the pans of French toast out of the fridge where they’d sat overnight. Dad turned the top oven on.
“I don’t know if that’s going to be enough for this many people,” he said. She looked at the two pans and shook her head. He went to the pantry and got out two more loaves of bread and started slicing them. She wanted to tell him more about her feelings for Mason, but she couldn’t make sense of her emotions, let alone try to explain them to him.
Dad cleared his throat. “So…the planner.”
So much for avoiding the topic. He greased another glass pan with butter and placed the sliced bread in. She grabbed the eggs from the fridge, anything to avoid that all-knowing Easton gaze.
“What about it?” She tried to make her voice sound nonchalant. Tried to feign innocence.
“Ames, it’s kind of a huge thing,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.
She pushed the fridge door closed harder than she should have and winced when it slammed. She cracked half a dozen eggs in a bowl and whisked them while she decided what to tell him. And how.
“We talked, when I saw him last month.”
“About your mom?”
“Yeah. And you, and well, pretty much everything.”
“That’s why you confronted me about lying to you, huh?”
She stopped pouring vanilla. “Yes. It was a long time coming. I should have told you years ago that I had been angry, and that I now understood and forgave you.”
He shrugged. “You weren’t ready.”
How did he know her so well? Better than she seemed to know herself most days. She guessed that was part of his job description as a father. He put the first two pans of French toast in the top oven and turned the bottom one on. Then he helped her prepare the other two pans and put them in the bottom oven. She turned the timers on, one for the top pans and one for the bottom.
“It’s pretty quiet in there. Think we should go see if anyone’s still alive?” she said. She had to check on Mason. See how he was dealing. Help him any way she could.
“Yeah, let’s go set the table and eavesdrop a bit.”
They gathered enough plates and silverware for everyone. The silence from the living room was even more intense from this close. Amy wanted to peek her head around the corner, but she refrained. They set the table quietly and darted back into the kitchen. She made a pitcher of ice water and got out the milk, syrup, and orange juice. They carted the drinks and syrup into the dining room, and silence still reigned. She’d expected arguing. Crying. Shouting. Maybe even some fists as Mason’s hotheaded brothers came to terms with the truth. But nothing?
“We have to help them,” Amy whispered.
“I don’t know if we can.”
“We have to try. It’s Christmas, for crying out loud. What would Mom do right now if she were here? She sure as hell wouldn’t be hiding in the kitchen, mute and waiting.”
He grinned and nodded. “Okay. You’re right. You lead the charge. I’ll back you up.”
Great. Just great. Well, since she’d caused this mess, she couldn’t really expect him to clean it up for her, could she? Time to get Mason’s Christmas present and put it to good use.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mason stared at Lewis. His brother remained silent. As did Dan and Elly. He didn’t know what he expected them to say. Sorry, maybe? Would that be too much to ask? For them to apologize for jumping down his throat all these years every time he griped about Dad.
None of them said a word. Mom and Dad seemed inclined to just sit and let everyone work through the truth on their own. But they’d all been sitting in silence for almost twenty minutes after Dad had finished explaining the way he’d cheated on Mom for years. Mom was pissed. He could tell. He didn’t know who she was mad at, though. He was definitely included on the list. No way could she not be angry and disappointed with him for never telling her the truth. For buying the lies of his father.
Why had the rest of his family shown up like this? His siblings all looked like they’d just come from a war zone. As did his parents. What a mess. He wanted to blame himself, or even Amy for forcing the issue. But he couldn’t. This one was everyone’s fault. He still couldn’t believe Lewis and Dan had lied to Elly and Dad to get them here. Telling them Mom wanted to have a family holiday together. Didn’t they have any clue what a bad idea that was?
Of course they hadn’t, because he hadn’t told them.
Shame weighed heavily on his heart. He didn’t know how to even begin to fix things. Would Mom hate him now? She wouldn’t. He knew that. But she should. That made him feel even guiltier.
“So, how long have you all been staring at one another in silence?” Amy said from the doorway to the dining room. All eyes turned to look at her. She squirmed under the attention. Was she holding a present? She took a deep breath and stepped into the room. She sat on the floor next to Mason and set the box in his lap. “This was for you. I guess you could all kind of use it now.”
He raised his eyebrows, but she didn’t say anything else. No one jumped all over her or tried to kick her out of the room. That was progress, at least. Would Lewis hold a grudge against her forever? She was going to become a part of this really screwed-up family once her dad officially moved in. She looked so uncertain. So unlike the bold woman who wore biker boots and had sex on the stairs with a man she barely knew.
She turned her attention to the rest of the room as he unwrapped the box.
“I’m really sorry that I got in the middle of all this. None of you really knows me. I’m Amy Easton. I teach kindergarten, and I lost my mother at the age of twelve. I’ve spent the rest of my life pretty much angry and in denial about it, throwing myself into the moment, into the thick of things and unable to ever think anything through. Never planning ahead. Never living past the next twenty-four hours because I knew life wasn’t guaranteed. I have no siblings. It’s been me and my dad for a long time. And I couldn’t stand by and watch Mason ignore the fact that he was losing his family, just as much as I’d lost my mom, through his anger and stupidity.”
He sent her a glare.
She shrugged. “You were acting like an idiot, and you know it.”
He couldn’t really argue with that, so he didn’t try.
“Open your present,” she said.
He lifted the tissue paper and stared at the book contained inside. The Road to Forgiveness Starts with You. There was some serene picture on the cover. And damn it if tears didn’t burn the back of his throat.
Sorry, Amy. Shame on him for having thought she hadn’t gotten him anything special. This was personal to the nth degree. And she wanted him to share it with the room?
“Mason, you know the rules,” Mom said.
He sighed and lifted the book so everyone could see. You displayed your Christmas presents in this house, for everyone to see and take pictures of and poke fun at you
about.
Mom laughed. “Good choice, Amy. I have a copy in my bedside table upstairs. It’s a good book, Mason. And if you let it, it can help you. I forgave your father six months ago, and I forgave you about six seconds after your confession. And got pissed at him all over again. What can I say? I’m still a work in progress.”
Everyone stared at her.
“What?” she said.
“Mom, you said pissed,” Elly said, her voice full of the shock they were all feeling.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, people, I’m not a saint.” She seemed to force out the swear word, as if it felt foreign on her tongue. It probably did.
The room erupted into startled laughter, and Mason’s spirits buoyed. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe the book would help him. But he didn’t know how to let it. Amy slid away from him a few inches, keeping their boundaries firmly in place and reminding him silently to do the same. This situation was still so tentative. So screwed up. He didn’t want to make it worse by incurring Mom’s wrath over his broken promise or giving Lewis another outlet for his swirling emotions. Because if his brother attacked Amy again, Mason would have no choice but to kick his ass. Which wouldn’t do any of them a damned bit of good.
The timer rang from the kitchen. “That’ll be breakfast,” James said from the doorway to the dining room. “Table’s set, if you’d all like to gather in here.”
He disappeared a second later, and banging emerged from the kitchen. So that was what Amy and James had been doing the whole time his family was having a staring contest. Nothing had been resolved. Not really. But everyone stood and trailed into the dining room anyway. He grabbed Amy’s hand and tugged her back around the corner. She stared up at him, her eyes wide.
“Mason. I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Tears swam in her eyes, and he cursed.
He cupped her cheeks, catching the first tears with his thumbs. “Baby, don’t cry. I’m so sorry I put you in the middle of this. And that you had to force us all to discuss it. It was something I should have done forever ago.”
Her lips trembled, and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned down and touched his lips to hers. Her body relaxed against his as she opened to him. God, he’d missed her so much. He couldn’t get enough of her. Why had he thought he could give her up?
“Mason, can I have a—” His mother gasped.
Shit. He lifted his head and turned to face her, hiding Amy between his body and the wall. Not that Mom would hurt her, but Amy had done a very brave thing sticking up for him. Forcing him to confront his anger and guilt. The least he could do was try to explain things to his mom.
“Well, I was going to ask for a minute alone with you, but I think it’s better if I talk to Amy first.”
Amy nudged him to the side.
“Uh, hi, Martha,” she said. Her voice was so small, but she straightened her shoulders and took Mason’s fingers between hers. She tugged him to the couch and sat down. He sat beside her. “I think maybe the three of us should talk together.”
Then James poked his head around the corner. “Ah, okay. Guess we’re doing this one now, then.” He came in and sat in one of the rockers. “Martha, why don’t you have a seat?” Mom sat down in the rocker beside James, and he took her hand. “Martha, do you want to get married again?”
“What?” Lewis shouted from the dining room.
“That wasn’t a proposal,” James said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “It was just a hypothetical question.” He turned back to Martha and repeated, “Do you ever want to get married again?”
She opened her mouth and closed it. “Um, I’ve never really considered it. But now that you bring it up, no, not especially.”
“Good. Me neither. So we’re never getting married, right?”
She was silent for a moment. “Okay, yes. We’ll never get married,” she said. “But what does this have to do with anything?”
“If we never get married, there’s absolutely nothing improper about our kids dating.”
Mason’s throat constricted. Had Amy told her dad about her staying at his place when she was in Colorado? Had she told him they’d agreed they couldn’t be together even if his mom was okay with it?
“That’s not the problem. It never was.” Mom looked at him, then back at James. He could tell she wanted to say something but didn’t want it to be so public. Finally she said, “What if he breaks her heart?”
“What if he doesn’t?” James said, just as smoothly.
“You don’t know my son, James.”
“But I do,” Amy said from beside Mason. He glanced at her, and she squeezed his fingers. Then she brought their entwined hands to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. “He’s kind, compassionate. Neurotic as all hell. He doesn’t have relationships. He has flings and one-nighters. Not because he doesn’t want more. Not because he couldn’t have more, but because he’s terrified that he’ll hurt someone the way Richard hurt you.”
She might have been speaking to his mom, but she was talking to him. Her hazel eyes bored into his. The blend of brown and green had become familiar to him. Comforting. She thought he could have more?
“Truth be told, I don’t really have relationships either, because I never think far enough ahead to date anyone I care to spend more than a few days with. Or they ask me to plan for a date next month or go out of town together. I don’t do that kind of commitment.”
He laughed at her admission.
“You’re not me, Mason. You never have been,” his father said from the doorway.
Mason broke eye contact with Amy to stare at his dad, and Dad’s expression surprised the hell out of him. It was a mix of sadness and pride.
“Thank God for that much,” Dad said. “I screwed up. A lot. With your mom, with you. But you’re not me, and Amy isn’t your mom. It’s a completely different ball game. I am so sorry that I’ve messed things up so badly for you.”
Mason couldn’t speak. It was what he’d wanted to hear from his dad for so many years. Now that he had, he didn’t know how to react. It didn’t make the anger or the hurt go away. Sorry didn’t fix anything.
Amy leaned in. “Tell him thank you. And that you love him,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s too early to say you forgive him. Even if you say the words, you won’t mean them.”
He cleared his throat. She was right. He still wasn’t ready to forgive his father. But maybe someday, with her help, he would be.
“Thanks, Dad. I, uh… I love you.”
Dad’s face lit up like he’d just gotten the best Christmas present in the world. And maybe he had. “Go for it, son,” he said.
“Let’s give them a minute, shall we? Besides, that French toast is best served warm,” Mom said, standing.
And like that, his heart soared. Mom had given him her stamp of approval. And Dad had assured them all Mason wasn’t like him. Mom, James, and Dad went back into the dining room. Mason turned to Amy, and she had that wide-eyed look again. Did she want to try? Even at the risk of screwing everything up?
“We can’t let it get weird. No matter what happens. Holidays remain…well, just as normal as this one was, okay?” she said.
He laughed. “You call this normal?”
She chuckled. “Okay, maybe not. But you know I can’t guarantee us a year, or even six months. I don’t know how to live like that.”
“I didn’t say I was asking for forever just yet, did I?”
She swallowed hard. She was terrified. Truthfully so was he. But he wanted to leap. He just needed her to do it with him.
“We’ll start small. You have any plans for New Year’s?” he said. She grabbed her present off the table next to her.
“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” she said, opening the book and writing a note on December 31.
Make love to the best guy in the world.
“I do hope that means me,” he teased.
She knocked her shoulder against his. “Of course it does.”
“So we’re going to do this, f
or real?”
“For real,” she said and kissed him. “And just so you’re aware…you cheat on me, and I’ll cut your balls off with a rusty knife.”
He threw his arms around her, hugging her tightly. “I would expect nothing less. Merry Christmas, Amy.”
“Merry Christmas, Mason. Let this be the first of many.”
Loose Id Titles by Rachell Nichole
An Affair Across Times Square
Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce
Rachell Nichole
Rachell has been writing since she found a computer in her house at the age of 9. From then on, long summer nights were used to create stories filled with people she’d never met and lives she’d never live. This is often how she spends her nights now, season be damned. She loves animals, travel, children, and family. But she prides herself on making others happy. She’s found a way to do this through weaving romances doused in erotic heat.
Check out Rachell’s Web site and blog:
http://www.rachellnichole.com
http://www.divasofdesire.blogspot.com
Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce Page 19
