And that wasn’t the end of his unlucky streak.
So far, the tally of the morning was: one destroyed mailbox, one dented car, a coffee-stained shirt, a permanently deleted email—which he was supposed to have forwarded to Singapore—and the promise of a stomach ulcer.
He was almost ready to throw his computer out the window, gather his things, and never return again. If this went on much longer, his car would be totaled, and he’d be ready for electric shock therapy. In the midst of the chaos he’d produced, the intercom that connected him with his assistant started buzzing.
At the end of his rope, he pressed the speaker button and heaved a sigh. “What is it, Mrs. Buchanan?”
“Uh …” She sounded rather perplexed. “There’s a lady here to speak with you, Mr. Campbell.”
James squinted and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’m busy at the moment.”
“I know, but …” The older woman cleared her throat. “I was told it was urgent.”
He ground his teeth. “Who is it?”
His assistant’s nervous giggle grated on his nerves. “I think it’s your ex-wife.”
Confused, he squinted at the double doors to the outer office and repeated: “You think it’s her?”
Before Mrs. Buchanan could continue to stammer and giggle, he rose from his chair and marched for the door, pulling it open without warning. He scanned the room for his ex-wife, and then his jaw dropped, for what he saw wasn’t Barbara … or rather, it was Barbara, but she was barely recognizable.
The first thing James took in was the luridly ugly wig that reminded him of the one Ronald McDonald wore, and then his gaze snagged on what must have been the biggest red clown nose he had ever encountered. And instead of her usual dress, or elegant skirt, she was wearing a basic pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, and casual sandals.
“Barbara?” he croaked out.
She grabbed him by the hand, dragged him back into his office, and called over her shoulder to the speechless Mrs. Buchanan: “Please don’t put any calls through, Mrs. Buchanan. Your boss and I want to be alone!”
James could hear his assistant gasp just before Barbara shut the door with a bang and turned to him with an excited smile.
“Turn off your computer. We’re eloping.”
Surely he’d misheard her. “What?”
The curly redhead nodded fervently. “You and I are running away to clown college,” she said, her voice a little more nasally than usual. “Don’t you remember?”
All James knew was that he must be having a stroke. He was hallucinating. Or had his ex-wife actually burst into his office in a clown wig and giant red nose to ask him to run away to clown college with her?
All he could do was repeat, “What?”
“We’re running away to clown college,” Barbara explained simply, taking a step closer. “Don’t you remember that was our backup plan in college?”
“We were in our early twenties,” he reminded her gently, unable to take his eyes off the humongous red plastic ball on the center of her face. “We’re grown up now.”
“That doesn’t matter,” she objected softly, taking his hand in hers and interlacing her fingers with his. Her sigh went straight to his heart. “We need to elope and leave everything behind so things between us can be as they used to be—before we stopped talking to each other, before everything went down the drain.”
His lips twisted into a smile that felt almost painful. “And the boys?”
“They’d feel right at home in a circus,” she replied with conviction. “I’m sure Scott would be an amazing acrobat, and I can see Hamilton as an animal tamer.”
James laughed briefly and looked into her green eyes. “My heart would burst with fatherly pride,” he said.
“There we go!” She smiled big. “The boys will be thrilled.”
“I feel a little too old to go back to school, though,” he pointed out calmly.
“I’m sure there are a lot of career-changers in this profession.”
He rolled his eyes and then looked her up and down once more. “Were you walking around on the street dressed like that?”
Her answer was a playful smirk. “You should’ve seen the concierge’s face downstairs. The poor man’s jaw dropped so far, he lost a few bites of his tuna sandwich!”
“Oh, Jesus!” James couldn’t suppress the bubbling laughter that escaped his throat, and seeing Barbara this relaxed gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling. This was the charming, funny, merry Barbara he’d met in college, the woman he’d fallen in love with. She’d always been that charming, funny, and merry, until Elizabeth died.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one thinking about what had happened three years ago, because the tone of her voice changed.
“Come home to me, James,” she whispered seriously. “I want my husband back, and I want to lie in bed with my best friend again, while he tells me jokes only the two of us understand. And I never want you to fear that I don’t care about your feelings again.” Barbara took his other hand and held it in hers. “Come home to me. I can’t live without you.”
His throat constricted as he looked into Barbara’s hopeful face. “Darling …”
“Pushing you away was so wrong of me,” she interrupted him in a faltering voice. Before going on, she took a few shaky breaths. “And focusing only on my own pain was selfish. But if you let me, I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving to you that you’re the love of my life.”
He lowered his head and rested his forehead against hers.
There were so many things he wanted to say, so many unsorted thoughts running through his head, and so many hurts and mistakes to work through, but the only thing he managed to say was: “Please take off your nose.”
“Pardon me?” Barbara murmured, confused and insecure.
“Please take off the clown nose.” He let go of her hands, gently pulled the wig from her head, and cupped her face in order to tenderly confess, “I can’t kiss someone who looks like Ronald McDonald.”
“But I can,” she countered softly. She pulled the nose from her face and put it on his before wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him the sweetest kiss of his life.
Epilogue
“Scott, I want you to finish your math homework before we go to see your uncle and aunt and the new baby this afternoon,” Barbara said sternly from her place at the sink. “And no lame excuses, young man.”
“But I have to practice for my next soccer game,” the eight-year-old protested promptly. His blond head was bent sleepily over a bowl of Cap’n Crunch, and he was making a face that suggested he’d just heard he had to go through something akin to the Passion of the Christ. “We’re playing Grearson this Sunday …”
“The only thing you need to do is practice long division, because you have a test next Friday. Or do you want to be the one to tell Grandma when you fail math?”
“I won’t fail,” Scott replied, his confidence far too high for a kid whose math grades were a disaster. “Plus, I’m pretty sure David Beckham was never good at math either.”
Barbara stopped cutting carrots, turned her eyes toward the ceiling, and started counting to ten in her head. As proud as she was of her energetic son, he could be annoyingly obstinate when it came to his passion. Which was soccer, not math, unfortunately.
“Good morning, everyone.” James appeared behind Barbara and patted her on her backside while pressing a kiss to her cheek and snuggling up to her for a brief moment.
“Good morning,” Barbara replied with a smile as she leaned into him, watching good-naturedly as he grabbed one of the peeled carrots and took a large bite.
“Did you all sleep well?” he asked as he chewed. Only a few minutes ago, she’d playfully struggled to escape this man as he’d tried to pull her into the shower with him. As tempting as the sight of his naked body under the rushing spray of water had been, Barbara had instead hurried downstairs to fix breakfast and prepare the boys’ school lunches. The usual morning chaos ke
pt thwarting their long showers and spontaneous morning sex. Thankfully, the nights were much more relaxed, with no interruptions to embarrass them.
“Dad, can you please explain to Mom how important practicing is in soccer? She’s a girl and doesn’t understand!”
Barbara gasped in outrage, turning her head with a jerk and glaring at Scott, who returned her look with a cocky grin. Apparently, James thought his son’s comment was hilarious, for he almost choked on his carrot and started coughing.
Before Barbara could throw him a withering glance, he saved her honor by declaring, “Actually, champ, your mom is the coolest girl you’ll ever meet.”
“But she still doesn’t know much about soccer,” Scott countered as nonchalantly as if he were a sportscaster with a national show.
“Well, he’s not completely wrong there,” James murmured into Barbara’s ear like the traitor he was. Then he gave her one last loving pat on her butt and turned to the coffeemaker to pour himself a cup.
Barbara snorted and narrowed her eyes at him before turning on their son. “Since I don’t know much about soccer, I won’t be washing any more muddy jerseys for a while, buddy. And you will do your math homework, otherwise you’re not coming with us to go visit Uncle Patrick and Aunt Amy.”
“Dad!” Scott immediately appealed to the saner parent, whining in despair. “I need to practice!”
“Listen to your mom,” James said with infinite patience as he returned the coffee pot to its plate. “And don’t think I forgot that you and I have a date to study multiplication tonight, champ.”
Miraculously, Scott didn’t protest but instead stared into his cereal bowl with an expression of quiet resignation. It was all Barbara could do not to grin.
She slowly returned her gaze to James, who was standing, sipping his coffee, across from her at the kitchen counter, looking over at Scott. She smiled as she studied his profile and mulled over the fact that it had now been over a year since they’d made up. James had moved back in with them and sold his house almost immediately. Although, in the beginning, Barbara had been worried that it might be awkward to live all together again after two years of separation, it had felt as if nothing had ever happened.
By now, it was hard to imagine that they’d ever been separated.
The only thing that had changed was Barbara’s routine, for she’d restarted the practical part of her education. She was doing her residency in the psychotherapeutic ward of a local hospital.
Her life was wonderfully busy, and she felt ready to explode with happiness.
They also had a dog now, though at first Barbara had been against getting one. But she was outvoted three to one by the men in the house on a trip to Canada over the boys’ summer break. They’d discovered a puppy at a remote gas station in the backcountry, and the owner didn’t want to keep it. They’d quickly decided they’d adopt the yellow lab puppy, who they named Cooper, and who loved to chew on Barbara’s shoes and slept in Hamilton’s bed.
Hamilton was also the one who got up early every morning to walk Cooper before he went to school. In fact, Barbara had just started to wonder where the two of them were when the energetic puppy bolted into the house and came running into the kitchen, barking excitedly as he greeted the rest of the family. Hamilton followed close behind, as merry and bouncy as the Labrador.
Her ten-year-old gave her a cheerful wink, gave his dad a boisterous high-five, and then grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl before dropping into a chair. “Cooper sat down when I told him to, Mom! We’re still working on lying down, though.”
Seeing her boy’s beaming face, she knew taking the rascally fleabag of a puppy home with them had been the right decision, even if the dog had already chewed on virtually every piece of furniture in the house.
“Can we take Cooper with us to visit Uncle Patrick?” Hamilton asked.
“Yeah, Mom, can we?” Scott chimed, excitedly looking up from his cereal.
“Ask your dad,” she said quickly.
James rolled his eyes and then gave her the side-eye. “Thanks a lot, honey.”
“You’re welcome,” she shot back as she resumed preparing the healthy snack she packed for her boys’ lunches.
“No, we’re leaving Cooper here today—”
“But then he’ll destroy all my comics,” Scott cried, horrified. His reaction elicited a soft giggle from Barbara, because this apocalyptic prospect was entirely possible.
Hamilton reacted to his brother’s worry with an irritated sigh. “Then close your door or clean up your room.”
Another giggle from Barbara.
James cleared his throat and pinched her lightly on the backside. “Seriously, boys. We’re going there to meet Baby Abigail. She’s only a few days old. A puppy wouldn’t be welcome. Cooper has to stay home this time. It’ll make it a lot less stressful for all of us.”
Baby Abigail was the newest member of the Ashcroft family, and Barbara had actually been present during her sudden birth. She’d driven her sister-in-law to the hospital and held her hand in the delivery room while Patrick had only arrived after the chubby baby girl had been born. The little dark-haired baby had been a major surprise from the start—Patrick and Amy hadn’t planned on getting pregnant again so soon after the twins were born—but her brief labor and swift birth had come as an extra surprise the parents had not expected so soon.
What had not been so unexpected was the fact that Amy had wanted Barbara to stay with her in the delivery room. Because the two of them had finally become close friends over the last twelve months. Fortunately, Barbara had realized—late, but not too late—that her mom had been right: People did make mistakes, but the important part was how they dealt with them afterwards.
“Alright, we’re leaving Cooper here,” Hamilton agreed, but he stuck out his chin in a way that was strikingly similar to his dad’s habit. “But that means we have to take another long walk before we leave for Uncle Patrick’s.”
“We’ll do that, big guy.” James lowered his coffee cup and poked Barbara lightly in the ribs. “When will you be home today, honey? Do you want me to walk Cooper when I get home?”
“That would be great,” she replied gratefully and pushed back an unruly strand of his hair. “I need to drop by the exam committee this afternoon and hand in my registration documents.”
His proud smile made her heart beat faster. “Anything you say, Dr. Ashcroft.”
She giggled and pressed her nose against his. “Thank you, Mr. Campbell. Too kind of you.”
While they flirted and nestled against one another, Scott grumbled loudly, “I don’t like this!”
“If you don’t like me kissing your mother, close your eyes or look away,” James said, one arm around Barbara’s shoulder to hold her close.
Scott snorted. “You’re always kissing Mom!” he complained darkly. “I couldn’t close my eyes that often!”
“What is it, exactly, that you don’t like about us kissing?”
Scott knit his brows until they almost met. “I think it’s dumb that Mom has a different last name. Couldn’t you guys get married again, so we’re all Campbells?”
Barbara froze and looked at her sons in surprise. They were both nodding. “What?”
Hamilton seemed thrilled with the idea, too. “Yeah, get married already.” Sounding like a world-wise grandfather, he added with a frustrated sigh, “This is just getting silly.”
Barbara’s eyes widened, and she didn’t know whether to feel touched or annoyed by that statement.
“You think your parents are silly? Why?” James asked with genuine interest.
Hamilton looked at them with a serious expression. “It’s silly that you won’t get married when everybody can see that you love each other.”
James reacted to his son’s wise words by pulling Barbara into an embrace. The past year had actually been so amazing that neither of them had thought about a second wedding—after all, everything was perfect the way it was.
“Well �
��” He cocked his head to one side and gave her a questioning look, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “If this is our sons’ most pressing wish …”
She raised her eyebrows, her gaze pressing him to go on.
“Then we should get married, don’t you think?”
Barbara wrinkled her nose in mock disdain. “If that was supposed to be a proposal, you should go read a book on romantic gestures.”
“Oh, come on, I tried to be romantic this morning in the shower, but you had no time for me then,” he murmured, giving her an impish wink, before taking her hand in his and kissing it. Then he grew more serious. “Barbara Gabriella Ashcroft, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Again?”
Her eyes began to water, and she trembled as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do you really have to ask?”
Barbara ignored the fake retching sound that came from Scott and the ensuing bark from Cooper. This moment could not have been any more perfect than it was.
Extract: Just One Kiss
Patrick stared at the desktop in front of him, which was covered in papers, and listened to the nervous breathing in the receiver, utterly dumbfounded.
He blinked away his confusion and swallowed against a lump in his throat.
Someone had to be playing a prank on him. That was the only viable explanation for the trembling female voice that had just given him a major shock. It was impossible that it was really Amy on the other end of the line waiting for him to say something. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“Patrick?”
No. This couldn’t be Amy, calling him out of the blue after six years, as if nothing had happened. As if the past six years hadn’t existed, as if she hadn’t left him without a single word of explanation.
As if she hadn’t simply disappeared.
Just one moment Page 24
