by Debbie Mason
“It’s all right, Daddy.” She hugged him back. “I understand why you did what you did.”
“Aw, now look at what you’ve gone and done. My mascara’s running.” Betty Jean sniffed as she plunked herself down beside Skye’s father with a big bowl of popcorn in her hands. The older woman never went anywhere without her face on. Ten years ago, she’d started an organic makeup line. Now Betty Jean was richer than God. Not that it was obvious.
Her father grinned and handed Betty Jean his handkerchief. He really was crazy about the woman. As they waited for the coverage to begin, Skye and Betty Jean came up with environmentally friendly products to replace the ones in the commercials. And when a paid endorsement for the Republican candidate for the Texas state senate came on, they nailed every one of his right-wing policies.
“You’re not funny, either one of you,” her father muttered. “Damn good thing I didn’t meet you twenty years ago, Betty Jean. I don’t think I would’ve survived the two of you.”
“I wish you had, Daddy,” Skye said, smiling at the older woman.
Betty Jean reached across her father. “I need some sugar from my little honey bun,” she said, pulling Skye in for a hug.
Once she sat back in her seat, Skye’s father put an arm around both of their shoulders and squeezed. “You know I’m just kidding, right? I love my envirochicks.”
Betty Jean leaned forward in her chair. “Did you tell your daddy?”
“Tell me what?” he asked, a nervous hitch in his voice.
“Me and Betty Jean are going into business together. We’re starting a line of environmentally friendly clothing called Envirochicks.”
Before her father had a chance to respond, Betty Jean whistled. “Now that boy is easy on the eyes,” she said when the camera zoomed in on Ethan.
He’d just entered the Penalty Box with his mother and Claudia. He looked so handsome that Skye wanted to reach out and touch the screen. A reporter shoved a microphone at him. “Mr. O’Connor, any comments about your wife? Do you think she hurt your chances of winning the election.”
A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. “No comment,” he said and turned away.
Claudia handed a white fur coat to someone off screen, revealing a winter white knit dress. She looked stunning. She gave the reporter a wide smile. “Ethan and I are confident he’s going to win tonight. People understand that his marriage failed through no fault of his own. They’re supporting him during this difficult time, as am I.”
Skye wanted to scratch her eyes out. Claudia was making it sound like she and Ethan were together. Ethan had stepped away to talk to a table of supporters, so Skye didn’t know if they were or not.
Her father and Betty Jean exchanged a look. So it’d been obvious to them, too. Claudia kept talking about the success of Ethan’s campaign. The overwhelming support they’d received from the Latino community was due to Skye’s efforts, but of course Claudia took all the credit.
“She’s got tongue enough for ten rows of teeth,” Betty Jean muttered. Texas-speak for “That girl can talk.” But Claudia stopped talking pretty quick when the numbers started to come up on the big screens Sawyer had set up in the bar.
Skye reached for her father’s hand. “Oh no, Daddy, Bennett’s in the lead.”
“It’s not over till it’s over,” he said, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze.
“Now there’s another fine-looking man,” Betty Jean said, clearly trying to distract Skye.
“That’s Ethan’s best friend, Gage McBride. He’s the sheriff. He’s married to my best friend, Maddie,” she said, ignoring the pain twisting in her chest. She pointed out the people she knew, overcome by a wave of homesickness as she did. She missed the small town.
Her gaze searched for Ethan at the same time the camera found him. He stood, hands in his black pants pockets, watching as the updated numbers came in. When the station called the election in favor of Bennett, she bowed her head. She couldn’t look at Ethan, couldn’t see the disappointment on his face.
“I know what you’re thinking, but get that out of your head,” her father said. “It was a close race. The district’s historically Democrat. He ran a solid campaign. He has nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Other than his wife.” She swiped at her eyes. “Or I guess I should say ex-wife-to-be.”
“Hush. You’re in love with the man. Now you have a chance to work things out. If he’d won the election, that would’ve been a different story. Sometimes things really do happen for a reason, you know,” Betty Jean said.
A cheer went up in the bar as Ethan prepared to give his concession speech. “I don’t know if I can watch this,” Skye said, curling up on the chair.
Ethan flashed his movie-star smile, held up a hand to quiet the crowd, laughed when Sophia and the girls yelled that they loved him. He thanked his team, waving them over to join him. Claudia moved in beside him. He put an arm around her shoulders and thanked her for everything she’d done. She nodded, biting her lip as she fought back tears. Ethan said something to make her laugh, then turned to his mother, who swiped at her eyes. He talked about how much he appreciated having her in his corner, drawing laughs from the crowd when he told a couple of stories about her antics on the road. Toward the end of a short speech about his dad and what he’d taught him about life and politics, Ethan choked up.
Skye muffled a sob with her hand. She wanted to do something, to somehow support him, and the temptation to call him overwhelmed her.
He smiled, pulled himself together, and thanked his friends and supporters, the people of Christmas. She didn’t realize until the end of his speech that she’d been holding out hope that he’d say a small something about her, or at the very least the baby, but it was like they didn’t exist. It was all the proof she needed. He blamed her for the loss. She didn’t know why it hurt so much. Hadn’t she known from the beginning how he’d feel? Could she really blame him?
The front doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Betty Jean said, patting Skye on the shoulder before heading out of the room.
“Give it a couple of days. Let everything settle down. Then pick up the phone and call him. If you two love each other, you can get past this,” her father advised gruffly.
“I ruined his chances, Daddy. Maybe that was enough to destroy any feelings he had for me.”
“For you, hon,” Betty Jean said, handing her a registered letter. Skye recognized Ethan’s bold handwriting. She closed her eyes, hoping against hope he’d poured out his love for her in a letter. But it wasn’t it a love letter. It was a notice of a petition for custody. The expensive paper fell from her nerveless fingers. “Ethan’s going to take my baby from me. He wants sole custody.”
Chapter Twenty
Sawyer locked the doors to the Penalty Box. Those who remained were family and friends. Ethan looked around the room; half the tables and chairs were still filled. Despite the loss, he considered himself a lucky man. Some people could count their family and friends on one hand. But there was someone missing: the one person he wanted most by his side.
Yesterday he’d come to the realization that she wasn’t coming back. He was a lawyer. He dealt in facts. Her lack of response to his calls told him what he needed to know. It was time to let go and move on. He’d lost her, but he wasn’t about to lose his baby, too. His mother and Claudia hadn’t let up on him seeking custody. Some of their concerns about Kendall’s ability to raise their child stuck in his head and led to his decision to send his wife a letter of intent. In part he hoped to get a reaction from Kendall. Any response was better than nothing.
“That was a beautiful speech, darling. Your father would have been proud of you,” his mother said from where she sat beside him at the table. Disappointment radiated from her, her eyes red-rimmed, but she tried her best to put a positive spin on it for his sake.
He’d failed his father. Again. It was why he’d choked up during his speech. And why he hadn’t mentioned Kendall or the baby. He’d intended
to. She may have been partly responsible for his loss tonight, but she hadn’t done so intentionally. She’d worked her ass off these last few weeks, and she deserved his thanks. But he couldn’t do it. Not after the way his childhood memories had affected him. Mentioning her would have been worse.
He remembered how she challenged him, how she made him laugh, how she made life somehow seem bigger and brighter. How much he loved to watch her when she didn’t know he was, how much he loved to hold her incredible body, kiss her beautiful face, and wake up with her in his arms. And now he’d lost her as surely as he’d lost the election.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t know about that, Mom. Dad always said nothing was worth doing unless you won.”
“You get thoughts like that out of your head right now, son. You should be damn proud of what you accomplished. I loved your father, but all that mattered to him was winning,” Paul McBride said, clueless to Liz’s furious, narrowed-eyed look. “Drove me nuts when we were growing up, and it was pure torture watching what he put you through as a kid. Nothing was ever good enough for him unless you were the best.” He shook his head. “Remember the one year you missed the dean’s list by two percent, Ethan? Never thought we’d hear the end of it.”
“How dare you, Paul? How dare you talk about my husband like that? I thought you were his best friend.”
“Okay, Mom, settle down. Paul didn’t mean anything by it.” Ethan appreciated what Paul was trying to do, but now wasn’t the time or place.
“I was his best friend. But he was a man with faults just like the rest of us. Not the saint you’ve created in your mind since he died. This isn’t about you and Deacon, Liz. It’s about your son. Look at him. Do you want him beating himself up because he thinks he failed his father?”
Well, hell, he wasn’t doing a very good job hiding his emotions if Paul could read him that easily. “What are you talking about? I’m fine,” Ethan protested.
“Yes, Paul, what are you talking about? My son has nothing to be ashamed of. If it wasn’t for his… Kendall, he would’ve won this election. The only thing he’s guilty of is poor judgment and thinking with his…” She cleared her throat. “He let a pretty face distract him.”
“Mom…” Ethan began.
Paul cut him off, jabbing his finger at Liz. “Skylar Davis was the best thing that happened to your son. If you would’ve butted out of their relationship, they would’ve been fine. It’s about time you got on with your own life instead of living through your son, Liz O’Connor.”
“How dare you!” his mother said, and tossed her drink in Paul’s face.
Jesus. Ethan shook off his stunned disbelief to grab some napkins. “What the hell, Mom?” he said, handing them to Paul.
“Thanks, son.” The older man wiped the red wine from his face. “Gage, you saw what she did. Arrest her.”
“Arrest… arrest me?” his mother sputtered. “Are you insane?”
“Seem to remember you threatening to arrest Skye for the same thing.”
“Okay, I don’t know what Sawyer put in these drinks, but you two have obviously had enough. Calm down and act your ages,” Gage said, “or I’ll throw you both in jail.”
“Now what the Sam Hill is going on over here?” Nell said when she reached their table.
“Paul said… he said Deacon…” His mother fluttered a hand at Paul and started to cry.
Ethan put his arm around her, picking up more napkins. “It’s okay, Mom.”
“Liz, honey, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Paul said, reaching for her hand.
Richard, who’d flown in for the election, made his way to the table. “Lizzie, what’s wrong?” He crouched beside Ethan’s mother. “Now, now, darlin’. Ethan’s young. He’ll run again.”
“It’s not that,” she sniffed, pointing an accusing finger at Paul. “It’s him.”
Richard stood up and crossed his arms. “What did you do now, McBride?”
“Stay out of it, Stevens. This has nothing to do with you.”
“You’re wrong, McBride. This is the woman I’m going to marry, so I—”
“What?” Ethan said at the same time Paul did.
His mother wiped her eyes, staring up at Richard. “What are you talking about? We—”
“Come on, darlin’. I’ll take you home. We need to have ourselves some private time.”
“Now see here, Stevens. You can’t just—” Paul began.
She stood up and kissed Ethan’s cheek. “Drop by the house on your way home, darling,” she said, then let Richard lead her away.
“Are you just going to let her leave?” Paul asked Ethan.
“Yeah, I—”
Paul gave him a look of disgust and pushed back his chair. Gage took his father’s arm. “Dad, I’m taking you home. Ethan, give me a call tomorrow.”
Nell sat down in the chair his mother had vacated. She looked at Ethan and grinned. “Just a matter of time now.”
“You can’t actually think this is a positive development.”
“Yep, I do.” She sat back in the chair. “So, what are you doing to get your wife back?”
“She’s not coming back, Nell. She left me. She doesn’t love me.”
“What the Sam Hill is wrong with you boys? Get off your heinie and go get her. You’ve got a baby on the way.”
“I know we do. And I’ve done what I needed to make sure I’m a part of my child’s life. But Kendall’s made it clear she doesn’t want to be a part of mine.”
She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ve always gone after what you wanted in the past. Go after her or you won’t be part of your baby’s life.”
“Yes, I will. I’ve informed her that I’m filing for sole custody.”
“Geez Louise, God save me from foolish men,” she said as if it was a prayer, then patted his hand. “It’ll be tough to win her back after you’ve gone and done that, but don’t worry, me and the girls will come up with a plan.”
“Nell, I don’t need your help.”
“It’s okay, we’ve got it covered.” She winked, then said hello to the Reinharts and Adam Blackwell, who’d stopped at the table, before she headed off to join Evelyn and Stella. The way the three women put their heads together made him nervous. He let it go. There was nothing they could do. They were in Christmas, and Kendall was in Texas.
“How are you holding up?” Sam asked, rubbing his shoulder as she took a seat beside him.
“I’m good.”
She gave him a skeptical look.
“I’ll be fine, Sam. I’m going to take some time. Let it all sink in.”
“Come back and work for me,” Jordan said. “You were one of the best ADAs I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with. Never lost a case. Did I tell you that, Adam?”
“A time or ten.” The dark-haired man smiled, then his expression grew serious. “I got the information you wanted on the blackmailer. Name’s Jimmy Moriarty.” Adam handed him a file. The second call Ethan had made the day Kendall left him was to Adam.
“And?”
“He’s a dangerous guy. They’ve got him on two counts of murder, assault with a deadly weapon, and attempted rape. Your wife was lucky.”
“She wasn’t lucky, Adam,” Sam said. “She was smart. She knew how to defend herself, and she did.”
The thought of Kendall with a known murderer and rapist had Ethan’s heart beating double-time in his chest. “What do you mean?” he asked, once he’d calmed himself down.
“Skye put him in the hospital, broke his jaw and ruptured his… well, you know.” Sam wrinkled her nose.
Adam grinned. “What Sam is too polite to say is that your wife ruptured his balls.”
“Jesus.” Ethan winced.
“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “I overnighted the photo and letter he sent you to the NYPD. Once they find him, they’ll add blackmail to his charges.” He must’ve read Ethan’s concern for Kendall’s safety, because he assured him, “Don’t worry, he’s
holed up somewhere in New York State. They’re closing in on him. The NYPD is working with a private contractor who has a personal interest in the case. They’re confident he’ll bring Moriarty in. This should be over in the next day or so. You might want to let your wife know there’s a possibility they’ll want her to testify.”
“I will.” Something gnawed at him. “Any idea when the incident with Kendall happened?”
“Sometime in June,” Adam said.
Suddenly things started to click into place. She’d been hiding out in Christmas. And Ethan realized why she’d agreed to marry him. It had nothing to do with appeasing her father. She’d been talking to Vivi in the hospital just before she’d pushed for the marriage. Dammit, she’d been using him as a cover all along.
* * *
Betty Jean propped a jean-clad hip against the black granite countertop, waiting for Skye to finish making the filling for the pumpkin pies. “Let’s put this in the fridge and you have a nap,” the older woman said once Skye shut off the blender.
“It’s just a cold, Betty Jean. I’m fine.”
“We want you to feel better than fine. This is our first Thanksgiving dinner with you at home. Your daddy and I are going to pick up the tofu turkey and the rest of the fixin’s for the meal.”
Skye sneezed into her arm and grabbed a tissue. She blew her nose. “Maybe a nap would do me good.” She hugged Betty Jean. “Don’t forget the pineapple for the sweet potato casserole.”
“I won’t. And I’m going to stop by the apothecary to see if there’s anything you can take for your cold. We shouldn’t be more than an hour or two. Give us a dingle if you need anything,” Betty Jean called out as Skye started up the stairs.
“I will.” Skye smiled. No had ever fussed over her like Betty Jean did. And while she was happy to be with her father and her stepmama-to-be for Thanksgiving, she wasn’t exactly happy about the reason she was there. But she did have a lot to be thankful for this year. She had a baby on the way, an improved relationship with her father, an older woman in her life that she loved, a blog that was doing well, and a new business that Betty Jean assured Skye was going to make her richer than God again.
