by Leighton, M.
“Where’s my daughter?” she asks in her Ice Queen way.
“She’s getting ready. She’ll be out shortly. Can I offer you a drink while you wait?” I almost choke on the words. I’d much rather be offering her a cement ankle bracelet and a dive off a tall, tall bridge.
“Vodka tonic. Lyle will have the same,” she says, handing me her light coat.
My smile is tight as I take it. I turn and head for the bar, rounding it and laying her coat on the back counter. For a second, I’m tempted to dump the damn thing on the floor and stomp on it as I pour their drinks. But I don’t. Because Olivia means more to me than her mother (and that bitch’s feelings toward me) ever will.
I haven’t even finished pouring three stiff drinks yet when another knock sounds at the door.
What the hell?
Before I can get out from behind the bar to answer it, Olivia’s mother does. I see her body language change and I know before he comes into sight who has arrived.
Olivia’s father, Darrin.
Lyle gets up and walks to his wife, putting his hand at her waist in a show of support. They both take a step back and then I see Darrin. He nods to Lyle and to his ex-wife, his expression polite but strained.
“Lyle. Tracey.” It’s obvious he can’t wait to get away, so when he spots me standing behind the bar, he doesn’t waste any time getting to me.
I smile when he takes a stool and says, “Whatever you’re making, make one more.” I smother a laugh when he widens and then rolls his eyes.
“You got it.”
Before I can ask why he’s already here, he offers an explanation. “Thought I’d come early and help Livie get things in order, but…” He glances at his ex-wife in the mirror over my shoulder and shudders. “I see help has arrived.”
I snort. Help my ass! “Yeah. If that’s what you call it.”
We both smile this time and I’m glad for my father-in-law’s sake that he got away from that woman.
I hear a strangled gasp and look back at Olivia’s mother where she’s holding a hand over her chest. She was obviously still standing right in front of the door when my manager, Gavin, opened it using his key. Must’ve scared the shit out of her.
That’s enough to make me feel a little better.
Gavin is closes the door behind him, his expression downright comical as eyes her warily. He, too, immediately makes his way to the bar.
“What are we having?” he asks, sliding onto the stool beside Darrin’s.
“Vodka tonic,” I say, setting out another glass.
“Make it a double for me. That is one mighty bitch,” he says, just like he says practically every time he’s around Olivia’s mother. And I couldn’t agree more.
“I didn’t realize my daughter was hosting a Christmas dinner for every hoodlum in Atlanta,” I hear Tracey tell Lyle, her tone just loud enough for all of us to hear.
Lyle doesn’t bother to rein her in. It’s my father-in-law who does.
“Tracey, don’t start. Olivia has gone to a lot of trouble to—” Darrin begins.
“You never stopped defending her poor choices and look where it’s gotten her,” she bites waspishly.
Before their snapping can escalate, there’s another knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” I announce quickly, figuring it’s probably best for me to greet visitors from here on. No one was supposed to be arriving this early, but evidently not a damn one of the people my wife invited can tell time. “Gavin, can you finish these up? Make a couple extra, too. I have a feeling we’re all gonna need some help gettin’ through this.”
He grins, hoists himself onto the bar and drops down beside me. “I’ve got it covered, mate,” he says in his Aussie accent. Nobody would ever guess my bar manager is about as deadly as the crocodiles his home is known for. But he is. And then some.
When I open the door this time, I find Marissa, Nash and her parents on the other side. I thought Olivia was crazy for inviting so many conflicting personalities to this dinner, but she’s got it in her head that social gatherings like this can make us all one big, happy family. I love her, but I don’t see that happening. I love her optimism, though.
“Everybody’s early,” I say drolly as I shake my brother’s hand and kiss Marissa on the cheek. I’m all too aware of her father’s disapproving glare. I just meet his gaze and nod, “Sir.” And then to his wife, “Ma’am.”
The least I can do is be polite for a few hours. For Olivia. Anything for Olivia.
I step back and allow them to walk past me, taking Marissa’s coat as well as her mother’s. “Have a seat at the table if you’d like. I’m making drinks. Who wants what?”
Everyone orders something, which is a testament, I’d say, to the level of general discomfort we all feel. I’m thinking shit-faced is the only way to do this without bloodshed.
Within ten minutes, Ginger and my father arrive, making the guest list complete. And nearly a full hour early. The food hasn’t even arrived yet and Olivia still doesn’t know that anyone other than her mother is out here. Tension seems to be creeping up by the second and I can hear sharpness in practically every voice in the room.
Yeah, I see disaster on the horizon.
When everyone is on their second drink, I glance at my watch. “I’m gonna go check on Olivia,” I say to the room at large, not really caring if they hear me or not. Hell, as far as I’m concerned, they can all just drink their Christmas dinner and then get out.
But Olivia wouldn’t like that. She wants all the people in her life to get along, at least cordially. Everyone from her mom and dad to her cousin and uncle, she’s determined to at least try. I admire her efforts, but I think, in this case, that she’s batshit crazy. Of course, I haven’t told her that. I just kiss her as often as I can and support her in whatever way she needs. Even if that means being nice to some of the biggest dicks we know.
When I find Olivia, she’s in the bathroom putting on makeup. Her hair is curled and piled up on her head in a sexy style. The little red flower clips holding it in place look like rubies floating in a sea of ink. God, she’s beautiful!
She’s not dressed yet and my eyes fall on her bare shoulders. The silky sheen beckons me, her skin demanding to be touched by my willing hands.
“You look amazing,” I tell her as I press my lips softly to the scented curve of her neck.
“Thank you,” she responds quietly.
When I glance up to meet her eyes, I can see that they’re red-rimmed despite her makeup. I grip her arms and turn her toward me. “What is it, baby? What’s wrong?”
I always feel a mixture of alarm and damnable helplessness when she cries. I want to take away her pain, remove anything in her life that might hurt her, but most often it’s not within my control. I’d kill for her, beat up the whole world for her, but she’d never let me do that. So all I can do is love her. Hopefully enough to take her mind off whatever’s bothering her.
Her chin trembles as she pulls her watery emerald eyes up to mine. “Just holiday jitters. Nothing to worry about. I so want this to go well.”
Her lips say one thing, but I know this woman well enough to know that while this dinner might be making her a little nervous, that’s not why she’s been crying. But I don’t press her. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.
Until then…
I brush my lips across hers. “It’ll be fine. I love you. They love you. And if they act up, I’ll kick the shit out of every one of ‘em.”
She tries to smile, but it’s a sad effort. “We can’t have that now, can we? Blood spatter on the baby Jesus? Not hardly.”
I stroke her pouty pink bottom lip. “You’re the only person in the room that matters to me. I’d forsake all of humanity for you.”
“I know you would, but let’s hope that’s not necessary.” Her laugh is anything but natural. “How’s Mom?”
I shrug. “Same.”
Olivia sighs. “Well maybe she’ll be loosened up and behaving by the time everyone els
e gets here.”
“About that…”
She narrows her eyes and drops her voice. She knows me well enough to know what that means. “Uh-oh. What is it?”
“Everyone’s here. They all came early.”
“Oh shit,” she breathes, closing her eyes. “What was I thinking, trying to pull this off?”
I skim my thumb over her cheekbone. “You were thinking with your heart, like you always do. But don’t start worrying now. This will go well. I promise.”
Even as the words are out of my mouth, I’m ready to decapitate the first person to upset my wife. She’ll have the perfect Christmas dinner with her family if it’s the last thing I do.
CHAPTER SEVEN- OLIVIA
Cash waits to zip me up and then he takes my hand as we make our way through his office and out into the bar. The food must’ve just arrived because Ginger and Marissa are uncovering the last few items that are set out on the bar, which is my makeshift buffet line. They’re engrossed in quiet conversation, but it seems they’re the only ones. Everyone else is engrossed in conversation, except theirs is loud and antagonistic.
I drag my eyes over the red faces, straining neck veins and pointing fingers and I think to myself that this is already a disaster. It’s already everything it’s not supposed to be and the night has only just begun.
Maybe I don’t have a family fit for a child, I think in utter dismay. Maybe God is doing us all a favor.
Only it doesn’t feel like a favor. It feels like a tragedy that the love I share with Cash, that the feelings I have for him, can’t produce a life, a human expression of that love.
My chest gets tight as my mind whirls. I survey the scene trying to figure out how to fix this.
I’m not aware of squeezing Cash’s fingers until he squeezes mine back and then quickly releases them. He raises his hands to his mouth and whistles so loudly the room falls into an immediate dead silence.
“Listen up, people because I’m only gonna say this once.” He turns to me, taking my hand again and staring down into my face. “This woman, this beautiful, caring woman, went to a lot of trouble to make this dinner happen. Why?” he asks, taking his attention back to them. “Because she loves you. She loves her family and her friends and she wanted to give us all a chance to celebrate together.” His expression darkens like an ominous thundercloud. “Personally, I don’t think most of you deserve to even know her, much less be given the chance to ruin her Christmas. But it wasn’t up to me. I’ll tell you what is up to me, though. Who stays and who goes. I’m telling you right now that the next person to bitch about anything is out! The next person to make a snide comment…out! And God help the next person to bring a tear to my wife’s eye. He or she will be tossed out on his or her ass. Now who doesn’t understand what I’ve just said?”
Crickets. Nothing but crickets.
Their refusal to argue seems to calm him. When he continues, he’s as pleasant as if none of that just happened.
“The food smells good and I’m starving, so why don’t we say the blessing, get something to eat and try to enjoy ourselves?”
There is a lot of nodding and a few sheepish glances left and right, but not one voice is raised in dissent. I stretch up on my toes and kiss my husband’s cheek. “I’d be lost without you. You know that, right?” I ask him in a whisper.
“Lucky for you that you’ll never have to be lost, then.”
Cash wraps his big, strong arms around me and hugs me so tight I don’t think even the wind could pass between us. It’s the kind of hug that makes me feel safe and loved, like like everything just might be okay. As long as I have Cash.
Gavin is the first to get up and head for a plate. He pats Ginger on the ass as he passes her and she turns a cocked, very interested brow at him. For most women, they’d be insulted, but I think Gavin knows my friend well enough to know that beating around the bush isn’t the way to go.
It’s my first of many smiles throughout the rest of the evening. Surprisingly, despite all the different personalities, everyone responded well to Cash’s threat. I guess they know it comes from a place of love. Love for me. And they’re at least decent enough to respect that.
It’s Christmas, a happy and giving time of year, and I’m surrounded by the most significant people in my life. They may not all be the most loveable, but they’re important to me or my loved ones in one way or another, and it pleases me to know that we can all swallow our pride and our prejudices and enjoy a simple dinner together. It gives me hope for the future. For our future. For our baby’s future.
“Tell ‘em about what happened the day after you got back from your honeymoon, Olivia,” Gavin calls from the other end of the table. His smile is as wide as his wink is mischievous. I can’t help laughing.
“Way to put a girl on the spot,” I reply.
“Stand up so we can all hear you,” my father says, adding to the good-natured ribbing. He knows the story all too well.
Grudgingly, I do. I stand, glancing down at a beaming Cash by my side and then out at the relaxed faces that surround the table. “Well, the story actually begins on our return trip. Cash and I were–”
The creak of the front door swinging open cuts me off. I look up to find a beautiful blonde woman standing hesitantly within the frame.
“Hi,” I say into the silence as our eyes meet. “I’m sorry that the door wasn’t locked, but we’re closed.” I give her my kindest smile and wonder if I should invite her to sit and eat, although if she came to club, she’d probably refuse.
Who clubs on Christmas? I wonder absently.
She answers my silent question with an audible one of her own.
“I-I’m sorry, but I was looking for Cash Davenport. There was no answer at his apartment and I saw the lights on in here. I thought he might…”
She trails off when Cash stands. “Sophie?”
I look from Cash’s stricken expression to the intruder’s, something in my gut clenching with dread.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I…I…”
“What are you doing here?” he asks, stepping away from the table and walking across the room toward her. “I thought…I thought you were…” Before he can reach her, thought, a little girl comes through the door to wrap her arms around this Sophie woman’s leg. The child is the spitting image of her mother, with long blonde hair and classic features. The only difference is her eyes. Sophie’s eyes are the brightest of blues. The child’s eyes are as black as night. A black that I’m afraid I’m all too familiar with.
“I know. And I’m sorry. I know this is sudden, but I have someone I need to introduce you to,” Sophie says, her voice low as though she and Cash are the only ones in the deathly quiet room. There’s an intimacy to the exchange that makes my chest feel as though it might explode.
Then, with a tremulous smile, she voices words that cut through me like a scythe through grass. “This is your daughter, Isabella.”
Don’t worry! There’s more Cash and Olivia to come, beginning in late spring 2015, when I’ll be publishing serial installments of ALWAYS WITH YOU, the book four in the Bad Boys series.
The first chapter of POCKETFUL OF SAND, my upcoming stand alone, begins now.
Pocketful of Sand
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“She’s beauty for my ashes. And I’m hope for her heartache.”—Cole Danzer.
I don’t know what makes a great love story. Is it that instant attraction when boy meets girl? The passionate kisses and the fairy-tale ending? Or is it a lifetime of tragedy, paid in advance, for a few stolen moments of pure bliss? The pain and the suffering that, in the end, you can say are worth it for having found the missing piece of your soul?
The answer is: I don’t know. I don’t know what makes a great love story. I only know what makes my love story. I only know that finding Cole when I did, when Emmy and I were running from a nightmare, was the only thing that saved me. That saved us. He was more broken than
I was, but somehow we took each other’s shattered pieces and made a whole. If that is what makes a great love story, if that is what makes an epic romance, then mine…ours is the greatest of them all.
CHAPTER ONE- Eden
October
Emmy’s face lights up when she runs full speed toward the water’s edge, chasing the tide out. My heart warms with her squeal of delight as it chases her right back in. Back and forth they go, engaging in the never-ending dance of ebb and flow.
Few times in her six years of life have I ever seen her so happy, so carefree and animated. That alone makes this move worth it. Maybe we won’t have to leave this place. At least not for a while.
Tirelessly, her little legs carry her as she flees the frothy waves, sandy water splashing up from her feet as she runs. I watch her play, more satisfied than I’ve been in a long time. Maybe this will be good for her.
Finally, winded, she doesn’t turn to run the tide, but keeps coming toward me until she can launch her small body at mine like a tiny bullet. I catch her, hugging her close so that I can bury my nose in her neck and inhale the smell of baby powder, fresh air and little girl.
When she pulls away, she’s smiling. “That was fun, Momma. Did you see me run fast? Even the waves couldn’t catch me.”
Her lime green eyes are twinkling and her cheeks are rosy from the fall nip in the air. Her hot breath mixes with the ocean’s breeze to sooth my insides, like maybe happiness, wholeness is finally blowing in.
“I did! You ran so fast I could hardly keep up.”
She claps excitedly. “Can we walk before we go?”
I glance at my watch. We are supposed to meet the landlord at his office at three, but we should be in good shape as long as we head back to the car within the hour. “Sure, but we can’t stay too much longer.”
