“Just tell me how much and I’ll get you the cash. You can do whatever the fuck you want. You always do.”
“That’s it?” she asked between shudders and hiccups.
“You tell me.”
But she didn’t say another word. Bobbi had left him there, standing in his garage like an idiot and he hadn’t laid eyes on her until nearly a month later when she’d shown up at his place with the unfortunate Jane Lawson beneath him.
His cell phone buzzed. Shane exhaled and retrieved it from the bathroom where he’d left it. The cabinet door beneath the sink was open, the garbage tipped over and he was about to toss the First Alert packaging back inside but something stopped him.
He glanced at his cell. Ur late. U all right?
The text was from Bobbi. He stared at it for a long time, so long in fact that the words blurred. So long that Pia began to whine, sensing her master’s distress.
“I’m not alright,” he muttered. “I’m far from fucking alright.”
Shane shoved the pregnancy stick back into the packaging, stuffed it into his jeans and grabbed his cell.
He hoped he could keep his shit together, because at the moment something hard and mean was bubbling beneath the surface. He needed to keep his cool and let her come to him. He didn’t want to think about the past or where her head was at in the now.
Maybe she didn’t his kids. Or anyone’s kids for that matter. Or maybe she was just scared to say anything to him. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
There was nothing final and solid in, maybe. All that he knew for sure was that he wasn’t alright. But he had to hold on and keep his temper under control. He had to have faith that things would turn out the way they were supposed to. Because without it, at this point, Shane had nothing else.
Chapter Twenty-six
“Where’s Gerald?”
Bobbi set the mashed potatoes onto the already full dining room table and rested her hand on her father’s shoulder. She tried to keep the sigh from her voice but wasn’t all that sure she succeeded. “I don’t know, daddy. I’m sure he’s spending it with his lovely mother.”
“Sure,” Betty interjected. “Or the floozy he brought back from his honeymoon.”
“Wait, what?” Billie asked. “He got married on his honeymoon? What kind of rock have I been living under?”
Bobbi’s gaze was on Betty and she knew her sister wouldn’t answer, Billie.
“He didn’t get married on our,” Bobbi stumbled a bit, “on his honeymoon. Though I heard some woman he met on the island showed up a few weeks ago.”
“Maybe she’s the one who convinced him to get the piercings and the fake tattoo,” Betty added.
Billie giggled. “Really? Gerry got his ear pierced? Oh wait.” A horrified look crossed her face. “Don’t tell me it was his nipple or anything else because that would just be gross.”
Betty acted as if Billie hadn’t said a word. Instead she leaned forward and grabbed the basket of buns, plunking one on her father’s plate before passing it to Logan.
“Daddy,” Betty said softly. “Bobbi is dating Shane Gallagher.”
“Gallagher?” Travis’s eyebrows rose and he glanced down the table where James sat beside, Herschel. “Huh,” he said carefully. “I was wondering why you were here.”
Bobbi said nothing, even though she’d had a conversation with her father the night before about Shane, and again this morning.
James cleared his throat and yanked on his tie, loosening it. “Your daughter was nice enough to ask us. I’m sorry that Celia couldn’t be here. She’s pretty tired from yesterday and her appetite is…”
“Celia,” Travis said carefully. “That your new wife?”
James nodded slowly.
“Huh,” Travis said again. “I’m sorry she isn’t feeling well.” He glanced up at Bobbi and frowned. “It would seem that your boyfriend doesn’t think an invite to our table is terribly important.”
Bobbi gave her dad a quick hug. “He’s just late. He’ll be here.” She gave James a reassuring smile. She had explained to both him and Eden, the nuances of her father’s illness. Sometimes he was as lucid as anyone and other times his confusion was heart breaking.
But today was a good day and in spite of the heaviness in her heart, it gave her a lot of pleasure to see the dining room full, with the faces of those who meant something to her. There was only one face missing and she was starting to worry.
“He probably lost track of time painting,” Eden said.
Everyone glanced her way.
“What? I was with him yesterday and he did a lot of painting. Like a lot. And sketching. And he went like, hours without saying anything which I kind of thought was weird but, whatever…”
“I didn’t know you went to see Shane.”
The words came from James, and Eden shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
“Okay, well, I’m sure Shane will be here any minute but in the meantime I don’t want the food to get cold.”
Bobbi took her seat at the end of the table and tried to relax as everyone dug in and filled their plates with ham, sweet potato, mashed potatoes, green beans, fresh baked rolls, garden salad or coleslaw.
She had just taken a small sip of wine when they all heard the front door open. The relief—the absolute relief—that flooded Bobbi had her cheeks flushing hard and she glanced down at her plate, needing a moment to collect herself.
When Shane strolled into the room she didn’t glance up right away, because she didn’t trust herself. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to run to him, to rest her head against his chest and let his big arms pull her in close.
Everyone shouted greetings and only after he had shaken hands with James, and then Herschel and Travis, did she glance up at him. He stood beside her, his long legs clad in dark denim, his wide shoulders clothed with her favorite Henley. His hair was damp, as if he was just out of the shower and he hadn’t bothered to shave, so the stubble on his jaw was pronounced.
Immediately her heart took off and her mouth went dry.
His hand was on the back of her chair, his expression as fathomless as the dark chocolate eyes that stared down at her.
Bobbi cleared her throat and attempted a smile, but she was sure it fell flat. Her facial muscles ached from all the fake smiles she’d bestowed on everyone today. She wasn’t happy. Hell, she wasn’t close to happy. She was about as far away from happy as the earth was from the moon.
“Hey,” she said softly.
He leaned down, his mouth sweeping across her lips in nothing more than a whisper. “Table looks great,” he said, before sliding into the chair beside her.
“Nice to see you in clothes, Gallagher.” Logan grinned and passed the sweet potatoes. He’d told everyone about Shane showing up on his porch this morning wearing nothing but leather, boxers, and work boots.
“Hey, I can shed the jeans if you want.”
“Oh my god, that’s so gross,” Eden said as everyone laughed.
The meal progressed the way all family meals at the Barker residence did. Several bottles of wine were consumed, and subsequently, the conversation grew louder as time went on. It was boisterous and full bodied, just like the Merlot. Eden and Herschel were having an animated conversation about bees. It seemed as if the teenager was fascinated by the fact that Herschel kept hives out back and collected honey.
Bobbi was content to sit and listen, her mind elsewhere and that elsewhere wasn’t anyplace good. She caught the dark looks from Shane, the automatic responses he gave to questions. The smiles. The nods. It was like he was on auto-pilot.
That crap feeling in her gut was back and it was all she could do, to push her food around and make like it was the most amazing meal ever, when in fact it tasted like sawdust. She caught snatches of conversations, all the while aware that the man who sat inches away from her, was in fact across a great divide. It felt as if he was sitting on the other side of the world. Other than his initial greeting, Shane hadn’t said anything to
her.
As the minutes flew by her anxiety grew. She wanted to get away. She wanted to get away with Shane and finally get everything out in the open.
She didn’t care about the conversations.
Her father asking Billie about the New York Rangers and their chances at Lord Stanley.
James and Herschel chatting about the waterfront and all the construction that seemed to be popping up along it. A damn shame, according to Herschel, while James just shrugged and said the influx of money into the community was a good thing.
Again, Eden with the bees.
Billie and hockey.
Betty and Matt Hawkins.
Logan and Shane discussing a new custom bike that had just been ordered from some bigwig in LA. It all blurred into mush and Bobbi threw her napkin down on the table, her chest tight and her breathing irregular.
“Are you okay?” Shane asked, his voice low as he turned to her.
“Am I okay?” she asked incredulously. “That’s all you’ve got? You’ve been sitting beside me for over an hour and that’s all you’ve got.” She shook her head and muttered. “Am I okay.”
She grabbed her wine glass, fingers gripped tight, and knuckles white from the pressure.
“Are you sure you should be drinking that?”
Wait. What? Bobbi glared at Shane, suddenly, infuriatingly, pissed off at him. “Since when do you care whether or not I drink wine?”
Shane’s face darkened and he leaned so close she could count every single eyelash, every single goddamn one. “Do you want to get into this right now?”
“Get into what?” Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure every person at the table could hear her.
“Put the glass down, Bobbi.”
He reached over to take it from her but she snatched it away. “What the hell is wrong with you, Shane?”
He stared at her for so long that her insides went hot and then achingly cold. Something shifted in his eyes. Something she hadn’t seen in a very long time. Something that made her sick to her stomach.
“Shane,” she whispered, “what the hell is going on?” She took a sip of wine, not really a conscious move, but more or less because the glass was in her hand and she needed to do something.
“You’re unbelievable.”
What?
“Who ordered a bike?”
Betty’s voice cut through the din and Bobbi glanced at her sister, noticing for the first time that she was as pale as the ivory linens covering the table.
“Who did you say ordered a bike from you?” Betty’s eyes were trained onto Logan and if it was possible she was even whiter than she had been a few seconds earlier.
“Beau Simon.”
“The actor, director guy?” Eden asked incredulously? “The one who was married to Jess Hartley?”
“Yes,” Logan answered with a smile. “That’s the one.”
“Is he,” Eden was literally bouncing up and down in her seat. “Is he going to come here, you know to see the bike? Like would he do that?”
Logan shook his head. “I doubt it. I’ve already met with him. Once the bike is done we’ll ship it out to California.”
“Oh my god! He’s so hot! I’ve seen Blind Justice like, twenty-five times.”!”
Conversations erupted once more, filling Bobbi’s ears and filling her head. Yet she couldn’t look away from Betty. Her sister’s eyes were vacant and she stared at the dinner table as if the most important thing in the world were the white china plates with little pink roses bordering the edge.
Betty looked as if she’d seen a ghost. She looked as if her very soul had been sucked dry and with Bobbi’s own ghosts circling hard it became too much.
Bobbi pushed her chair back. She couldn’t breathe.
If I can just get outside for some air.
She grabbed her wine glass. “Excuse me guys, I’ve got to ah, check on dessert.”
“Not with that,” Shane said pointedly, his hand on her arm, his dark eyes glaring at her.
“What the hell is your problem?” she said under her breath.
“My problem?”
Slowly he rose until she had to crank her neck to see him properly. Shane’s hand was still on her arm and she grimaced as he squeezed her so tightly that pain radiated up to her elbow.
“Put the wine glass down.”
She thrust her chin out and thumped him on the chest with her free hand. “No.”
“Hey, guys, what’s going on?”
“Shut up, Billie,” she said roughly.
Everyone was staring, even Betty, who though pale, was at least back in the land of the living.
“Take your hand off me,” Bobbi said carefully. “Or else.”
“Or else what?” Shane shook his head. “You won’t win this, Bobbi. Put the fucking glass down.”
She smiled sweetly. “It’s kind of hard to do that when you’ve got my hand held in a vise.”
He let go.
“Thank you.”
A heartbeat went by.
And then she tossed the glass into his face, watching the red liquid roll down his cheeks like blood tears.
Everyone went quiet, even Gramps, who’d been mumbling ‘twins,’ over and over and ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’, as soon as Bobbi had risen from her chair. Of course Gramps had moved his chair back because he was a smart man.
Suddenly Bobbi couldn’t keep anything inside. It was all going to spill out and she was helpless to stop it. What had happened between yesterday and today? Did it matter? Did anything matter except the pain and guilt and love that she felt for this man?
“What the hell is going on, Shane?”
His features shifted slightly as he calmly grabbed a napkin and wiped his face. For a moment there was no sound and Bobbi was painfully aware that every single eye in the room was on them.
“I told you not to start this. Not here. Not now.”
“I don’t care,” Bobbi retorted.
“Bobbi, maybe you should—”
She turned to her sister and nailed Billie with a look that promised physical retribution unless she shut the hell up.
“Why are you so…”
But she didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence because Shane reached into his pocket and threw something onto the table.
Angry?
She stared down at the table. At the blue package sitting between the mashed potatoes and what was left of the ham. At the blue package with the bright white words, First Alert. Was it possible for white to glow?
“Are you going to explain that?” he said calmly, though his posture and his eyes were anything but.
She was silent because there was no way in hell she could get the words inside her head out.
“No?” Shane said harshly.
“Don’t,” she managed to say, before lifting her eyes to his. “Not here. Not now.”
“I warned you with those exact words a few minutes ago and you didn’t listen.”
But hurt shadowed his eyes. Hurt and mistrust. Mistrust.
“Shane,” Logan said rising to his feet.
“Stay out of this, Forest.”
Bobbi glanced around the table and swallowed hard. How the hell had Easter dinner come to this?
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Bitterness rang in the air and she sucked in a painful breath. She knew where he was going. “Or were you going to say to hell with it, just like the last time? Is it even mine? Or is it a little present left behind by Dooley?”
Bobbi’s cheeks burned and she twisted her hands, biting the inside of her cheek so hard that she tasted blood.
“Oh, Shane.” Tears slipped from her eyes and the knot that had been in her throat for the last few minutes melted away. It broke her heart to see what he was feeling. To see his pain and obvious anger at those long ago events, and he didn’t even know the half of it.
It broke her heart to know his true feelings.
“That’s enough, Shane.” Billie stood and pushed him aside until she s
tood in front of her sister. Billie gave Bobbi a hug and exhaled before turning to the two men.
“The pregnancy test doesn’t isn’t Bobbi’s. It’s mine.”
Shocked silence followed Billie’s announcement and then Logan took a step forward, his hand on Billie’s cheek as he glanced behind her, his eyes on the package.
“I was going to tell you tonight, Logan, I swear but now…well, I guess Shane beat me to it. We’re going to have a baby.”
“A baby,” Logan repeated.
“A baby. In about eight months.” She cleared her throat and glared at Shane. “A baby and just in case you’re wondering, no, it’s not a little present left behind by Dooley.”
“Our baby,” Logan said.
“Our baby,” Billie answered softly, a tremulous smile on her face. “I hope you’re okay with this because—”
Logan scooped Billie up into an embrace worthy of a Hollywood movie, gathering her close to him as he turned away from the watching crowd and slowly carried her out the door.
Herschel cleared his throat and patted Travis on the shoulder. “Well look at that, Son. Seems like you’re going to be a grandfather.”
Travis shook his head wearily and sank back into his chair. “I’ll be goddamned.”
“Yep,” Herschel smiled and winked at everyone. “Okay, twins. Is there anymore drama or are we good?”
Shane stood to the side, hands shoved into the front of his pockets, shoulders hunched forward, his dark eyes on her, his expression unreadable.
Don’t go. Oh, God, please don’t go.
“I think I should go. I’m sorry for ruining everyone’s dinner.”
Bobbi watched him leave and sank into her chair, seeing nothing but those damn roses on her plate.
“Alright,” Herschel said gruffly. “Who’s ready for dessert?”
Chapter Twenty-seven
It was close to three in the morning when his father found him. Barefoot, dressed in jeans and nothing else, he was in front of his easel, when the door to his workshop slammed shut.
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