by Brenda Novak
She was more angry at herself for going back to bed with him than anything else. He was the only man she’d slept with, besides Ace, in eight years. Why had she done that? Why him? There were other men who would probably be interested, if she gave them a chance. Mr. Burns had been hemming and hawing the last time he’d stopped by her office as if he’d been looking for the opportunity to ask her out. Instead of making it easy for him, however, she’d complained to Aiyana that he was bothering her.
Once again, she tried telling herself that last night had been strictly physical, that it didn’t matter, but it was difficult not to dwell on the way he’d touched her. He’d been tender, attentive, fully engaged. She couldn’t ask for a better lover. Was that why she couldn’t forget the taste of his kiss and the pressure of his arm looped casually and yet possessively around her while they slept?
She swallowed a sigh. She’d promised herself she’d get over him, that she would no longer allow him to take ownership of her heart.
Sleeping with him definitely wasn’t the best way to achieve that.
“Tash?” he said, still awaiting her response.
“I’m not mad,” she said. “I’m just...worried.” Fortunately, Lucas was treating the spoon from his hot chocolate like it was Superman, flying around the table, and wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. But she lowered her voice anyway. “I don’t want to deprive Lucas of his grandparents. They’re so normal. The kind of grandparents I always wished I had.”
He took a sip of his own coffee. “I understand that. But they were taking advantage of the fact that those familial relationships mean so much to you. Peggy was out of line, Tash.”
She had been unkind, but... “They’re hurt and shocked that Lucas might not be...you know.”
“A blood relative?” he said, filling in with something Lucas wouldn’t be likely to understand.
“Yes. You have to admit that what they’ve learned recently would be a nasty surprise. And the possibility that Lucas might not be...you know...is my fault, not theirs.”
“Your fault and mine,” he clarified. “But you and Ace weren’t exclusive when we were together. You’ve already made that clear to them.” He shoved his cup aside as he leaned closer. “Look, it’s nice of you to view the situation from their perspective, but is it too much to ask that they show you the same courtesy? The past year has been hard on you. You don’t need them making it worse.”
Her phone vibrated, signaling another text, but she knew who it was probably from and didn’t dare look at it. “I just wish the lab would hurry and post the results. Once we know for sure, everyone can figure out their place in Luke’s life and...and we can all begin to heal.” Then Mack could move on, if he wasn’t Luke’s father, and she wouldn’t be faced with the constant temptation he posed.
“Can I have more whipped cream?” Lucas asked.
He hadn’t drunk any of the hot chocolate. It probably wasn’t the sweet kind he was used to. He just liked the whipped cream.
Natasha opened her mouth to say that it was too busy to approach the register again, but Mack took the cup and wove to the front.
As soon as he left, she braved a glance at her phone. But what Ace had written this time made her feel as though someone had just punched her in the stomach.
She was still gaping at his spiteful words when Mack returned.
“Something wrong?” Mack asked.
She quickly jammed her phone into the pocket of her shorts. He’d returned much quicker than she’d expected. “No, ah, no. Nothing,” she mumbled, but she could barely think straight, let alone speak coherently.
“What is it?” he asked, clearly concerned.
She shook her head. “It’s fine.”
“I can tell something’s wrong.” He reached out for her phone. “Let me see what it is.”
Lucas had whipped cream on his nose when he clued in to the conversation. “Are you okay, Mommy?”
She managed to wipe her son’s face. “Of course, honey. Enjoy your hot chocolate. That was nice of Mack to go back and get more whipped cream.”
“Natasha...” Mack said.
She couldn’t meet his gaze for fear he’d read what she was feeling all too easily. “What?”
“Is it the Grays? What are they saying?”
Knowing he’d keep after her until she told him, she finally relinquished her phone.
When he read, his lips were barely moving. Lucas wouldn’t be able to make out the words. But she’d already seen the text, so she knew what he was saying. You stupid whore. I don’t know how I could ever have loved a baby killer like you.
Mack shot out of his chair. “I’m going to break this fool’s jaw.”
“What, Mack? What’d you say?” Lucas asked, obviously startled. “Whose jaw?”
Natasha wanted to reassure her son that Mack didn’t mean what he’d said, but she was too busy trying to hold back tears. The death of Amelia Grossman had been the hardest thing she’d ever been through. She still agonized over it—blamed herself for not seeing that something was missing inside of Maxine that other people possessed. For holding back just because she didn’t want to accuse someone who might be innocent, especially of such a heinous crime. For not catching those faint needle marks in that vial sooner.
If only she’d figured out what was going on before Maxine had been able to use that medicine to harm another child...
Ace knew every detail. He’d witnessed her pain. He was trying to hit her where it would hurt most.
And he’d succeeded.
“I—I need to use the restroom,” she said and nearly bumped into a stranger in her hurry to escape the table. She couldn’t let Mack show her any sympathy. It would only make it that much more difficult to maintain her composure.
It wasn’t until she’d spent several minutes in a bathroom stall, trying to calm down, that she realized she’d left her phone with Mack.
* * *
Mack didn’t think he’d ever been so enraged. He could tell Natasha had been deeply hurt that a man she’d once loved, and lived with for so long, could launch such a horrible accusation. He was tempted to follow her into the women’s restroom to make sure she was okay, but he couldn’t leave Lucas at the table alone. Using her phone, he texted Ace instead. This is Mack, he wrote. If you want to hurt somebody, why don’t you try to hurt me?
He got no response, so he dialed Ace’s number.
Ace didn’t pick up; his voice mail did.
“Hey, it’s me, you little coward,” Mack said, leaving a message. “Don’t try to call or text Natasha until we get the results of the DNA test. We’ll let you know what they are. Then we’ll decide who has the right to do what.”
“Where’s Mommy?” Lucas asked as Mack punched the end button with much more force than necessary.
“She went to the bathroom, remember?” Because he was so agitated, he led Lucas outside, where he paced back and forth in front of the coffee shop, trying to blow off steam.
Lucas shaded his eyes against the sun as he looked up. “Is Mommy crying?”
“No, I...I think she had something in her eye,” Mack said.
“Oh.” He took Mack’s hand and walked back and forth with him, mimicking Mack’s expression and movements. It was so darn cute, but Mack was too upset to enjoy it.
“Can we go home and play basketball now?” Lucas asked after they’d made several passes and Natasha still hadn’t come out.
Mack checked her phone, hoping Ace would respond. But nothing came in. “Soon, little buddy.”
When Natasha finally emerged, she was wearing a pair of sunglasses she must’ve had in her purse along with a fake smile. “All set?”
She started toward the car, as if that would be that, but Mack caught her by the hand as she passed him. When his arms first went around her, she stiffened, as though she wouldn�
�t allow it, but it didn’t take more than a few seconds for her to crumble against his chest. “I did everything I could for Amelia,” she said, starting to cry again. “But maybe he’s right. How did I not see it sooner? How could I have ever let something like that happen?”
“You didn’t let anything happen,” he said. “No one would expect to run into someone like your former nurse. Ignore him. Don’t give him the power to hurt you.”
He sneaked a peek at her phone. Still nothing.
“What’d you say to him?” she asked when she pulled away.
“I told him we’ll figure it all out after the results come in.”
She nodded as if that was fair and wiped her cheeks as her gaze settled on her son. “I hope he’s not a Gray,” she said.
Mack unlocked her car. “So do I.”
Sixteen
Natasha could hear Mack talking to Dylan, even though she was upstairs in Lucas’s room, scraping the flowery wallpaper from the old plaster walls. Luke had gone down with Mack. He followed his new hero everywhere. But they’d both been helping her before Mack’s phone rang—if you could call what Lucas was doing “helping.” When Mack had suggested they spend the rest of the weekend fixing up the place, she’d suspected he was doing it to keep her mind off Ace and his parents. That was nice of him, but she couldn’t imagine he’d want to spend his time off doing physical labor, so she’d tried to talk him out of it. She’d told him she could manage it alone, or they could do it next time he was in the area. He was the one who’d insisted. He’d even contacted the landlord to get the approval.
Finished with the small area she’d been working on, she grabbed the spray bottle at her feet so that she could squirt the next section with stripping solution. She was tired and wanted a break, but she needed to give the solution time to soak through the paper and dissolve the glue underneath.
“Is Kellan doing okay?” she heard Mack ask as she put the bottle back down and sank onto the plastic they’d used to cover the floor to rest. They’d pushed all the furniture into the center of the room, so she only had a four-foot swath, but it was enough.
“That’s good...” he went on. “How’s Cheyenne dealing with everything?... Any more word from the Rinehardts?” He laughed. “I bet. I’d feel the same... But did they agree to keep their mouths shut since that’s what’s in Kellan’s best interest?... That’s good, at least... No, I haven’t talked to him recently. Have you?... That’s all he said?... Aaron’s so funny. That sounds like him... What?... No, Grady has no idea. Neither does Rod... I’m not going to tell them, and I highly doubt Aaron will ever say anything, either. If he’s kept the secret this long, I’m sure you can trust him... I think things can just go on as they’ve always been, unless Kellan decides to open his mouth... Oh, I’m glad he feels that way... Okay. I hope that’s the case... On Tuesday, unless you need me sooner... All right... Natasha? She’s great. So’s Lucas. She’s upstairs, but he’s right here. Want to talk to him?... Hang on.”
Natasha was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, as she heard Lucas get on the phone with Dylan. “I’m working,” he announced. “Yeah. I’m a big boy now. I play basketball. And soccer. And baseball. Like Mack. You can?... You want to come over and play with my new basketball hoop?... Okay! You can sleep in my room... No, Mack doesn’t sleep there. He sleeps with Mommy.”
Natasha had let her eyes drift closed as she listened. But as soon as she heard her son say that, she sat up and clamped both hands over her mouth. Lucas had just told Dylan that she and Mack were sleeping together?
Mack took the phone immediately and said what had to have been an awkward goodbye while she held her breath, waiting to see what he’d do next.
“I sleep with Mommy?” he echoed, presumably questioning Lucas.
“Don’t you?” her son said, sounding uncertain and completely clueless as to why that would be the wrong thing to say.
Mack laughed. “God, I can’t get away with anything.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Lucas asked.
“No. Don’t worry,” he replied and made Lucas squeal in delight just before Natasha heard them coming up the stairs.
When Mack appeared in the doorway, he had to duck to get into the room because he had Lucas on his shoulders.
She got to her feet and navigated around the furniture. “What’d Dylan have to say?”
“Are you asking the reason he called?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Or do you want to know how he reacted to what Luke just told him?”
“Both.”
“So you heard that.”
“Yeah.”
“Dylan was returning my call. I wanted to make sure all was well with Kellan now that he’s been home for a day or two.”
Luke saw his basketball on the floor and wanted to get down, so Mack set him on the floor and he took his basketball and ran into the hall to throw it down the stairs.
“And? Is it?” Natasha asked.
“Sounds like it.”
“How’d he react to what Lucas said?”
They could hear Lucas hurrying down the stairs to retrieve his ball. Mack hitched a thumb in his direction. “That kid catches a lot more than we give him credit for. You know that? He’s smart, like his mother.” He grinned. “But it doesn’t really matter. If he’s mine, Dylan and my other brothers are bound to find out we’ve been together at least once, right?”
“So it wasn’t too awkward?”
“I didn’t say that,” he said with a laugh.
“How’d Dylan react?”
“He didn’t. Not yet.”
“Meaning...”
“He’ll say something eventually.”
“What do you expect that to be?”
“A warning to be careful with your heart, since he cares about you, too.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“What’s ridiculous?”
She scowled at him. “You don’t have to be careful with my heart. I’m not a child anymore. I can take care of myself. Besides, I know the difference between sex and love.” There was no way she wanted Mack to feel trapped even if they did share a child, wouldn’t marry him, even if he offered. She’d been through enough, wasn’t about to spend the rest of her life wondering if he would’ve made a different decision had Lucas belonged to Ace.
When Mack didn’t respond, she turned to see him watching her. “What’s going on between us?” he asked. “Is it just sex?”
“That’s right.” She’d chased him for so long, she wasn’t going to do it anymore. She’d be a fool to fall into that same old trap of wanting something she wasn’t going to get. In his defense, losing his mother the way he did, and his father, had made him careful who he loved. It was possible he couldn’t love her, or anyone else, because of his own fear of loss. So it was stupid to set them both up for more disappointment. She had her education, her career and her son. That was more than enough. She was going to rebuild her life such that she wasn’t begging for anyone’s love or attention.
“Friends with benefits—who might share a son,” he said.
“We might share a son, but Luke and I don’t come as a package deal,” she clarified. “You’re free to continue on as you’ve always been, regardless of what the DNA test says. It doesn’t matter to me anymore.”
The levity fled his face. “That sounds an awful lot like I don’t matter to you anymore.”
She thought of how desperately she’d loved him when they’d been living under the same roof. Back then she’d firmly believed he felt something, too. But now that she was an adult, she could see that she must’ve seemed like a mere child to him. And then, after Victorian Days, he’d shied away from the intensity, the commitment—and the stigma. “Not in that way. I’ll always care about you, of course. I’m grateful for—”
“All that I’ve done,” he broke in. “I know. You�
�ve told me that many times.”
“It’s true. But what I felt back then, when...when we first met, that’s gone. And I’m sure you’re glad. It must’ve been embarrassing and annoying with your brothers teasing you all the time,” she said with a laugh.
He didn’t speak right away. When he did, he said, “I didn’t mind.”
“Well, either way, you don’t have to worry about that anymore, because it’s all behind us.”
“Okay,” he said but acted so distant for the rest of the day that he barely spoke to her. He certainly didn’t touch her.
After they finished stripping the rest of the wallpaper in Luke’s room, cleaned up the mess so that Luke would still be able to sleep in there and had pizza for dinner, they were both exhausted. But she thought Mack might visit her bed. After all, she’d let him know, in no uncertain terms, that there were no strings attached. That had to be welcome news to a confirmed bachelor like him.
But after he read several books to Lucas and finally got him to sleep, he didn’t cross the hall. He went downstairs to the couch.
* * *
Mack had been expecting to hear something from Dylan. He knew his brother wouldn’t let what Lucas had disclosed slide. As the oldest in the family, he felt too responsible for Natasha. So Mack wasn’t surprised to see a text from Dylan come in just after eleven.
Is it true about you and Tash?
Mack sighed as he read those words. Did he deny it?
No. He’d never lied to Dylan before. He wasn’t going to start now. Yes.
Yes? No explanation? Can you call me so that we can talk about this?
I can’t talk—not while I’m here.
You realize Natasha’s fresh on the heels of a rough divorce.
I do.
And? Do you think sleeping with her is smart? She’s been through a lot. I don’t want to see her get hurt again.
I’m not going to hurt her.
How do you know? She’s always had a thing for you. And I haven’t seen you in ONE serious relationship.
