I don’t want to be loveless any longer.
“What the hell,” I muttered, and sent Sean a text.
Cin: You busy?
His reply came a moment later.
Sean: Never too busy for you, baby.
I smiled, then I hit the call button.
“Hey, Cinnamon,” Sean greeted. “Pat out ruining the world?”
“It’s what he does best.” After a not at all awkward silence, I said, “Thanks for the phone.”
“I missed talking to you,” Sean said. “I guess you missed me too.”
“Maybe a bit.” Another silence, but this one was more of a comfort. “I wish you weren’t so far away. I miss running in to you around town, sharing my errands with you.”
“Me too.” I heard him shuffling some papers; he must have been at his store. “Did Britt tell you that she and Sam stopped by for dinner? Wait, you must know that if you have the phone.” Sean laughed, and continued, “That Sam, I really like that guy. The girls like him too.”
“Yeah,” I said, “Sam’s wonderful. We have a great son-in-law.”
“What I was thinking was that maybe I’d take the girls down to New York so we could visit those two,” Sean continued. “We can all go to the zoo or one of those parks or something. You, ah, should join us.”
“We can go to the Botanical Garden,” I said. “I get free admittance, and I can bring as many guests as I like. We can make a day of it. Or you can stay for the weekend too, and we can go to the zoo as well, maybe do some skating.”
Sean chuckled. “You and Pat gonna put us up for the weekend?”
“Do we have to invite him?” I whined. “I want this weekend to be fun.”
“I hear you.” Sean paused, then he said, “Cin, about what happened.”
“Sean, don’t.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you afterward,” he went on, ignoring my request. “I…I hope you don’t regret it.”
“I don’t,” I whispered. “I wouldn’t change a thing. Wait, I take that back. I’d change one or two things.”
I swear I could hear him smiling. “Really? Like what?”
“For one, I wouldn’t leave my ring locked in the groomsman’s suite,” I said. “Do you know who had to unlock it for me? Sam’s father!”
“Crap, Cin,” Sean said. “That guy is intense. Surprised he didn’t interrogate you.”
“He tried,” I said. “I just grabbed my ring and ran.”
“That’s my Cin, quick as a bunny.” Another pause. “Would you change anything else?”
“Only if it gave us more time together,” I replied. “I haven’t quite worked out how to do that, though.”
“Cin.”
“Hang on.” I heard the footsteps on the stairs, Patrick calling my name. “He’s home.”
“All right,” Sean said. “We’ll talk soon, though.”
“Soon,” I promised.
“Love you, baby.”
I almost didn’t say it, but my heart overruled my head yet again. “Love you too.”
I ended the call, dropped the phone into my purse, and left the bathroom. I entered the bedroom just as Patrick did from the hallway. “How were things at the office?” I asked.
“Wonderful,” he replied. “Looks like we’ll settle the Drummond account.”
“Good,” I replied, even though I had no idea who this Drummond was or the particulars of his account. I stayed as far away from Patrick’s work life as possible. “I’m going downstairs to watch a movie. Want to join me?”
“I’ll come down after I shower,” Patrick said. I heard him moving around the bathroom, then he asked, “Why is your purse in here?”
My heart leapt into my throat, and only by sheer force of will I kept my voice steady. “Oh, I was changing out some of my makeup. Let me get it out of your way.” I grabbed my purse, but before I could leave Patrick grabbed my hand. “Yes?” I asked.
“Give your husband a kiss,” Patrick demanded as he pulled me against him. It was the first time he’d kissed me since we arrived home after Britt’s wedding. With any luck, it would be the last.
Chapter Seventeen
Cindy
Eleven Years Ago
I flung clothes around inside my closet, wondering how I’d lived so long without owning a single interview-appropriate outfit. The answer was simple, of course. I was primarily a writer, and that sort of job doesn’t require suits and sensible shoes. In fact, it doesn’t require clothes at all. Add that to the fact that all of my other jobs had been casual—waiting tables or serving coffee—and I wound up seriously lacking in the adult clothing department.
“Ah ha,” I shouted, having found the depressing black dress I wore to funerals. In fact, that was the only reason I owned this sorry creation; when my Aunt Ellie died a few years ago I needed something black to wear to her wake, and I needed it fast. Since Sean and I had been broke—big surprise there—I went to the local secondhand store and bought my only black item of clothing. Since my interview was at a law firm, that made my funeral dress doubly appropriate. I was definitely getting my five dollars’ worth of wear out of it.
Of all the things I didn’t want to do, working a desk job at a law firm was near the top of the list. But Britt and I had been crashing at my parents’ house for almost a year, and I wanted to move on with my life. That could not be done until we had our own place.
Sean still lived in the apartment we once shared, and as far as I knew he was still planning on opening a comic book store with his lottery winnings. That was all I knew, since both he and Britt were rather tight-lipped about the situation. Despite his stupid, childish ideas concerning money, Sean was always there for Britt and I, always ready to pay for her school trips or doctor visits. He’d even purchased my college textbooks last semester, thus helping me get six credits closer to my English degree.
Sean was a great father. He was a great man.
I still couldn’t believe we weren’t together. God, I missed him so much.
It wasn’t even that I wanted to be apart from him, but I was still furious over the stupid lottery fiasco. There we were, so poor we were practically starving to death, and he comes into money and blows it on comic books. Comic books! What he should have done was get us a better place to live, put some money aside for Britt’s school, something…mature. He should have done something an adult would have done, not something a kid with stars in his eyes thought was cool.
“I’m being an adult,” I muttered as I pulled the ugly dress over my head. “I’m going to interview someplace I don’t even want to work at, all so I can provide for my child.”
I bit my lip; Sean had always provided for Britt. And me. He’d still be providing for us today if I wasn’t so stubborn. But I had to do this on my own, prove to me and my parents and everyone that I wasn’t flighty Cindy any more, and that I was more than capable of running my own life.
“It’s only temporary,” I said as I walked to my car. I’d just gotten the advance for my second book, and once that one started bringing in royalties I could hopefully live off my writing income alone. I just needed to set aside enough to make a down payment on an apartment, and pay down some bills. I was looking at maybe a year of office job hell, and then I could move on.
Maybe I’d call Sean later, find out what he thought about my plan.
I got to the law firm about ten minutes prior to my interview and filled out a few forms. Eventually I was summoned into one of the attorney’s office.
“Good morning,” said a man from behind a large mahogany desk. He was older than me, maybe by a decade or so, and had this distinguished air about him. He had dark hair and eyes that twinkled, and his suit obviously cost more than my car. “I’m Patrick Sullivan, one of the partners here. You’re Ms. Cavanaugh, here for the office assistant position?”
“Yes, that’s me,” I replied. He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk, so I sat. “I understand that it’s a part-time position, about twenty ho
urs per week?”
“Yes, but the hours could be increased,” he replied. “Would that be a problem?”
“Um, probably not,” I replied. “You act as if I’ve already been hired.”
“The position has been open for quite some time, with no applicants,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m a bit desperate at the moment.” His eyes widened, and he continued, “That does not reflect poorly upon you, Ms. Cavanaugh.”
I laughed. “I promise I won’t hold it against you. What does the position entail?”
“Filing, making calls, basic office work,” he replied. “Have you worked in an office before?”
“I haven’t, Mr. Sullivan.” I thought for a moment, and asked, “Should I call you attorney instead of mister?”
He laughed; this man was charming and intriguing. “How about if you call me Patrick?”
“Patrick,” I said. “I can do that.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sean
Present Day
I dragged myself upstairs after the shop had closed for the day, having just experienced the busiest Tuesday in recent memory. There was some new urban fantasy series out and every geek on the east coast had landed at my store searching for it. Normally, I’d be ecstatic and flattered. Hell, a few years ago I would have been surfing this tsunami, and had the book and all the corresponding merchandise stocked and ready for purchase. This time around, what with the leftover exhaustion from Britt’s wedding, and the current stress of taking care of my twins and tiptoeing around Emily, all I wanted was a year of sleep and a heating pad.
Yep, I guess I’m old now.
I flopped down onto the couch and glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes past five, which meant that Emily was at her evening class, and that the girls would be with my mother for at least two more hours, maybe overnight. When I mentioned to Emily how I couldn’t fathom how she handled nine credits a semester without going nuts, she’d replied that I was just as amazing for having run my store, largely by myself, for well over ten years. We’d laughed, and Emily had called us soulmates.
That moment of bliss had happened a very long time ago.
Unwilling to reminisce any longer, I wandered into the kitchen and poured myself some whiskey. If Emily were home, she’d give me a sour face and storm off into another part of the house. If Cin were here, she’d demand a glass of her own. Or take mine.
How I had ended up with a woman who preferred cucumber lemon water to whiskey was one of life’s little mysteries. Hell, Emily didn’t even like coffee, claiming that the caffeine would dry out her skin and make her hair brittle. Since I suck at making less than a full pot of coffee, after the girls were born I’d started going to the coffee shop downtown for my morning brew, while Emily stayed home sipping her fancy water. Two years had gone by, and now Emily and I did almost nothing together.
I headed into the living room and clicked around the news channels. Based on what they were reporting, absolutely nothing of import had happened out there in the real world. I ended up watching a New York affiliate, a useless channel but one that was included in the overpriced cable package Emily refused to part with. When Britt’s picture flashed across the screen, I dropped my whiskey.
It was a news report detailing how my daughter was involved in some kind of gossip-worthy situation. The news anchor didn’t explain what type of crime had involved Britt, along with a photographer and an art teacher, but did state that the latter two were now in jail, and claimed that they’d been the victims of Britt’s plan. The anchor concluded by calling this story the sex scandal of the year.
When the fuck had my daughter gotten involved in a sex scandal?
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I stabbed at the screen and accepted the call without checking who it was. “What?”
“Sean, are you near a television?” asked Cin’s voice.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m watching it now. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Cin sobbed. “All I know is what I’m seeing now. This all has to do with that photographer from last autumn.”
“Cin, baby, don’t cry,” I said. “What photographer?”
Cin cleared her throat. “Britt didn’t tell you?”
“No. What happened?”
“You should really ask her—”
“I’m asking you,” I cut off. “What. Happened.”
“There was a photographer that Sam worked for, and Britt had done some modeling for him, and his brother,” she replied. “They…they drugged her. Sam found her, got her to a hospital. He saved her life.”
“Fuck.” I picked up my glass and set it on the coffee table. “Is Britt okay?”
“No, not in the least.” A ball of ice formed in my gut, and Cin continued, “They—their names are Ben and Nash Williams—were arrested, but they have good lawyers. Very good lawyers. They claim that Britt was somehow involved with them, that they didn’t do anything wrong.”
“They’re trying to smear Britt,” I said. “Where are they? I’ll kill them.”
“They’re in jail, so that wouldn’t be smart.”
“Based on this news report, they’re getting out.” When Cin was silent, I asked, “What about the evil lawyer man you’re married to? He can’t do anything?”
“Can’t…won’t…he’s a complicated supervillain.”
I snorted. “Your taste in men is abysmal.”
“I don’t know, I thought I was at fifty-fifty.”
“Fifty percent is a failing grade, baby.”
“Maybe if I had one man that was one hundred percent I wouldn’t have these problems.”
Was she flirting with me, or calling me on my past misdeeds? Based on our history it could be either. “You want one hundred percent from a man? I’ll give you one hundred and ten. One hundred and fifty, even. No, two hundred.”
Cin laughed, or maybe she snuffled, then I heard a man’s voice in the background. “I’ll talk to you later,” Cin mumbled, then she ended the call.
“What the fuck,” I said, then I got up and refilled my glass. That done, I punched in Sam’s number.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“Tell me what’s happening with Britt,” I replied. “Now.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cindy
Present Day
“Who were you talking to?”
I looked up into Patrick’s scowl; normally I heard him on the stairs, but he had snuck up on me this time. I’d barely had time to end the call. “Sean,” I replied.
“I thought I told you never to talk to him.”
“Forgive me, I missed the part of the marriage ceremony where I became your obedient slave,” I snapped. “I called him when I saw the story about Britt on the news.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Patrick demanded.
“Why didn’t you keep this from happening?” I shot back. “You act like you’re this legal mastermind, as if all the laws and governments bend to your will. You can’t keep my daughter out of the news? You can’t even protect her?”
“She’s my daughter too,” Patrick growled.
“No, she’s not,” I declared. Damn the legal paperwork that said otherwise. “You adopted her, but you didn’t make her. Sean and I did. You couldn’t make a sandwich.”
Patrick frowned and clenched his fists, and I wondered if today was the day he’d hit me. It would be so much easier if he’d hit me, and I could present my bruised flesh to the court as proof of abuse. While emotional abuse was easily as terrible as physical, it rarely left a visible mark and was so, so difficult to prove. Patrick was all too aware of that.
“Well?” I demanded. “Are you going to help Britt or not?”
He deflated before me; the one thing Patrick had no defenses against was when he really couldn’t do something. “I don’t think I can help her. The Williams’ have some very prestigious attorneys on their payroll. They’d likely counter anything I filed.”
“But you have filed things,” I said, inwardly k
icking myself for not learning the barest facts about Patrick’s work. The world was full of lawyers, which meant that legal business couldn’t be that hard to understand. “You have done things to help Britt.”
Patrick held out his hands. “Without a clear benefit to my firm, I cannot act. My hands are tied.”
I stood, and leveled my gaze at the ass I’d foolishly tied myself to. “Tied? Really? Don’t you mean that you won’t help my daughter?”
“Our daughter—”
“No,” I shrieked. “Britt is not yours! Tell anyone that and I will publicly call you on the lie.” I frowned and backed away from him.
Patrick’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you going?”
“To get drunk without you,” I said as I descended the stairs. “Just send one of your lackeys to follow me and see me home. They’ve always cared about me more than you ever did.”
I made it down to the garage unmolested, which was good. Patrick must have been reining in his hounds for the time being. Just as well, since I had no inclination to drink or even go anywhere. All I wanted was comfort, and I knew where to get it.
I got in my car and drove straight to a nearby church; it was the closest empty space I could get to. Once I’d parked, I withdrew my phone and called the only person whose voice I wanted to hear.
“Yeah, baby?” Sean said when he answered.
“Patrick, he won’t help Britt.”
“Then why are you even married to him?”
“I really don’t know.”
Chapter Twenty
Sean
Changing Fate (Changing Teams Series Book 3) Page 8
