by Amy Andrews
Chapter Ten
“Daddy!”
Ethan’s heart just about exploded out of his chest as an excited Connie, complete with beret, flew up the front path. He met her on the bottom of the six steps that led to the wrap-around veranda, absorbing the impact of her slight body as she barrelled into him. She flung her skinny arms around his waist and buried her face in his stomach.
He shut his eyes as his arms enveloped her shoulders. When she’d left for two weeks he’d felt like she’d taken a huge chunk of his heart. Hugging her close, it felt whole again.
“I missed you so much,” he said, leaning down to drop a kiss on her head, conscious that Delia was watching the display from a couple of metres back.
Her muffled, “I missed you too,” was sweet, sweet music to his ears.
“How was Paris?” he asked.
Connie pulled away and grinned at him. He’d missed those cute freckles. But somehow they seemed out of place with the chic little fringed bob—just like her mother’s—she was now sporting and the latest in Parisian millinery. “Paris rocks. And when I’m eighteen, I’m going to live there and be a street artist and wear a beret all the time.”
Ethan smiled down at her and hugged her a little closer, quelling the urge to say over my dead body, thinking about all those French men, known for their horniness, with designs on his baby girl. “Sounds wonderful,” he enthused for her benefit.
Connie gave him another hug before her attention wandered to the little crowd standing on the veranda behind her father. Jarrod and Selena, Marcus and Juanita, Lacey and Coop.
And JJ.
She ran up the three steps straight into Jarrod’s embrace and Ethan was once again beset with the feeling of wholeness. Connie was back in the bosom of her family and it felt right. He caught JJ’s gaze and he smiled.
“I thought you’d both be working,” Connie said as she moved on to spread the love to Marcus.
“No way,” Marcus said, picking her up and spinning her around. “We’re your welcome home party, kiddo. Love your haircut.”
Connie giggled as he set her down. “JJ,” she did an excited little hop before hugging her. “I’m so glad you’re here. I have sooo much to tell you about Paris!”
“Where else would she be,” Delia muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Ethan to hear it.
He turned to Delia. “Everything went well?” he asked, forcing himself to be his usual polite self with Delia.
No matter how much she’d emasculated him over the years, he had been scrupulously civil in his dealings with her. He’d seen his share of deadbeat dads in his job and he knew the sure-fire way to alienate yourself from your kid was to disrespect their mother.
As Delia had rarely been around, he hadn’t found that too difficult. But he had a feeling his resolve was going to be well and truly tested in the coming months. Already he wanted to chip her over Connie’s haircut. His daughter had always been more interested in catching tadpoles at the creek than her hair and had rarely paid heed to any kind of style.
But this sleek sophisticated bob had matured her dramatically. He’d sent his little girl away for two weeks and she’d become a young woman.
“It was wonderful,” Delia said and Ethan wanted to barf at the breathy, girly way she gushed.
He glanced towards the veranda where Connie was trying out the French she’d learned on Juanita, who was fluent in four languages.
He returned his attention to Delia. “I got your note,” he said quietly.
Delia nodded. “I mean it, Ethan. I don’t want to cause trouble for you, but a girl Connie’s age needs her mother.”
Ethan bit down hard on his Connie has always needed a mother rebuke. “I’ve never kept her from you,” he murmured, his voice light and even.
“I know. But I’m back now and I’m back for good. I want her with me permanently.”
“And does it matter what Connie wants?” he enquired softly.
Delia’s jaw tightened. “Connie, baby,” she said, looking away from him. “I have to go now. Come give me a hug.”
Connie ran back to her mother. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said squeezing Delia hard around her waist. “I had the best time.”
Delia smiled down at her daughter and fiddled with the beret to get it at just the right angle. “There’s more where that came from,” she said as she dropped a kiss on Connie’s nose. “I’ll talk to you during the week.”
Connie nodded then ran back up the stairs. Ethan watched as she slipped one arm around Lacey’s waist and the other around JJ’s as they walked into the house.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer on Monday,” Delia said, dragging Ethan’s attention back to her. The steel in her voice left Ethan in no doubt that it was no empty threat.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Delia. I’m sure we could sit down and hammer out something.”
He didn’t want this to become something long and nasty and damaging for Connie. His daughter felt safe and loved and cherished and he didn’t want that threatened.
“Start it off slow, ease Connie into the idea of two separate households … something that suits us both. Then maybe we can build up to shared custody over the course of a year or so. Let things evolve naturally.”
Delia shook her head. “No.”
Her glossy blonde bob moved with her head and Ethan was struck by how much more artificial she looked compared to JJ. They were the same age and yet Delia’s heavy make-up aged her.
“You’ve had her for fourteen years, Ethan, it’s my turn.”
Ethan gritted his teeth. “She’s not some possession that’s been on loan, Delia. She’s a child.”
“Yes.” Another emphatic nod. “My child.”
And with that she turned away, her heels tapping on the concrete as she headed for her sleek BMW. Ethan shook his head. If Delia thought he was just going to let her walk all over him again, she had another thing coming.
Ethan had made Connie’s favourite meal—lasagne—and they all sat around the kitchen table as it cooked, filling the kitchen with Italy as Connie, still in her beret, showed them all her photos from Paris. She was as high as a kite, bubbling with the excitement of it all.
“Aren’t you supposed to be jet-lagged?” Marcus asked.
“Nah,” Connie said. “Mum says there’s no such thing as jet lag in business class.”
Marcus laughed. “Oh, la-di-da, pardon me.”
“Pardon moi,” Juanita chimed in and Connie giggled.
Ethan rose to his feet. “Are you hungry? The lasagne should be ready.”
“Staaarving,” Connie said, leaping up to set the table as she did every night.
“You’re always starving,” Lacey quipped.
She opened the cutlery drawer and counted out knives and forks. “Are you staying too, JJ?”
JJ flicked a quick glance at Ethan who was slicing up the lasagne. “Sure am.”
Connie grabbed the extra cutlery. “How come you aren’t working tonight either? Saturday’s your busiest night, isn’t it?”
JJ laughed. She’d told Connie that years ago, when Connie had lamented why JJ couldn’t have a sleepover with her. “I took the night off. Couldn’t miss out on my favourite girl’s homecoming meal.”
Connie took the answer at face value, and within minutes they were tucking into lasagne and home-made garlic bread that could easily have been served in any Italian restaurant.
Ethan wasn’t much of a cook—his mother had been an excellent chef and done most of the cooking when she’d been alive—but over the course of her two-year illness everyone had stepped up and between the four of them, they’d all managed to perfect a couple of dishes.
“Mmm, this is good,” a bereted Connie said around a half-full mouth. Normally there was a rule about hats at the dining table, but Ethan had made an exception tonight.
“Better than business class, right?” Marcus joked.
“The best,” she agreed repeating h
er current favourite phrase.
Ethan glanced at JJ. She usually enjoyed his lasagne as much as Connie, but she was the only one not eating with gusto, and he knew it was because she was nervous about how things would go down when they told Connie.
No time like the present, with the entire family around them legitimising everything.
He put his knife and fork down and watched as his daughter all but shovelled the food into her mouth like she was a strapping young guy instead of a fourteen-year-old girl with a beret perched atop her head at a jaunty angle. “Actually Connie, there’s something that JJ and I want to tell you.”
“Uh huh,” Connie said, her eyes not leaving her plate.
“It’s kind of important,” he said.
Connie looked up at him, her tongue licking at the meat sauce plastered around her mouth, a little frown between her brows. “What’s wrong?”
She had the same note in her voice she’d had the day he’d taken her hand and told her her grandmother was slipping away and she needed to say goodbye now. Say goodbye to the woman she’d spent every day of her life with since they’d come back to live in the Weston home when she’d been two.
Damn Delia for forcing his hand.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he smiled. “It’s good news,” he said reaching across to take JJ’s hand. “Great news.” He gave the hand a squeeze.
Connie’s brow furrowed at the action. She looked at her father then at JJ. Then she looked at Jarrod who was the family barometer. He nodded and smiled.
“JJ and your father are getting hitched,” Marcus announced, jumping in.
“Marcus!” Ethan said in exasperation.
“What? You were terrifying the poor girl, for crying out loud.”
Ethan caught Juanita’s eye briefly. He knew she didn’t approve of how they were going about this. That she couldn’t just turn off being a psychologist. He just hoped her dire warnings about Connie feeling betrayed never came to fruition.
He glanced at his daughter. Her jaw had dropped—it seemed they’d temporarily managed to silence her. “Connie?”
“Really?” she asked, a smile spreading over her face, her eyes sparkling. “Is that really true?”
Ethan nodded. “Really.”
“It’s true,” Lacey confirmed. “JJ’s living here now. I’ve even caught them kissing.”
Connie gave a little gasp then stood, her chair scraping back. “You’re living here?” she asked JJ, her eyes shining. When JJ nodded, Connie flung herself into her father’s arms again. “This is the best,” she said into his neck, squeezing him hard, and relief swept through Ethan’s system like a shot of JJ’s overproof Jack.
Connie pulled away from his neck to look at JJ. “Can I be bridesmaid again, please? Oh please.” And then she gave another little gasp and her eyes rounded. “Oh, does this mean I’m going to get a baby sister?” She looked at her father. “I’ve always wanted a sister. Although I suppose a brother would be okay?” Connie switched her attention to JJ. “Mum says she’s too old to have any more kids, but you’re not, are you JJ?”
Ethan swallowed. Christ. That question hadn’t exactly been on his list of possible things his daughter might ask. Connie had never mentioned wanting a sibling to him. For the first time since he’d assured JJ everything was going to be fine he felt a prickle of unease. He glanced at Juanita then at JJ and could see a corresponding discomfort on both their faces.
“Oh, they’re going to have squillions,” Marcus grinned, patently enjoying his older brother’s discomfort, despite Juanita frowning at him.
“Cut it out, Marcus,” Jarrod warned, his voice low but serious.
JJ didn’t know what to say. One part of her was thankful for the egocentricities of fourteen-year-old girls who only really cared about party dresses and baby sisters. In a way they were easier things to talk about then the nitty-gritty details of how in two weeks she and Ethan had gone from life-long friends to shacking up and getting married.
“Well … er no, I’m not too old to have babies,” JJ confirmed as Connie waited expectantly. Not exactly anyway. “But your Dad and I …”
What? What did she say? We’re just faking it because your selfish-evil-princess mother wants to take you away to live with her? That it wasn’t real?
Because the thought of having a baby, having Ethan’s baby, was, even now, unfurling roots that were burrowing into her consciousness. Filling her with possibilities.
Feeling very freaking real.
JJ blinked, shaking the idea off, dragging herself back to the real world and her fake fiancé. “It won’t be … on our agenda for a while …”
Connie looked crestfallen and guilt swamped JJ with all the power of a tsunami. “But the bridesmaid thing … absolutely.”
JJ still felt like a heel over the deception but at least Connie was grinning again. “This,” Connie declared, “has been the best two weeks of my life!”
And that was it, she sat back down and started eating again and talking about Paris, gabbing away safe and secure in her world, oblivious to JJ and Ethan’s turmoil.
