Accidentally Family

by Sasha Summers

  “Scared to see that you’ve still got a rocking bod that deserves the loving of a good man? Whose initials might be—and probably are—GM. Who comes with a lot of baggage but is totally worth it?” She paused, making a big production out of taking a deep breath. “Who lights up when you walk into a room and clearly cares about your kids and, when you weren’t looking, has totally checked out your butt—”

  “Charity.” Felicity cut her off.

  “Was that a yes?” Charity poked. “I’m pretty sure you said yes, you’ll buy lingerie and I’ll buy maternity clothes. You have no idea how depressing that was to say.”

  Her sister laughed. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She paused. “And I want you to be happy. That’s all I’m getting at, okay?”

  Felicity nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good.” Charity smiled. “Let’s start with the lingerie and then get the maternity clothes.”

  Felicity sighed. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  They were halfway to the boutique when Felicity asked, “He really checked out my butt?”

  You are so hot for the good doctor. “Yes, he did. And he definitely liked what he saw.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Felicity sliced another orange and placed one half in the juicer. The methodical slice, juice, repeat offered her a chance to think through what, exactly, she needed to say this morning. Now that Honor had everything she needed for college, Charity had some proper maternity clothes, and she’d been coerced into purchasing something silky that would probably reside in the back of her underwear drawer, it was time to get back to reality. Jack was forever family and he’d be coming home, to their home, tomorrow. That was reality.

  Honor would take it in stride.

  Nick. Nick was going to have a hard time.

  Her parents had taken a regular time slot at Jack’s bedside and, once their replacements arrived, they were heading from the hospital to the house for support. Now that Jack had been cleared to come home tomorrow, she had some work to do. Every night for the last week she’d been packing up boxes and putting them in the attic. After careful consideration, she’d decided to turn her craft room into a nursery. Having it on the third floor, next door to her room, would spare Honor and Nick some of Jack’s late-night tantrums. She hoped.

  It would be an adjustment. For all of them.

  “Oh my God, that smells incredible.” Charity opened the oven door and peeked inside. “Breakfast casserole and orange sticky buns?”

  “Mom and Dad are joining us.” Felicity smiled at her sister.

  “Thanks for the warning.” She shot her a look, tugging her oversize T-shirt and running a hand over her sloppy bun.

  “You look fine, Charity.” Felicity’s quick inspection of her sister showed no signs of her secret pregnancy. Which was good. Selfishly, she wasn’t ready for that information to come out.

  Not today anyway. Today was about Jack.

  “Says you,” Charity groaned. “You know Mom.”

  Felicity smiled. She did indeed. And chances were, their mother would say something about Charity’s choice of attire. And her hair. And her lack of makeup. Their mother was old-school, meaning “faces on,” presentable hair, and “real” clothes on before eight every day—no exceptions. That way they were ready for unexpected company or the need to go on some surprise outing.

  “You have time to go change.” Felicity laughed, the distress on her sister’s face pathetic but comical.

  “Oh right, then she’ll say something about me not helping out in the kitchen.”

  Felicity shot her a look.

  “Well, I know I didn’t do anything. And you know I didn’t do anything. But if she knows…” Charity wrinkled up her face.

  “Who knows?” Honor asked as she entered the kitchen. “Mmm,” she said, sniffing. “Orange sticky rolls? Mimi and Grandad coming over?”

  Felicity nodded.

  “Cool. It’s been a while since we’ve done the family breakfast thing.” Honor slipped her arms around her mother and rested her head on her shoulder. “And you know I’ll never pass up your orange sticky rolls. You’re going to have to send them in care packages next fall.”

  Felicity’s hold tightened for a second. She’d miss her sweet daughter’s spontaneous hugs, the happy swing of her strawberry-blond ponytail, and her laughter. All too soon, Honor would be moving into her dorm and starting an exciting new chapter. Until then, Felicity needed to collect as many moments with her daughter as possible.

  “Love you, Mom.” Honor squeezed her back.

  She pressed a kiss against Honor’s temple and let her go. “I love you, too.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Since when do they ring the doorbell?” Charity asked, tugging at her shirt again.

  “Is the door locked?” Felicity asked. She’d gone for her morning power walk at sunrise, but she didn’t remember locking it when she got back. Locks weren’t necessary in Pecan Valley.

  “I’ll get it,” Nick called, his footfalls beating a trail to the front door. “Oh, hey, come on in.” Then he added, “The Murphys are here.”

  “They are?” Charity grinned at her. “I wonder what sort of flowers he brings to your mom?” she mock whispered to Honor.

  Honor grinned.

  Felicity rolled her eyes. “Oh, please,” she protested for good measure. And yet, she was happy Graham was here. Happy and blushing because an image of the silky thing she’d purchased sprang to mind.

  Seconds later, Nick, Graham, and Diana were in the kitchen—and Honor and Charity were all smiles. Not only did Graham have an incredible bouquet of flowers, Diana carried a pastry box loaded with the kids’ favorites and some fresh croissants.

  “We’re crashing breakfast,” Diana said, offering the pastries to Honor.

  Graham looked like hell. Like he hadn’t slept for a week and was on autopilot. When those light brown eyes met hers, he shied away. “Always room at the table,” she answered, accepting Diana’s hug. He was here, looking like that—she wasn’t about to turn them away. If anything, she felt bad. They had no idea what this morning’s topic of conversation would be.

  “You look rough, Graham.” Charity frowned. “Long nights in the delivery room?”

  She saw the way Diana glanced at her father, the slight defiant tilt of her head, and instantly understood. Diana was the reason he’d canceled. From the looks of it, she’d put him through the wringer. Her heart hurt for them.

  “Kids. The ultimate adventure,” he answered, his smile exhausted.

  The oven timer dinged, and a flurry of activity followed. Felicity moved the orange sticky rolls to a platter while Honor and Diana loaded the pastries onto a tiered cupcake plate—Nick stole an apple fritter and dodged his sister’s playful swat, laughing. Charity made a fresh pot of coffee for their father. Poor Graham sort of propped himself against the counter, watching the easy chaos with red-rimmed eyes.

  She poured him a cup of coffee and pressed the mug into his hands. “Black, right?”

  He nodded. “Thank you.”

  She gave his hand a pat. “I’m here, you know,” she murmured. “If you need to talk?”

  He nodded, those soft-brown eyes sweeping her face before he focused on his coffee. “I’d like that. Not now, of course.” His fingers tightened around the mug. “Sorry we invaded.”

  “You’re always welcome.” She paused, fighting the urge to smooth his tousled hair. Graham Murphy needed a hug. And she ached to give him one.

  He tore his gaze from her, turning to watch Diana, his jaw muscle working.

  “Thank you for the flowers.”

  “I felt bad about canceling. It wasn’t by choice.” Which was oh so sweet to hear. “Maybe we can try again?” He smiled. He should smile more often.

  She nodded. A
bsolutely not thinking about the silky thing. Or his reaction to the silky thing. Stop thinking about it. And him. Now. “Thanks for the donuts.”

  “They were Di’s idea.” He shook his head, watching as Nick shoved an entire donut into his mouth.

  “And there won’t be any left if Nick keeps eating them,” Charity interrupted them. “At least save me one. A chocolate one.”

  Nick held the tiered tray up. “I don’t know, Aunt Charity. You said you wanted to start eating better. Chocolate donuts?”

  Charity pouted, instantly deflating.

  “One isn’t bad.” Diana jumped to Charity’s defense. “They’re fresh donuts. Technically better than packaged ones. So, you know, better for her.”

  “Good one.” Felicity laughed. “Give her a donut, Nickie.”

  Once her parents arrived, the volume kicked up—as did the chaos. Her mother had a gift for turning even a simple conversation into a production. Felicity didn’t mind. She knew the laughter wasn’t going to last once she found the courage to do what needed to be done.

  “Jack’s doing better,” she started. “He’ll be able to leave the hospital tomorrow.”

  “Man, it’s got to suck for him.” Diana served herself more breakfast casserole as she spoke. “No mom and no dad. Being in that cast.”

  “He’s frustrated,” her father agreed. “And, for a little guy, he’s developed a pretty good aim to help pass the time.”

  “If it’s not bolted down, it’s airborne,” her mother agreed, glancing her way.

  Nick sighed loudly and slumped back in his chair.

  “They found someone to take him?” Honor asked, blue eyes concerned.

  Felicity spared Graham a look, taking confidence from his nod. He was right; she could do this. Now, surrounded by people who loved her and her children, was the best time to put it out there.

  “Yes. And no.” She set her napkin on the plate. “Amber has no family and, as you know, your father’s parents died a long time ago.”

  “Aunts? Cousins?” Nick poked the half-eaten orange sticky bun with the tines of his fork. “A neighbor?” His smile was strained.

  “There is no one.” Felicity cleared her throat. “He’s going to come live with us.” She paused, watching Honor nod and Nick’s face turn beet red.

  “Are you shitting me?” Diana asked, her food falling from her fork to the table. “How is that fair? Seriously?”

  Felicity ignored her parents’ reaction to Diana’s outburst. “It’s not. None of this is.” She shook her head. “I know it. It’s going to be a big adjustment—for all of us. But it’s the right thing to do.” And the only other option—unless she was okay saddling her eighteen-year-old with a toddler.

  “For the baby, yeah.” Diana stopped, turning to look at Nick. “You okay?”

  Nick didn’t answer—he couldn’t. His jaw was so tight, Felicity feared he’d crack a tooth.

  “If we didn’t bring him home, then what, Jack would wind up in foster care? Right? An orphan?” Honor shook her head, those blue eyes filling with tears. “And he’s not an orphan. We’re his family. He’s our brother.”

  “No, he’s not,” Nick snapped. “He took Dad. He broke our family.” The accusation in his eyes was razor sharp. “And you’re bringing him home? My home. So now he gets you, too?” His voice broke.

  She was up, heading around the table—but Nick was faster. He shot out of the kitchen, stomped up the stairs, and slammed his bedroom door with enough force to rattle the china in the hutch.

  “What else can you do, Filly?” Her father’s hand descended on her shoulder, turning her to face him. “He’s upset. He has every right to be upset—you all do, if we’re being honest here. But he’ll come around. Nick’s got a good head on his shoulders and a tender heart.” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her gently, patting her back.

  Felicity wanted to believe that, she did. But Diana was right there—the living, breathing representation of what she worried Nick would become. Angry, volatile, twisted, and manipulative. And while she didn’t want to think he’d ever be a danger to himself, there were times she didn’t know what he’d do—what he was capable of.

  And right now, he needed her. Even if he didn’t want her. There was nothing she could do or say to make this better. Chances were, she was the last person he wanted to see right now. He wouldn’t listen to Honor, her parents, or Charity. The last person she wanted him talking to right now was Diana.

  Still wrapped in her father’s embrace, Graham sat—staring after Nick. When their eyes locked, he stood. “I’ll go,” Graham said, not waiting for an answer before he followed Nick upstairs.

  …

  Charity wasn’t surprised. She’d known, without Filly saying so, that Jack was coming home. Where else could the little monster go? He was all alone in the world. Still, Nick’s reaction was heart-wrenching. These kids had been through too much—and the hits just kept on coming.

  But she’d spied a silver lining. A really big, really beautiful silver lining. Graham Murphy was crushing on her sister—seriously crushing. Not just an “I want to take you to bed tonight” but the “I want to wake up to you every morning” sort of thing. The potential for something big and real and lasting. The sort of thing she had no experience with but recognized when she saw it. Years ago, her sister had looked that way at Matt. Her parents still looked like that, most of the time. It was a warm, unspoken connection that communicated volumes.

  This morning, Graham Murphy had looked at her sister that way. And when he realized Charity had seen it—he turned an adorable shade of red.

  With any luck, things were going to be extra crowded here at the family homestead.

  Honor and Nick.

  Jack.

  She and the stranger in her belly.

  And, eventually, Graham and Diana.

  All of them—one big happily family. Good thing it was a big house.

  “We’ll get the dishes,” her mother offered. “Why don’t you and your father take your coffee onto the deck? Breathe a bit?”

  Charity started clearing the table, needing something to do. Luckily, Honor and Diana followed her lead, the loaded silence turning unbearable. Best way to diffuse tension? Laughter. She did her best to ease the tension in the air, launching into the time one of her tour members tried to shoplift a replica of the Coliseum under his shirt.

  Over and over, her gaze returned to the porch. Felicity was up and pacing while her father sat rocking. There wasn’t a thing she could do—except distract.

  “What happened?” Diana asked, pulling her attention back to their kitchen cleanup.

  “I talked his way out of a fine.” She shook her head. “My Italian’s not that great but…” She shrugged.

  “You were always good at talking your way out of things.” Her mother wasn’t necessarily praising her.

  “You’ll have to teach me.” Diana was all smiles.

  Honor lingered by the back door, drying the same bowl she’d been drying for a good five minutes, watching her mother and grandfather.

  “Honor?” She took the bowl and stored it in one of the upper cabinets. Another story—this time about her train breaking down on the tracks and the impromptu concert that sprang up among the passengers. Sitting there, surrounded by instruments and people from all over the world, all connected through music, had been a magical thing.

  Diana was all ears. Honor tried. But the tension was still there, tainting the air. Her mother was agitated, glancing back and forth between Filly and her dad on the back porch and tidying up the kitchen with a vengeance.

  “You can go out, too, Mom,” Charity volunteered. The less time they spent together, the better. The woman had an uncanny sixth-sense when it came to her youngest daughter. If she found out about the baby in her belly… Yeah, her mother would have a cow. No one needed more dr
ama right now. “Dad could probably use more coffee.” Her mother was all about taking care of Dad.

  “No, no. I can’t sit still right now.” Her mother put on one of Felicity’s aprons, tying the ribbons behind her. “Want one?” she asked, then frowned when she did a head-to-toe once-over of Charity’s ensemble. “Charity Ann, what are you wearing?” Her disapproving headshake, tongue click followed. “Even if you’d gone to the gym this morning, you still should have showered and dressed for breakfast. After all the effort your sister put into breakfast and all.”

  Charity smiled and nodded. “You’re right.” Easier to agree with her than point out that 80 percent of the population didn’t wear makeup for a family brunch. At least she was wearing a bra. That was something.

  “I know I’m right.” Her mother turned on the faucet and squeezed a stream of blue-green soap into the farm-style sink.

  “Mimi, we can load the dishwasher,” Honor offered.

  Her mother waved the suggestion aside. “They never get things as clean as a good hand-scrubbing.”

  The look of horror on Diana’s young face almost made her laugh—almost. Instead, she rolled her eyes and continued scraping plates into the trash.

  “Maudie said you stopped by?” Her mother scrubbed the sticky-roll pan with surprising vigor. “Finally.”

  Not responding to her dig. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her mother shot her a narrow-eyed look full of reproof. “You don’t sound grateful, Charity Ann. That woman’s giving you one of the most successful businesses in Pecan Valley. I’d think you’d be grateful.” She went back to scrubbing, with extra oomph.

  “I am,” she argued. And she was. “I’m still in shock.” Her delivery needed work—big time. No one in the kitchen believed her. She didn’t believe herself.

  “I thought you lived in Europe,” Diana said, continuing to stack plates.

  “I did.” A sudden craving for gelato hit her.

  “What happened with your job, Charity Ann? You seemed so happy. And so determined to stay away from Pecan Valley.” Her mother stopped scrubbing the pan long enough to look at her.