Somebody to Love

by Ann Christopher

  Sean frowned down at the bag and then at her.

  “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me she already has one?”

  “No.” She couldn’t keep the regret out of her voice. “It’s so sweet. But I can’t let you give it to her.”

  Sean hesitated, the pause growing awkward.

  “Why? It wasn’t that expensive. And she loves pandas.”

  “I know.” She took a deep breath, wanting to get her words right. But it wasn’t that easy to confess how afraid she was to open her heart too wide for him. God forbid he learn the extent of either his power over her or her cowardice and low self-esteem. “But you and I don’t know where this thing is going. And Ella already likes you a lot. I saw the way she was with you yesterday. If you give her this panda, she’s going to flip out. A good mother can’t let her child flip out over some guy she just started seeing.”

  Another lengthy pause, this one turning brittle.

  “Some guy?”

  He had a way of making it sound as though she’d called him a necrophiliac.

  He had a way of making her heart ache when he said it.

  “You know what I mean. We just met a few weeks ago. We’re getting our bearings here. It’s one thing for me to maybe get hurt. I can’t risk letting my daughter get hurt. You understand that. I know you do.”

  “I do.” Some of the tension eased from his face. “You’re a good mother. She’s lucky to have you protecting her. But I already know her through Edward and Daniel. That’s all she’s aware of. And I got her this gift because I’m spending Christmas at the lodge with the Harpers. Everyone got little gifts for the kids. I got something for the twins and I got something for Ella. It really has nothing to do with you and me.”

  This information did not reassure her. If anything, his reasonable tone fired her up more.

  “Maybe. But I’m asking you not to give it to her.”

  He gaped at her. “Ever?”

  She thought that over. She and Sean were doing very well so far. They might continue to do well, for all she knew. Although, to be fair, Bill Gates might gift everyone in the US with a computer on Christmas morning for all she knew, but that didn’t seem very likely either.

  “Yet. Please don’t give it to her yet.”

  “But…You and I both know she loves pandas. I could have given it to her already. I just brought it tonight because I wanted you to see it. It’s not that big a deal.”

  Nothing stiffened her spine like hearing someone minimize her feelings.

  “I don’t want this to ruin our evening together,” she said, infusing much more frost in her voice. “But I’m her mother. I get to decide what’s the big deal and what’s not. And I don’t want my daughter getting too attached to someone who may or may not be here next week.”

  He pulled back, looking stricken.

  “I’ll be here next week,” he said hollowly. “I’m sure of that. Maybe what you mean is that you won’t be here next week.”

  God, those eyes. They stared at her with such reproach that she had to look away for a second and regroup. How he swung back and forth between that passionate intensity and this raw vulnerability was a question she’d have to ponder some other day. All she knew was that he made her head swim.

  “Sean,” she said, carefully taking the bag and setting it on the end of the bed again so that his lap was free for her to straddle him. He eagerly latched on, palming her ass and pulling her closer. She held his face between her hands and closed her eyes as she kissed his forehead, categorically unable to hold his gaze when he looked at her like that. “Please understand if I want to take this slow. I don’t want my daughter to get hurt.”

  “Let’s not get it twisted. You don’t want to get hurt.”

  She eased back. Opened her eyes. Admitted it because what else could she do?

  “I don’t want to get hurt. Can you blame me?”

  His lips curled into just a hint of a resigned and weary smile.

  “No. I don’t like it, but I can’t blame you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Guess I won’t be taking the two of you to dinner anytime soon.” His jaw tightened. “Or hanging out and watching TV. Or taking you back to the lodge with me tomorrow. Which Ada suggested and I would love to do.”

  “What?” She floundered, as astonished that Ada would have floated such an idea as she was that Sean had apparently considered it. As for Amber? The mere suggestion of being in such close quarters with the Harpers at this early juncture in her relationship with Sean made her head spin and threaten to explode. “I couldn’t do that. You know I couldn’t—”

  “I know. It’s too soon,” he said dully.

  She rubbed her forehead, mentally pedaling hard to choose her words carefully and make sure she didn’t blow this whole thing up before it even got off the ground. Took a deep breath. Prayed for the best.

  “I’m hoping you and I can spend time together and get to know each other on the nights when Ella’s with Edward. I really want that, Sean.”

  “Of course we can,” he said, sighing with unmistakable resignation.

  She felt a staggering wave of relief that she hadn’t ruined things right out of the gate, but he looked like he still had something on his mind.

  “What is it?” she said. “Tell me.”

  He ran a hand across the top of his head, struggling with his words.

  “Look. I’m no expert here, but sometimes things just work. Because they’re simple and they fit and they’re supposed to work. And things that work are a good thing. Not a bad thing.”

  “Sean…”

  “There’s a Julia Child quote: ‘Cooking well doesn’t mean cooking fancy.’ I try to keep the flavors simple in my kitchen. If I want scrambled eggs, I get eggs and cream with salt and pepper. Period. Those things bring out the best in each other. Maybe I’ll add some good cheese or dill if I want something special. That’s it. It’s a simple recipe that works every time. There’s nothing more to it than that. It doesn’t have to be a whole production.”

  “I get that, but—”

  “Same with rainbows. You don’t stand around wondering if you can rearrange the colors in a rainbow. It works the way it is. You leave it alone. The thing is…You and I work, Amber. We work because we’re good together. We bring out the best in each other. I separately work with Ella. She and I worked before I ever met you. So if you and I work, and Ella and I work, and you and Ella work, why can’t the three of us work together and build something? Why try to complicate things? Why not let it be what it is? Am I making any sense here?”

  “Absolutely.” A rogue tear threatened to embarrass her, so she ruthlessly blinked it back. She wanted to share his faith and his belief that things could be that simple. Too bad she couldn’t seem to let herself. “The part you’re missing is that I’m apparently a terrible judge of when things are working or not.”

  They stared at each other until he finally sighed. Nodded with reluctant understanding at this unwanted reappearance of Edward’s long shadow between them.

  “What about the panda?” He cleared his gruff throat. “When can I give it to her?”

  She shrugged, wishing she had at least some of the answers here.

  “I don’t know. I’ll understand if you want to return it.”

  He looked at her as though she’d suggested eating fried reindeer for Christmas dinner.

  “I don’t want to return it. That’s the last thing on my mind. Are we talking three months? Six months?”

  “I’m sorry, Sean,” she said, doing her best not to see the ongoing hurt in his expression behind his willingness to be a good sport and play by her rules. “I can’t predict the future. We’ll have to see how things go with us.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Four Months Later

  “Hey, fellas.” Sean waved to the twins as he found an empty table near the window and got settled with his coffee. Java Nectar was hopping this spring morning, the usual bustle of bleary-eyed folks d
esperate for their first morning cup underscored by the banging and clattering of construction emanating from the back room. Miranda’s desperately needed expansion was now well underway, courtesy of the grant from Isaiah Harper, Journey’s End’s favorite angel investor for small business owners. “Why aren’t you in school? Playing hooky?”

  “It’s a teacher meeting day,” said Jonah, passing Sean a napkin.

  “We’d rather be in school.” Noah shot a furtive look at Miranda, who was working the counter, greeting customers and doling out pastries. Then he handed Sean his silverware. “It’s a lot less work. And a lot safer for kids these days.”

  “What’s the problem?” said Sean, stifling a laugh and trying to look suitably concerned by this information.

  “Mom’s driving us crazy,” cried Noah, who’d evidently been waiting for just such an opening to air his grievances. “On top of handing out napkins and silverware and menus and sweeping and putting away things on the shelves in the back, now she’s got us wiping counters. She says everyone has to help extra because of the remodeling.”

  Jonah nodded vigorously, threatening to separate his head from his neck at the rate he was going. “Yeah. And she’s not even paying us any extra. It’s just more work, more work, more work! We can’t take the stress!”

  “Plus, Miss Pat is giving us way more homework these days. Because it’s the second semester and all. She says we can handle it. But it’s way too much!” Noah added. “We hardly have any time for video games these days. Last night we only had time for an hour before bedtime. And we haven’t been able to play our Trivial Pursuit game for a whole three days. And now Mom’s got us working our fingers to the bone on our day off. It’s not even human.”

  “You gotta help us, man!” Jonah said, squeezing Sean’s arm for emphasis. “We can’t go on like this.”

  “Wow,” Sean said. “You two really have a flair for the dramatic. Acting like a zombie is after you or something.”

  “Well, it feels like it,” Noah said darkly, flapping a hand at his mother.

  Miranda, meanwhile, finished with the last customer, scanned the room and quickly zeroed in on her sons. “Let’s go, you two,” she said, snapping her fingers and pointing toward the hallway. “I’m not paying you for talking to the customers. Hey, Sean.”

  “You’re barely paying us at all,” Jonah muttered as Sean waved at her.

  “What was that?” Miranda asked sharply, cupping her ear and cocking her head in Jonah’s direction.

  “Nothing,” Jonah said, cringing.

  “That’s what I thought,” Miranda said with grim satisfaction. “Let’s go. The sooner you get done here, the sooner you can get home and relax on your day off.”

  “Bye, Sean,” Jonah said glumly as he set off.

  “Send help,” Noah told Sean, trudging after his brother like a pirate walking a plank over shark-infested waters.

  Chuckling to himself, Sean took a fortifying sip of coffee and worked on calming his nerves. An impossible task.

  Emotions were running high these days. For a number of reasons.

  First, because the soft opening of his baby, the newly renovated Harper Rose Bistro, was coming up in two days. Were things under control? Yes, reasonably. Was there still room for things to go horribly wrong? Absolutely. For example, if the rest of the booths and chairs didn’t arrive in the next couple of hours, he stood a very real chance of kicking out the brand-new plate glass window in frustration, thereby severely injuring himself and possibly bleeding out before his dream restaurant ever came to fruition.

  And that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? A classic case of be careful what you wish for. It was all well and good to dream of starting your own restaurant. Something else again when it came to answering to your boss (Nigel Harper), your investor (Isaiah Harper) and your own insidious perfectionistic tendencies. Oh, sure, it sounded like fun to choose every appliance, fixture, and painting, plan every menu item, order every bottle of wine and hire every staffer. Until you actually had to do it and exhaustion quickly set in.

  But it was a good kind of exhaustion, he had to admit. An exhilaration like no other. For the first time in his life, he felt as though he’d done his very best in all possible ways. He’d left no stone unturned and fired on all cylinders during this entire process.

  Also for the first time in his life? He was pleased with himself. Proud of himself. Nigel and Isaiah also professed to be pleased and proud (although with Isaiah, it was more a matter of him being a little less surly than usual), so that was icing on his cake.

  But still. Nerve-racking.

  Also racking his nerves today?

  The imminent arrival of his mother, his brother Mike and Mike’s wife Dara, all of whom were due later this afternoon and planned to stay through the weekend in celebration of his restaurant opening. This was, in theory, a lovely and supportive gesture. On paper, he appreciated their effort and commitment in sharing this momentous occasion with him. In his mind, he saw the potential for this entire weekend to unfold beautifully, with healing and reconciliation all around.

  In reality?

  What a freaking nightmare.

  He and Michael got along like Cain and Abel or Michael and Fredo. A restaurant opening wouldn’t change that. Their mutual desire to play nice in front of their mother wouldn’t change that. Their hard feelings toward each other always found a way to slip through the cracks and show up at the party with bells on. All it would take was one passive-aggressive comment from Mike, Mr. Perfection himself, and Sean would lose his shit. Guaranteed. Especially given the way Sean’s current state of exhaustion had him running on fumes. He just didn’t have any reserves for dealing with Mike’s bullshit. And he felt wildly uneasy about the collision of the Cincinnati part of his life (the dark part; the unmitigated loser part) and the Journey’s End part, which was shaping up to be the best.

  Could the two parts of his life coexist peacefully? Doubtful.

  So there was that—

  “Sean Baldwin. As I live and breathe.”

  Sean snapped out of his daydream to discover Raymond Martin standing next to his table looking dapper and seasonal in his baby blue seersucker suit. Bobsy, meanwhile, sported a bandana with Easter bunnies all over it. He sat politely, shooting Sean a look of bright curiosity with those keen black eyes of his.

  “Hey, Raymond,” Sean said, extending his hand. “Staying out of trouble?”

  “I am, but this dog is not. To no one’s surprise.”

  “Uh-oh, Bobsy.” Sean looked down at the dog. “What did you do this time?”

  Bobsy hung his head.

  “He found the chocolate candy I’d hidden for the kids’ Easter baskets and ate all of it,” Raymond said darkly. “All the caramel eggs. All the candy-covered malted eggs. All the Easter bunnies, including the solid chocolate ones. The fool dog is lucky he’s still alive after that adventure.”

  Bobsy yapped, evidently objecting to the name calling.

  “I’m not even going to tell you what was involved with clearing out his stomach,” Raymond concluded.

  “Appreciate that,” Sean said.

  “So are you ready for me to find you some real estate around town?” Raymond asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Sean said, keeping an eye on Bobsy, who’d begun snuffling at some crumbs under a nearby table under the guise of stretching out and getting comfortable. “I’ve worked out an arrangement with the Harpers.”

  “Well, that’s not the kind of thing I like to hear,” Raymond said glumly. “Good thing I’m selling a huge house to Mr. Merry Sunshine over there.”

  Sean followed his line of sight, to where the twins’ father, Griffin Lowe, was taking turns hugging his boys while balancing a cup of coffee in his free hand.

  “Who, Griff? Thought he lived down in the city,” Sean said.

  “He did, but now he’s”—Raymond snapped to attention and plastered a smile on his face—“oh, hello, Griff. How are you?”

&nb
sp; “I’ll live.” Griff appeared at the table and did not, in fact, look too happy about his prospects for continued life. “What’s up, Sean?”

  Startled, Sean took a closer look at him and didn’t like what he saw in Griff, an acquaintance who was normally well groomed and GQ ready. Today he featured baggy clothes and a gaunt face. Hollowed eyes behind those dark frames. An overgrown five o’clock shadow that needed to be whacked with some hedge trimmers.

  “Hey, Griff,” Sean said warily as they shook. “You doing okay?”

  “Absolutely. For a man who’s getting his second divorce? I’m doing great. I wasn’t smart enough not to marry her in the first place, but I was damn sure smart enough to marry her with an ironclad prenup in place. And I’m moving to town so I can be closer to my kids. So I’m the king of the fucking world right now. And congrats on the restaurant. I’ll probably check it out.”

  “Great,” said Sean, whose superstitious mind’s eye pictured his precious baby withering and melting like the Wicked Witch of the West the second Griff dragged his morose ass inside the doors.

  “Word of advice?” Griff told Sean. “Learn from my mistakes. Don’t get married. Just…don’t. It’s too late for you, Raymond. Sorry about that.”

  Raymond blinked.

  “No worries,” he managed cheerily.

  “And make sure you don’t complicate things with kids,” Griff added to Sean. “My whole situation right now is a nightmare, but it’d be a million times worse if we’d had kids. There you go. It took me thousands of dollars in legal fees, shrink fees and pain and suffering to learn what I just told you. For free. You’re welcome.”

  Sean sat quietly, afraid to open his mouth for fear of prompting any more of Griff’s grim advice. God knew he already had enough to be shaky about at the moment when it came to his situation with Amber. He didn’t need to add Griff’s poison to the mix.

  Luckily, Griff checked his watch and turned to Raymond, his expression and voice growing duller by the second. “You ready? I’d like to get that offer in before two.”