Always Conall (Bitterroot #2) (6 page)

And then it hit me that I was supposed to be going there for dinner in a bit. My palms began to sweat as I tried to wrap my mind around everything.

My kid.
My daughter. Bubbly and smiling with bright blue eyes like her mother.

Her mother.
This new Sage. So strong and independent. She’d done so well all on her own over the past few years.
Was I just fucking everything up for her by coming back?
She had a boyfriend.
What would he think of me coming over for dinner?

Fuck, would he be there?

Part of me wanted to call Sage, to see if he’d be there and to cancel if he would. But the other part of me wanted every second I could get with Mattie. Okay, Mattie and Sage. Because, even though I tried really hard to push all those crazy Sage notions out of my mind, I was failing miserably. I may as well have given up on the  struggle to eradicate that image of her in the see-through little outfit with a tantalizing bikini underneath, her hair pulled back with windblown tendrils teasing the curve of her neck…

Fuck
.

I needed to focus on Mattie. She was safer. I was
supposed
to have warm and fuzzies about her. Protective and fatherly. Proud of the adorable, friendly little person she was.

Deciding to forgo buying any more groceries, I quickly checked out and headed to the cabin
on Jacob’s ranch just outside of town. If I hurried, I could take a quick shower and make it in plenty of time.

My mind continuously bounced back and forth between Mattie and Sage. Sometimes together, sometimes my focus shifted to one or the other.

Mattie’s bouncy little form, accentuated by the little fluffy purple skirt pulled on over her swimsuit. The excited sparkle in her wide, blue eyes as she rattled on about purple horses and Oreo ice cream.

And Sage.
Fuck
. The girl who’d haunted my thoughts for years, but all grown up. Full breasts, a slender waist… an ass that made me want to either pray or cry. I wondered if I’d manage to get through dinner without pissing her off.

Although, she was really fucking hot when she was pissed.
It had always done that to her. Her eyes would flash, her skin should flush pink. Most of the times that I went along with Matt’s big brother antics was simply to watch her transform, to become spitting mad and unleash on the two of us. I was pretty sure she was the cause of my very first boner. And many that followed.

She was definitely the cause of the one I had in the shower while I got ready for dinner. The glimpses of skin that peeked through that entirely-too-revealing dress thing she was wearing today. The thought of pulling it over her head and untying the little strings that held her bikini up
…

Like a fucking high-schooler, I found myself beating off as the scalding hot stream of water rained down around me. And like so many times before, Sage was the focus of my thoughts as I
alleviated that ache. Her name was on my lips as I came. Her voice from so long ago echoed through my mind.

I love you, Conall.

Sage

Mattie’s questions started before we even got through the check stand.

“Was Conall a little boy when you
was a little girl?”

“How come I’ve never seen him? Does he live here?”

“Why did he move?”

“
Why did he come back?”

“Does Conall have a daddy?”

“Is Conall a daddy?”

This question was asked with wide blue eyes staring up at me hopefully. My mind froze. It was easy to say
‘I don’t know’
to many of her questions, but this one would have been a blatant lie. And not a little
Yes Santa is real
white lie. This was a lie that, even though she was only four years old, could come back and bite me in the ass.

For a second, I stared blankly. And then I totally deflected the question, sidetracking her by asking if she wanted to pick out a candy bar.
And then encouraging her to hurry because the cashier was waiting.

And her relentless barrage of questions continued out in the car.

“Can Conall take me on a horsey ride?”

“Does Conall live on a big ranch?”

“Does Conall have a lot of horsies?”

“Does Conall have cows?”

“Does Conall have kitties?”

By the time we got home, all I heard was
Conall… Conall… Conall.

Nice to know he’d made a good impression. Mattie was jacked that he was coming for dinner.

So, it was no surprise when the doorbell rang, and the first word out of Mattie’s mouth was… you guessed it…

“Conall!”
Mattie jumped up from her pile of ponies in the middle of the living room floor and raced ninety-to-nothing to the door.

“Mattie,” I called, tearing out of the kitchen in an attempt to head her off, “wait a second and let me make sure before you open the—”

“Aaaaahhhhh!” I heard her squeal with excitement. “Balloons!”

I rounded the corner to see my daughter jumping up and down, clasping her hands to her chest as she continued to gleefully holler about the balloon bouquet Conall had brought her.

“Purple! They’re
purple
! And that one has a Pinkie Pie! Aaaahhhhh!”

Conall’s smile was incredibly priceless, the laughter in his eyes at her sheer joy obvious. In one hand, he held a the weighted base of a large bouquet of purple balloons, and a sparkly, shiny silver Mylar heart rose above the others with none other than Pinky Pie. As the name suggested, Pinkie Pie was indeed pink, however, a close runner up for Mattie’s favorite My Little Pony even if she didn’t have a lick of purple on her.

“And flowers! Pretty!”

“Those are for your mom,” Conall grinned down at her. In his other hand was a wrapped bouquet of sunflowers accented with some little purple blossoms.

My heart stopped.

My mouth fell open and my eyes filled with tears.

He had bought me flowers.

As I worked to catch my breath, Conall looked up at me. For a moment, confusion passed over his features, likely at my sudden emotional shift which had to be clearly evident. He handed the balloon bouquet to Mattie, and she gleefully barreled back into the living room with the bobbing, bouncing purple prize. The flurry of balloons passed me by, one even wholluped me in the face, and still I stared at him.

Well, actually, I stared at the flowers.

“Sage, honey,” he asked, “
are you okay?”

“Flowers…” That was the only thing I could force out of my mouth. Nothing else could work its way through my brain.

“I thought you’d like them.” His brow furrowed. “Oh, shit, Mattie doesn’t have allergies or something, does she? I didn’t even—”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just… nobody has ever…” I wasn’t making any sense. My brain was cycling through the motions, sort of like it was rebooting. I closed my eyes and shook my head a touch to clear my thoughts. Opening them again, I looked once more at Conall.
And the flowers. “You bought me flowers.”

“Well, yeah,” he repeated cautiously. “I thought you’d like them.”

“Nobody has ever bought me flowers before.”

“Nobody?”

I shook my head, and Conall took a step closer.

“Not for a date or prom or anything?” he asked with surprise as he handed me the bouquet.

I cradled the wrapped bouquet in my arm, my fingertips reverently brushing along the edge of the soft petals. The delicate, sweet sunflower scent rose to fill my nostrils, and I blinked quickly to push back the tears that threatened to fall.

“I, um… I didn’t…”

Mattie’s voice called out from the other room. “Mommy, look!”

“Thank you,” I quickly murmured without looking up at him. I
couldn’t
look at him for fear of bursting into tears. Thankful for the distraction, I turned down the hallway to see what Mattie was so excited about.

Her balloons were smack dab in the middle of the dining table.

“It’s a party!” she exclaimed.

“Um, monkey,” I chuckled, stifling the intense emotional upheaval, “that’s kind of big to have in the middle of the table for dinner. We won’t even be able to see each other.”

“But I want to see them.”

“How about if you put them in the fourth chair, since
there’s only three of us. Then it is kind of like you’re sitting by them.”

“Okay!” she jumped up on her chair and leaned way over to grab the balloons, dragging them across the table. The weights that anchored the bouquet displaced silverware and knocked over (thankfully empty) glasses. When she had the balloons settled in
the chair across from hers, she looked back at me and remembered the flowers.

“Ooooh!
Put your flowers in the middle!” she yelled.

“Mattie,” I prompted, “inside voice
please. You’re breaking Mommy’s head.”

Her little mouth snapped shut, and she clapped her hands over it.
“Sorry,” she murmured through her fingers.

“
She’s a little excited,” I murmured nervously to Conall. “I’m not sure if it’s the balloons, or if it’s that… well, we’ve never had a guy over for dinner. Well, not
just
a guy,” I rambled on, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. “I mean, we’ve had Brynn and Kian come over sometimes, but they’re a couple and all, so that’s different.”

“
What about your boyfriend?” Conall asked.

“
What boyfriend?” Mattie asked.

Shit
.

“
He’s not really a… it’s not… um…” Once again, I couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought with both Conall and Mattie staring at me quizzically. Finally, I took a deep, calming breath to regroup. “Mattie, why don’t you show Conall your ponies while I put these flowers in some water.”

And without another word, I escaped to the kitchen to find a pitcher or something to put the flowers in.

Conall

I learned everything there likely was to know about My Little Ponies that day. And the whole time Mattie chattered on about Wisteria or something-or-another Twinkle or Sparkle or a couple of each. There were rainbow-ish things everywhere. Some of the ponies had horns and some had wings. Some had horns
and
wings.

I felt compelled to tell her that none of the horses out on the ranch looked anything like the ponies scattered across the floor.

She seemed okay with that and offered me a little plastic brush. And the next thing I knew, I was feeling like the biggest pussy in the world because I was brushing a little pink pony tail.

I was pretty sure that was grounds to lose your man card. All I needed was a feather boa and a cup of tea.

But, it was kind of worth it to just listen to Mattie talk. It gave me the opportunity to watch her and listen. I didn’t have to say much myself, which was probably good because everything about her still blew my mind. So small, yet so alive. So vivid and funny. Mannerisms so like her mother and even a few I strangely recognized in myself. Everything Sage had told me about her and more.

After a little while, Sage leaned in through the doorway to the kitchen.

“Mattie, why don’t you take Conall on the deck to find a tomato for the salad.”

Mattie wrinkled her nose and looked at me. “Ewwww… tomatoes…” she said, although she hopped up to her feet and grabbed my hand, pulling me from the couch. “But Mommy likes them, so I guess…” she sighed, sounding much more mature than four years old.

I glanced over at Sage as I followed Mattie out the door. She had adjusted the plates, silverware, and glasses on the table, and was starting to bring out the food. I caught her eyes as she set down a basket of garlic bread. Her mood was strange, hard to read. She remained a bit standoffish, yet the level of emotion in her eyes was startling. She looked away, biting her lip, and hurried back into the kitchen as a timer went off.

I followed Mattie out to the balcony to see a framework of rectangular planting boxes fixed to the wall. Each box contained some type of homegrown vegetables – peas, some leafy lettuce-type shit, tomatoes, broccoli, and a bunch of other things that I really had no clue what they were – to make up a small patio garden. Mattie pointed towards a deep red tomato on the plant that grew along to the side.

“Mommy would like that one,” she informed me. “She says the green ones are nasty and to pick the reddest ones.” Once I had picked the ripened tomato, she looked at a long, deep box that ran the length of the contraption towards the base. “These are carrots,” she said. “Mommy puts them down here because I love to be a bunny. She says to move a little dirt away to make sure it’s ready.” I watched as her pudgy little fingers scattered some soil to reveal the little rounded orange top of a carrot. Then she wrapped her dimpled fist around the green and pulled out a fresh little veggie. Grinning up at me, she held the carrot aloft. “Mommy says it’s ‘portant to wash it because it’s all dirty, though. But bunnies don’t wash their carrots.”

“You’re probably right, but little girls who are being bunnies probably should.”

Her mouth twisted for a second while she contemplated my advice. “Okay,” she sighed eventually, and trudged back inside to wash the carrot.

Sage pulled a stepstool over to the sink so Mattie could scrub off her carrot with a little plastic brush. When she was finished, she climbed down to the floor and smiled proudly. “See, now I can be a
bunny,” she giggled as she began to munch. Then she hopped into the living room, bunny style.

“That’s kind of a neat little set-up you have out there,” I said to Sage, nodding out to the little patio garden.

“That was a project we built at New Beginnings. Something productive to keep us wayward girls from losing our minds. Plus, it is supposed to encourage the kids to eat fresh veggies, although Mattie will barely touch anything but the carrots. Maybe a little lettuce from time to time.”

Sage drained the noodles over the sink in a puff of steam before transferring them to a large bowl.

“Would you set this on the table?” she asked. “I’m just about done. Just need to cut up the tomato for the salad.”

Everything about this moment felt strange. But it also felt right.
Which felt strange. Sage cooking. Mattie playing in the living room. Setting food on the table for dinner.

It felt like…
family
. Like when we were kids sitting down to eat with her mom and dad. The only real family I’d ever had. God knows my own mom hadn’t done much to earn mother-of-the-year awards, and my dad was even worse before he left. Looking back, their behavior was nothing short of negligence, likely why Sage and Matt’s mom had taken me under her wing like she did. That made it all that much harder when I fucked up and cost her the life of her son.

“Mattie,” Sage called as she walked out with a glass bowl of salad, “dinner,
monkey.”

Few things in life entertained me as much as watching my daughter eat spaghetti. With every little slurp of the noodles and a crooked grin plastered on her saucy little face, I fell a little more in love with the kid. Sage was quiet, watching us, hardly touching her food. Sometimes smiling wistfully, sometimes looking
more sad. A thoughtful expression on her lovely face.