Forever My Angel (2 page)

I rarely call her Tess, but sometimes it just seems right. And she’s taken to calling me A most of the time. I think she was afraid she’d call me Arion in public and people might look at her funny. It’s easier for me since most people just assume Angel is a pet name. I could stay here staring at her all day, but I hurry out the door before I make a giant fool of myself. My steps are lighter than air—until I nearly fall and bust my ass on a slick patch on the sidewalk. It rained a bit overnight, and then some of the puddles froze during the early morning temperature drop.  Not wanting Tess or Mrs. Peters to fall, I grab some salt from a container we keep near the door and take care of the ice before I start up my Denali.
She’s ready. She’s ready.
The words play through my brain on repeat like a new favorite song that I can't get out of my head.

She’s ready!

Now I’ve just got to figure out the perfect time and place to propose. I’ve come up with several ideas in the months she’s kept me waiting, but one sticks in my mind as just right. Eagerly, I dial her mom.

—-♥—-

I
’m still deliriously happy by the time I reach the farm, and not even Vanessa’s terse greeting can dampen my mood. I enter without knocking, something I know she hates but I continue to do anyway. No fucking way I’m letting that bimbo make me feel like a guest in my own damn home. And no, I don’t technically live here, but I grew up here and Dad has told me more than once that the farm will always be my home. No matter where I go, or what I do. Vanessa can shove it.

“Axel.” She sighs as I enter the foyer, her eyes—quite possibly the only thing on her my father hasn’t paid to enhance—dripping with disapproval. I really did try to like Vanessa at first, but she makes it impossible. Between the way she treats Chelsea and the way she speaks to me, I just can’t bring myself to be friendly. I do try to treat her with respect for my father’s sake, though. For whatever reason, he’s happy with her, and I like seeing him happy.

After my mother left, he and I both spent a lot of years where we were anything but. He dated a lot, but no one really healed the festering, putrid hole my mother left in our lives, until Vanessa. My personal theory is that he knows Vanessa is a gold-digger, and he figures as long as he keeps her supplied with plenty of presents and limitless plastic, she’s not going anywhere. It makes him feel secure. Pretty sure I’m not the only Chadwell man with a fear of being left again.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Vanessa. You look nice.” ‘Nice’ might be a stretch, but to each their own. Vanessa is decked out from head to toe in a form-fitting orange dress with matching heels. She probably meant to invoke thoughts of fall, but instead that color sort of makes her look like a pumpkin, rejected because it was too skinny to carve. Her earrings match the string of pearls at her neck, and I guess they look nice enough.

She turns her cheek like she expects me to kiss it—as if—and then sighs loudly when I sidestep her, heading straight for my father’s library. I’ve heard it all from Vanessa before: ‘We’re family now.’ Not by my choice. ‘You should call me Mom.’ The only person who’s been less of a mother figure to me than Vanessa is my actual mother.  ‘I need to get to know you better.’ Thanks, but no thanks.

I tune out while she runs her mouth behind me in that nasal whine of hers. I know she means well, and her attempts to show me attention aren't just for the sake of making a good impression when we’re out at official society functions, but it just isn’t going to happen. I’m never going to think of her as a mother figure, no matter how hard she tries.

Not that I idolize my mom, by any means. In fact, I try not to think about the woman who left me and never came back. At all. Not one tiny bit. It won’t do any of us any good. That ship sailed a long time ago, and that’s something I’ve come to accept. Some people are lucky, like Angel, who has a great relationship with her mother. I know Angel misses her a lot, and I don’t fail to realize how lucky I am that she’s willing to live here with me, so far away from her.

Then some people are like Chelsea. Vanessa wants to be close to her daughter, but unfortunately she tries too hard, and that pushes Chelsea away. And despite Chelsea being a grown-up—sort of, anyway—Vanessa is convinced she knows what's best for Chelsea. She continually tries to push Chelsea into a mold, ignoring that what she wants for her isn’t what Chelsea wants at all. She loves her daughter immensely, she just doesn’t really know her. Vanessa doesn't get that although Chelsea might not have a lot of ambition, she has a ton of heart. When she accepts you as hers, it's forever, and she’ll defend you till her last breath. Someone who loves that hard deserves to be loved back, not pushed into a marriage for money or influence, and if Vanessa doesn't watch herself, she's going to see just how willing I am to defend Chelsea.

And then there’s me. Compared to those two, my mother is the bottom of the barrel. She wasn’t here to screw up or alienate me with overbearing good intentions, because she left when I was five. She just drove away and never looked back.

So screw her.

And screw Vanessa.

I shut the door to Dad’s library behind me, ignoring Vanessa’s protests from the other side. Something about needing to talk to Dad about the caterers or whatnot. Whatever. Not my problem, and not his.

Dad’s eyes meet mine and the corner of his mouth quirks up in a grin. “Hi, Axel. Where’s Tess?”

Pretty much everyone but me has taken to calling Angel by her actual name, which is fine by me. That makes her only my Angel, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. “She’s picking up Chelsea; they’ll be here in a while.”

“Things still good with you two, I take it?” He gives me a knowing look, and I’m pretty sure the smile I can’t keep off my face has given me away.

“Never better. In fact...I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

Dad studies me quietly for a moment. I have no clue what he’s thinking, because Dad is a master at hiding his thoughts and feelings until he wants you to see them. The horse business is full of wannabees, crooks, and thieves, and it can be hard to spot the difference between those who’ll stand by their word and those trying to cheat you. Dad didn’t make his fortune by playing his cards all at once. Nope, he keeps his real thoughts close to his chest. But he’s also an excellent judge of character—he says he learned it by working at the bar, which is why he insisted I do the same—and I know he likes Tess. He knows she's good for me.

He pulls his reading glasses off and sets them on the desk, near the stack of papers he was looking at when I came in. This room is large, filled with his sprawling desk, a reading chair, shelves and shelves of books, and a cozy couch. I think it’s one of my favorite rooms because it’s one that hasn’t changed since my childhood, remaining untouched by Vanessa’s designer ambitions. He has a small office he uses as well, but that mostly holds his filing cabinets and paperwork. The majority of his work is done in here, where he says he’s most comfortable. There’s also the office out in the barn where he meets with potential buyers and breeders. That one is filled with frame after frame of awards, pedigrees, and photos of some of the numerous prize-winning colts and fillies that have been born right here at Chadwell Farm before going on to wildly successful racing careers at other facilities.

“I’m happy for you, Axel,” he says, and the tight spot in my chest eases.  I know he likes Angel, but I was still worried he might say it’s too soon, or that I’m too young.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“What you and Tess have is special. I haven’t seen anything like it since...well, it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you recognize it, and I trust that you won’t let her slip through your fingers.”

There’s an almost wistful look creeping across his face, and it makes me a bit uncomfortable. Is he referring to Mom? I wonder if he still thinks about her after all these years. He and I have only had one very brief conversation about her. She’s been something we’ve never really talk about, by mutual agreement, I think, but I can’t help wondering if maybe we should?

Not today, though. “I’m thinking near New Year’s, if she’s agreeable. I talked to her mother and she’s going to have time off from work and could come in for it. Otherwise we’d have to wait until spring break, or summer, for her mom to be able to attend.”

“That’s soon.” That’s all my father says as he rests his chin against his hand.

It doesn't feel like it. I feel like I've waited forever. First for her to come back to me after she disappeared, and then for her to be willing to let me love her. And finally for her to be ready to take this next step. “The sooner the better.”

Dad nods. “Well, if that’s what the two of you want. Do you want to hold off on finding a second location for the bar, then? A wedding, a new wife, and opening a new bar— that’s a lot to take on all at once.” I’ll give him credit; he doesn’t ask if there’s a baby on the way. Though the way his brow deepens, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s thinking it.

I settle into a chair on the opposite side of Dad’s desk and pull out a handful of papers from a folder I brought with me. “No. I want to move forward with that project as quickly as we can, while still being thorough.”

I’ve been looking to open a second location in downtown Philadelphia. Our original location thrives on the college crowd, and I’m positive we can adapt that to work in other locations. But the area I’m looking at is more competitive, and I think I need to time my opening just right.

“What does Tess think about it?”

“We haven’t discussed it yet, but she’ll be on board. Especially if I’m not trying to manage them both single-handedly. I’ve been giving Chelsea more responsibilities, and I’m watching to see how she’ll do.”

“She can handle it, I’m sure. It’s good for her to step up a bit and start having to make choices rather than just going with the flow.”

I agree with my father. Chelsea isn't stupid, but she doesn't really apply herself, either. She just goes along with whatever others are doing, rather than making her own plans for the rest of her life. I know she doesn't subscribe to her mother's life goal of snaring a wealthy husband and then enjoying the rewards, but she seems content to just be a bartender for the rest of her life. I wish she'd reach a little higher, and I'm glad Dad seems to want the same, even if her mother doesn't.

“I assume Dougie is still helping as well? Vince doing better now?” There’s a note of fondness in his voice when he mentions Dougie's father. I think Dad and Vince have lost touch a bit now that Dad isn't involved with the day to day operations of the bar. It saddens me to realize that the same thing may be happening with me and Dougie. We've known each other since we were kids
;
we grew up playing at the bar together, finding ways to get into trouble while our dads worked. Vince has been the cook at Tuck's since I was in diapers. He was Dad's second-in-command the way Dougie has, at least until recently, been mine.

“Dougie’s been a bit of a problem.” That’s another thing Jordan told me about last night. “I think since their breakup, things have been strained between Dougie and Chelsea. Moving him to the new location will be good for both of them.”

Dad’s brow furrows. “I don’t want him giving her trouble. Give him something else to do for now that doesn’t have him at the bar. Get him scouting locations or something.”

“I’ve already got two warehouses that are vacant scoped out. The renovations would be massive on both, but I think we could keep it within budget.”

“Then find him something else.” My father’s tone makes it clear it isn’t a suggestion.

Having to choose between Dougie and Chelsea is not something I ever thought I'd have to do
,
but Dad is right. Chelsea will always come first. I’ve just got to figure out how to reassign Dougie in a way that makes it feel like a promotion, not a punishment.

Dad and I spend the rest of the morning going over plans for expansion, and even though I hate being away from Angel, time flies by and the next thing I know we hear the purr of her Mustang pulling into the gravel driveway. Kevin got here a little while ago. We invited him to come into the library with us, but he declined, wanting to wait near the door to catch Lexi the moment she arrives.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the thought of little Lexi from down the road as being old enough to date, but I know Kevin will take good care of her, so I’m keeping my mouth shut. Mostly.

“I’ll talk to Dougie and set something up with the realtor to tour the two options again later this week. I’ll give you a call and let you know when we can go, in case you want to come see them with me before we make a final selection.” I grab my stack of papers, straighten them into a halfway organized pile, and shove them back in my folder.

Dad and I both look up when a tentative knock comes from the other side of the door. It’s way too soft to be Vanessa, and my heart leaps into my throat the way it always does around Angel. Once, I would’ve been embarrassed at the way she affects me—hell, the way she completely consumes me. But after coming so close to losing her, I refuse to apologize for letting every fiber of my being recognize that she’s my everything. If that makes me less of a man, so be it.

“Come in,” Dad says, a smile in his eyes as well as in his voice.

If he ruins it by telling my girl ‘congratulations’ before I even propose...
  I shoot him a warning glare. Hopefully, Angel misses the little wink he gives me in return. “Tess, my dear, always a pleasure to see you. How are you liking your first real winter? A bit different than Tucson, I imagine?” Technically it's still fall, but judging by our colder-than-normal temperatures, winter's going to make an early debut.

Angel shivers, and I fight the urge to wrap myself around her. “I’ve resigned myself to being a permanent ice cube.”

Dad laughs, a deep, genuine chuckle, and Angel’s shoulders ease just a bit. I didn’t realize how tense she was. If she could only see herself the way the rest of us see her, she’d know without a doubt that we can’t help but love her. Vanessa doesn't count.