Rachel Laine (The Women of Merryton Book 3) (12 page)

I
realized how well we seemed to fit together, and how enticing he smelled. This
wasn’t good. “Um … Andrew.” I felt like I needed to catch my breath.

“Yes?”
he whispered.

“Maybe
we should do the dishes.”

“I
don’t know. I like what I’m doing now.”

I
kind of liked it, too. But that seemed wrong, so I pulled away.

To
my relief, I got a break the next week from physical contact with Andrew. The
World Series went all seven games. Andrew attended the last three games, two of
those being in Chicago. He was also prepping for his meetings with his party. I
gave up begging him not to run during our daily phone calls.

My
lunch with Taylor was needed. I decided to start off with something pleasant as
we settled in her new office. She had received a promotion and along with it
came a posh new office at the hospital that afforded more privacy. And in
Merryton, privacy was at a premium. “Are you ready to become my neighbor?” I
asked.

She
smiled with content. “The final walkthrough is next week, and if all goes well,
we’ll close the second week in November. Right in time for the holidays and the
baby’s arrival. We’re bursting at the seams in our little rental house. The
extra space will be good for everyone. Easton’s already talking about getting a
twenty-foot Christmas tree.”

“Christmas
already?”

“He’s
so excited about it this year. Not only do we have Gage, but if this baby girl
is kind to me, she’ll make her appearance before then. A couple weeks early
would be the best Christmas present ever.”

I
smiled at my friend. I was so happy for her. “Things are still going well with
Gage?”

She
nodded. “He’s a great kid. There have been some issues. His home life before
was rough. He was left alone a lot, so he’s having to adjust to having us
around and listening to us. And it breaks my heart when he has a hard time
believing that there will always be more, like with food. We caught him hiding
food in his room once. His explanation was that he wanted to make sure he had
some for when we ran out.”

I
found my eyes watering. How terrible. “Are you thinking about making him a
permanent fixture?”

“We
would love to, but it’s not fully up to us. His father, who’s in prison, can
unfortunately still get him back, and no one knows where his mother is.”

At
least I could be grateful Andrew wasn’t a felon or a drug addict … I hoped.
I
should probably make sure. How do I do that?

“We’re
trying our best to enjoy him and help while we have him, as well as working
with the system, but there is a lot of red tape. Honestly, a lot of it doesn’t
make sense at all.”

“I’ll
keep you all in my prayers,” I offered. What else could I do?

“Thank
you,” she smiled. “Anyway, tell me what’s going on with your Yukon.”

I
took a deep breath and set down the pecan-crusted chicken salad Taylor had
made, which was delicious.

“He’s
not
my
Yukon.”

She
nodded and grinned. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s
not like that.” I could tell she was off the mark, but who could have guessed
the truth? “He actually knew my sister Sydney … intimately.”

Her
eyes dilated. “Oh … and?”

I
pulled up a picture of Andrew on my phone—he was all over Google. I handed it
over to her. “Does he remind you of anyone? Maybe a handsome eight-year-old?”

She
gasped at the spark of recognition. “No!”

“Yes,”
I said in despair.

She
handed back the phone. “Does Drew know?”

“No,
not yet.”

“Are
you sure he’s the father? Have you done a paternity test?”

“Am
I sure? Yes. Paternity test? No. That’s the problem. Andrew is running for
office and he wants to keep this a secret until the election, or appointment,
is over. I’m not sure how it will go. It depends on whether the current
representative forces a special election.”

Taylor
looked uneasy. It was how I felt, too.

“But
Drew has met him?” she asked.

“Yes,
and he adores him.”

“And
that’s a problem?”

I
rubbed my temples. “Yessss.”

She
reached out and took my hand. “What do you think about him?”

Where
did I begin? “He’s probably the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. He’s
infused himself into our lives with no thought at all about how I feel about
it. But he’s amazing with Drew and they are already the best of friends. He has
him using knives and wanting to sign up for baseball.”

Taylor
laughed at me. She knew how much I disliked the sport.

“Oh,
and he’s so dang happy—I’ve never met anyone as happy and carefree as him. And
did I mention how touchy-feely he is?”

“So
you like him,” she stated.

“No
… I mean … I don’t know. I mean, I don’t like him. He slept with my sister and
got her pregnant.”

“Did
he know about Drew?”

“My
sister left him a note with my name on it telling him she was pregnant, but she
had already threatened to blackmail him, so he didn’t believe her.”

She
grimaced.

“I
know. It’s a mess. And if the press finds out about Drew, they may run my
sister’s name through the mud. She apparently had quite the reputation in the
Bears’ locker room, if you catch my drift.”

Taylor
winced. “But would it really be that bad if people knew he had a son? That
happened a long time ago.”

“He
has all these stupid advisors and they’re telling him it would be bad.” I
closed my eyes and sighed. “I feel like I’m lying to my son, and worse, I feel
trapped. I worry if I don’t play by Andrew’s rules, he’ll take me to court.”

Her
eyes widened. “Has he threatened to do that?”

“No.
He says that’s not his intent, but you know how things can change.”

“Oh,
believe me, I know. I always feel like Kathryn will rear her ugly head, even
though she would be a fool to try and get any sort of visitation or custody of
Emmy.”

I
shuddered. “I would hate to think a judge would ever rule in her favor.”

“You
and me both. So what are you going to do?” she asked.

I
shrugged my shoulders. “I’m going to do my best to protect my son, even if I
have to protect him from his father.”

“I
know that feeling,” she said. “It’s a hard place to be. I hope Andrew turns out
to be like Easton.”

“Me,
too,” I whispered. I hoped Andrew was as good as a father and person as Easton.

“Trust
your instincts. You’re a good mother. You’ll know what to do.”

I
reached over and hugged my friend. “Thanks, Taylor. Sorry to lay all this on
you. I know I don’t need to say this, but please keep this quiet. You can tell
Easton, though. In fact, if he has any advice, I’ll take it.”

“I’ll
see what he has to say and let you know. We won’t say a word.”

I
left my friend’s office feeling, I don’t know if “better” was the word, but it
always helped to know you had friends.

With
Andrew somewhat out of the way for the week, it let me focus on Halloween and
the myriad of other things I had been neglecting since he had come in and
steamrolled over my life. First up was the annual trunk-or-treat. We didn’t
live in a neighborhood conducive to trick-or-treating, so we were going to
participate in our church’s trunk-or-treat. Talking to Taylor gave me an idea
about how we could decorate our trunk. I hadn’t had the mental capacity to
think about it up until now, and I thought, what if we did a Christmas-themed
trunk? It would be unique, and I already had the decorations.

Once
I got going on it, I went a little overboard. I thought it would be clever to
wrap the full-sized candy bars we were giving away in Christmas wrapping paper.

It
entertained Andrew, at least, when he called me from Chicago. “Why are you
individually wrapping one hundred candy bars?”

“Because
it adds to the whole theme. It’s the little touches that matter.”

He
laughed at me. “I don’t think the kids will care.”

“Maybe
not, but the judges will. And our son thinks it’s pretty cool.”

“I
like it when you say
our
son.”

Did
I say that?
It was weird how I thought like that now.
“Well, I suppose it’s true,” I sighed. “Unless you’re still thinking we don’t
know yet for sure.”

“Rachel
Laine, one thing I promise you in all of this, if somehow it comes out—though I
know it won’t—I would never deny him being my son, test or no test.”

I
set down the wrapping paper and lay back on my bed. “I hope you’re telling the
truth, because that would kill him … and me. And then I would have to kill
you
.”

He
didn’t laugh like I thought he would. “I would expect nothing less of you, but
I’m not going to hurt him or you.”

Insert
another long sigh from me. I really wanted to believe him.

“Enough
of this serious stuff. We don’t need to worry about it. Tell me what you’re
wearing.”

I
laughed, like almost giggled.
Where did that come from?
“Why do we
always end up having absurd conversations?”

“Absurd?
I’m trying to get to know the mother of my child.”

“And
how does knowing that I’m wearing pajamas help you?”

“Pajamas,
huh? Well, the fact you’re wearing pajamas versus, let’s say, a nightshirt or
nighty, says a lot about you.”

“Really,
Dr. Phil? Enlighten me.”

There
was his laugh. “I’m way better looking than Dr. Phil.”

That
I would give him. “Agreed.”

“Really?”

“Moving
on …”

“Okay,
back to the pajamas. Moms wear pajamas.”

“You
already know I’m a mom.”

“The
best one I know, besides my own of course.”

I
rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “Thanks, Andrew.”

“I
mean it, but you didn’t let me finish. I’m going to dazzle you with more of my
insights.”

“By
all means, dazzle me.”

“I
bet you wear satin pajamas.”

I
ran my hand across my mid-section, and it glided across satin.

“And
they’re a feminine color, like pink.”

“I
think fuchsia is more appropriate.”

“I
like fuchsia. I also bet you have your hair pulled up in some sort of bun.”

I
reached up and touched my messy bun. And for some reason, I bit my lip like I
was nervous.

“And
now you’re wondering how I know this.” He paused.

I
didn’t say a word. I was stunned, and I had an unusual sensation in the pit of
my stomach.

“You
see, you may think of yourself as only a mom. But despite your attempts to hide
it, you’re also a woman, a very
beautiful
woman.”

“Um
… I …”

“Goodnight,
Rachel Laine.”

I
was waiting for his teasing laugh, but it never came. It had me feeling
unbalanced. “Goodnight,” I replied, quiet as a mouse.

I
was pretty sure that was the most absurd conversation we’d had to date.

~*~

As
I got ready the next morning, I took the time to study myself in the mirror. I
thought maybe Andrew was right—not about the very beautiful part—but that I had
really quit looking at myself as a woman. My whole identity was wrapped around
being Drew’s mom. That wasn’t a complaint—it was the best title ever—but I
decided that maybe I could take a little more time with my hair and make-up,
and maybe I could spruce up my wardrobe a bit.

Friday
rolled around, and Drew and I were ready to win the trunk-or-treat contest. I
made the trunk look like Christmas morning, right down to a Christmas tree,
wrapped presents, and stockings that hung from the hatch. I topped it off with some
Christmas music, hot chocolate, and individually wrapped candy bars. I also
bought a cute little elf costume for myself. I definitely didn’t look like a
mom in it. Drew went as Captain America. I tried to get him to be an elf, or
maybe even Santa, but to him, that was totally un-cool. Andrew agreed.

Andrew
was hoping to convince him to go as a Bears player. Drew didn’t jump at that
idea, to my relief. People would have known for sure something was off if he
was dressed like a baseball player. Everyone knew I had an aversion to the
sport.

Andrew
called me before we left for the event. “I wish I could be there tonight.” He
was stuck at the airport in Chicago waiting for his flight. He sounded bummed.
The Bears had lost by one point the night before. The series was over and the
Spartans were the victors.

“I’m
sorry the Bears lost.”

“I’ll
get over it, but take some pictures of Drew tonight for me.”

“I
suppose I can manage that.”

“Thanks.
I’ve missed him this week.”

“He’s
missed you, too.” I was reluctant to admit it, but it was true.

“What’s
not to miss?”

“Do
you want a list?”