'Tis the Season (25 page)

“
We'll
deal with it?” she echoed, sniffling.

“Yes. We're together, aren't we?” He lowered his head and gently kissed her forehead, lingering sweetly for a moment before his eyes pinned hers. “I love you. That means whatever is going on with you, I'm here for you. You're not alone anymore, sweetheart. Neither of us is. We have each other now, right?”

Sobbing, she grasped at him, clinging to him as if for her life. She wished she knew what the future held. How was it possible to be so elated and so terrified at the same time? The sobs ripped from her throat, and she buried her face in his chest.

“Whoa. Shhhh.” He held her tight and rubbed her back, kissing her forehead, her temple, trying to soothe her. “I'm here, sweetheart. Please try not to worry. I'm sure you're okay. Everything's going to be all right.”

She cried for a few minutes, the tsunami of emotion finally sweeping her away. So many decisions to make, so much was going to change . . . She thought about telling him then, but she wasn't ready. She wanted to fully absorb this incredible news herself before she shared it with anyone else, even him. She'd tell him soon; of course she'd have to. But not today.

When she could finally draw some deep breaths, he released her and went to the bathroom, returning with a box of tissues. She thanked him in a hoarse whisper and mopped up her face.

“You soaked through my shirt,” he said, trying to coax a smile out of her. “I guess I'll have to be half-naked while I hold you. Think you can stand that?”

She hiccupped out a watery giggle and nodded. “I'd love that, actually.”

Grinning, he pulled the charcoal gray Henley over his head and dropped it to the floor, then kicked off his shoes. As he stood there in only his glasses and jeans, even in the depths of her turmoil, Lisette couldn't help but admire him.

“You're so beautiful,” she whispered. “Inside and out.”

He smiled warmly as he reached for her hands. “Thank you.” He brought her mouth to his, kissing her tenderly. “C'mon. Nap time for you, missy.” He nudged her to sit on the bed, then pulled off her knee-high black leather boots, then moved her up the mattress and placed her in the middle of his bed. He climbed in beside her, pulled up the covers over them, and curled his arms around her until they were in a delicious cocoon.

“Thank you for all this,” she whispered against his chest, kissing his skin. “I'm too exhausted to be embarrassed or to fight you on this. So just thank you.”

“Take a deep breath,” he said. She did as she was told. “Another.” She did so.

“I love you,” she said softly, her eyes closing of their own volition. “So much.”

“I love you too,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Sleep as long as you need to.” His hands swept over her hair and back in long, tender strokes. “You have the rest of this weekend off, you hear me? Catching up on rest is what you need.”

She fell into a blissfully deep sleep, glad to be in his embrace and to escape everything for even a short while.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lisette spent the rest of the weekend in her room or out of the house, which was understandable, given Vanessa's presence. But Monday morning, Lisette was 100 percent back in action, getting the kids up and off to school. All week, Charles didn't know what Vanessa did with her time while the kids were at school, and he didn't care. But she was more than happy to let Lisette pick them all up and go through their homework with them, coming to the house around five o'clock every day for the fun parts and staying until bedtime.

As much as it pained Charles to admit it, the kids were happy. Having both women around, bathing in the affection and attention being showered on them, their collective change in mood and attitude was palpable. It hurt his heart, because he knew damn well that come December twenty-sixth, Vanessa would be gone again, and who knew when the kids would see her next?

On Wednesday night, by the time Charles got home from work, Lisette was upstairs overseeing the kids while they showered. He found Vanessa in the main living room, looking at framed photos on the mantel above the fireplace.

“Are you staying to put the kids to bed?” he asked curtly.

“Oh!” Vanessa jumped, startled. “I didn't hear you come in. Long day at the office, dear?”

“Yes, actually, it was.” He took off his glasses, pulled a microfiber cloth from the inside pocket of his jacket, and wiped the lenses clean. “So my patience for you is thinner than usual.”

Her eyes slid over him. “Always dressed like a gentleman, even at home. Do you wear your suit and tie right up until you go to bed?” she teased. “Or do you sleep in them too? You must; probably helps keep the stick up your ass firmly in place.”

He shot her a withering look, then crossed the room. The small wet bar was half-hidden by the enormous Christmas tree. He reached for the scotch and poured himself a dram. “So I hear you're planning to be here for Christmas morning? Were you going to discuss that with me, since you invited yourself to my house?”

“About that . . .” She turned and walked slowly toward him. “Yes, I'd like to be here for that. I know you don't want me here, and I've been staying at the hotel every night like you demanded. But yes, I'd really like to be here on Christmas Eve and stay over, so I can wake up with the kids on Christmas morning.” She bit down on her lip and added, “I haven't had that with them in a long time.”

“Your own doing,” he said. His tone conveyed no sympathy or tolerance.

“I know that.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “When I spoke to them on Thanksgiving, they all sounded so different . . . They're getting bigger. They're growing up. And I'm missing it all.”

“Again, your choice.”

“I know that! Just get off your high horse for two minutes and let me speak, okay?” Her pale green eyes flashed as she brushed her sleek black hair back over her shoulders. “I came here only because I missed them. You don't have to take shots at me every chance you get, Charles. I know I'm a shitty mother.”

“A shitty mother?” He smirked with cool disdain. “You'd have to actually
be
a mother to even qualify as a shitty one.” Raising the heavy glass to his lips, he took a swallow of scotch. She glared at him, obviously wanting to snap back, but holding her tongue.
Wow, she must really want whatever she's about to ask me for
. “What do you want, Vanessa? Just say it.”

She drew a deep breath. “I'd like to sleep here on Christmas Eve, and stay for Christmas Day with the kids. And sleep over again that night. Then I'll leave on the twenty-sixth, like I said I would.”

“Where are you off to then?” he asked. “Must have plans, or you wouldn't be so amenable to keeping your word.”

“Saint Tropez,” she admitted quietly.

“Ah! That sounds more like you.” He took another sip, then loosened the knot of his tie. “I'll allow you to come here and stay over on Christmas Eve. Not for you, but for the children, because they'd love to have you here. I don't think Myles even remembers ever sharing a Christmas with you.”

Color darkened her face. “I know.”

He studied her, his head cocking to the side. “What's this really about, Vanessa? I feel as if I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Just cut to the chase, and maybe we can work out whatever it is you're really pushing for here.”

She met his eyes. “I have no agenda, Charles.”

“I don't believe that for a second,” he ground out.

“My kids don't know me!” she cried. “That's my fault, yes. And I'm not saying I'm going to sue you for partial custody, or that I'm even moving back to New York. I'm not. I just want to see them more. That's all.”

He set his glass down on the bar and walked to her, his eyes never leaving her face. “Why do you suddenly care about the kids? You never have before.”

“That's not true,” she whispered. “I've always loved them. I care. I just . . . wanted to do other things. Staying here with them when they were little . . . I was bored out of my mind, Charles.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You were at work all the time, sucking up to your father, getting ready to inherit the crown. I was here, with two and then three babies, going insane. I'm not . . .” She scowled, shifted her weight. “I'm not the ‘mommy' type. I'm not good with babies. I'm better with bigger kids, where you can actually talk to them, you know?”

“No. I don't know. Your kids are your kids.” He hoped he sounded lethal, but some things she said resonated more than he wanted to admit. She sounded an awful lot like his mother, thirty years before. He'd heard the arguments between his parents. He was the oldest; when his parents divorced and Laura was basically banished from her kids' lives, Charles had already been fourteen. He'd heard her say eerily similar things to his father, on more than one occasion. It made his stomach churn. “You can stay for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I host Christmas Eve, so we'll all be here, and you'll have to deal with the rest of my family. Christmas morning, you can be here with the kids. But we go to dinner at my father's, around three o'clock. You really want to see
all
the Harrisons, by all means join us.”

She visibly shuddered. “Think I'll take a pass on that. I can have dinner here by myself. Then I can see the kids after they get home from your father's, since I'll be leaving the next day.”

“Do what you want.” He strode back to the bar, grabbed his glass, and knocked back the rest. “It's been a long day, Vanessa. Help Lisette put the kids to bed, then leave.” He started to walk out of the living room.

“Charles,” Vanessa said.

He turned to look at her, an eyebrow arched, waiting.

“Thank you,” she said.

She actually seemed sincere. It didn't matter if she was or not. He was being magnanimous for the kids, not for her. “Good night, Vanessa.”

He left the living room, turned, and almost smacked right into Lisette. “Hey, hi.”

“Hi,” she said softly. “I wasn't eavesdropping. I came down to tell Vanessa the kids are ready for bed, but I couldn't find her.”

With a flick of his chin, he gestured back over his shoulder. “She's in there.”

“I figured, when I heard your voices.”

“Any news back from the doctor yet?” he asked, dropping his voice so Vanessa couldn't hear. “The test results?”

She shook her head, but a hint of color bloomed on her cheeks. “Nope. Still waiting.”

Her blushes were her tell. Was she holding out on him? He had a gut feeling she wasn't telling him something, and his gut rarely steered him wrong.

“I got a dress today,” she whispered. “It's . . . extravagant.”

“For the gala?” He couldn't hold back his smile. “Can't wait to see it. I bet it's gorgeous, and you'll be stunning.”

“If I'm not hyperventilating,” she said. “I'm so nervous about going . . . You know I hate crowds, much less something like this.”

“Don't be nervous. I'll be right there with you. It's going to be great.”

She gazed at him. “You're really ready to tell the world about us?”

“Hell yes.” He reached up to grab the end of her long braid and curled the end around his finger. Leaning in closer, he whispered in her ear, “I'll text you when I know Vanessa has left the house. So you can come to my room.”

She grinned and bit down on her lip. “Sounds good.”

* * *

The night before the ball, Charles made Vanessa wait alone in the den and took the kids up to his bedroom. “I need to talk to you guys,” he told them. “It's important, and it's kind of private. You guys can keep a secret for tonight, right?”

“Sure we can!” Myles yelped, excitement in his eyes.

“You can't keep a secret to save your life,” Thomas sniffed.

“I can too!” Myles insisted as they got to the top of the second staircase.

“No, you can't,” Thomas retorted.

“Don't fight,” Charles said calmly.

“Is everything okay, Daddy?” Ava asked.

He glanced at her. She looked apprehensive. “Yes, sweetie, everything's fine. I promise. Come on.” He ushered the three kids down the hall, into his room, and closed the door behind them. Lisette stood in the middle of the room, twisting her hands. He tossed her a wink, meant to reassure. He could almost see the waves of nervousness coming off of her.

“What's going on?” Ava asked.

“Sit down, you guys,” Charles said, nudging them toward the wide loveseat beside the window. He pulled the chair from the corner over so Lisette could sit facing them, and sat on the arm of the chair. “Everyone comfortable?”

“Are we in trouble for something?” Thomas asked, looking from one adult to the other.

“Is this about Mom?” Ava asked.

“No, and no,” Charles said firmly. “Everything's fine. It's really good, actually.” He took a deep breath, gazing at his three kids.
Please God, let this go well.
“Lisette and I just wanted to tell you something.”

“The thing is,” Lisette said, her voice a little higher and more breathless than usual, “we have some news, and we wanted you guys to be the first ones to know.”

“Awesome!” Myles chirped.

“You don't even know what it is,” Thomas said, rolling his eyes at his little brother.

“But we're the first!” Myles said. “I like that.”

Ava sat silently, her eyes filled with worry.

“So . . . about two months ago,” Charles began, “Um . . . Lisette and I started spending a little time together. In a way that was different than usual. Because we . . . started becoming friends. I really like her, and she likes me. We get along well, and—”

“Are you like boyfriend-girlfriend now?” Ava cried, eyes wide.

Lisette laughed softly, even as she blushed. She looked to Charles.

He nodded as he grinned at the kids. “Well, yes, actually. We are. And I know that may be a little confusing, since Lisette is your nanny. But we . . . we're going to be together, but we wanted you three to know first.”

“This . . . is weird,” Thomas said, looking from one to the other.

“I think it's romantic,” Ava said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“What do you know about romance, young lady?” Charles demanded jokingly.

“I know things,” Ava said. She stared at them. “I . . . I like this. If you two are happy, then I'm happy.”

Lisette's breath caught, and she looked up at Charles in wonder.

“Sometimes,” Charles marveled at his daughter, “you seem like you're nineteen instead of nine, I swear.”

“I'm not confused at all,” Myles proclaimed with a big smile. “I get two mommies now.”

Charles and Lisette were both dumbstruck. Before they could say anything, Myles hopped up from the loveseat and flung himself at Lisette, hugging her. “I already love you, so this is great!”

Lisette's eyes closed as her arms wrapped around the boy. Tears slid down her cheeks. “I love you too,” she whispered against his ear.

Charles was so moved, he didn't think he could speak.

“I don't need a replacement mom. Is that what this is going to be like?” Thomas said.

“What?” Charles blinked. “No. We're not getting married or anything; we only just started dating seriously a few weeks ago.”

“You've been dating for weeks,” Thomas said, “and you're only telling us now?”

“Because we wanted to wait,” Charles said, “to make sure this was going to work. Going to be something serious enough to share with others. Do you understand?”

“No, and I don't care.” Thomas stood up and headed for the door. “Can I go now?”

“No,” Charles said to his son, springing up. “Wait, please.”

“Why?” Thomas scowled. “You're together, okay, fine. Why does it have to be a big secret?”

“Well, it doesn't, really,” Charles hedged, “now that you three know. But, um . . .”

“Thomas.” Lisette released Myles, brushed away her tears quickly, and went to him. “There are some people who might think this situation is as weird as you do. And they may not be very nice about it.”

“Like who?” Thomas asked.

Like my father
, Charles thought.
Like the snotty moms of your friends at school. Like maybe even some of your friends.
This was what Lisette had been worrying about. Why hadn't that fully hit him before now? Why hadn't he listened?