Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

JACE

Cal gave me a large bonus for helping him finish the house early—three days before Christmas—and Mary finally took Dottie, proprietor of Tea of Fortune and sometimes officiant, up on her many offers to babysit so we could go out to dinner. I’m somewhat shocked that Mary agreed to it, both because it’s Dottie and because it’s the night before Christmas Eve. Then again, Mary keeps surprising both of us.

I reach across the linen-draped table and curl my fingers over hers. Her mouth lifts into the softest of smiles, and my chest fills with heat.

This woman makes me feel things I never thought were possible.

Mary told me that Glenn has been reaching out to her, saying he wants to see Aidan. While she wants Aidan to have a relationship with his father, she’s worried about Glenn’s motivations, especially since the first time he texted was the night his mother questioned Mary about me. I’m not surprised by his sudden interest. He deserted his family, but he doesn’t want any other man to have the honor of being in their lives.

“Heard anything else from Glenn?” I ask, at the risk of ruining our night.

She doesn’t look irritated by the question, thankfully. “He hasn’t given me any more pushback. The plan is for us to talk after Christmas and possibly schedule a visit for after the New Year. Speaking of Christmas, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Roger.”

My brow lifts slightly in surprise.

“I know Mrs. Rosa has plans with her family, but what’s Roger going to do? You said you’ve spent the last three Christmases with him.”

“Well,” I say carefully. Mary’s already asked me to Christmas dinner with her family, and Aidan invited me to come over in the morning to open gifts. “I thought maybe Roger and I could spend time together before I come to your house. Maybe make a terrible breakfast casserole.”

My heart aches for my friend. Christmas was always special for him and his wife, and now the holiday is hard for him. We usually spend the entire day together, and I was already feeling guilty about leaving him to his own resources for dinner. Now I’ll be gone for most of the day. Worse, when I told him, he just patted my hand and said Cleo was fine enough company for him and reminded me that I’d better not fuck things up with Mary, especially if I didn’t want to end up alone in my eighties with an indifferent cat for company. He didn’t even say it to make me feel guilty; he meant every word.

“That’s a good idea,” she says, her eyes soft. “But what about inviting him to dinner?”

My breath catches.

“It’s just…I hate the idea of Roger being alone,” she says. “Do you think he’d be open to coming over?” Her smile widens. “Half of Asheville will already be there. I know there’s space for one more.”

Her sister Maisie is hosting dinner for all of the O’Shea sisters and their partners, plus her husband Jack’s family. Dottie will be there too, apparently, which means both Mary and I will steer clear of any red food. Mary’s worried it’ll be too much for Aidan, and honestly, I am too, but he’s adamant about going, and Maisie promised that she and Jack have a plan for making sure a good time is had by all.

One of Roger’s defining characteristics is that he loves to talk. He’s just run out of people to talk to, other than me and Mrs. Rosa.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yeah. I think he’d really like that.”

Her fingers squeeze mine. “Good. It’s settled.” Then she sobers. “Have you decided how to approach Amanda?”

Dennis has gathered even more evidence of Lester’s crimes, both against Hagan Construction and others. Mary was right—this really is bigger than me and my family. It’s too big to sit on, and Mary and I have made an appointment to present the information to the state attorney general after Christmas. Given her role, Amanda’s sure to get caught in the crossfire.

“I’ve been thinking about going to see her. To warn her.”

Mary’s lips purse. “There might be another way to handle this,” she says carefully.

“I’m listening.”

“Sydney is a small town, and Dennis says your parents were highly respected. How worried will she be about her reputation?”

It takes a moment for her words to sink in. “Uh.” I sit up straighter. “Very. She was embarrassed when I went to prison.” I draw in a breath, seeing everything in a new light. “Or at least that’s what she claimed.”

My mind is racing now, dread rising as I try to make sense of my sister’s actions all those years ago. “Do you have any proof she was part of my arrest or sentencing?” Our relationship has been adversarial since Dad’s death, but would she really do something like that?

“No. Just that she fed him information.”

I think about it some more, relieved that I can’t make it square. “I don’t think she liked that I was sent to prison. I doubt she would have helped make it happen.”

“At least knowingly,” Mary says. She looks me in the eyes. “Do you think you can repair your relationship with her?”

“It would be hard, but I’d be willing to try for Ben’s sake,” I say. “I doubt she’d say the same.”

“That’s what I thought.” She folds her hands on the table. “My plan is for you to tell her what you have on her and Lester. If she still insists on keeping you out of Ben’s life, then it’s time to play hardball. You can insinuate that Lester’s not the only one who’s going to have his secrets made public, but you might feel less chatty if she lets you have visitation with Ben.”

I stare at her in surprise, then grin. “I think you just suggested blackmail, Mary O’Shea.”

“Technically, it’s extortion,” she says with a wicked gleam in her eyes, “so that’s why you need to let her be the one to make the offer. And we’ll draw up a contract to hold her to it.”

My heart is heavy over Amanda’s betrayal, but I’m not all that surprised. She’s always been an opportunist. Which is exactly why I suspect she’ll go for the deal. But I can’t let myself get too excited about Ben just yet. I don’t think I can deal with any more disappointment on that front.

The waiter passes our table, and I motion for him to bring the check. “You’re turning into a bad girl,” I tease as the waiter hurries off.

She leans closer, her eyes dancing. “What can I say? You’ve been a very bad influence.”

Weeks ago, she wouldn’t have been laughing like this. She would have been scandalized. My cock springs to life.

“How about I take you home and try to corrupt you even more after Aidan goes to bed?”

She laughs. “Maybe I can extort you into helping me wrap the last of my Christmas gifts first.”

My gaze drops to the V-neck of her dress—the one she barely wore to Nicole’s wedding—showing the barest hint of cleavage.

“I think I’d rather unwrap your dress,” I murmur.

She blushes, but she doesn’t look like she wants to crawl under the table. I consider that a win.

I pay for our dinner as Mary checks the to-go box the waiter brought with the bill—a piece of chocolate cake for Aidan. Then we walk hand in hand into the cold December night. I press her back against the car, covering her body with mine to block the wind. She lifts her chin, leaning back to look up at me. I kiss her softly, but when she sighs her contentment, I increase the heat, my tongue parting her lips.

Her body sags, but I’ve already wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close.

“I’m not a believer in PDA,” she says when our lips part.

“I can tell,” I say with a grin.

“Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself these days. I brought fortune-telling tea to my boss’s secular Christmas party today, and now we’re making out in a parking lot like two teenagers.”

There’s wonder in her voice, but her words give me pause. “We can slow down, Mary. I’m not going anywhere.”

She weaves a hand into my hair, drawing me in for another kiss, her lips branding me with their heat. When she pulls back, there’s a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Absolutely not. I happen to like who I’m becoming. Still, I’d rather not get arrested for public indecency. Let’s go home.”

Home.

Mary and Aidan’s house is beginning to feel like home, and sometimes, when I let myself, I imagine a life with them. Marriage, a baby—Mary confessed that she’d wanted another child, but given Glenn’s disinterest in parenting, she’d already felt like a single parent to Aidan. The thought of parenting two had overwhelmed her.

I can see this glorious future full of love and peace, but I don’t let the fantasy go too far. While I’ve never been a superstitious man, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that part of me is terrified this promising new life could still slip through my fingers.

Worry comes into her eyes—she’s noticed the shift in me—so I offer her a smile. “It’s freezing. Maybe we can make some hot chocolate with Aidan.”

Given the amount of hot chocolate made in her house— home , I hear her saying—it’s always a sure bet.

We’re quiet most of the way home, our fingers entwined while we listen to an instrumental Christmas song, but there’s no tension in the car. Not even the sexual tension that drove us from the restaurant. Instead, it feels like we’re surrounded by a cloud of contentment. I feel a sense of belonging I’ve never experienced before, and somehow, I know she feels it too. I might have gone into this holiday season feeling annoyed by every Christmas tree and shining light, but now I’m like a kid on Christmas morning.

When we’re two blocks from the house, Mary’s phone rings. Her eyes widen at the sight of the number, and she almost drops the phone in her haste to answer. “Dottie? Is everything okay?” There’s a pause. Then her body stiffens. “What?”

I don’t know what’s happening, but I automatically press on the gas pedal, driving slightly over the speed limit to get us back faster.

“We’re almost home,” Mary continues. “Just keep him outside if you can.” She hangs up, her jaw clenched, and squeezes the phone.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my hands gripping the steering wheel.

“It’s Glenn. He’s here. Then, before she can tell me more, I notice the shiny Mercedes-Benz sedan in the driveway as I pull up in front of her house.

“How did he find out where you live?” I ask. “Have you told him the address?” Even as I ask the question, I remember that his parents pick Aidan up every other week. They could have given it to him, or he could have found it written down somewhere.

“No,” she says, her fingers fumbling with her seat belt latch. She’s clearly panicking, and I notice that, while she told Dottie to keep Glenn outside, he’s neither in his car nor on her front porch.

Before I can comment on this, she’s out of the truck, running across the front yard to the door, but the stiletto heels she borrowed from her sister Molly keep sinking into the lawn.

I’m next to her within seconds, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her up, practically hauling her to the front porch. Her hands are shaking, so I reach for the front door, but she puts her hand over mine and looks up at me in alarm.

Why is she so scared? Sure, she’s still legally married, but Glenn signed away his parental rights, and she’s planning to officially file for divorce the first week of January. Is Glenn capable of violence? I don’t think so. I’m sure she would have mentioned that by now, and besides, he seems too cowardly—not that it’s stopped cowardly men before. That’s when it hits me: this prick has been dismissive of Aidan for his whole life, long before he walked out on him, and now he’s in there alone with him. No, not alone. He’s with Dottie, but she’s in her eighties. How can she protect a six-year-old boy from a bully?

Mary throws the door open, and I scan the living room to get my first glimpse of Glenn the Prick, but there’s no sign of him. No sign of Aidan or Dottie either. Panic takes hold, and I experience a moment of pure terror before I hear a man’s voice coming from the kitchen. “I suppose if you consider this tea—”

“It’s a special blend, young man,” I hear Dottie say, “made expressly for you.”

“If you don’t like it, we could have hot chocolate instead,” Aidan says as Mary and I lunge through the living room and the attached dining room toward the kitchen. “But Mom’s not here to make it.”

“Because she’s out on her date ,” the man sneers.

Mary and I reach the doorway, and Glenn comes into view, sitting on a chair at the kitchen table as if it’s his table. No doubt it was, once upon a time.

I’m not sure what I expected him to look like, but he’s about an inch shorter than me, with dark hair and a pinched-looking face. It’s the expression of a man who’s permanently displeased, or maybe I just think so because I already loathe him. Despite the fact that he’s presumably not here for work and his job is currently in Northern Virginia, at least seven hours away, he’s in a dress shirt and tie and still hasn’t taken off his dark gray wool overcoat. From the look he gives me, I gather he wore it for my benefit.

“With the ex-con,” he says, unnecessarily.

Aidan is sitting at the table, his hand and the zipper on his jacket shooting up and down in rapid succession. When he sees his mother, he bolts out of his chair. “Dad’s home. He came home, Mom.”

He doesn’t seem pleased about it, necessarily, more like he’s confused by the whole thing and isn’t sure how to feel, and who could blame him?

She gives her son a smile so tight it looks like her face will crack. “This isn’t Dad’s home, silly. This is our home. He’s just dropping by for a visit.”

She’s trying to keep her tone light, but there’s a sharp edge to it that I hope Aidan doesn’t pick up on.

Dottie is standing next to the small kitchen table, holding a teapot I didn’t even know Mary had. Did Dottie bring it with her?

“It’s late, Glenn,” Mary says, her back ramrod stiff. “You should have called before coming over.”

He rises from the chair slowly, as though he’s a man of importance, and something about the way he does it reminds me of Lester Montague. I have to grit my teeth against the desire to kick him out on his sorry ass.

“Mary,” he says with an air of familiarity. “You’ve never been one to go out on the weekends. You’re a homebody. Why would I need to call and see if you were here first?” The insult is wrapped in condescension, and my hands fist at my sides.

“Dottie,” Mary says in a controlled voice, “would you be so kind as to take Aidan to his room and help him put on his pajamas?”

“Of course, dear.” She shoots Glenn a dark look, then hurries over to Aidan.

“I don’t want to go to bed yet,” Aidan says, his voice rising. “Dad just got here. I haven’t seen him in three hundred and fifty-two days.”

I feel a twinge of pain for him. He counted.

“Maybe you can see him after you put on your pajamas,” I say, trying to hide my anger. Aidan can already sense the tension in the air. I don’t need to add to his distress. “In fact, why don’t you wear that new pair Mrs. Rosa gave you last weekend?”

She gave him a pair of pajamas with dancing cartoon ankylosauruses. Aidan wasn’t sure he liked them at first—not because they’re cartoons but because they’re dancing with brontosauruses. “It’s impossible,” he said in outrage. “They were in two completely different ages.” (How can this kid be so fucking smart? I didn’t even know that at thirty-five.) But he decided to let that go, and now they’re his new favorite. I knew that Mary washed them this morning and set them out to help with the sting of us going out without him.

Aidan’s hand is flying on his zipper now, but he doesn’t hesitate and immediately walks toward me, his little body tense.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Glenn snaps at me, seemingly oblivious to Aidan’s distress. “You have no right to tell my kid what to do.”

“Glenn!” Mary cries out. “Language!”

“Saying fuck around him is the least of my concerns,” he says as Aidan reaches me and moves behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

As much as I want to lay this guy out, Aidan needs me, and Mary is more than capable of handling Glenn on her own. After the hell he’s put her and Aidan through, I think she wants that, maybe needs it. I take Aidan’s hand and lead him to his room, even as he looks back at the kitchen, hearing Glenn the Prick lecture Mary on exposing her son to “that criminal.”

When Aidan and I are in his room, I shut the door.

“Are you a criminal, Jace?” Aidan asks, his zipper still flying up and down.

I sit on the edge of his bed and look him in the eye. “When I was twenty years old, I took something that wasn’t mine and broke it on purpose. It was a very bad thing to do, and I went to jail for it. But I’m sorry for what I did, and I never, ever hurt anyone. Just a car.”

He watches me with solemn eyes, and we can hear Mary and Glenn’s muffled shouting. He doesn’t say anything else, but I can tell he’s scared and close to a meltdown.

“Are you scared of me?” I ask, terrified to hear the answer. Still, I have to ask. If he’s scared of me, I’m the last person who should be in here with him.

He slowly shakes his head and whispers, “I didn’t feel right before you came back from dinner, but I feel better now. Even though they’re not using inside voices.”

I draw in a shaky breath, light-headed with relief that he trusts me but also eager to make this right for him. “Do you want to skip the pajamas for now and just get in your cool-down tent?”

He nods, then climbs in and sits cross-legged. I grab his noise-cancelling headphones from his dresser drawer, then lay his small weighted blanket over his lap.

His zipper is still going, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to lose it, thank God.

I lean over and kiss his forehead. “I love you, buddy. I’m going to make this right.”

Then I get up and head to the kitchen, shutting his door behind me.