24. We’ll See

Nadia

Iwas setting the dining room table at Riggs's house.

Abigail had broken the seal on it, and I'd kept that open considering the view, the fact I loved Riggs's gorgeous, round table with its intricately carved pedestal and beautifully veined marble top, and that, even though it was huge and seated twelve, we could sit on a curve and see each other in order to talk.

But mostly, so Riggs could sit with his legs under it and eat comfortably.

It was Friday evening and the last three days had been blissfully uneventful.

First, no "hauntings."

Second, no break-ins.

Riggs had fixed the cabin's back door, installed the storm doors and the cameras (and mounted my new flag, which I was right, it looked great out front), and I had a program on my laptop where I could see what was happening on all sides of my house and into the area by where the stables used to be. These feeds were sent immediately to a cloud so we could review them if needed.

Or provide them as evidence.

Riggs then got stuck into a commission he was supposed to be doing during his down time. Sometimes, I hung with him while he did that, due to the fact his workshop was less a workshop and more a man cave, and I liked being out there with him.

Sure, there were lots of tools and work benches and sawhorses and equipment around.

But there was also a beat-up couch, an even more beat-up recliner, a massive flat screen TV, a game console, and to my hilarity, a lot of posters of scantily clad women on the walls. Not so scantily it was gross Ledger would see them, but the sheer number of them was impressive.

He had a shiny motorcycle, heavy on the chrome, parked in there, and two ATVs.

I had started journalling (admittedly, this was mostly about Riggs), so I did it in there with him, finding copious times to study him while he worked. Enjoying the vibe he gave off, the feel of the creative space he entered, the intensity of his focus, and watching the piece he was working on take shape (an intricate arbor made of iron that was going to be installed outside the local fancy hotel with the award-winning spa, the Pinetop Lodge, so people could get married under it).

Since I couldn't read around him, sometimes I went back to the cabin to do that, and I'd broken the seal on the hammock (which was heavenly).

Then there were my daily trips to spend time with Gia (yes, we were making progress, no, we weren't making Hutch's usual progress, yes, he was going to let me have her anyway because he said she moped when I wasn't around, which, of course, meant my baby needed to come to her new home as soon as possible, this being set at Monday).

I also shared more honestly with friends about how things were going, and yes, this included telling Maribeth all about Riggs (she was beside herself with glee I was "moving on" from Trevor, "finally"—she was more excited when I texted her a picture of Riggs).

As for Riggs and me, we gave up my porch loveseat that was temporarily unavailable to us in order to sit in front of his fire in his living room, and I endured his gentle probing about my mom, my grandfather, and some about Maribeth and Susan and other friends. In fact, my entire life in Chicago.

I knew this was all a lead-up so he'd have the history and know the players when I finally laid the big stuff on him. But he made it safe, and I liked talking about my life.

Though, I tried to ignore how he'd sometimes seem to retreat and get broody when I talked about all I had when I was home. And I did that because it indicated to me, he didn't like the idea that I'd be returning.

It might not be that, but it wouldn't be easing into anything at this early juncture in our relationship if I demanded, even carefully, to know his thoughts about that, so I let it be.

When or if he was ready to do that, or I was, we'd discuss it.

We also caught a few more episodes of Only Murders in the Building because it all couldn't be weighty all the time.

I went to sleep every night in Riggs's bed, but before I fell asleep, I was elated he spent a great deal of time in me.

And Riggs and I woke up in plenty of time I could do my thing, hustle back to the guest room, change clothes, and he and I could deal with Ledger in the mornings.

He resolutely did school runs, concerned that Angelica might take that opportunity to show and take potshots at me. Also, because it gave him more time with his son.

But tonight, Abigail was over, and we were cooking dinner, and Riggs had decided (and I agreed) that tonight was the night we were going to tell his son and his mother we were a thing.

"Nadia."

I turned from putting a knife on one of the placemats I bought Riggs to see she was standing by the stairwell column, closed off on the dining room side, but still wood paneled so the part of it that extended into the round room was a feature.

"Call down to the boys, would you?" she asked. "Give them a heads-up dinner will be ready in twenty minutes."

"Will do," I said.

She disappeared.

I finished setting the table and headed to the window.

Riggs and Ledger were on the pier, had the tarp pulled back on an edge of the fishing boat and were doing something.

The windows were open to let in the fresh air, so I called through the screen, "Guys! Dinner in twenty!"

Ledger turned and waved.

Riggs, who was crouched by the boat, twisted his neck to look up at me, and still, in that position, managed to jut his chin out at me.

God, he was totally and completely such a man.

But I liked it.

Trevor had been a man too (not as much as Riggs, but he had). And I definitely liked him.

I was about to move away from the window when something caught my eye. A flash in the woods some ways down from my cabin, close to the southern end of the lake.

I didn't see it directly, but it seemed like the sun struck something and caused a reflection.

I kept my eyes aimed that way, but it didn't happen again.

In normal circumstances, I wouldn't think about it.

In these circumstances, I made a note to tell Riggs. It was probably nothing, but it might be hunters or someone on his land who shouldn't be, and he should know.

I rejoined Abigail in the kitchen. We were making her menu of roast rosemary chicken, mashed potatoes with roasted garlic, gravy, green beans and dinner rolls. Not to be outdone by my stout cake both Riggs boys kept raving about, she'd brought over a homemade carrot cake that looked dreamy.

I didn't have a competitive bone in my body.

But a cake competition I could get into.

"The potatoes ready to whip up?" I asked.

She stopped testing them with the tip of a knife and turned to me.

"I'm going to apologize in advance to you. Some of my friends say I can be too direct. But I'm afraid it's something I can't rein in when it comes to one of my children."

Here we go.

She didn't delay.

"I thought you were returning home after Doc completed his work on your house," she noted.

"I was. But he's not comfortable with me going back until I get Gia. And Hutch says I can bring her home on Monday."

"Gia?"

"The guard-dog-slash-pet I'm getting. She's a trained guard dog. But she's also very cute and slobbery and cuddly, so I sometimes forget that, thus, I'm kind of a bad influence on her."

Abigail's lips quirked.

"You should know," I started. "My name is Nadia Williams, but I'm an Antonov, as in an Antonov Vodka Antonov. My grandfather sold the company, but he did it for a lot of money."

"I see," she said softly.

"Which means I'm loaded, and that means Riggs is worried about me being alone in that cabin, especially after the break-in. Even though we're assured as much as we can be that they got what they came for, Riggs is a lot less assured than me."

"You use the word ‘we' a lot with regard to my son."

Well, one could say I blew that.

"Um…"

"Let me guess, Doc wants to get into that at dinner," she deduced.

"Got it in one," I mumbled.

"I hope you don't mind, but I went in and had a few words with Harry," she stated. "And I can assure you, he did his best to guide me to discovering what I wanted him to tell me from the source. Though, I'm the kind of woman who doesn't take no for an answer when something is important. So I knew you're an Antonov."

"Okay," I said slowly.

Her face changed, and I braced against the change.

"I also know what happened recently, and I can't tell you how sorry I am," she said gently.

"Thanks, but no offense, I'm not really good at talking about it," I said in a rush.

"No offense in return, darlin', but you better get good at talking about it, or it'll eat you up."

"Abigail—"

"My friends call me Gail."

That was nice.

"Gail, I'm not good at talking about it because I haven't fully processed it."

"It's a lot to process."

It sure was.

"I will share that Riggs is all in to help me when I'm ready," I admitted.

"That's my son. From a young age, he was so determined to prove to everyone he wasn't his father, he learned to be helpful. Did it so much, and he was so good at it, it became a part of him. It's now just as much of what makes Doc as that brain he has, which works in miraculous ways, and the dark hair on his head."

"Yes," I agreed.

"He's told me he's told you about his father."

I nodded.

"Okay, then we have to get to mashing potatoes to feed our boys."

Our boys?

She carried on. "But the first thing I'd like to say is, if I'd realized the man John was in time to do something about it, and I had the resources to cut him out of my life, I would have done that without a second thought. I further would have done everything in my power to keep him away from them. I would also have made up some fanciful story so my children would think the second half of the whole that created them was an amazing man they could be proud of."

Apparently, Harry had told her quite a bit, and I fleetingly wondered how he knew.

I looked away.

"I see your mother did that," she remarked.

"It was a lie," I told the counter.

"It was a mother's love," she refuted.

A mother's love.

Tears hit my eyes, a whole load of them, instantly.

The front door opened.

Automatically, I looked that way.

Riggs was in first, he took one look at me and lost his mind.

"What the fuck?" he exploded.

"Doc—" Abigail began.

"Again, what the fuck?" he demanded, though he hadn't given her the opportunity to answer the first time.

"I'm fine," I assured.

"You're fucking crying," he retorted.

"Are you okay, Nadia?" Ledger asked, staring with worry at me.

I sniffed and got it together. "I am, sweetheart."

Riggs was now in the kitchen. He hooked me at the waist and dragged me into his side, his eyes on his mother.

"Explain," he barked.

"Actually, it'd be nice if you and Ledger would go wash your hands so Nadia and I could finish our discussion. I'll call you when we're done," she replied.

Though I admired how ballsy she was, that wasn't the right thing to say, I could tell right away.

Quickly, I put my hand to Riggs's throat and his head angled down.

"We were talking about my mom, baby," I said quietly.

He relaxed.

"And I'm okay. Honestly," I continued. "But can you take Ledger somewhere and explain it to him?"

"Right," he muttered, gave me a squeeze, let me go and turned to his boy. "Let's go, kid. We'll clean up in my bathroom."

"'Kay, Dad," Ledger mumbled, walking away, his gaze on me.

When we lost sight of them, I turned back to Abigail. "Sorry about that."

"Some kid in high school called Kate a fat ass within Doc's hearing, and my son was suspended for a week. It took some fancy dancing for me to convince his family not to press charges."

"Whoa," I whispered, though I wasn't really surprised.

That was pure Riggs.

"Sadly, my Kate smoked. Fortunately, it wasn't for very long. However, when she did, she was out at a bar with her brother, and some man tried to bum a smoke from her. She refused, so he called her stupid bitch, and luckily my son was older and wiser, so that time, he just chased him out of the bar. That said, it's probably good he didn't catch him."

I pressed my lips together and spread them out.

"I can see you're not ready to talk about your mom, darlin', so I'll lay off," she shared.

"Thanks," I replied.

"But I hope I've also shared I'm there if you need me."

"Thanks for that too," I repeated more heartily.

"And the other thing I wanted to get into was that I've waited a really long time for my son's remarkable intelligence to catch up to, and then surpass, the damage of his father's abuse."

I braced again.

It was good I did. She wasn't done.

"He saw things and experienced things I will go to my grave regretting I allowed him to see and feel."

"I'm sure you?—"

She held up a hand.

I shut up.

She dropped her hand.

"You can try to absolve me. My kids have tried to absolve me. It's a mother's burden. Even if it wasn't that extreme, anything that hurts them, we take accountability for it. It's our job, Nadia. I think from the emotion I just saw around losing your mom, you know that."

I remembered, as stark as if it happened yesterday, seeing the depths of my pain plain on my mom's face when I walked out of Trevor's hospice room after we lost him.

And one of the things that plagued me was knowing she not only died fighting for her life, but she did it knowing I'd not only lose her, but I'd find out about my father, and know he did that to her. I knew her through to my soul, so I knew those were her last thoughts.

And I hated that with a power my mind couldn't contain, so I refrained from thinking about it at all.

So yes.

Oh yes.

I knew that.

I nodded.

"Therefore, I cannot tell you how happy I am, when he finally extricated his head from his ass, it was with a woman like you."

Oh Lord.

"I see you see how things are now," I noted. "But I feel I have to tell you, we're very new, and we're easing into it, and we don't even know what this is yet."

"Did you experience the same thing I just experienced when my son walked in this house?"

I did.

Don't hope, Nadia, don't hope!

I nodded again.

"He's never, not once, even as a teenager, had a relationship with a woman that lasted more than a couple of weeks, and I don't count that woman who bore his child."

Oh my God.

He hadn't?

Abigail kept going.

"He's terrified of becoming his father in every way, and he loves me very, very much. And the thought he has that in him, what his father did to me, his sister, eats at him. But I see the progression. How he is with Ledger. How much his son is devoted to him. How he's not making the same mistakes his father did. And now, I see he's learned he's able to give himself you."

"I'm not sure, in that way, Gail, he's a man that can be tamed," I cautioned carefully.

She looked to the door Riggs had come through, and she did this pointedly, before she looked at me.

And then she said, "We'll see."

I came,and per usual, I did it hard, digging my heels in Riggs's back, arching my spine, fisting my hand in his hair.

He lapped at me through the aftermath of my orgasm, then he gently pulled my legs from his shoulders before he kissed the skin above my pubic hair, then my belly, my midriff, between my breasts, the base of my throat, finally, Riggs, and his stubble, marked my neck, something he had a fondness for doing.

I'd woken up with mild beard burn every day for three days, and it wasn't just around my mouth.

I also wasn't complaining.

He rolled us so he was on his back, I was tucked to his side, and since he'd had his earlier (and I'd also had my first, Riggs was just a man driven to overachieve—again, not complaining), he pulled the covers over us.

I settled in.

"Think that went good," he murmured.

"Yeah," I replied drowsily. "You just ate more pussy leaving a woman satisfied. Fuck you, Bubbles."

His body moved as his chuckle sounded, his arm tightened around me, and he said, "I mean telling Mom and Ledge about you and me."

Oh.

"It did, after you shouted at your mother. Then you jumped the gun and told Ledger about us when you two were up here washing your hands."

"I changed my mind and decided it should be him and me alone when I told him," he began. "It was a good time to do it. We could get into it and give you more time to finish talking…and finish dinner. You hadn't even whipped the potatoes."

God, it was good he was so talented with giving head (among other things), because he wasn't just a man, he was a guy.

"That wasn't the part that went wonky," I remarked.

"You and I have talked a lot, honey, and I haven't made you cry," he pointed out. "She can be harsh."

"It's called direct."

"When she makes you cry, it's harsh," he stated, and his words were steely.

I jostled him with my arm. "She was actually being gentle. It was just that she explained, succinctly, why my mother lied to me about my dad having died in a plane accident when I was a baby. It's been something that's been screwing with me, now I get it, so you can let it go."

"Right," he grunted.

"Yeah. Right," I confirmed.

The steel came back. "Moving on."

So, Andrew Doc Riggs didn't like to be wrong.

Noted.

I let him have it. When he yelled at his mom, he was being protective of me, which I had no problem with, and his mom not only held no ill-will, she liked that he was, so it was all good.

"That's how your mom explained it to you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Honey," he whispered gently.

I'd already faced as much of that as I could in one night, so I didn't say anything.

Riggs read I was done on that subject, thankfully.

"Ledger seemed good," he noted.

If him crowing victoriously, "I knew it!" when he told his gramme what she already knew (though Riggs didn't know she did at that time, I hadn't had a chance to tell him) was an indication, yes, he did.

"Yes," I agreed "Though I think he thinks we're getting a dog."

"We are. She's just staying with you at the cabin."

I got up on a forearm and looked down at his shadowed face.

"Oh no you don't," I warned. "You two Riggs boys can't be sweet and charming and affectionate and steal Gia from me."

"From what I saw, it was instant devotion both ways."

"You didn't get close. She didn't get a good whiff of you. She's a girl. She's susceptible."

Amusement was tingeing his voice when he said, "We'll try not to steal your dog from you."

I collapsed into him, because two big orgasms and emotion, and a huge meal (slice of cake number two, I saw upon reflection, was a bad idea) had taken it all out of me, and I mumbled, "Appreciated."

He started twirling my hair.

And his voice was actually tender when he asked, "Are you like your mom?"

Okay, maybe Riggs didn't read me.

I closed my eyes tight.

Then I told him. "No. She was like your mom, times a thousand. She was a ballbuster. I grew up in the cocoon of her love and protection, and my grandfather's, so I got to be…well, me."

"I owe her, huge."

God.

So sweet.

I turned my face and shoved it in his pec.

Riggs cupped my shoulder and squeezed. "We'll stop talking about it."

I drew in breath, put my cheek to his skin, and whispered, "I wish she could meet you. She'd like you. And my dedulya would love you. You could take turns pissing in corners and fighting over the remote, and ogling pin-up girl posters, and debating Malinois versus cane corso until the wee hours of the morning and have a competition on who can do the widest manspread. He'd have the time of his life."

More amusement in his tone when he asked, "Manspread?"

"You know, when you sit down and you haven't appropriately contained the family jewels, or you wish to declare to all the other male species in your vicinity your manly endowments are bigger than theirs. I don't know why you guys do it. But it's when you spread your legs really wide, even if you're sitting in the middle seat of an airplane or something."

"You have a lot of experience with someone in the middle seat?"

Not even close. I had the means, so I was first class all the way.

"No," I allowed.

"You own your own plane?"

I didn't answer.

He shook me, and there was vastly more humor in his, "Nadia?"

"Dedulya sold it," I mumbled.

He bit back laughter, because we were "out," but we were still keeping our nighttime sleeping arrangements a secret from Ledger.

"Do I do the manspread?" he asked when he got control of his hilarity.

"Not that I've noticed. But we haven't really been out, as it were, like sitting in a booth together or something."

"We'll remedy that tomorrow. Mom knows. Ledge knows. Mom, I know, went right home and called Kate, so Kate knows. The whole of MP might as well know. You ready for that?"

It had only been a few days, so it was crazy, but still, I was ready for a whole lot more.

"Sure," I replied.

"We'll go to the Double D for breakfast or something. Since Ledge has his sleepover at Dustin's tomorrow, we're fucking and sleeping at the cabin, though."

Lord.

A fantasy come to life.

"Good for you?" he asked.

"Totally."

"You make yourself come, thinking of me in that bed?" he asked right out.

That was a big fat yes.

"Um…"

"Definitely this bed, thinking of you," he shared. "Also, the shower."

I was getting turned on again.

"Um…"

"Fuckin' cute how you get shy," he murmured, turning toward me so we were face-to-face, tangling our legs, and the cherry on that sundae, gathering me close in his arms.

Yes, I'd learned Riggs was naturally affectionate, and this included a lot of cuddling while watching TV, hanging in front of the fire, definitely post-sex. We might separate in the night and go our own way, but we always fell asleep something like this.

And since he did this, I knew he was ready to go to sleep.

And Lord knew, I was.

It hit me, sleepily, after I was nearly out, that I forgot to tell him something.

"Riggs?" I mumbled.

"Right here, princess."

"You might wanna check the south end of the east side of the lake." I was still mumbling. "I saw a flash in the woods there before dinner. Like the sun hitting a mirror. I think you might have hunters."

Then I was out.

And because I was so drowsy, and then I was asleep, I missed Riggs's body getting tighter and tighter with every word I said.