Second Chance Twins - A Steamy - Layla Valentine

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Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19

SECOND CHANCE TWINS

LAYLA VALENTINE HOLLY RAYNER

C o nte nts 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

Shelley Shelley Miles Shelley Shelley Shelley Shelley Shelley Miles Shelley Miles Shelley Shelley Shelley Shelley Shelley Miles Miles Shelley

More Series by Holly Rayner

Copyright 2018 by Layla Valentine and Holly Rayner All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author. All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

CHAP TER 1

SHELLEY AUGUST AT FINNE GAN’ S

“S

helley! Another round for me ’n the boys!”

“Coming right up, Steve.” “Shelley! Baby! When you gonna let me take you out?” “When your wife gives her blessing, Angus.” Hearty laughter followed me back to the bar, and I shot a cheeky wink over my shoulder. I never would have imagined myself being comfortable working in a place like this back when I first started college. Confidence had discovered me hiding in a book, and I had embraced it out of necessity. I filled the glasses for the table of five, leaving the perfect amount of foam on top.

“Damn, you’re good at that. You should work in a bar or something.” Miles flicked his bar rag over his shoulder and flashed his movie-star smile at me. Butterflies swirled through my belly, heating my cheeks. If only my confidence extended into the area of men. “Oh, should I? Maybe I’ll go put in an application at Finnegan’s. Oh, wait! Here I am!” I rolled my eyes at him, and he stuck his tongue out at me. If only that tongue were a little closer, I thought. Words like that would never make it past my lips, but that didn’t keep me from thinking them. That boy made me distracted every shift, and tonight was no different. “Shelley! Come on, girl, watch what you’re doing, would ya?” “Oh, gosh, Billy, I’m sorry. I’ll get you a fresh one and a towel—one second.” “Yeah, but leave this one here. No point wasting half a beer.” Billy winked at me and tipped the dripping glass into his mouth. “You ever gonna ask that pretty boy out?” Angus asked with a twinkle in his eye. “Of course not! You know I’m just waiting for your wife’s permission, and then I’m all yours.”

“Yeah, yeah, flirting with old men pays your bills. But who’s gonna keep your bed warm at night, huh?” I glanced across the bar at Miles, who was staring off into space and absently flicking his towel on the counter. “Doesn’t look too bright, though. Might want to get that IQ tested before you start making babies.” “Oh hush, Angus,” I said, but I felt heat rise on my neck. “Um, darlin’?” “Oh! Sorry Billy, I’ll be right back.” A fresh beer and a towel later and I was back on Billy’s good side. Miles seemed to be fumbling tonight, worse than he had since his training week ended three months ago. After his third botched drink, I took him aside. His close proximity in the darkened corner of the loud, dim bar made me want to touch him in all kinds of inappropriate ways. I settled for a platonic hand on his shoulder. “Hey. You all right?” “Hm? Why do you ask?” he replied absently.

The spark of flirtation which was usually present in his tone was nowhere to be found. He was still off somewhere else in his head. I could see the wheels turning behind his bright blue eyes, hear the calculations hiding in his tone. “Look at me,” I told him, putting a hand on his face. “Are you high or something?” He grinned at me, then, his eyes coming into sharp focus. “Just high on life, Shelley. I’ll focus, cross my heart.” “You’re working on that app in your head. I can tell.” “I am shocked and offended at your accurate accusation!” He swept a dramatic hand to his chest as his eyes twinkled at me. “Back-burner it before you get fired,” I said, suppressing a grin. “That’s the problem with the world today— everybody’s so busy surviving in it that they’re putting off changing it.” He had gone suddenly somber, but quickly shook it off. “Change the world on your own time,” I admonished gently. “Junior is around here

somewhere, and you’re still the newbie. He’s watching you.” Angus called for another round, and I shot Miles one last warning look as I scurried back through the crowded tables. Miles didn’t react; he wasn’t even looking at me. It bothered me more than it should have. “Finally pinned the boy down for some on-theclock necking?” Angus asked with a friendly leer. “Oh yeah, you know we like to give you guys a show,” I answered sarcastically. “Better get to it, girl. That boy has big dreams.” “Never shuts up about them,” Steve agreed. “Gonna drive me nuts with that techno-babble one of these days.” “You know he only talks to you guys because he knows you won’t understand a word he’s saying,” I teased. “Another round?” “Yes ma’am.” He waved me off and I hurried back to the bar for the round of lager, picking up orders for tequila shots and long islands on the way. I took pride in my efficiency, and filled my tray with all the drinks before heading back out. I

expected Miles to make a comment about me trying to climb the corporate step stool, but he was busy shaking a mixer and staring off into space. His customers were gazing at him with a mixture of boredom and annoyance. “Miles! Focus!” I didn’t stick around to see if the words reached him. Shots here, talls there, and finally the round of lager, I flirted and complimented my way across the room. I had really grown to love my job in ways I had never thought possible, but it did exhaust me. Not just the physically taxing parts, but the constant interplay between myself and the customers as well. It wasn’t something I was naturally good at, and even though I enjoyed it, it still took a lot out of me. Miles was still half a step behind his work, and seemed to be completely oblivious of the intentions of the two women he was serving. They were taking turns aggressively hitting on him, and he was answering their double entendres as if he were interpreting them literally. It wasn’t unlike Miles to miss a cue; he’d been missing mine for months. But wordplay was his favorite past time, and he was bypassing so many

opportunities for humor that I was beginning to wonder if he’d had some kind of stroke. The doors opened, then, letting in everyone who had just ended the workday. It would be hours before I would have another chance to talk to him, and I was having no luck at all trying to catch his eye. Resigning myself to worrying from afar, I focused all of my energy on working the floor while Miles shakily held down the bar. He definitely had the easier half of the job, but he couldn’t seem to keep up with it. “Back burner,” I said as I passed behind him to grab the whiskey. “Man, if you knew—” “Two more shots down here!” “Tell me later,” I said quickly. “And for the love of God, Miles, focus!” I hurried back out to the floor, and was called over by a familiar face. “Shelley! I didn’t know you worked here.” “Hi, professor! I didn’t know you drank here,” I shot back.

Professor Zain chuckled, stroking his grey beard, which was flecked with bright spots of paint. He never could seem to keep it clean. “Only occasionally, my dear. Celebrating the end of this interminable summer. Will you be coming back this semester?” “Yes, sir! I’m hoping to get into your senior class.” “Senior already! How time flies. And then off to take the world by storm, I hope. A traveling artist, perhaps? Yes, I can see your work in galleries from New York to France. Or perhaps a clothing designer, yeah? You do have quite the talent for screen printing.” “High aspirations for me, as always,” I said affectionately. “But to be perfectly frank, professor, I think I would rather curate art than try to sell my own.” He was silent for a moment, considering me as he stroked his beard. “A pity,” he said. “The world would benefit from your point of view. Ah, well. If that is your path, you will find it. If not, you will be the best curator the world has ever seen!” I laughed, embarrassed but happy at his faith in me. He ordered a stout and sent me on my way. I didn’t have another chance to talk to the

professor before he left, as the bar was getting increasingly busy and I had to keep my eye out for the sloppily drunk and disorderly, but seeing him was enough to get me excited for the new school year. I had every intention of finishing my academic career on a high note, and Professor Zain’s class was a surefire way to make that happen. Before that, though, I was determined to finish out the last summer of my academic career with a bang. I would settle for metaphorical, but I was hoping for literal. I watched Miles mix drinks with quick and nimble hands, and took a moment to imagine what those hands could do to my body. Chills ran down my spine and I nearly spilled another drink. Angus was absolutely right. I needed to act on this before I lost the opportunity. Miles wasn’t going to stick around Finnegan’s forever, after all. As if to emphasize that fact, his current customer was pitching him a position at his company. “If you’re as good as you say, I have a job for you. It’s an entry-level internship, but it’s a great opportunity.” “Intern? Paid or unpaid?”

“Well it’s great experience, and your portfolio would be top of the pile when it comes time for you to move up—” “Thanks, Larry, but I’ll pass. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Miles winked at him to soften his words, and the guy shrugged. “I mean, I respect that and everything, but I think you’re making a big mistake.” “Yeah, we’ll see. Can I get you anything else?” “Your resume?” “Goes down kind of papery; you’re gonna want a chaser.” Larry laughed, and I was already moving on to my next customer. I was definitely running out of time. Miles might be overestimating his app’s potential— I had a hard time believing that it would change the world the way he said it would—but he was certainly talented. He had shown me a few of the apps he had helped develop before dropping out of Harvard and moving to the West Coast to try and make it on his own, and they were all professional quality. When he started going on about them, he had a way of losing me in passionate technical jargon in minutes.

I wondered if I sounded the same way to people whenever I started talking about the technical side of art. I suspected that I did. I was going to have to do something about that if I was going to work with the public in a museum. I considered the possibility of practicing on my regular customers at the bar, and the thought made me grin. Between me and Miles, those poor guys would get a college education whether they liked it or not. The night ticked on in a swirl of music, drunken demands, and booze-serving, as it always did. I managed to catch Miles’ eye once or twice over the course of it, and each time, it made my stomach clench. It shouldn’t be legal for someone to be that attractive. If it hadn’t been so busy, I probably would have spent most of my shift daydreaming about those eyes locking with mine, those hands on my skin, that mouth…but the chairs filled as quickly as they emptied, without a second to clean up in between. I managed to move around the customers efficiently to clear the surfaces, with help from the ever-present and oft-unnoticed Jeff. He was in his fifties but moved like a janitorial ninja, virtually unseen as he whisked away cigarette butts and straw wrappers almost as soon as they hit the floor. He and I had developed a rhythm for the

rush; he would follow just behind and to the left of me as I wiped the tables down, flicking the detritus into his dustbin with my rag. We circled the room quickly, then stole a breather beside the trash can. “He was staring at you before,” Jeff murmured to me as he lit a cigarette. “Isn’t it about time you made a move?” “Why do I have to make a move?” I asked, flustered. “If he’s staring, he should make the move.” “Why, because he’s the guy? I thought you artschool girls were progressive.” The playful twinkle in his eye halted my temper before it flared, and I rolled my eyes at him. “Well, maybe I just don’t want to bother him,” I hissed. “Or maybe you’re just a chicken.” I glared at him and he laughed, his voice raspy with decades of smoking. I heard a call for another round and moved away into the crowd, but Jeff’s challenge stuck in my mind for the rest of the night. I wasn’t chicken. Quite the contrary. Look at me! I thought. Moved away from home, spent three years making the most of the college scene—I’m good. I’m golden. I’m brave as hell,

damn it. I had never been more relieved to announce last call. It should have been Miles, but he was busy emphatically explaining something to a bleary-eyed patron who didn’t seem to be following a word of it. I spent more time watching him than cutting people off, which was going to get me in trouble if I didn’t reel myself in. My obsession with Miles’ absentmindedness was reaching an unhealthy level, as was my concern that he would disappear out of my world before I had a chance to tell him how I felt about him. When the last stumbling straggler finally shuffled out the door, I took my first full breath in hours. “Busy tonight,” I commented to Miles as I locked the doors. “Was it? I didn’t notice.” “Doesn’t surprise me. You weren’t really noticing much of anything. What’s with you tonight?” Miles slid a sly look at me out the corner of his devastating blue eyes. “Okay, I shouldn’t say anything because I don’t want to jinx it. But if I don’t talk about it, I’m going to drive myself nuts and then I’m going to show up tomorrow looking

like a madman and bomb the whole thing.” “What whole thing?” I grabbed a towel and started wiping down tables as he paced the floor agitatedly. “I found an investor,” he said in a strangled whisper. He took a huge breath and released it, almost shaking with excitement. “They’re interested in the app. Like, actually interested. This could be my big break, Shelley! I’m meeting with them tomorrow and I’ve spent the whole week going over my presentation, and I’ve been running through it all night in my head, and I know it’s as perfect as I can make it, but I can’t seem to quit thinking about it…I’m terrified, honestly.” I cocked my head to one side. An urge rose up in me that I had pushed back down dozens of times over the last three months, but Jeff’s comment still rankled the back of my mind. I wasn’t going to let a touch of anxiety steal this chance away from me, and what did Jeff know anyway? I was more than capable of asking a guy out. I knew how to get what I wanted, right? Right. “Sounds like you need a distraction,” I said thoughtfully. “Do you want to go grab a drink?”

CHAP TER 2

SHELLEY D ANCING WITH A GE NIUS

I

don’t know why I waited so long to ask. Miles was every bit as excited to come out with me as I was to go out with him. Probably not for the same reasons, I told myself. I figured he spent all his time working, on his passions or at the bar, so he didn’t get a chance to get out much. He did seem to know all the best after-hours places to go, though. “How’s your drink?” Miles shouted over the music. “It’s great! You want to dance?” “That’s not how you ask!” I wrinkled my brow in confusion, and he pointed to the speaker above us with a grin. I listened to the song for a moment, then rolled my eyes, grinning at

the dork. “Shut up and dance with me!” “That’s better!” He took my drink from me to set it down and led me out onto the dance floor. There was plenty of room between the clusters of women and stray couples scattered around, and we had center stage before I knew what was happening. He stole my breath in the first few minutes, spinning me and leading me like a pro, pressing my body to his whenever the opportunity arose. “You’re good!” I laughed breathlessly. “You expected something else? Here, let me get my dad dance on for you.” He pulled away and started doing an insanely embarrassing rendition of the running man. Shaking my head, I turned to walk away. “Hey, wait!” He laughed. “I’ll stop; I promise. Hold on…I feel a robot coming on!” Sliding into the jerky movements, he followed me back to our table where I downed the last of my drink. “Oh, no!” He gasped in dismay, snatching the glass from me. “You’re dry!” Without waiting for a response, he scurried over to

the bar, returning a moment later with four drinks. I raised a suspicious brow at him. “Trying to get me wasted, scoundrel?” “Scoundrel? I haven’t been called that since… actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been called that,” he said thoughtfully. “And no, I’m not trying to get you wasted. I’m confident in the intoxicating qualities of my game.” “You got game?” I teased. He ruffled his hair, then lowered his head to give me a smoldering look. Popping his collar, he slid forward like a Latin dancer and wrapped an arm around my waist, jerking me flat against him. “Has anyone ever told you,” he said in a dramatically husky growl. “That you have the most beautiful eyes?” It was cheesy. So very cheesy. It shouldn’t have done anything to me but make me laugh. Whether it was the alcohol or the dancing or the fact that I might not be working with him for much longer, the cheesiness worked. A ball of heat, intense as the sun, plummeted from my chest to the spot between my hips, making my breath catch in my throat. Impulse caught me at a weak moment, and I put my hands on his face, pulling his head down to kiss me.

He didn’t even hesitate. The instant my lips touched his, he was taking my mouth possessively, molding it to his whims. He stole my breath and my sanity in a single moment, and there, in front of a room full of half-drunk dancers, I began to grind my hips against the hard rod straining against his pants. Dizziness nearly overwhelmed me and I pulled away, sucking air into my oxygen-deprived lungs. “Damn,” he said, his eyebrows disappearing into his floppy blond hair. “I didn’t know that would work! I have wasted so much time being smooth…” I laughed at him and drank deeply from one of the glasses. “I blame the gin,” I told him. “That never would have worked on me sober.” “Yeah, whatever,” he teased. “You know you’ve been dying for me to rip your apron off and steal you away from work on the back of my valiant steed.” “You call that hideous hatchback a valiant steed?” He stuck his tongue out at me and I bit my lip. A song I couldn't help but dance to came on in

between beats of the music, and I dragged Miles back onto the dance floor. Conversation was silently held as we moved together, my hips conferring with his, my hands asking soft questions of his firm biceps. He answered in little circular hip thrusts, just barely decent for public observation, and traveling hands which flirted with the fringes of modesty. His blue eyes had darkened like eternal pools in his movie-star face, his lips ruddy with drink and desire. I brushed them now and again with my own, feeling him pulse against me each time. My heart raced with more than exertion as we followed one song into the next, long into the night. We danced until my ribs ached and my legs shook, until Miles led me back to our table to collapse on the plush velvet couches beside it. I took my drink in both hands, gulping it down as if it would quench my thirst. It only made it worse. Anticipating me, Miles hurried to the bar for water, but I wasn’t thinking clearly and had drained my glass before he returned. “Drink this before you puke,” he said, his mouth twisting in wry amusement as he handed me a bottle of water. “Thought a bartender would know better!”

“I’m not a bartender tonight.” I grinned. “What are you?” I paused for a moment, then turned his own cheesiness back on him. Batting my eyes heavily, I turned on my own sultry, breathy voice. “I’m just a girl…standing in front of a boy…” “You’re sitting,” he pointed out. “Thank you, kind sir.” “That’s not the end of the quote!” “Well, I can’t finish it now; the moment’s ruined!” He shook his head, his blue eyes twinkling. “That’s a shame. But frankly, I’d rather hear what you had to say, sans movie quotes.” “About what?” I asked innocently. “About me.” “Who says I have anything to say about you?” I teased. He smirked, popping his collar and flipping his hair over his forehead again. Looking like a conglomeration of every bad-boy movie heartthrob from the last four decades all squished into one, he gave me the smolder.

“Oh my God, stop that,” I laughed, but the pulse of heat between my thighs belied my objection. The gin swimming in my blood loosened my tongue, making me forget why I had been hesitant to say something in the first place. “I’ve had a crush on you since the day you started working at Finnegan’s,” I confessed. The music hit a loud, bass-heavy section just as I spoke, and Miles shook his head and put a hand to his ear. “I have a thing for you,” I said again, a little louder. “What?” I sighed heavily, then inhaled deeply. As loud as I could, I shouted, “I have a crush on you!” At that same moment, the music fell silent. The crowd around us cheered my confession, and I buried my face in my hands. The music started again a heartbeat later, and I silently cursed the DJ. Oh, God, Miles must be dying of laughter. I slid a peek at him between my fingers, and he beamed at me. Leaning close, he spoke loudly in my ear. “I do too! I’m pretty awesome.” I rolled my eyes and he laughed. Scooting closer to

me, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and put his lips against my ear. “I’m kidding,” he told me. “I have a crush on you, too. A major one. The kind that makes me stop coding a little earlier just to spend a little extra time getting ready to go to work to see you.” “Really?” I let my hands fall into my lap and turned to him, his gorgeous face blurring with the bright, colorful lights of the club in my hazy vision. He didn’t answer with words. Twisting my body around to press against his, he tipped my chin up with his fingers and took my mouth once more. I melted in his arms, tasting the gin in his warm mouth, burrowing my fingers in his thick hair. His hands were on my waist, my thigh, running up my back, brushing over my breasts, cradling the back of my neck. My pulse quickened, fluttering deep and heavily in my core, and I turned to drape my thighs over his. Straddling the rectangular couch, I pushed my body against him, raking my fingers through his hair as he took a detailed tour of my curves. He jerked away from me a moment later, looking up into the bored and annoyed face of the massive, bald bouncer.

“Get decent, get a booth, or get out,” the bouncer drawled as if he’d said it a hundred times already that night. “Sorry,” I said quickly, scooting away from Miles and tucking my legs underneath me. “Yeah, man, no worries,” Miles said smoothly, shaking the bouncer’s hand. “We’ll tone it down.” The bouncer nodded and lumbered away, leaving me shaking as my mortified heart thundered in my ears. Miles waited until the man was out of earshot, then raised a single, perfect eyebrow as he looked at me. “You want to get out of here?” “God, yes.” We took a cab back to his place, getting increasingly frisky in the back seat while the cab driver turned the radio up a little more with every block. Miles threw the fare plus a generous tip at him and led me inside, unwilling to release me for even a second as he unlocked the door and we tumbled inside. “Nice place,” I told him without even looking around. “Thanks—let me give you the tour.”

His passionate kiss pushed me backwards until my knees hit the soft edge of a sofa, then followed me down as I found a horizontal plane to lay on. He pressed my thighs open to settle his hips between them, propping his elbows on either side of my head as he pushed my mouth open with his. I tilted my hips up to meet his enticing gyrations, the waves of my body synchronizing with his. “So, this is the couch,” he said breathlessly as he pulled away to move his mouth to my neck. “It’s a good couch,” I moaned. “I like the color; I really think it ties the room together.” “I do love a woman with a good eye for design,” he murmured against my collar bone. I chuckled, a sound which quickly dissolved into a moan as he pulled my scooped collar down to reveal the soft, milky tops of my breasts. He kissed along them without missing an inch, caressing them with his hands as his mouth worked. I pressed hard against the bulge in his jeans, aching to feel its velvety smoothness inside of me. A minute later, we stripped each other of our shirts. He had a good chest. The sort of chest I didn’t usually see on men our age; broad and muscular, dusted with just the right amount of hair. I raked

my nails over it lightly, reveling in every sensation. He pulled back, gazing down at my black-lace-clad breasts, groaning low in his throat as his fingers traced their contours. Brushing the pads of his thumbs over my erect nipples, he sent lightning bolts of pleasure shooting across my body, starting a fire deep in my core. “You look even better than I imagined,” he whispered hoarsely. “You imagined me like this?” I asked, the realization turning me on even more. “Maybe,” he hedged, licking his lips. “God, you’re gorgeous.” Reaching behind me, he unclasped my bra with a flick of his wrist, letting my breasts spill out against his chest. Sliding down my body, he took one aching breast into his mouth and fondled the other in his nimble hand. Pleasure coursed over me, crisscrossing my body until it hit my deepest need in hot, pulsing waves. My hips rocked of their own accord, finding a rhythm which quickened my breath and ignited my blood. A groan escaped his throat and he pulled my jeans off, leaving me naked except for my black panties.

He stripped out of his own pants just as quickly, but didn’t return to his place on top of me. Instead, he pulled me off the couch and held me close. “I believe I was giving you the tour,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “Yes,” I gasped. “What comes after the couch?” “You do,” he murmured, giving me the earnest version of that erotic smolder. I moaned, melting into his embrace as he walked me backwards down a hallway. Plush carpet tickled my toes and the house grew dark around us, but those were the only outside details I took in. My focus was entirely on Miles, nearly naked against me, his sensual masculinity permeating my every sense. My calves hit a bed, and he lifted me up by my hips to toss me back on the mattress. “I didn’t know you were so strong,” I murmured against his mouth as he fell to meet me on the bed. “I didn’t know you were so soft,” he replied, running gentle hands over my curves. Gentle hands quickly became demanding, almost rough in their desperation. Hot lips ran down my neck, over my breasts, pausing to suckle for a mind-bending moment before moving over my belly. A new kind of intoxication swirled through

my body as he moved over me, down to my hips, breathing hot air against the thin cotton covering my wanton need. He peeled my panties away slowly, kissing each new inch of exposed skin until he held my most sensitive spot between his lips. Swirling his tongue over it, he slipped his fingers inside me, pressing pleasure into me from both inside and out. Heat rocketed through my body and I arched against him, swept away by the sensations of his skilled and unfamiliar touch. His desire pulsed through his lips to ignite me to my core. Waves of ecstasy rippled through me, intensity building with reckless abandon, quickly reaching a fever pitch between my hips. Release shook me like an earthquake, and I screamed his name into the dark. He was on me in moments, crushing my mouth with his, and I tasted my own pleasure on his tongue. Sliding inside of me with the same intoxicating skill, he quickly moved us into a perfect rhythm. I arched to meet his thrusts, desperate for more—though I was full to capacity—craving every molecule of his being. My hands in his hair, my teeth scraping his lips, my hips against his, I gave myself over to primal rapture. There was no room for tenderness in this

dance, not now; he took me like a beast, slamming into my deepest recesses, jolting electricity through my spine with every thrust. His growls mingled with my screams as he tossed my ankles over his shoulders and dove even deeper, forcing me to give, pushing me to my limits. My fingers curled into fists around bunches of bed sheets as fireworks exploded in my brain. His masculine scent filled my senses even as he filled my body. He was everywhere, everything, and I was lost to him. Miles flipped me onto my belly without warning, then slid me to the edge of the bed. He entered me from behind, framing my rear with appreciative hands as he thrusted, grinding my pleasure button against the silky duvet. Sliding his hands up my body to my breasts, he lay over me, kissing my neck, biting my shoulder, caressing my breasts. “You feel so damn good,” he groaned in my ear. It was the feather that tipped the scale. Pleasure raked violently through me, each muscle tensing and releasing in a pulsing wave from the top of my head to the tips of my curling toes, locking him inside of me with powerful waves. His groan was nearly a scream as he railed me harder, faster, without a hint of the control he had previously shown.

His pulses pushed back against mine, sending me into another cascading orgasm, his shouts of release mingling with mine in an intoxicating cacophony of raw sexuality. Breathless kisses trickled over my shoulders and down my spine as the waves subsided. A final jolt of pleasure hit the base of my spine, making my head spin and my eyes go heavy. Shakily, I crawled up onto the bed with Miles close behind. As the first gray light of dawn tinted the black sky, I fell fast asleep in his arms.

CHAP TER 3

MILES TH E P ITCH

T

here was nothing better than waking up next to a beautiful woman who smelled like sex and strawberries. Nothing, that is, except the chance to make a cool million in the space of an hour. I took a moment to appreciate the picture she made on my bed as I dressed for my meeting. Her thick, strawberry-blond hair across my navy blue pillows, her perfect tan, those full lips pushed out in an innocent sleepy pout. She was gorgeous. “Yep, Miles, looks like the gods are finally smiling down on you,” I told myself as I straightened my tie in the mirror. I blew her a kiss and hurried out. Luck wasn’t patient, and neither was Nate. He had already

texted me twice, and the meeting wasn’t supposed to begin for another thirty minutes. Regardless, I told him I was on my way and hurried to the address the investor had given me. Nate was already in the parking lot when I pulled up, flipping his keys around his finger, his eyebrows lowered behind his reflective sunglasses. “Frowning already? Cheer invincible today.”

up,

man;

we’re

I bounced across the parking lot, trying and failing to rein in my wildly elevated mood. I couldn’t seem to keep the grin off my face, and even though I’d been awake way longer than I should have been, I had never felt more energized and alert. “What got into you?” Nate asked, then slid his glasses down his nose to peer at me with his piercing dark eyes. “Or, should I say, who did you get into?” “Yes,” I answered cryptically. “Doesn’t matter who. She’s perfect, this day is perfect, and this meeting is going to go perfectly. It’s a perfect storm of perfection, Nate. Get on board!” “I don’t know if hyper-active Labrador is really the impression we’re going for,” Nate said, raising a brow as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

“Better off being cool. Aloof. Real Silicone Valley material, catch my drift?” “Dude, all those guys geek out just as hard over their stuff. Trust me, I got this.” Nate shrugged, but let it go. Still, I could feel his eyes on me as we made our way through reception and up the elevator to the office on the top floor. The higher we went, the more lavish the floor on the other side of the glass doors appeared. By the time we reached the top, the walls were practically gilded. Nate didn’t seem to notice, but he wouldn’t. He came from old money. This was standard for him— like a department store break room for those of us who have had to work in one. Or shop in one, for that matter. I managed not to gawk. My confidence was leaps and bounds ahead of my self-consciousness, and I made a mental note to express my gratitude to Shelley later. I now understood why soldiers used to make a point of getting laid before going into battle; something about it just made a guy feel like a god. This morning, I would be unstoppable. We were ushered into the boardroom, where the investor I had already talked to stood with two

other suits. “Nate! Miles! Good to see you boys again. These are my partners, Natalie Eisenhower and Frederick Jones.” Hands were shaken all around. “Thank you again for meeting with us, Mr. Dalio,” Nate said, putting on an air of humility I didn’t know he was capable of. “Call me George. Would you like anything before we begin? Coffee? Water? If not, the floor is yours.” I expected to be quaking with nerves, but I found that I was just excited. Nate and I set up our presentation as the investors grabbed their coffees and arranged themselves at the far side of the table. Each had a notepad in front of them and a look of casual interest on their faces. I locked eyes with Nate as we put the final touches on our setup. “You ready for this?” I asked him. “I was born ready.” He literally was, so I couldn’t really blame him for the cheesiness. I turned to our investors. “Imagine, if you can, that you are a business owner in one of the poorest countries in the world. This

business owner—we’ll call him Joe—pulls in maybe fifteen thousand a year for himself; barely a living in the United States, right? “Now, let’s say that you’re an average mid-grade worker in the U.S.—we’ll call you Paul, and you make twice what the other guy makes in a year. Paul wants to make a little extra passive income in his downtime, and he has a little bit of money to invest. Joe has a brilliant idea to double his profits, but doesn’t have the startup money.” I was gesticulating as I spoke, and I could feel the excitement building with every word. Nate was sticking to his cool-guy persona, smiling mildly at me as I went on my rant. “So, the way things are right now, these two have little to no chance of ever meeting or helping each other out. This app changes all that. There are very few micro-investing services on the market right now, and the ones that are there offer very little control to either party. It’s practically a grab-bag scenario out there right now. This app allows business owners to input everything that makes their business unique, from their experience and plan details to ethical and moral concerns.” “Studies have shown,” Nate interjected, “that the vast majority of people entering the workforce right now are more concerned with the ethics of a

business than they ever have been before. People would rather be out of work than work for a company they find morally reprehensible, and those same people would rather spend a little more money on ‘good’ businesses than spend their money on companies who represent ideas they find distasteful. “These people will be doing the majority of the micro-investing on this app, and they will want to know who they are funding; not just from a business perspective, but from a personal one.” “Exactly,” I said. “Which is why this app—in addition to giving a platform to business owners and investors—also gives a platform to their friends, associates, and employees. It’s like a social media network for the business world.” “There’s already one of those on the market,” George interrupted. “And frankly, it isn’t doing so well. It built up slowly, and is now where resumes and professional profiles go to die. What makes yours different?” “Ah! That’s exactly what makes ours different. The investment pitch and social profile are two separate components of the same account. An investor can put in the criteria for a project that he or she is interested in, search, and pull up a bunch of opportunities. Once they find one that interests

them, they can then click on the poster’s profile, where they will find not only their social media interactions, but a reputation score. This app allows anybody with a real life connection to the poster to rate them on a user-friendly scale. Better reputations get higher rankings on searches, emphasizing the ethical focus of the project.” “Who will use it?” Ms. Eisenhower asked. “Literally anybody. The app itself will be free with upgrades available for a small fee, and a small percentage will be taken off of any completed business deal. Money is moved right through the app with the click of a button. This thing makes investing so easy that anyone who has ever used social media could use it effectively. This app makes it possible for anybody with five extra dollars to make someone else’s dream come true, and make a profit at the same time.” Their interest was piqued. I launched into an overview of the technical specifics, and the outcome of the thousands of simulations I had run. Nate took over afterwards, discussing the marketing side of things. The more we talked, the more interested the investors looked; the more interested they looked, the more excited I got. By the time we’d wrapped up our presentation, I was practically bouncing with pent-up energy. I

could see that this was going well, and I was dying to know how much they were going to invest and how soon we could get the ball rolling. I was mere breaths away from my dream becoming reality. I could taste it. “Well I must say, that was a very interesting presentation,” George said, nodding his head. “Very interesting indeed. Would you two mind stepping out for a moment so my colleagues and I can deliberate in private?” We respectfully made ourselves scarce. I paced the hall while Nate leaned up against the wall. To the untrained eye, he looked utterly relaxed, even bored. But I saw the tension at the corners of his hooded eyes and the little fold at the corner of his mouth which told me he was just as anxious as I was. “How do you think we did?” I asked him. “I don’t know, man. I told you to tone it down. You were like a puppy ready to piddle in there. When you hit some of those techy points, you were talking so fast I was afraid they would think we were trying to hide something.” “I could always go over those points again. Maybe I should do that now.”

“You open that door before they call us in and I swear to God I will end you.” “Okay, okay.” I pushed a hand through my hair and sighed. “I wasn’t that bad, was I? If they weren’t interested at all, they wouldn’t be discussing it for this long, would they? “Maybe they’re just toying with us.” “That’s ridiculous; they wouldn’t…would they?” “Mr. Lane, Mr. Dunn, the investors will see you now.” The receptionist’s voice came over a speaker, startling me. I straightened my suit and took a deep, steadying breath. “Moment of truth,” I said. “Let’s see if your app is worth anything,” he answered. We pushed back into the boardroom, practically vibrating with anticipation. The investors were all smiles, and I thought I might actually vomit. The nerves had finally hit. I was just glad they had waited until after the presentation. “Have a seat, boys,” George said in a grandfatherly sort of way. “Let’s talk funding.”

I was still hyperventilating when we reached the elevator. “Five million,” I gasped. “Five m-million dollars!” “Yes,” Nate said with barely-concealed annoyance. “Five million dollars. That’s not that much, Miles. This app is worth at least twice that. Startup costs could eat through that overnight.” “Nope,” I said adamantly, shaking my head. “This baby’s working and ready to go. Branding won’t cost near that much. We’re in the money, Nate!” “I’ve always been in the money,” Nate said with a sly quirk of his lips. “Well, now I’m in the money,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him. “God, why aren’t you more excited? This is the first day of the rest of your life, Nate! You made something happen! We’re about to change the world!” “It’s just business to me, man. Sure, I believe in your vision and I’m thrilled with your app and how you managed to make it work, but I’ve known this day would come since I was three. Maybe not with you, or with these investors, or whatever. But I always knew I’d make a million before twenty-five.

I wouldn’t be a Dunn otherwise. It’s in our blood.” I didn’t let his chill demeanor cool my excitement. I knew someone who would be just as blown away by my sudden success as I was. The second Nate and I parted ways in the parking lot, I called her. “Shelley!” “Miles! How did it go? I’ve been biting my nails for you all morning!” “Well, bite no more, babe! I won their hearts and wallets in one fell swoop.” She squealed, and though I had to pull the phone away from my ear, I was grinning like a fool. “Oh my God, that’s wonderful!” she said, then added after a pause, “Even if it means you won’t be working at Finnegan’s anymore.” “True, but I will be raking in loads of cash and doing something I actually enjoy doing. Not that I don’t enjoy watching you flirt with old men all night, but it’s not much of a career path.” She laughed, adding a golden sparkle to my already sunny day. “I’m so happy for you, Miles. I can’t believe you did it! You actually made it!”

“I can’t believe it either! I want to celebrate. Celebrate with me? Tonight. I’ll take you somewhere ridiculously expensive, a sort of preview of the life I’m about to have. What do you say?” “Yes! Yes, yes, every time, yes.” Her enthusiasm boosted my already-inflated ego, and I felt as if I were floating a hundred miles off the ground, soaking up sunshine. We set the time and threw around some ideas for places, punctuating the conversations with bouts of giddy laughter. It was really happening. The girl, the gold, the glory; I had completed the hero’s quest, and it was time to soak up the rewards.

CHAP TER 4

SHELLEY NO TH ING TO WE AR

“D

on’t I have anything?” I asked my closet in despair.

The pile of clothes on the bed behind me seemed to be judging me. Of course I had things—nice things, even. But nice wasn’t really good enough for a fancy dinner with a millionaire, was it? I needed to be stunning. Mind-blowing. “Just like he is,” I murmured through the hazy smile dancing around my lips. “Absolutely mindblowing.” Memories of the night before swept through my mind, making chills run over my body and turning my knees to jelly. I sat down among the clothes for a moment, staring into space as I replayed every touch and sensation from the night before. A deep

ache built within me in response to the memory, a heat which would only be cooled with Miles’ talented body. “It doesn’t matter too much what you wear,” I told my reflection in the mirror. “It’s only gonna be on long enough to get through dinner, anyway.” At least, I hoped so. I would hate to think that he was less impressed with our chemistry than I was. I stood and examined myself in the mirror in my bra and matching panties, turning this way and that under my critical eye. No, he’d been impressed. I took pride in my body; as a late bloomer, the womanly curves were still fairly new to me. Every time I saw myself naked or near it, I felt like I had just stepped out of the pages of a comic book. “Can’t go wrong with a little black dress,” I decided. I owned three of them, but only one of them was fancy enough for the evening. I shimmied into it, then began working on my makeup. Keep it simple, keep it clean. You know it’s just going to get smeared off on his face or his pillow. That thought sent another shiver of anticipation down my body. “No appetizer, no dessert,” I decided. “Dinner, then round two.”

Butterflies stirred in my belly. Dinner was more intimidating than I had anticipated. If he was taking me somewhere fancy, it would be filled with the kinds of people I only dreamed of rubbing elbows with. Entertainers. Artists. The California elite. I swallowed hard as I realized that Miles was now one of those people. “As if his movie-star looks weren’t intimidating enough,” I sighed to myself. “But then again, I’ve seen him naked. A person can only be so intimidating after you’ve seen them make an orgasm face. Right? Right.” I blew out a breath, and the butterflies finally began to settle. They were immediately roused again as my phone went off with a text message from the man himself. I had to read the message three times before it made sense to my brain, and then, my veins turned to ice. Gotta cancel, sorry. “No reason? No nothing? Nice.” I swallowed my emotional reaction and replied. That’s okay. Rain check for tomorrow? Can’t, sorry. Taking the $$ to San Bravado to get startup going. My hands began to shake and my belly seemed to

turn to stone. He was leaving, probably forever. After I’d taken a few steadying breaths, I realized that San Bravado wasn’t very far away at all. A half-hour drive outside of rush hour. That was nothing; we could totally make that work. That sounds exciting! After you get settled we should celebrate? He didn’t answer for a long time. Stress redoubled, clenching my chest. I swallowed against it, pacing my room, feeling foolish in my little black dress. My phone went off, nearly giving me a heart attack. I don’t know yet. Maybe. My breath caught in my chest as tears burned in my eyes. “Well screw you too, Mr. Millionaire.” The tremors in my hands moved to the rest of my body, leaving me feeling sick and miserable. How could he just toss me aside like that? I thought we’d had a fantastic time. I thought we were great together. More importantly, I thought we were friends. I re-read his texts again and again, and the more I did, the more obvious it was that he was distinctly and deliberately leaving me behind.

I tore the dress off and threw it to the floor in disgust. Hurt and angry, I turned my phone off. I didn’t expect him to write a long flowery apology, but if he did have anything else to say, I didn’t want to hear it. Let his money keep him warm at night. I kicked my shoes into the closet with more force than necessary, then stormed to the bathroom to scrub the makeup off of my face. “One night.” I pointed at myself in the bathroom mirror, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation. “You get one night to cry over this jackass. Exactly one, you understand me?” My voice was already wavering, and the tears which burned in my eyes escaped down my cheeks. I turned the shower on and stripped out of the rest of my things. There, under the hot stream, I let the sobs crash out of my body. It could have ended with a crush, two ships passing unawares in the night, but I’d had to go and cross that line. Now, it wasn’t a what-if. It was a what was, and I almost couldn’t bear it. Nobody had ever touched me the way he had. In and out of bed. I had never felt such an immediate connection, or experienced such soul-shaking sex. I could still feel him, and I hated it. His presence in my memory only underlined his absence in my reality.

I took full advantage of my one night. I mourned what was and what could have been until the sun began to wash its rays over the sky, then fell into a fitful sleep.

CHAP TER 5

SHELLEY O CTO B E R AT STANFO R D

“M

y name is Charlie Lease, and I’ll be your guest speaker today. Thank you all —wow, all of you—for showing up today. I gotta say, I’ve done a lot of lectures in the last couple months, and this is the biggest crowd I’ve ever had. Thank you, Stanford. “Anyhow, on to the topic at hand. I’m here to teach you the day-to-day, nitty-gritty, nine-to-five—or six, or eight—grind of making a museum work. Now…” My eyes suddenly couldn’t focus on the guest speaker. A case of tinnitus cropped up out of nowhere, giving me vertigo at the top of the slanted lecture hall. I had the overwhelming desire for flat floors and ice water.

Closing my eyes, I lay my head on the desk. I had been feeling a bit weak, a little tired, and a touch shaky over the last week or so, but nothing like this. I felt like I was on a boat in the middle of a choppy ocean. “So, when curating, you have to know two things: first, who your customer base is. Are you going to have a bunch of middle-class parents trying to put their kid on an upward trajectory, or are you going to have a bunch of upper-class nannies going through the motions at the parents’ request, or are you going to have a bunch of lower-class couples looking for a cheap way to pass an afternoon? Are you going to be showing to journalists, art critics, or historians? What’s the local art or science scene like, who already has what you’re offering…” This was gold. I needed all of this information. Can’t miss the lecture…can’t miss the lecture… Hot chills coursing over my skin disagreed with me. I put it off as long as I could, barely gleaning anything from the man’s meticulously organized presentation, before my mouth began to fill with saliva. Abandoning my bag on the floor, I raced out of the room, down the long hallway, and into the bathroom. I barely made it. “Hey!” a startled man shouted as I burst in.

Couldn’t be helped. The ladies’ room was three yards farther, and there was no way I could have got there without a very messy, very public sort of mortification. As it was, I was re-gifting my breakfast to the porcelain throne in front of a row of urinals. Sweat poured into my eyes as my whole body shook. It had never been like this. It was worse than the flu. Worse than food poisoning. It was as if my body was trying to get rid of everything in it, whether it belonged there or not. I don’t know how many men came into the bathroom in the ten minutes it took for me to stop heaving, but I do know that none of them stuck around to make sure I was all right. I heard two of them laughing about freshmen and their hangovers. I wanted to spin around and tell them they were wrong on both counts, but I was sort of incapacitated. I took the time to wash my face. It was only polite. Deciding to leave my bag—complete with enough textbooks to take out a mortgage and my laptop— to the mercy of basic human decency, I turned left out the door and stumbled to the campus medical center. Sweat and saliva still flowed freely, making me afraid to open my mouth. Swallowing hard, I whispered to the receptionist that I needed to see a

nurse. “All right, honey, d’you have your student ID? Perfect. Have a seat; a nurse will be right out.” The receptionist’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. She looked like someone who was watching her child get their seventeenth piercing. Who disappointed you, receptionist? The question floated lazily back and forth through my head, unanswered and unanswerable, utterly inconsequential but a distraction all the same. “Shelley Smith?” a short, pink woman called from the doorway. I had never seen anyone so pink. Her skin was flushed pink, her hair was dyed electric pink, and she wore pink candy-striped scrubs. I wanted to make a witty comment, but I couldn’t seem to come up with one even if I’d been brave enough to open my mouth. “Your intake slip says sudden vertigo and tinnitus followed by excessive vomiting. Are you still experiencing the vertigo and tinnitus?” I shook my head. “Nausea?” I nodded, and immediately regretted it.

The nurse offered me a trash can. I made use of it, and felt better almost immediately. Not just better. I was starving. “Better out than in,” she said kindly. “Thank you.” “Oh, you do speak! That’s wonderful. All right, Shelley, are you sexually active?” “Not currently,” I said with a sigh. I wanted to be over him; I really did. It had been a month and a half already, and he had been a onenight stand. I knew I should really go on a few palette-cleansing dates, but I couldn’t seem to work up the interest. “When were you last sexually active?” I could feel the flush creep up my neck to my cheeks, and reminded myself that hers was a purely professional interest. “About six weeks ago.” “And the date of your last menstrual cycle? The first day, or as near as you can remember.” “Not too long ago, I don’t think. Let’s see…it was before school started, so it should be close…oh, wait.”

My heart thudded hard against my chest as it skipped a beat. I looked up at the pink nurse with a mortifying realization. “August,” I said in stunned monotone. She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows at me. “First things first, then.” She handed me a cup and sent me off to fill it. I brought it back full, anxiety wracking my every nerve. Silence fell thick and heavy in the room as she performed the test. She set the timer for three minutes, but the result came back in forty-five seconds. “Well, that explains that,” she said decisively. “You’re pregnant, my dear.” The room spun around me, sucking my oxygen away. I gripped the edge of the table to keep from tumbling off, sucking breath into my lungs as if I’d run a marathon. The nurse’s hands were on my shoulders and she was saying something, but I couldn’t process it. Pregnant. I was pregnant. With a baby. A tiny human. Oh, God, I was growing a person. “Inhale on three. One, two, three.”

I sucked in and my mouth filled with a chemical taste. “Again. One, two, three.” I inhaled again, and the room came back into focus. I could breathe. “How long have you had asthma?” she asked. “Asthma? I don’t have asthma.” “You do now. Happens sometimes—bodies go wacky when you’re pregnant. I’ve seen girls develop allergies, diabetes, acne…you name it. I’m writing you a prescription for a rescue inhaler. Use it. Last thing you or the baby needs is to be deprived of oxygen. “Now, we can manage your pregnancy here in the clinic in a pinch, but if you have insurance, I suggest getting yourself a good OB/GYN. First babies are wild cards; you don’t know what to expect and neither do your doctors.” She tore off a slip of paper and handed it to me. “If the nausea gets debilitating—as in, you can’t keep down six meals in a row, you lose more than five pounds, or you can’t stomach water—come back and I’ll give you something for the nausea. I prefer not to, because those drugs always seem to get recalled ten years after they’re put out there, but I

will if you absolutely cannot nourish yourself. Understood?” “Yes,” I said, still dazed. “Thank you.” She nodded briskly. “You’ll need to see someone as soon as you can for your initial ultrasound. You can make the appointment up front now, or with your regular doctor if you have one. Either way, make sure you get seen in a timely fashion. Most problems can be detected and accounted for so long as you catch them early. That is, of course, if you decide to keep the baby. The choice is yours; make a good one for you.” “I will,” I promised. Still dazed, I left the clinic to go retrieve my bag. To my surprise, it was still there in the bathroom, untouched. The lecture was wrapping up and I had missed all of the important points, but somehow, it didn’t seem like a big deal. Suddenly feeling that I couldn’t bear to be around so many people and their curious eyes, I collected my things and left. It was a cool day. The briny breeze blowing off the bay calmed my nerves and woke my brain from its stunned trance. I walked figure eights around an abandoned pavilion, and I thought about my life. Up in the morning for class, school all day. Get off school, go to work, and work well into the night.

That was it. And I’m barely getting by, all by myself. Babies cost a ton of money. How am I going to afford this kid? School would be out before the baby would. I could get a second job, I reasoned. But then, who would take care of the baby, and when would I see my child? No, that wouldn’t do. If I were going to go that route, I might as well just give the baby up for adoption. The thought made me gasp as a shard of sheer pain pierced my heart. I couldn’t do that. Giving up the baby in any way, shape, or form was out of the question. I had already developed some kind of primal bond with it before I even knew it was there. I didn’t know how that was possible, but I knew it was true. This baby was mine, and I was going to do everything in my power to keep it that way. “Takes two to make a baby,” I told my anxious heart. “He has the right to know.” I argued with myself for several minutes. He had never called again after the night he’d canceled the date. No calls, no texts; he’d ghosted me. Money had transformed Miles from a kind, humorous, rough-around-the-edges dreamer to a cold, distant, heartless drone overnight. I would hate to see him

now…except that all I wanted was to see him. “That’s your hormones talking,” I told myself wryly. “You don’t really want to see him. He ghosted you, remember?” Steeled by the armor I had built around my hurt feelings, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. A monotone beeping interrupted the first ring, then an equally monotone voice told me that the number was no longer in service. “Not just ghosted,” “Completely cut out.”

I

realized

out

loud.

Angry now, I decided that something as little as a changed phone number wasn’t going to stop me. He was a big deal now, right? The internet would know how to find him. A quick search of his name brought up the contact information for his office in San Bravado. I hit the call button before I could talk myself out of it, and focused on nothing but my breathing as the phone rang. “Dunn and Lane Enterprises. This is Nate Dunn; how may I help you?” My heart dropped to my toes. All that, and I still didn’t get him on the phone.

“Hi Nate, may I speak with Miles please?” “Mr. Lane is unavailable right now; is there something I can help you with?” “Um…no, it’s personal. Extremely personal, and extremely urgent. Can you tell me when he’ll be available?” “I’m afraid I can’t give out that information, but if you can tell me what this is regarding, I can get a message to him.” “I would really rather just talk to Miles.” My voice shook and whined like a child’s, and I took a breath in a futile attempt to relax. “Mr. Lane is a very busy man these days. What did you say your name was?” “Shelley Smith.” “That name sounds familiar. Have we met?” “No, not officially, but I did see you pick him up after work one night, back when he worked at Finnegan’s? I worked with him there.” “Ah,” Nate said with sudden warmth. “You’re Shelley Smith! He used to talk about you all the time. How are you? How’ve you been?” “Oh.” My voice quivered, and I couldn’t keep it

inside anymore. “I’m actually pretty shaken up. And nauseated, and pregnant, and I haven’t heard from him in weeks—almost months—and now it’s super important that he gets back to me because I don’t know what to do, and it’s his baby too, and he deserves to have a say in what happens, even if we aren’t together…” I trailed off, sobbing. I didn’t even know why I was sobbing, but it felt like a pressure valve had been released somewhere in my chest. The tears continued to fall as I regained control of my breathing. “I see,” Nate said sympathetically. “I believe that Miles will be back within the next few hours. I promise I will give him this message and your number, and he’ll get back to you as soon as he can.” “Thank you,” I said, shocked at how eerily calm he was being about the whole thing. “And, um, thank you for listening without freaking out.” “It’s my pleasure,” Nate said, sounding for all the world as if it really was. “Here’s hoping your day gets better.” “It will,” I said. “As soon as he calls.” But Nate had already said goodbye and hung up. He was as brisk and professional as Miles was

warm and absent-minded. Maybe opposites really did attract. Satisfied that I had done all I could do for the moment, and knowing that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a single thing until Miles got back to me, I made tracks for home. I could use a good three-hour nap before work, anyway. I slept with the phone by my ear, but the only sound to wake me was my alarm. I hauled myself out of bed with a groan, feeling groggier after the nap than I had before the nap. Groggier, and grumpier. I checked for missed calls and texts, but there was nothing. As I got ready for work, I imagined what a work day for Miles must look like now. Some coding, some management, maybe a conference or two. He was the boss, right? He should be able to find time to call me, especially for something this important. “Maybe he just doesn’t do phone calls anymore,” I mused as I slipped into my work shoes. “He’s a tech guy; maybe he emails first. Crappy way to deal with the situation, but he hasn’t exactly been un-crappy.” His behavior made me angrier than it should have. I’d really thought he was a better person than that.

I figured that money changed people into the worst versions of themselves, and wondered briefly what my worst version would be. I shuddered and pushed the thought away. There were some things I didn’t want to know, even about myself. Feeling more than a little pathetic, I opened my email on the off-chance that he had tried to contact me there. To my utter annoyance, he had. Apprehensively, I opened the message.

Shelley, I’m sorry to hear about your condition. As of now, I cannot make room in my life for you or a child. I won’t tell you what to do, but I want it understood that I will not be participating in the child’s life. I ask that you keep news of the child and my involvement in its creation out of the media. To that end, I am willing to pay you support as a means of insurance against public embarrassment in the amount of $5,000 per month. That should be enough for you to care for yourself and the child. If you agree, please reply with your banking information so I may set up automatic payments. I would prefer to spend as little time as possible involved in this situation.

Sincerely, Miles Lane

I felt like I had been punched in the gut. This was worse than ghosting. This was the worst thing anybody had ever said to me, and I’d heard some pretty rotten things flung in my direction—my mom, sister and I had gotten into some crazy screaming matches in our time. This response made me question everything I knew about humans in general, and Miles specifically. I hadn’t known he was capable of being that cold. I put on what I thought was a brave face then cried myself to sleep when I got home from work. It seemed like the only thing to do.

CHAP TER 6

SHELLEY O NE WE E K L ATE R

“Y

ou really should have asked Mom to come with you.”

I shot my sister a death glare. “I swear, Jenna, if you breathe a word of this to her—” “I won’t, I won’t,” she interrupted quickly. “But you should. Soon. Like, before your next doctor’s appointment.” Jenna shuddered and made a face. “Oh, stop it, it’s not like you’re getting on the table.” “Still. Doctor’s offices give me the creeps.” “All you have to do is sit there.” “And listen to them tell you just how soon your life is gonna be over.”

“Gee, thanks. Your support means the world to me.” I crossed my arms and slouched low in the passenger seat, glowering out the window. Jenna sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t understand how you could be so irresponsible. Why the hell didn’t you use a condom?” “We did! Clearly, they’re not always guaranteed to be effective.” “They’re pretty reliable when used properly…” “Can you stop? It’s not like any of this is going to change what happened.” Jenna rolled her eyes and turned into the parking lot. “How are you even judging me right now?” I wailed. “You don’t even have to worry about stuff like this!” “If—God forbid—I was ever alone on an island with only men to sleep with, I would still have the good sense to use protection—and use it properly.” “The only protection you need is the look on your face when you see a naked man.” Jenna wrinkled her nose in disgust, displaying the exact look I was talking about.

“Ugh. Let’s get this over with.” I checked in with the receptionist and sat down beside Jenna to wait. She sat primly in the chair, reading an outdated magazine with an air of utterly detached boredom. Disinterest was her shield against mortal dangers, and doctors and sticky substances were at the top of her list. When the nurse stepped out and called my name, I saw the hairs stand up across Jenna’s arms and I stifled a laugh. “Shut up,” she muttered out the side of her mouth as we followed the nurse back. “I will leave you here.” I straightened my face because there was a solid chance that she actually would—at least temporarily—and I really needed her there for moral support, no matter what form it took. After the weigh-in and vitals, I found myself sitting bare-assed on a cold table, waiting for my doctor. Jenna perched on a chair, reading a different magazine. I watched her read the same page three times. “You know, the words aren’t going to change, no matter how many times you read them,” I told her. “Yeah, I have no idea what I just read.” She sighed

and set the magazine in her lap, leaning her head back against the wall. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous; it’s not my uterus.” “Exactly. So calm down. If I have to comfort you through this whole ordeal it kind of defeats the purpose of bringing moral support with me.” “Is that what I’m supposed to be?” “Well, I was hoping.” “Moral support it is, then,” she sighed as she got up out of the chair. The doctor came in at the same moment. “Shelley! So nice to see you again. I hear you’re pregnant! Congratulations, or condolences—take one or both; I’m feeling generous,” she said warmly, her eyes widening as she spotted my sister standing behind me. “Jenna! This is a surprise. I hope you’ll be making an appointment for your very, very late annual while you’re here. Unless you’ve found a different doctor?” Jenna went pale and offered a grim smile. “Am I overdue?” she asked weakly. “Extremely. You must need birth control by now, at the very least.”

“I’m covered.” “Over the counter?” “Lesbianism.” “Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry; I can be forgetful. Anyway, sorry, Shelley, I’ll let you badger your sister into attending to her lady health some other time. For now, let’s take a look at that baby!” Doctor Snow booted up her machine as I lay flat on the bed. The gel was almost too hot, and I’d braced for it to be cold, which didn’t help my general baseline of uncomfortable confusion. She hummed little thinking noises while she moved the wand around on my belly and clicked things on the screen. “Hm…mhm…ah!” “What is it—what’s wrong?” Jenna asked quickly. “That, my dear, is entirely a matter of perspective. There might not be anything wrong at all; it could be a dream come true.” “What did you say ‘ah’ about?” I asked, beginning to lose patience with both Jenna’s neurotic anxiety and Dr. Snow’s rambling communication. “Here, let me show you. This is your uterus here. It’s just the slightest bit heart-shaped, see? And

here’s your cervix, which looks nice and healthy from here. And over here…you see that little flutter? That’s your baby’s heartbeat. But, surprise! Move over this way, and there’s another heartbeat!” “You have a mirror in your uterus?” Jenna asked shakily. Dr. Snow shot her an annoyed look. “No, dear. Shelley’s having twins! They both look nice and healthy so far. You’re about six or seven weeks along, I’d say.” No surprise there… “How big are they right now?” I asked. “Oh, about…this big. Just barely smaller than a blueberry, and they’re shaped like shrimp. Ooh, I still have that leftover scampi in the fridge—what time is it? Oh, good, lunchtime. As soon as I’ve answered all of your questions of course; I’m not going to shove you out of here in favor of scampi —” An audible growl from her stomach interrupted her, and she looked at me apologetically. “Do you have any questions?” I had nothing but questions. Two little shrimpshaped blueberries were about to change my whole life. “Um, when will they be born?”

“Good question! Let me pull my little calculator up on here, and…six weeks, first pregnancy, twins, October fourteenth would make it August twentythird…variables in, push the button…right! Your little nuggets are due on May sixteenth, but I don’t expect them to hang out in there past April eighteenth.” “Why?” I asked anxiously. “Twins tend to come early because of the extra strain they put on your body. And it’s not really early early; most kids are ready to go at thirty-six weeks and use the extra four weeks to fatten up and lose their fur—” “Fur?” “Not really fur fur, just peach fuzz to protect them from the amniotic fluid. It can get a little acidic—” “They’re going to be floating in acid?!” The doctor’s stomach growled again and she winced. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a present.” She wheeled her chair across the floor and bounced out of it to open a cupboard, then took two books from the top shelf and handed them to me. “What to Expect When You’re Expecting Twins,

and Gestation in Humans. The first one’s written for moms and the second is written for doctors, but you’re smart and curious. I’m sure you’ll be able to get through it. Read up, enjoy, and whatever questions come to you while you’re reading, write them down, and we’ll have a nice long talk next time. Sound good?” “Yes,” I said gratefully as I took the books from her. “Thank you, Dr. Snow.” “You are most welcome. Now, I really need to get to that scampi before I collapse. I swear, my metabolism is convinced that I spend all my time running!” She hurried out of the room, waving merrily at us as she went. “Running her mouth, maybe,” Jenna grumbled. “You’re just annoyed because you hate doctors,” I said absently as I skimmed the back covers of the books. “I can’t believe she gave me homework.” “You seemed happy about it,” Jenna pointed out. “Oh, I am! I need these. I’m just surprised she had them on hand to give out.” The massive dump of information was slowly being sorted by my brain, kept apart from my emotions by a bubble of nameless anxiety. It was only after we were back in the car and on the road that the

full weight of it all hit me. “I’m having twins.” “Yep.” “That’s two babies, Jenna! How am I going to finish school with two babies? How am I going to work or live or anything? Remember that kitten I had? I couldn’t even keep my room clean with just a kitten to mess it up! Cats are clean creatures— way cleaner than babies—how am I going to keep a place sanitary with two babies and no sleep? I have to call Miles; he needs to know that it’s twins. He’ll change his mind—” “Drop the phone. Drop it. Now, Shelley!” I slammed the phone into my lap. I took a few deep breaths to calm down. “You’re right,” I said. “I can’t call him. I’ll just get Nate again. I have to go out there. I’ll loiter around the office until he’s done for the day, then I’ll casually, accidentally-on-purpose run into him and say, hey! Thought you might like to know that the baby I told you about is actually two babies, and see if he can still brush me off in person! Ha! I wonder if he even really knows about it. I never actually talked to him, just Nate, and then he emailed me. But it’s just email; it’s not like nobody

can type ‘sincerely, Miles Lane’ except—” “Shelley! Good lord, you’re as bad as Dr. Snow,” Jenna interjected. “Look, squirt, I feel your pain. I do. This whole thing sucks and it’s terrible and he’s terrible for not being around to see you through it. But look at it logically. Would he be sending you thousands of dollars a month if he had any interest at all in being involved?” “Maybe it was an impulsive decision,” I argued weakly. “Like, maybe he panicked and did the only thing he could think of in the heat of the moment?” “Even for a millionaire, that’s too much money to commit to on a whim. He’s not interested, honey. You’re not going to be able to force him to be a father to his kids or a partner to you. I hate to say it, but that’s just the way it is.” Anxiety and despair clutched at my chest, battling for dominance but only managing to get swallowed by each other. “Jenna, what am I going to do?” I whispered. “Five thousand a month might be enough to keep a roof over our heads, but it isn’t going to help me maintain that roof. Or sneak in a nap. Or make sure I’m getting enough to eat. Damn it, Jenna, parenting is a two-person deal for a reason!”

My sister didn’t say anything. I didn’t expect her to. I pressed my forehead against the cool window and allowed the full burden of the situation to fall squarely on my shoulders. I was going to be a single mother. A young single mother with no degree, living on hush money. It was too much. “Gotta say, I never thought that you would be the one to live the soap opera life,” Jenna chuckled. “I know, right? I keep expecting Evil Miles to pop up and say that he’s really the father, and then Good Miles to show up and defeat him in a sword fight, only to succumb to a brain aneurysm.” “But the aneurysm doesn’t actually kill him, it just puts him in a really long coma while his evil business partner resurrects his twin,” Jenna added enthusiastically. “And then their mother shows up to declare that neither of them is the real Miles, they’re both evil clones!” Laughter felt good. Hanging out with Jenna felt good, too. For all the time I’d spent trying to get away from home and Mom and Jenna, they felt like anchors right now. I needed an anchor, or three. Reluctantly resigning myself to single parenthood, I

invited Jenna up to my apartment. “What are you going to do about your degree?” Jenna asked. I paused. “Well…I have until April, right? If I double up on a couple of classes, I’m sure I can get enough credits to graduate by then.” “Right. You’re going to double up on classes when you’ve missed the last entire week because you can’t stop puking and sleeping long enough to go. Have you even been going to work?” “Sort of,” I mumbled. “I clock in and everything, but I spend most of my shift with my head in the toilet. It’s not pretty.” “Exactly. This isn’t going to be easy, Shelley.” “Well, hell, I didn’t expect it to be easy, but I didn’t think it would be this damn hard!” I burst into tears with no warning, another delightful little quirk of this whole pregnancy thing. I felt like my heart was breaking all over again. “I have to make a phone call,” I said between sobs. “Stay, have a drink. Have all the drinks. I can’t touch booze for like a million years.” Jenna gave me a worried look but took me up on the offer, pouring herself a generous glass of my

favorite red wine. “You better not be calling Miles,” she said, giving me that over-the-glasses serious squint which made her look just like our mother. “Nope,” I sighed, wiping my eyes as I began to dial. “But this call could be just as bad. Hi, Mom?” Jenna’s eyes widened. “Shelley!” My mom sounded concerned. “How are you, is everything okay? Do you need money?” Why is everybody trying to fix my life with money? “No, I’m fine on money. Um…but there’s something I need to tell you, and a really big question I need to ask you, and I just…are you sitting down? Please sit down.” “Oh, no. All right, I’m sitting. What’s going on, Shell? You sound like you’re crying. Are you crying?” Her question just made me cry harder. I took a deep breath to calm my voice. It almost worked. “I, um…I made a mistake. A little, tiny, huge, massive, ridiculous mistake. I messed everything up.” “What happened, Shelley? Whatever it is, we can

fix it.” I sobbed and sniffled, mopping my face with a tissue. “I’m pregnant,” I confessed in a sigh. “With twins, and the father wants nothing to do with us. I’m so sick—I didn’t know people got this sick—and there’s no way I can get my degree before the babies come, and the bar isn’t good for me with all the smoke and the unpredictable drunk guys, and I spend my whole shift throwing up anyway… Mom, can I come home?” I sounded like a little kid to myself, calling home from summer camp. Might as well have been summer camp, for as long as I’d managed to make it on my own. I rolled my eyes at myself, disgusted with my own failure. “You? You’re pregnant?” Mom sounded shocked and hesitant, as if she were waiting for me to say April Fool’s. “Yes, me,” I said more forcefully than I had intended to. “Pregnant and unmarried and unloved and scared and I don’t know what to do and…I give up.” She chuckled sympathetically, which made me feel better.

“All right, honey. You’re allowed to give up, and you can come give up at home. I’ll get your room ready. When do you want to come down?” “I don’t know,” I sniffled. “A month? No, six weeks. I have to give a month’s notice on the apartment and I don’t want to pay for time I’m not going to use. That’ll give me time to wrap everything up here and get down there before I turn into a whole planet.” “Planning always did make you feel better. Planning and reading. Do as much of that kind of thing as you can, okay? Trust me, it’ll help. I remember being your age, pregnant with Jenna…I completely forgot to do anything that made me feel calm and happy. I spent all my time feeling. Feelings are great and all, but they aren’t very good for your sanity. Protect your sanity, sweetheart, you’re going to need it. Twins! How exciting!” “You’re thinking about buying matching sets of cutesy baby things, aren’t you?” “What are grandmas for? Oh, grandma! God, that sounds terrible. We’ll come up with something else. I am entirely too young and spritely to be called that.” “You just used ‘spritely’ in a sentence. I’m pretty sure that means you’re older than dirt.”

“A broad vocabulary never aged anybody,” she sniffed. “Now, go call your sister and have a good cry. I have preparations to make. Love you, sweetheart.” “Love you too, and I’m two steps ahead of you. I’ll see you the first of December.” “Can’t wait. See you soon, sweetheart.” I wiped my face again as I hung up the phone. The tears seemed to have a mind of their own, flowing as they pleased with no consideration for the actual intensity of my feelings. “Well,” Jenna said, raising her brows in surprise. “That went better than expected.” “Yeah, it did,” I replied, smiling through my tears. “It really did.”

CHAP TER 7

SHELLEY MAY IN MO NTE R E Y

“U

gh, why is it so hot?” I lowered myself into the sturdy wicker patio chair with a

groan.

My mother chuckled softly and handed me a tall glass of lemonade. “Imagine if you were this far along in August! That was me with your sister. I thought I was going to die. I don’t think I spent more than five minutes a day clothed that whole month.” Her eyes glittered with mirth at the memory, but there was a touch of sadness to them. “You were my age when you got pregnant with her, right?” “Oh, yes,” she sighed. “Your dad and I had only

been dating for a couple of months when I found out. I couldn’t even picture myself as a mother at that point. I was a lot like Jenna, you know. Like both of you, I suppose. I always had a plan. My life plan was broken down into yearly, monthly, weekly, and daily parts.” She gazed out at the fountain, the centerpiece of her garden, but she was seeing something else. “Did you ever get your plan back on track?” I asked hesitantly. She shot me an amused look. “Never. Once you bring another person into the world, you have to rewrite your plan from scratch. I intended to graduate at the age of twenty-five, then spend a year in Paris, and another in Milan. I really wanted to be at the heart of the fashion world, to swim in it until I understood every stitch and seam intuitively. Then, I would come back to the States, move to New York, and not stop working until I had my first show at Fashion Week.” “You sound like a whole other person when you talk about fashion,” I said musingly. “You must have been really passionate about it.” “Oh, honey, I was. Immensely. I gave myself a twoyear buffer to succeed at my Fashion Week goal. Whenever I met that goal, I was going to come

back here and open a business. “I had a whole line in mind for my big debut. I think I still have the sketches around here somewhere. The styles are hopelessly out of date now, of course, but back then, they were cutting edge. Huge shoulders, big pockets, lots of interesting patterns and shapes…” She trailed off into a sigh. “But your sister came along, and then you almost immediately after, and there simply wasn’t any room in my life for those things.” A lump rose in my throat and I had to fight back tears. I sipped my lemonade until my flaring hormones subsided and allowed me to wrestle my emotions under control. “Why didn’t you ever go back to it?” I asked. “Once we were in school, I mean.” She shrugged. “The economy started slipping. Your dad was having trouble making ends meet, so I had to take whatever job I could get. He got a promotion, I got a better job, and we were finally able to buy this house. Then, he got another promotion, and he was finally making enough to support us all on his own. We started talking about me going back to school to finish my degree.” She chewed her lip for a moment, looking somehow younger, as if her past self was reflected in her

face. “Was that when…?” She nodded, smiling at me though she was holding back tears. “It got to be too much for him. He didn’t talk about things, you know. I didn’t find out until after that he had this passion built up inside of him, these plans and dreams. He wanted to travel the world, too—to design buildings in Tokyo and Rome instead of from his cubicle here. We could have worked something out together, if he had just told me…” She trailed off, swallowing hard against the tears. A few escaped anyway, leaving silver trails in her makeup. “Here’s to proud men who screw it up for all of us,” I said, holding my glass out. She laughed and clinked her glass to mine, then took a drink. “To proud men,” she agreed. “They’re kind of like kids. If you don’t take the time to listen to them when they want to tell you an hour-long story about the scribble they drew, they aren’t going to want to tell you about the cool things they did in school, or the problems they’re having with their friends, or that girl that they have a crush on, or that one time

they smoked pot and freaked out. You have to lay the foundation of trust, no matter how stupid or infantile the thing seems.” “Is this a lesson on dating or motherhood?” I asked playfully. “Both,” she said with a grin. My belly seemed to roll in on itself, sticking out even farther until it bumped the table in front of me. My tank top rolled up to settle under my breasts, and I readjusted on the chair. Mom was eying my belly cautiously. “Was that the twins moving?” “I don’t think so,” I said, still trying to find a comfortable position. “I’m not sure what that was.” “Hm.” She pulled out her phone and checked the date. “May first. You still have a couple of weeks left, don’t you?” “Technically, yes, but Dr. Snow said that they would probably come before the due date. I guess it’s a twin thing?” “Hm, I see. Well, it’s a good thing we have the nursery set up.” “Why? I’m not in labor.”

As soon as I said that, my stomach did the thing again. Only, this time, it knocked the breath out of me. “Jeez, what is that?” “An envy-worthy contraction,” she said with a laugh. “Six minutes. We have some time yet. How do you feel?” “Like I need to take a walk,” I said as panic flickered through my brain. “That’s a really good idea. I’ll walk with you. Ooh! I can show you my new azaleas!” “I would really rather skip the botany lesson right now.” There was more of a snap to my words than I had intended, and I bit my lip. Mom raised an eyebrow, but helped me out of the chair. As soon as I stood, another contraction hit. It crushed my spine like a steamroller, dropping me to my knees. “Oh, wow, okay, maybe we skip the walk and go straight to the hospital,” she said, kneeling beside me to rub my back. “That was…well, it was four minutes. They say not to go until you’ve had ten of them, three minutes apart.” “Yeah, let’s wait till then,” I said rapidly. “As soon

as I get there, they’re going to strap me into monitors and make me lie down, and I really don’t think I can lie down right now. I really, really want to move.” “All right, come on.” She braced herself and helped me lift my considerable weight off the ground. “Take my arm; we’ll walk. No botany, I promise.” We walked—toddled, really—up the garden path, and she dialed a number on her phone. “Jenna? Your sister’s about ready to pop. We’re walking around the garden now, but these contractions are the real thing. As soon as they pick up a little speed, we’ll head to the hospital. Can you come now? Yeah? Great, see you soon.” I could feel them coming, now. A tiny, subtle spike of adrenaline hit the base of my neck a few seconds before my belly began to roll, letting me brace for the impact. I made it through my next contraction without breaking my stride, and the one after that. After several minutes, Mom frowned at me. “Maybe I should call your sister back,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s been ten minutes since your last contraction.” “I’ve had two since then,” I told her as the adrenaline hit. “And I’m about to have another

one…now.” I breathed, letting my body tell me what to do. My mother looked at me slack-jawed and bug-eyed. “How are you doing that? Don’t they hurt?” “No,” I said honestly. “If I tense up at all, they do. I can tell they’ll hurt if I start to panic. I’m sure if they get any stronger they’re going to hurt. But right now, it’s just like doing slow crunches.” She shook her head as we rounded the back of the yard and shot me a playful look. “Ugh, you disgust me. I was screaming by the end of my first real contraction, and I didn’t stop screaming until Jenna flew out of me. I was a little better with you, but not much.” “Hence the tube-tying,” I said breathlessly as another contraction began. “Yes, hence the…are you contracting again?” I nodded, unable to speak. “All right, you have to say something when they start; I’m trying to time you.” “Does it really matter?” I asked impatiently. “Yes, it matters,” she snapped. “You are not having these babies in my garden like some kind of feral cat, Shelley.”

I wanted to shout at her, but my voice was stolen by the invisible band tightening around my diaphragm. “Contraction,” I croaked. “Three minutes, to the second. Nine to go, then we get in the car.” Every time she talked about going to the hospital, I started to sweat. I didn’t have nearly the same aversion to doctors that Jenna had, but the thought of doing something so dramatically personal in front of a room full of people was giving me something close to stage fright. Worse than stage fright. It was like being in a quiz show on national TV naked. I wasn’t ready for this, not by a long shot. Which was why, when my water broke during contraction number six, I didn’t say anything. I wanted those last nine minutes of freedom, and I knew Mom would cut my time short if she knew. A pinkish-silvery trail followed me down the path, and I imagined that I was a snail. It’s not a belly; it’s my beautiful shell. “I think maybe I’m losing my mind,” I told Mom. “Why do you say that?” she asked sharply. “Do you know your name? Your address?”

“What? Yes, of course. My mind is just going to weird places, that’s all. The way it does when I get into a painting trance.” “Yep, time to go. Come on, honey, let’s grab your bag and get to the car.” “What about Jenna?” “She’ll figure it out; she knows what hospital we’re going to.” “Okay, okay, don’t rush—” A contraction cut me off, powerful enough to send me to my knees again. “Damn it, I knew I should have made you leave sooner. Jenna was a quick labor, too. Can you stand?” I shook my head. “All right, breathe, it’s going to be okay. Let me know when it passes.” I caught my breath in a rush, and stood as quickly as I could without using my abs. “Okay, let’s go.” “Did the contractions stop?” Jenna was here, yelling from the back door. “Nope! They’re picking up speed. Help me get her

to the car.” “God, why are you guys still here? Jeez, Shelley, you look like you’re about to ascend to another plane of existence or something. Why did you let her wait so long, Mother?” “Don’t ‘Mother’ me. She’s way bigger than me and she has pregnant lady super strength—you think I was going to fight her? I tried to talk her into going, but she was feeling restless.” “Of course she’s feeling restless; she’s got two people trying to crawl out of her! All right Shelley, back seat. Shelley? Earth to Shelley.” “I’m in the back seat. What do you want?” I grumbled absently. “Reassurance that you’re still with us,” Jenna said briskly. “Now, we…oh for heaven’s sake, where did Mom go?” “I’ve got the bags! We can go now.” “Is there anything in there that she’s going to need before the babies are born?” “What? I don’t think so. Why, does she need something now? What do you need, honey?” I closed my eyes and lay my head down on the cool seat. Curling up like this felt exactly right. I could

almost sleep through the contractions in this position. “A doctor, Mother—she needs a doctor. Buckle up.” Jenna took off like a bat out of hell, pressing me hard into the back of the seat. The pressure was answered by my abdomen. By the time we got to the hospital, the pressure had become rolling waves of pain. Mom had stopped calling out the minutes between, because there weren’t any. The second one contraction subsided, another one began. I’m not sure how I made it into the hospital room, but before I knew it, Dr. Snow was lifting my legs into stirrups. “When did the contractions begin?” she asked. I had no concept of time at that point, and was endlessly grateful that my mother was there. “About an hour and a half ago,” Mom said. “Shelley? Were there any contractions before that?” Dr. Snow asked. I shook my head wordlessly. “Good grief, you’re going to be a quick one, aren’t you? Well, just do me a favor and try to maintain control; we don’t want a traffic jam up in there.

Speaking of which…” She lay the bed flat—which was incredibly uncomfortable—and poked around my belly. It felt as if she were probing clear back to my spine, and a strangled scream burst from my throat as another contraction hit. “All right, looks like they’re lined up and ready to go. As long as nobody gets a cord wrapped around anybody else, we’re looking good for a vaginal delivery. Yay! Trust me, it’s better that way. Your lady parts bounce back a lot faster than cutting your tummy open. Besides, I already did a Csection today. Too much of the same dulls your edge, you know?” “Do you always talk this much?” my mother asked exasperatedly. That made me laugh in spite of my pain, which triggered another contraction. “I tend to ramble when I get excited—forgive me. I’ll let you do what you need to do, dear. As long as you keep those monitors on, you can get up and walk around or dance or squat or whatever you feel you need to do. Just stay close to the call button, don’t go anywhere alone, and keep those monitors on! I’ll be back to check on you in half an hour.”

I had never been more relieved to hear anything in my entire life. My greatest fear had been to be strapped to the table, unable to move around while these babies tried to squeeze through. Awkward with my constantly changing center of gravity, I fumbled my way out of bed. “Music,” I gasped at Jenna. “Your usual?” “Dance. Latin pop.” She nodded and opened the music app on her phone. Moments later, music filled the room, and my body locked on to the rhythm as if it had been waiting for guidance. A primal dance moved through me, separate from my consciousness, connected to the music and the needs of my labor. I felt the larger twin settle low between my hips, and I rocked around the pressure, coaxing the baby into position. I spent the next three hours like that. Dancing, then back on the bed so Dr. Snow could check my progress. Back onto the floor to work out the kinks. Up on the bed. Back to the floor. Then, at the end of the third hour, a hundred things happened at once. Jenna smashed the call button. The monitor began

to beep frantically. Nurses flooded the room, followed by Dr. Snow, who had a sandwich in one hand. I was herded onto the bed by people who were all talking at once, and I couldn’t tell which instructions were directed at me. I found myself lying on my side, holding my knees to my chest; then, I heard nothing but white noise and the sounds of my own guttural screams. “First baby is a boy! Oh, patience second baby, let me get your brother out of the way…all right, I guess we’re just not going to let Dr. Snow snip anything yet, are we? There you go, good job. One more big push for me, Shelley, whenever you’re ready. Good girl! And, another good girl! Baby number two has arrived. “Now, if you’ll just…okay, I guess we’re just doing everything at once, aren’t we? Better than waiting around, I suppose. There’s one…and two! All right, did we miss anything? No? Everything intact? Yes? Excellent.” Empty. I felt as if my ribcage and my hips belonged to two different people, separated by an eternal void. I detached from reality entirely, floating through the room. I could feel the turn of the earth and taste the vibrations of sound. The world was unrecognizable, and I was the universe. Then, I was on my back, and a nurse was pressing

her fists into my belly. I heard her voice as an ethereal echo, but couldn’t interpret the words. They were just noises, senseless noises floating through the void. Another nurse joined her, and then there were four fists on my belly. Snow was doing something between my legs. It felt sharp, but it was over quickly. The pain of the nurses’ fists finally grew intense enough to cut through my haze. I snapped back into the moment just in time to feel a contraction begin. “There we go,” a nurse sighed as she shook out her hands. “Thought we were going to lose you for a second there, dear. I’ve never seen blood pressure drop so fast.” I blinked, then ground my teeth as I contracted again. Now that I didn’t have the babies inside to press against, the contractions felt like hell. “Why is this still happening?” I asked tearfully. “Your uterus needs to shrink and cut off the blood flow. Without the placentas, you’re just bleeding. There’s one surefire way to…here we are.” The nurse took one of the babies from a different nurse and placed him on my chest. “Your son,” she said warmly. “The sooner you breastfeed, the better. Speeds up the healing

process.” “And…your daughter,” Dr. Snow said as she placed the other baby on the other side of my chest. “Two for the price of one very intense labor.” Stunned, I gazed down at the babies in my arms. They were absolutely beautiful—tiny and soft and perfect. I guided them to my breasts, hoping they would know what to do. I certainly didn’t. My son did; he opened his tiny mouth and rooted around with his little button nose until he found what he wanted. The strength of his pull startled me. It was so different from anything I’d ever experienced that I didn’t quite know how to react. My daughter wasn’t quite so active. She moved her mouth and head, but she seemed to be so tired. I could relate. A woman in purple scrubs came into the room a few moments later to help my little girl get started. She introduced herself, but I couldn’t pay attention. I was completely absorbed in my babies, head over heels in love. “What are you going to name them?” Jenna asked as she petted my son’s fuzzy head. Her touch caught his attention and his eyes opened for the first time. I gasped as tears welled up, choking me. The sound startled my daughter, who

opened her eyes to look at me. It was a double heartbreak; they both had Miles’ eyes. I swallowed hard, but it didn’t stop the tears from flowing. “He should have been here,” I said sadly as I gazed down at her. “You deserved to have him here.” Jenna rubbed my shoulder, then sat down beside my mother. I kissed each baby in turn, careful not to break their latch. My tears splashed down onto their beautiful faces, which only made me cry harder. “Don’t worry, my loves,” I whispered fiercely. “I’ll love you more than two parents ever could. I’ll love you so much you’ll never even miss his presence. From this moment on, everything I do is for you. You’re my whole world.” My heart shattered, only to melt back together when I moved my son to my shoulder and he nuzzled my neck. It shattered again when I looked into my baby girl’s eyes, then melted once more when she curled up between my breasts and fell asleep. In that moment, I knew that this was the shape of my life, now. From now until my heart forgot him, I would spend my life shattering and melting in undulating waves, like contractions in my broken soul.

CHAP TER 8

SHELLEY TWO YE AR S L ATE R

J

ust as I had on their first birthday, I awoke with the memory of their birth fresh in my mind. I wondered if it would be that way for the rest of my life, and decided that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I had barely rubbed the sleep from my eyes when my door flew open and Vincent fell flat on his face. He looked up at me with a grin, his wild blond curls falling over his chubby little face. “Mama!” he squealed, pushing himself up and running across the room to slam headlong into my mattress. “Come here before you concuss yourself,” I laughed. I scooped him up and planted a raspberry on his belly, making him squeal again.

“Mama! Mama, up!” Frida called from the nursery. “Did you abandon your sister?” I asked Vincent in a playfully shocked tone. He giggled maniacally, and I couldn’t help but laugh with him. Tossing him over my shoulder, I shuffled around the corner in my tattered pajamas to find Frida scowling from her crib. Smaller and less athletic than her brother, my daughter frequently found herself stuck in place while Vincent moved with terrifying freedom through the world. “Up! Up! Up!” Frida bounced on her toes with her little arms waving in the air. I scooped her up into my free arm and kissed her soundly on the forehead. Her strawberry-blond curls tickled my nose, making me sneeze. Both kids thought it was absolutely hilarious. Their shrieking laughter roused my mom, who trudged blearily out of her room, wrapped in the same fuzzy pink bathrobe that she had worn when I was little. “Didn’t I buy you a new robe last Christmas?” I asked, glancing pointedly at the threadbare waist and frayed hem. “You did,” she said through a yawn. “But I like this one. It’s all broken-in already.”

“Definitely broken,” I teased. She made a face at me and took Vincent from my arms before he climbed clear over my shoulder to tumble down the stairs. Coffee and fruit were on the menu for me, cheerios and apple juice for the twins, and Mom would eventually work her way around to an English muffin. It was a morning routine I enjoyed, because it gave me a solid twenty minutes in the morning when I didn’t have to decide anything. “Ready for today?” Mom asked me. “Ready to entertain a dozen toddlers and their parents? Not even,” I laughed. “I just hope Jenna gets here before the horde arrives.” “Oh, it’ll be easy. Easier than all the babysitting you do. At least their parents will be here.” “Babysitting gives me two, three extra kids at a time. A birthday party…” “Birday?” Vincent asked, his sharp little eyes locking onto mine. “Yeah, buddy, it’s your birthday today! Your friends are all coming over, and you’re going to get cake and presents.” He stopped listening halfway through my sentence,

distracted by a stray cheerio. I shrugged and sipped my coffee. “Baby parties aren’t really for the babies anyway,” Mom whispered. “We parents just like inflicting the chaos on ourselves. It makes the rest of the year seem easy in comparison.” I grinned at her assessment of the situation. As the coffee swirled around my brain, activating all of my to-do lists, it was like the whole world snapped into focus. Good, I thought. If I can just maintain this level of focus until three, maybe we’ll all survive the party. “I need to finish up that dress for Sasha. Can you handle the twins for an hour?” “You need to do that now? We still have to get the place ready for the party!” Mom slathered strawberry jam on her muffin with excessive force, ripping through the delicate little bread pockets. “She wants to take it home with her today after the party. If I don’t do it now, I’m not going to have another chance. It’s only, what, seven thirty? We’ll have time to set up.” “If you say so,” Mom sighed. “Don’t get caught up in one of your artistic fevers, or we’ll never get it done in time.”

“I won’t, I promise. You two be good for Gran, I’ll be back in a little bit.” I inhaled deeply as I stepped into the garage. Art permeated the very air in here, as the scents of ink and emulsifier clung to everything, accented by the dusty aroma of thrift store fabric. Sasha’s long sun dress hung on the center rolling rack, one of six garments that I was in the middle of making. Complex designs danced across the clothes in various stages of completion, and Sasha’s had just one part left before it was finished. I examined my work from the previous few days. Green vines snaked up the dress from the hem, accented by little blue curls. Bright yellow dots swept across the tops of the vines, the base for the magenta blossoms which still needed doing. I slid the dress over the repurposed ironing board until the yellow dots were centered exactly where I needed them. Leaving it, I moved to the dark room that my Mom—after several weeks of resisting— had finally let me build in one corner of the garage. As I turned on the light, the deep red glow warmed my creative juices. In this space, there were no broken hearts, no fatherless children, no sadness at all. There was only art. I burned the silhouette onto the screen, meditating in my quiet place while it cured. Instinct—

developed through nearly two years of careful honing—told me when to take the image out from under the lamp. Rinsing the screen brought another wave of calm; I was centered, secure. I would never tell my mother, but my procrastination on this dress had been deliberate. If I was going to make it through this day with my sanity intact, I needed this time in this place. My well of patience was only filled by the deep silence and slow, firm, routine of creation. Ink bled through the screen, penetrating the thin fabric of the dress below. Little magenta petals brought the design to life, creating a field of impressionistic flowers across the skirt. They would dance when she twirled and wave when she walked, turning her every movement into a breeze. I took my time with it, making sure I got it just right; I wanted this to be perfect. Sasha was the mom all the other moms looked to for shopping advice, and I wanted her tongue wagging in my favor. I sighed happily as I finished the last flower, then checked the time. Eight forty-five. Mom would forgive the extra few minutes as long as I busted my butt to set up for the party. I turned on my little second-hand oven and let it preheat while I cleaned up. The screen took a

chemical bath to remove the stencil, and the squeegee was scrubbed within an inch of its life. Even the cleanup routine was a bit meditative. When the oven was hot, I baked the dress. A silicone tray protected the thin fabric from the hot metal rack. This part always set my nerves on edge; too little time and the design would fade. Too much time and it would bubble, any more time and the dress would catch fire. I had to remind myself to breathe as I glued my eyes to the window. Four minutes and fifty-two seconds later, I pulled the dress out of the oven. “Perfect.” At that same moment, a shriek hit my ears at just the right frequency to make me panic. Tossing the dress over the rolling rack, I dashed out of the garage and into the kitchen. Vincent was wailing and holding his head as my mom struggled to hold him. “He ran under the table,” she explained breathlessly, her hair and eyes as wild as my son. “Too tall to manage it.” “Come here, baby,” I said, holding out my hands. He launched himself through the air, forcing me to catch him before he face-planted on the tile floor.

He buried his face in my chest and sobbed as Frida looked on with wide blue eyes and a thumb in her mouth. “He’s okay, Frida,” I told her as I combed his thick hair away from the bump to check for blood. “Yeah, you’re okay, buddy.” His screams shuddered to a halt; then, he lifted his head so fast he nearly head-butted me in the jaw. He slapped his two pudgy hands on my cheeks and looked deep into my eyes. The familiar lump rose in my throat as I saw Miles reflected in Vincent’s perfect little face. I swallowed it—which was getting easier as time went by, but I doubted it would ever really be easy—and kissed his forehead. “No running in the house,” I told him firmly. He grinned at me and wriggled in my arms. I put him down so I wouldn’t drop him, and turned to my mom. “Where’s the to-do list?” “Right here.” She puffed out her cheeks and swept the list up off the table. “Okay, so we need to get pizzas and chips, pick up the cake and balloons, set up the ball pit, fence off the lawn, set up the bubbles, and make the punch.”

“Great. I’ll take Vincent and run the errands if you watch Frida and get started here.” She tried to hide her relief, but failed. She was still a few years short of fifty and had plenty of energy for most kids, but Vincent was a special kind of trouble, and he managed to exhaust both of us most days. Splitting the kids and the chores up allowed us to have the house set up half an hour before the first kid toddled to the door with his hand wrapped around his mother’s finger. “Hi, Charlie! Hi Mary, how are you?” Vincent toddled up behind me and grabbed Charlie’s hand. Together, the two boys made for the living room in that weaving, half-drunk sort of way that toddlers run. “Oh, thank God,” Mary said under her breath as she shot me a grateful smile. “Long day?” I asked. “Long year,” she said as she stepped inside. “I swear, he’s gotten clingier since I went back to work. He wasn’t exactly standoffish before, you know? God, you’re lucky.” Startled, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, just that you don’t have to work.” I smiled tightly. “I do work,” I reminded her. “Oh? You don’t mean those crafts you’re always doing? Or the babysitting? Come on, Shelley, that’s not really work. Not the same way! You don’t have to leave the kids, for one thing. And honestly, isn’t that more like a hobby? You aren’t exactly making a living at it.” My sharp retort was delayed by the arrival of Jill and her mother April. April and I had been friends in high school, and had picked up right where we left off when I moved back to Monterey. She smiled sunnily at me as she released Jill to go find the other kids. “Hey chick! How’s business?” “Booming,” I told her as I embraced her warmly. “Just finished a new piece this morning.” “On top of all this?” she asked, sweeping an arm to take in the festooned house. “Girl, I wish I had your stamina.” “Shelley, don’t let her lie to you; this girl can go for days.” April’s husband Dean grabbed her from behind and nuzzled her neck with his fuzzy beard. She squealed and slapped him, and I rolled my eyes. They always had been loudly affectionate,

and I still found it amusing after all these years. “I didn’t mean like that, Dean,” she said exasperatedly. “I meant like Shelley, with her passion for screen printing of all things. Not that there’s anything wrong with screen printing, I just wish I had passion like that for…well, anything.” “Aw,” Dean pouted. “Again, not like that,” she shook her head at him, then kissed him firmly. “Go play with the kids.” He beamed at her and trotted away. “He listens so much better than he used to,” I said, my eyes twinkling. “Yeah, gotta get them trained early. They’re virtually unbreakable after they can legally drink.” We shared a laugh and she stood with me by the door while I greeted more parents and their children. “Bet you’re not thrilled to be back in this place,” she said with a conspiratorial glance. “I guess you’re planning to make a break for it as soon as the kids are in school, right?” Her question hung in the air as I answered the door for three kids I babysat regularly and their poor harried mother.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s starting to grow on me. Don’t get me wrong, this town is still as exciting as a bowl of oatmeal, but…” I shrugged, gazing out the door at the line of unlocked cars parked on the quiet, sunny street. “That’s kind of what I like about it. I don’t have to worry about the kids growing up here. There’s so little trouble for them to get into, you know?” “True,” she said pensively. “I guess the responsible thing would be to stick around until they grow up.” “Don’t sound so depressed about it,” I laughed. “Why, were you thinking about leaving?” “Only all the time,” she said with a wry twist of her lips. “I don’t know, I think having Danni right out of high school sort of threw me. I had all these big plans to see the world, and then suddenly, I was a mother. I never had the chance to get homesick, you know?” I did know, but I only had the chance to send her an understanding smile before the living room exploded with the offended shrieks of toddlers. April and I hurried out together to see what the trouble was, and the chaos lasted up until the minute lunch was served. Mom had taken the time to cut the pizzas into half-bite-sized bits for the little ones, which was as much a curse as it was a

blessing, since smaller bits made better projectiles. Jenna arrived in the middle of lunch, and I answered the door. “You have pizza stuck to your forehead,” she told me. “Oh. Thanks. How was your drive? Did Anita come with you?” Jenna gave me a look that was just shy of a death glare. “She did not.” Overwhelmed with children and mess, I was oblivious to what she wasn’t saying. “That’s too bad. It’s a long drive to make on your own. Why couldn’t she make it?” “Because she was caught with her hand in someone else’s cookie jar,” Jenna seethed. It finally registered for me. “Oh. Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, Jenna.” “Thanks. I’m not too broken up about it. She liked to keep ferrets, and I was not looking forward to the ‘moving in together’ conversation.” She shuddered violently and I laughed. A chorus of “Oh, no!” met my ear from the dining room, and I hurried away to manage the latest spill. The pizza was mostly eaten or destroyed at this

point, so with the help of a few other parents I cleaned up, turning over the dining room for cake. The kids were getting restless in their chairs, so I hurried to retrieve the double-chocolate cake for the twins. The way their little faces lit up just about broke my heart. Those blue eyes blazing with excitement in the low light, they were the very image of their father. I sang to them around the lump in my throat, but was quickly losing my composure. As soon as they blew out the candles, I pressed the knife into my mom’s hand and fled to the kitchen. I couldn’t bear to have the whole neighborhood see me cry, and I just couldn’t hold it back any longer. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to break,” my mom said sympathetically when she walked in several minutes later. “There must be a dozen toddlers out there. Maybe more. That’s too much for anybody to take on.” “Oh, it’s not the kids,” I sniffed, wiping my eyes. “Not really.” She sat down across from me and held my hand, worry shining in her eyes. “Then what is it, honey? What’s wrong?”

His name caught in my throat, a dam holding back a flood of tears. It hurt my heart to keep it there, but I knew it would break all over again if I let it fall. I took the heartbreak. The constant ache had hurt me enough for one lifetime. “It’s Miles,” I sobbed as the floodgates came crashing down. “He should be here! He should see them; he should know them! How can he sleep at night knowing that they’re out here, fatherless, while he runs around the country with gold-digging models and never…never…they’re his! How can he?” Tears washed away my babbling words and I dissolved once more into sobs. Mom moved around the table to wrap her arms around me, and I buried my face in her shoulder. “Shelley, we swore that we wouldn’t speak that name in this house. Remember what happened last time? When he was the world’s most eligible billionaire or whatever, and had that candied giraffe on his arm? You just about lost your mind and called him. He isn’t worth your pain, my love. He isn’t worth your tears.” She was right. He wasn’t. But, damn it, the twins were worth his time. I fed my despair into the furnace of my anger, letting the heat dry my eyes.

“You’re right,” I told her. My voice was still shaky and I cleared my throat. “You’re absolutely right. He isn’t worth that, any of it.” I cleaned my face and hugged her again, grateful that she and I had managed to build a solid relationship after all. Before I went away to college, I’d never thought that would happen. Just as I was steadying myself to brave the horde of children again, Jenna popped into the room, virtually vibrating with excitement. “You are never going to guess what just happened,” she gushed. “I just got a call from the newspaper to tell me that they just got a call from the California Press Association—” “Who did they get a call from?” I asked. “Oh shut up,” Jenna laughed. “I’ve been named tech journalist of the year!” “Oh my God!” I jumped on her with a bear hug, squeezing the breath out of her. “That’s super exciting! Are you excited? You should be excited; that’s exciting!” “Shelley, don’t suffocate Congratulations, sweetheart.”

your

sister.

“Thanks, Mom,” Jenna said as her face turned from

tomato red back to her usual pinkish glow. “Best part is, there’s this awards ceremony. Very glamorous, a lot of who’s-who of the tech world. I’m going to be doing some monstrous networking, and I have the best dress in the world for it picked out already. Shelley, how would you like to be my plus-one to this thing? Since I’m a single woman once more as of today—thanks, Anita—I don’t want to go by myself, and you’d be better company anyway.” Vincent squealed in delight from the next room, answered by groaning parents. I didn’t want to imagine what he’d done to get such a reaction, but I figured it was something messy or destructive. It usually was. “Where is the ceremony?” I asked hesitantly. “San Bravado, next week. You and I will go, then spend the night in a fancy hotel on the newspaper’s dime. You’ll flirt with rich young men, I’ll keep my eyes peeled for a cute assistant in desperate need of some attention…we’ll have a great time!” It did sound like a great time, in spite of the idea that I might have to share a room with Jenna and one of her conquests. But San Bravado… “It’s too far away,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve got the kids.”

Jenna cast a pleading look to our mother. “Shelley, go,” Mom said. “You’ve been in mommy mode for way too long. Go, have some fun! You’re only twenty-five; you can’t bury yourself yet. Trust me, honey—you need this.” “You so do,” Jenna agreed emphatically. “When was the last time you got dressed up? I mean really dressed up.” “I… God, I can’t even remember.” It was easier to say that than the truth, which was that the last time I’d gotten dressed up, I’d subsequently been stood up and had then discovered that I was knocked up. An involuntary shudder shook me at the memory. “Exactly,” Jenna said firmly. “You’re drowning under mom duties, Shell. Come with me. Please?” “But Vincent…” “Oh, I complain a lot, but he’s not that bad,” my mom intercepted. “I just gotta be quicker than him, is all. Don’t worry about a thing, Shelley; I can take care of the kids for a night or two.” I was feeling the pressure from all sides. Still, I hadn’t been away from the kids overnight…ever, I realized. It made me nervous. Just then, Frida began banging her spoon on the table.

“Mama! Mama! Up! Mama, up!” “Yes,” I told Jenna quickly. “Yes, I’ll come.”

CHAP TER 9

MILES TH E MULTI- B ILLIO NAIR E LIFE

I

grew up on songs about fast cars and fast women. I guess most people do. The music might change, but the lyrics pretty much stay the same. I’d always thought that was the dream. To make it rain money. To have super models and starlets throw themselves at your feet. The upgraded American dream, you know? It wasn’t until I had it all that I began to hear the loneliness behind the lyrics. It had all been a flurry of parties and booze and sex at first, dazzling to my young and naive mind. It didn’t take long for the magic to fade. I was still passionate about my work; the company had grown to be everything I had dreamed of, and more. The first app had been more successful than I could have imagined, and we rode its success to develop more and more.

The fastest rising star in the tech business. I’d never thought I would be at the top of something like that. I had wanted to be, but I used to dream a lot smaller. Now, with business booming at the speed of light and cash pouring in faster than I could count it, I realized that Nathan and I had built something that would last generations. The only problem was, there were no generations for me, and no prospects to create them. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of girls—lines of them, girls as far as the eye could see—but no wife material among them. “What do you want to settle down for, Miles? You’re not even thirty yet; what are you even thinking about parenthood for?” Nathan poured himself a drink in the large shared lounge between our offices, and offered me one. I declined. “It’s not that I want the whole lot right now—wife, kids, dog,” I told him. “But I want more than what I’m finding. I want the potential for a real, lasting relationship with someone compassionate and three-dimensional, someone who’s passionate about something other than fame and money.” “Oh, you want passion? Have I got the girl for you! She’s a wildcat, man.” “I’d rather not lick up your leftovers, thanks.”

“Oh, come on. I dated her a year ago; it’s not like you’re diving right in after me. We still keep in touch, and she’s mentioned you more than once. She’s interested, and she hasn’t even met you yet.” “Which means it’s my wallet she’s interested in,” I sighed. “Or your good looks. Or the rumors about your skill in bed. I swear, I hear more about you than I ever wanted to know. You sure you don’t want a drink?” I glanced at the clock. “It’s barely noon.” “What does it matter? We’re rich, Miles! The normal rules don’t apply. We could be drunk off our asses at nine in the morning, and who’s going to chastise us? Nobody, that’s who. Because we run the show now.” He walked to the window and looked over the city, gesturing with his martini glass. “You and me, standing on top of the world, squinting down at all those peasants just dying to catch a glimpse of us. Doesn’t that get you high on life?” His eyes blazed as he turned the question to me, glittering as if he’d breathed in the most intoxicating smoke. “I don’t know,” I said dismissively. “I miss being able to get lost in a crowd, or have a normal

conversation with a woman. Every date I’ve been on lately feels like an interview, with her as the prospective employee.” “Exactly! That’s the whole point, Miles. You have your pick of the most beautiful, successful, sexy women on the planet. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.” I shifted uncomfortably—it was difficult to do, seeing as the chair I was in was arguably the most comfortable chair I had ever sat on—and searched for a way to express what had been tumbling around in my head for months. “I want that feeling again,” I told him. “What feeling?” “That feeling of…completeness. Like I could talk to her for hours and never run out of things to say, or listen to her for hours and never get bored. I miss that subtle chemistry, where you both know what’s up but nobody’s pushing. I want a woman who’s a friend as well as a lover, someone fully developed in her own right who doesn’t need my money to feel complete.” Nathan smirked. “Good luck, man. I’ve never even met a woman like that. I’m pretty sure they only exist in girl-next-door movies.”

“They exist,” I said confidently, recalling a pair of laughing green eyes peering out from beneath strawberry-blond hair. “I know they do.” Nathan shook his head with a patronizing smile. “You don’t exactly have time for that. We’re growing at an unprecedented rate; you’re going to need your full attention on your work. That being said, you’re still going to need a date to that thing on Saturday. Give Jasmine a call; she’s dying to hear from you. Take her out tonight for a test drive. Who knows, maybe she’ll turn out to be your unicorn.” “If you dated her, I very much doubt it.” “Jump off a bridge,” he said with lazy good humor. “Here’s her number. Call her, or I’ll call her for you, and tell her that you fell in love with her description and are planning to propose the second you see her.” “You’re an ass.” “And you’re a wuss. Call her.” He flicked a business card at me and I caught it. Jasmine Dyme, Fashionista. “What even is a fashionista?” “A girl who knows how to package the goods, my

man. Trust me on this.”

Nate wasn’t wrong. When I picked Jasmine up at the front door of her luxury apartment building, it took me a full minute to regain the use of my tongue. She was built like an hourglass and dressed in a glittering red dress. It was slit up to her hip and the neckline dropped under her opposite shoulder, giving the impression that she could be fully exposed in a heartbeat. “Hi,” she said breathily as she slid into my car. “Oh, you are handsome! I’m Jasmine.” “Miles. Nice to meet you.” “Oh, you too! I’ve been dying to meet you for months. You’re a hard man to get in touch with, you know. I’m super glad you called; I was about to give up on you.” I was flattered in spite of myself. “You actually put work into getting this date with me? Don’t tell me you went out with Nathan just to get to me.” She giggled, and the sound grated on my nerves. Not a deal breaker, I decided firmly. Just one of those things to get used to.

“No, silly! Nathan was number twenty-two.” “What?” “Oh, I know this way! You’re taking me to that one restaurant, the one with the girls in the fish tank…” “Mermaid Cove, yeah. Is that all right?” “Oh, that’s perfect! I love watching the mermaids. How do they hold their breath for so long? Do you think they’re real mermaids? No, that’s ridiculous, mermaids aren’t real. What kind of music do you like, Miles?” She turned the radio on without waiting for an answer and clicked through all of my preset stations. “Punk, indie, hip-hop, oldies…classical?! You’re a music slut!” “What music do you like?” I asked, swallowing my irritation. “Country,” she said adamantly. “I see it’s missing from your buttons. That’s all right; I’ll fix it.” “No!” She snatched her hand back and looked at me, shocked.

“Please don’t change the presets,” I said more calmly. “But you don’t have country!” “I am aware.” “But why don’t you have country?” “Because I don’t like country.” “Oh, that’s silly, you’re a red-blooded American boy; of course you like country.” She moved her hand toward the radio again and it took everything in me not to slap her wrist like an errant child. Instead, I grabbed her hand and laced my fingers through hers. “Ooh, romantic! Honestly, I’m surprised it took you so long to touch me. This is my ‘touch me’ dress. You lasted about fifteen minutes longer than most guys.” “We’ve only been driving for ten.” “I know!” She cackled at her own twisted bit of humor and I stared blandly out the windscreen. I was going to kill Nathan for this. We finally made it to the restaurant after another five excruciating minutes. To my dismay, Jasmine ordered an intricate appetizer and a meal which

would take forever to cook. If she even thought about getting the soufflé for dessert I was going to swear of dating for the rest of time. “So, tell me about yourself,” I said, reluctantly sliding into the role of interviewer. “What exactly is a fashionista?” “I’m a fashion guru. I know what trends are gonna be hot and what’s going out, I know how to dress any body type—that shirt looks terrible on you, by the way; it’s really not your color—and I use my knowledge for the good of mankind.” “How’s that?” “I blog! And consult. I make sure that when you men walk around with your ogling eyes all over us women that you like what you see. I totally called the skinny jean craze before it happened, and checkered belts.” I did some quick calculations and suppressed a dismissive glare. She would have had to be four or five when the checkered belt fad began. Why lie about something that irrelevant? “What about you—what is it you do?” she asked. I frowned at her, but smoothed it out quickly. “I thought you had spent all this time researching

me to get a date. Don’t you know?” “Oh, I know you do something with computers or something. I don’t really pay attention to that stuff.” “Then what possessed you to want to date me?” I asked, exasperated. “Forbes!” “Forbes?” “Ooh, our food!” I ate my shrimp cocktail slowly and crunched the tails. She didn’t seem to notice. I wondered just how rude I could be before I frightened her off, but decided against testing it. There was neither need nor desire to stoop that low. All I had to do was never call her again, and she wouldn’t be able to reach me. I was insulated away from annoyances. It was one of the better perks of being a billionaire. Somewhere in the restaurant, a baby cried. Jasmine wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something terrible and looked around for the offending creature. “Ugh. Who brings a baby to a place like this? Like, obviously people are here to get away from grubby little disasters. It’s just so rude to inflict your spawn

on other people.” She sniffed haughtily and took a bite of her food. “So, you wouldn’t bring your child to a place like this?” I asked her. “Child?! Honey, the only way I’m having a baby is if it’s a condition of the prenup, and even then, they’d better put me under and have a plastic surgeon on standby. I did not work this hard to look this good to let some thing mess it all up for me.” I nodded. I wasn’t surprised at her opinion, though I was a bit shocked at her ownership of it. Most of the women I had dated had skirted such questions, hemming and hawing, unwilling to admit that they felt that way. As much as Jasmine grated on my nerves, at least I could applaud her honesty. “Oh, God, you want kids, don’t you?” Her eyes widened in a strange combination of fear and mockery. “Good lord, why?” “Same reason as anybody, I guess. To carry my name. To bless my blood with immortality.” “That’s what plastic surgery is for.” “You enjoy plastic surgery, don’t you?” “Of course! You should have seen me before. Actually no, no you shouldn’t have, nobody should

have. Ugh. Point is, in this day and age, with all the troubles in the world, it’s like, morally wrong to bring a child into this cold, cruel world.” She was utterly transparent and she wore her selfabsorption like armor. Some poor guy could spend years chipping away at that facade and never reach the real Jasmine. More likely, though, was that she would find herself a rich husband who ignored her until it was time to show her off or take her to bed, and they would die a slow death in adjacent bubbles of mutual disinterest. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, but Jasmine almost seemed like she wanted that. “So,” I said, more to fill the air than anything else. “You mentioned Forbes. I wasn’t aware they had a dating section.” She giggled that grating laugh and slapped the air at me. “They don’t, silly! What they have is the thirty under thirty list. I’ve been checking men off of it all year. Glass slippers are outdated, you know. If you want to find your prince, you gotta put in the legwork.” She smiled smugly at me as if her single-minded

gold-digging was a thing to be proud of. I offered a tight smile in return. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. “I gotta say, though, you’re the most handsome of the whole bunch. I thought it would be Nathan— he’s very pretty—but you’re on a whole other level. Like, you’re really wasted in tech. You should be in movies.” “I don’t have the right temperament,” I said dismissively. “Oh, sure you do! Look at you, all fake humble arrogance and low-key swag. You’re exactly the movie star type.” “I can’t act.” “Nobody can, darling; that’s why they pick people to play roles to match their personalities.” There was only so much cynicism I could take in a single evening. I excused myself to the restroom and dawdled there for a solid ten minutes. When I returned, to my relief, she was nearly finished eating. We skipped dessert in spite of her whiny objections and I took her home. As we pulled up in front of her building, she turned a pair of fine-tuned bedroom eyes on me. “If you want to come upstairs, the parking lot is

right around the corner.” “I’ll pass tonight, thanks.” She leaned close to me, her cumbersome, surgically-enhanced breasts nearly falling out of her dress. “You don’t really want to skip dessert, do you, Miles?” “I’m full.” My tone was as flat as my expression, and she finally got the message. Storming out of the car with a huff, she held the door and turned to face me. “I just want you to really understand what it is you’re passing up on.” With that, she pulled her top down and unleashed her excessive bust to the night air, before indignantly stuffing it all back in. I didn’t allow any reaction to register on my face until she slammed the door and spun away. “Craziest yet. I’m gonna kill him. I am going to kill him.” I turned on the radio to blast the night’s events out of my brain. A crooning woman asked where all the good boys have gone, and I snorted a humorless laugh. “Boys? How about girls? Where the heck are they,

Ms. Radio Star?” Shelley’s wholesomely beautiful face flitted through my mind again. On a wild impulse, I turned the car around and hit the gas. I didn’t know where they were now, but I did know where one used to be. If I was very, very lucky, she might still be there.

Finnegan’s hadn’t changed a bit in the last two years; at least, not from the outside. Inside, it had received a full remodel. I didn’t see any familiar faces as I walked through the new emerald-green decor, and for the first time in years, I felt exceptionally awkward. “What can I get for you?” the brusque bartender asked as I approached. “Um…some information, if you can. I’m looking for a girl.” “We all are, bro. Got a type in mind?” “Her name’s Shelley, Shelley Smith. Gorgeous girl, strawberry-blond, green eyes, about this tall? She used to work here.” The man shook his head. “Not since I’ve been here.

You sure you got the right bar?” “Yes,” I sighed. “How long have you worked here?” “’Bout two years now. The owner bailed after some kind of scandal; new managers hired all new staff, pretty much. I don’t remember the details; I got everything second-hand anyway.” “Where is Mr. Finnegan now?” “Moved to…Tijuana, I think?” I cursed under my breath, then thanked the guy. As I glanced helplessly around the altered bar, I noticed Jeff, the old janitor, sweeping cigarette butts off of the floor by the door as inconspicuously as possible. He wasn’t easy to notice, but he never intended to be. “Hey, Jeff.” “Hey, look who it is! Mr. Bigshot with the all models on his arms. How you been, Miles?” I shook Jeffrey’s calloused hand, smiling at the recently unfamiliar familiarity. “Doing pretty good. Yourself?” “Just workin’, man, same as always.”

“Hey, do you remember Shelley Smith?” “Do I remember? How could I forget? Those legs, that hair! That figure, know what I’m saying? Yeah, I remember.” “What happened to her?” He shrugged, leaning on his broom. “Don’t know, man. She quit about, I don’t know…a month after you did? Maybe a little longer. Before winter, though.” “And you don’t know where she went?” “Nah, man. She was real quiet those last few weeks. Cryin’ and stuff. I told her I’d break the face of anybody who broke her heart, but she wouldn’t tell me anything. I don’t know, guess she just got tired of this place.” “Guess so. Well, thanks anyway, Jeff. Don’t work too hard.” “Never do,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t make too much money!” “No such thing,” I said, because he expected me to. I was beginning to wonder, though. What was the point of having all this money if only the most vapid, materialistic women wanted anything to do with me?

On the long ride home, I replayed every moment of my one, mind-blowing night with Shelley in my head. She’d been the most thrilling, complete, enticing, perfect woman I had ever been with. I suddenly couldn’t remember why I hadn’t pursued her back then. “Probably better that I didn’t,” I told myself to sooth the empty ache in my core. “Nathan’s right; it’s not like I have time for a full-time relationship right now, anyway. Better to forget her.” I tried, earnestly and with full intention. But no matter what I did, she remained, flitting around the corners of my mind, peering out me from every pair of green eyes I happened to see.

CHAP TER 10

SHELLEY A TO UR IST IN SAN B R AVAD O

“L

ook at this view!”

I threw open the curtains to gaze out the insanely tall windows. They opened onto a small balcony which overlooked the winding roads lined with flower-colored houses, outlined sharply against the sparkling ocean beyond. I breathed it in, feeling utterly free for the first time in years. “Look at you,” Jenna replied with a grin. “You already look better. I swear, those kids put another year on you every week.” “Gee, thanks,” I said, making a face. “At that rate, I’m gonna have a midlife crisis before they turn three.” “I’m just saying, a little more time for yourself will

do you good. It’s time to get back out there and be a real person again.” “Moms are real people,” I retorted, turning to open my little suitcase. I pulled out my best dress, the same little black number that I’d intended to wear on my second date with Miles. The fabric had dulled over the years I’d owned it, and had somehow managed to collect a tiny bleach stain on the bottom hem. I fluffed it in the air, casting a critical eye over it. “Oh, no! You said you had something to wear!” “I do! I’ve got a sharpie around here somewhere; nobody’ll even know.” “Not in a million years. Come on, we’ve got time. We’re going shopping!” My weak protests did nothing to slow Jenna down, and she pulled me out of the room and down the hall with the quick, dogged determination that had so irritated me when we were kids. It didn’t bother me today. The truth of it was that I hadn’t gone shopping for nice clothes since before the twins were born, and I was beginning to get excited. “Oh! Wait, wait…Jenna, hold up a second!” She skidded to a halt, half a stride before the

elevators. “What? What’s wrong—what did you forget?” “I forgot that I can’t afford to shop for dresses in San Bravado,” I said wryly. “Not unless they have a thrift store around here somewhere, but then I’d have to go to this thing smelling like a grandma’s attic. Let’s just go sharpie the cocktail dress; it’ll be fine.” “What do you mean, you can’t afford it? Isn’t hewho-must-not-be-named still sending you hush money?” I shifted uncomfortably and looked everywhere but her. “Well…he is…it’s just that…” “Don’t tell me you spent it all! On what? There’s no way the four of you burn through three incomes every month.” “Well no, I haven’t spent it…” “Then what’s the problem?” “I’m trying to tell you!” I pushed a hand through my hair and paced a circle on the plush carpet. “It’s just…I don’t want to touch it. I don’t feel like I have any right to it, and I never wanted it in the first place. Every time I spend money from that

account, I feel like I’m accepting his absence in the kids’ lives. That isn’t something I want to accept. That’s why I started doing the screen printing again, and the babysitting. I don’t want his money, and if I have to have it, I really don’t want to use it.” Jenna sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes at me. “No wonder you’re all mopey still! You aren’t treating yourself; you’re just wallowing in the pain like some kind of martyr. Seriously, will you loosen up? Just a little bit. One belt notch, that’s all I’m asking. For one blessed night, just stop thinking everything to death and have some freaking fun!” I almost got angry, but then the irony of the situation struck me. “Since when have you and I switched places in this argument?” I asked. “Since you had kids and decided that you had to be a grown-up,” she smirked. “Come on, you’re free as a bird tonight. No man, no kids, no job. That’s the universe’s way of telling you that it’s time to cut loose!” “You have a point. All right, party girl, let’s go get me dressed up.” “Yay! Oh, did you bring makeup? Jewelry?” I answered her with a sheepish look and she

groaned playfully. I could see the glitter in her eyes, though; my oversight meant more shopping. If there was one thing that Jenna and I had always agreed on, it was shopping. We each had our own methods and moments of madness, but we adored it with the same intensity. Maybe it was a bit cliché, but it had always been a good way for us to get in bonding time. “Ooh! Look at this one!” Jenna whipped something off the rack which barely qualified as a dress. The stiff bodice supported a flimsy cloud of silver fabric intended—I imagined—to cover the breasts. A similar cloud hung four inches below the bodice. I raised a dubious eyebrow at Jenna. “All right, all right, baby steps,” she said, sliding the dress back on the rack. “Oh, I love this one!” I pulled a baby pink dress out, stroking the soft fabric of the high neckline. Jenna’s expression fell flat and she snatched the full-length dress out of my hands and shoved it back on the rack. “Look at me, Shelley. You are a twenty-five-yearold single woman who is going to a red carpet event filled with rich, eligible, sexy people. You are not going to dress like a freaking grandma. Capeesh?”

“Fine,” I laughed. “But I’m not dressing like a freaking call girl, either.” “Fair enough.” For the next hour, we scoured the store, searching for the perfect balance of cute and classy. We passed it three times before I finally noticed it in the window. It was elegant but fun, mature but not old, and sexy but not overkill. “Oh, yeah,” Jenna said, walking up behind me. “Yes. That one.” I was searching for a price tag when Jenna slapped my hand. “Ow!” “Shelley Anne Smith, you have literally thousands of dollars wilting away in your bank account. Don’t look at the price; just buy the damn dress.” “All right, all right, but keep your voice down! And help me find one of these in my size, would you?” “What size are you?” “You know, it’s been so long that I actually have no idea.” Eventually, we found a dress which fit properly. I spun in the mirror, feeling glamorous for the first

time since forever. The gentle glitter of the stretchy, dark olive green material hugged my new curves, bursting into swirling leaves and petals as the base fabric changed to a sheer mesh at my knees. I looked almost magical from a distance, like a fairy in a rose garden. “Shoes, earrings, bracelet,” Jenna said briskly. “No price checking, I absolutely forbid it.” “Yes, Mother,” I said with a grin. She made a face at me, and then we were on our way through the mall once more. By the time we were finished, I had spent more money than I had in the last month, and I felt damn good about it. Jenna’s insistence that Miles owed me pretty things had taken root in my mind, and I was finally beginning to relax about the money. It was just going to sit there and rot if I didn’t do something with it. “Does money rot?” I asked Jenna out of the blue as we were getting dolled up back at the hotel. “Hm? I’m sure it does eventually. Why?” “Random thought.” “Wondering about your massive vault of cash?” “Sort of.”

“You know it doesn’t actually exist, right? It’s all numbers in a computer.” “I know, I know,” I laughed. “I’m feeling silly right now, is all. Like I want to turn it all into gold coins and dive in it, like a cartoon.” She laughed at the image and zipped me into my new dress. Loose curls in my hair and light makeup on my face made me feel like a princess. I spun in the mirror until Jenna was ready. “Oh, you look fabulous!” I said when she emerged. “You like it?” she asked excitedly. “I found the pattern in Mom’s attic and took it to a friend who makes costumes. I wanted to surprise her with the finished product before we left, but Max didn’t actually finish it until an hour before we had to be on the road. Do you think she’ll like it?” “I know she’s going to love it,” I said as I swept my hand over the squared shoulders. It was a glamorous dress, colored in the likeness of a tuxedo. It was exactly perfect for Jenna—as masculine as it was feminine, strong and subtle, all at once. “You look perfect,” I told her. “You do, too. Ready to face the paparazzi?”

“Journalists have paparazzi at their events? Isn’t that like an infinite loop or something?” “Oh, shut up.” It wasn’t quite as dramatically overwhelming as I had expected, but it was every bit as glamorous. As we walked arm-in-arm up the red carpet to the reception hall, a photographer caught our attention. “Ms. Smith, would you mind posing for a few shots?” “Not at all!” Jenna grinned. I moved out of the way, but she quickly pulled me back. Giggling, I posed with her for the photographer. “And who is your lovely date, Ms. Smith?” “The other Ms. Smith—my little sister, Shelley.” “How nice! And congratulations on your award! Have you heard who the mystery presenter is going to be?” “I didn’t know there was a mystery,” Jenna said, cocking her head. “Oh yes, everybody’s buzzing about who it could be. It could be an entertainment celebrity, but my money’s on a big-name tech wizard. Oh! There’s

Mr. Cane. Excuse me, ladies. Have a wonderful evening!” “Your paparazzi seems to be a lot nicer than celebrity paparazzi,” I commented. “How would you know?” I slid her a sideways look. “Twins, Jenna. Newborn twins. I spent four months parked in front of the TV, watching more than my fair share of trash. I’m not proud.” She burst into laughter and I grinned. Inside, interesting people chattered animatedly over glasses of wine, and Jenna pulled me through the crowd to the bar. Music created ambiance here, but was louder over on one side of the room. A few people had begun to dance. “Dance with me!” Jenna said excitedly. “I thought you were on the hunt for a bookish innocent?” I reminded her with a wicked grin. “Yeah, but first I gotta get their attention! Come on, come show me off.” I couldn’t really tell her no. She was nursing a bruised ego. Besides, I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually danced, and I wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity.

Three songs and two glasses of wine later, I was flying high on my good time. Everyone was invited to take their seats, and I moved with Jenna to our table at the very front of the room as the awards presentations got underway. Jenna’s category was the first of the night. “Your attention, please? Your attention, please. Thank you. Before we announce the winner of Tech Journalist of the Year, I would like to introduce our mystery guest, who will be presenting the award. A man of many talents, and one of the biggest names in the industry, please welcome… Miles Lane!” My heart sank like a stone and Jenna shot a worried look in my direction. The applause around me turned to white noise and my vision narrowed until all I could see was the stage itself. “Shelley. Shelley! Are you all right?” I looked at Jenna and shook my head. As I was opening my mouth to talk, I was interrupted by the one voice in the world I never wanted to hear again —the one voice I dreamed of every night. “Thank you, thank you. This year’s award goes to the astonishingly talented and beautiful Jenna Smith! Congratulations on your great work.”

“Go,” I told her. She went, but kept glancing over her shoulder at me as she took the stage. I trembled as I turned my head to look at him. There he was, as gorgeous as ever, standing there like he wasn’t the worst kind of person. His easygoing smile ignited a deep red rage inside of me, darkening the bottom of my vision like smoke from a fire. He shook Jenna’s hand and kissed her cheek, then presented her with the award. “Thank you, Mr. Lane. This is a great honor for me, and…” I knew that Jenna had spent a great deal of time working on her acceptance speech, but she didn’t seem to have memorized it. She hesitated and pressed her lips together, watching me. The only reason I was still in my seat was to support her. The instant she was done, Miles was mine. He was not going to get away with ignoring me forever. He was going to look at pictures of the children he abandoned if I had to sit on him. “Um…yes, thank you all so much for this wonderful recognition.” That wasn’t her speech, but I was far too consumed with my rage to notice. Miles kissed her cheek once more before she departed the stage, then stepped

away to announce the next presenter. Jenna rushed back to our table, grabbing my wrist as I rose out of my seat. “Don’t even think about it,” she hissed through her teeth. “You are not going to make a fool out of us both.” “Let go of me! He’s not going to get away with this anymore; he is going to sit down and listen to me!” “Damn it, Shelley, he’s not worth your time!” “Yes he is,” I snapped. “If I can convince him that his kids are worth a modicum of effort, then he’s worth my time.” “Shelley, you know he isn’t interested—” “Well, that’s just too damn bad!” I shook her off and fled through the crowd before she could react. Miles was off the stage now. I had to catch him before he disappeared in the back of a blacked-out limousine. One way or another, Miles Lane was about to get a piece of my mind. I spotted him alone, looking at his phone. Vibrating with rage, I strode through the dim backstage area, brazenly ignoring the “Private” signs. “Miles!”

He looked up from his phone and squinted through the dark. As soon as he saw me, his face broke into a beaming smile. “Shelley! Oh my God, it’s so good to see you! I was in Finnegan’s the other day, but they told me you left. How have you been?” He moved toward me to give me a hug and I jerked back, confused. “Sorry, old habits,” he said with a chuckle. “Wow, you look great. What have you been up to? I didn’t expect to…oh, Jenna Smith! Your sister, I’m guessing? She’s a talented writer—I’ve read a lot of her stuff. Are you okay?” He was completely open, unshielded. His eyes carried no guilt, and his tone held no deception. It dawned on me like a nightmare in slow motion that Miles couldn’t possibly know that I’d been pregnant, that I’d given birth to our twins. My sneaking suspicions had been right all along, and I felt like a dunce for ignoring them. Miles wasn’t involved in our children’s lives because Miles was never told of their existence. I brushed my hands over my dress, purchased with money I had no right to have, and felt the fire of my rage solidify into a soul-sapping weight.

“I…wow. Miles, I’m sorry to pounce on you but it’s really important that I speak with you. Alone. Please.” He cocked his head, his eyes alight with curiosity. “Of course,” he said pleasantly. “There’s a little place down the street, reminds me of Finnegan’s. Can I buy you a drink?” “Yes,” I said, relieved. “That would be perfect.” “Come on.” He held out his elbow with a mischievous grin. “If we sneak out now, they’ll never know we’re gone.” The years seemed to fade away as I touched him. The dark villain I had built up in my head melted away, leaving only my fun, attractive, one-time lover Miles. My heart raced like a kid playing hooky as we slipped out the back door and into his shiny, expensive sedan. The seats felt like butter, and the engine roared like a caged beast. “This is way better than that acid green hatchback you used to drive,” I said appreciatively. “Right? I love this thing. Nate’s got four or five, but he’s always had more than he needs. This is my baby.” Oh, it’s not, I thought, and laughed.

“I know, how stereotypically male, right? But check this out.” He accelerated up the quiet street, pressing me into the soft seat as he jumped from five to thirty in a heartbeat. “It’s even better on the freeway,” he boasted. “Don’t tell anybody, but the other night I hit a hundred and ten without even trying. This thing’s a beast. I’m not sure I should be allowed to drive it.” I grinned at his enthusiasm, relaxing in the atmosphere. He was just the way I remembered, even when I hadn’t wanted to. Fun. Laid back. How could I have ever believed him to be so cruel and heartless? “You’re right,” I told him as we walked into the dark, quiet bar. “Just like Finnegan’s.” “Not anymore,” he said despondently. “They redid the whole inside. Now it’s all shiny and themed. Rave-at-the-end-of-the-rainbow sort of thing.” I wrinkled my nose at the image. “I bet Angus just loves that.” “I know, right? I can’t really picture those guys drinking beer from pots o’ gold.” I laughed and we took a table in the darkest, most isolated corner of the bar. His brilliant blue eyes shone at me in the low light, reminding me of the

twins. A lump rose in my throat and I cleared it aggressively. One of these days I would gaze into a pair of blue eyes and not feel like my heart was going to break, I promised myself. “So, what was it you wanted to tell me?” he asked after we ordered our drinks. I breathed a deep, steadying sigh and pulled out my phone. It was filled with pictures of the twins, and I opened the one which framed their faces in such a way that they looked exactly like their father. At least, they did to me. I turned the phone to Miles, my heart thundering as I waited for his reaction. “They’re adorable,” he said neutrality. “Are they yours?”

with

pleasant

“Yes…” “Wow! Congratulations! So, you’re married now, or…?” Trepidation faded to exasperation and a little noise huffed out of my throat. “Miles, look at the picture.” He did, then looked up at me with a furrowed brow. “Um…they’re really cute?”

“They just turned two.” “Aw! Well, happy birthday to the babies. Are they with their dad now?” “Good lord, Miles, look at their eyes!” How was he not seeing this? “They’re two years old. Which means they were conceived two years and nine months ago. In August.” He stared at the picture for a long time as the wheels turned in his head. My skin was cold with the explosion of exasperated energy, and I shivered as I sipped my drink. Ever so slowly, Miles looked up at me, his eyes wide with shock. “They’re mine?” he whispered, as if speaking it too loud would make it true. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I blinked at him. Though I had suspected that he didn’t know, hearing it from his own lips shocked me. “You really didn’t know? Really? You never wondered where that five thousand dollars was going every month?” “What five thousand dollars? Of course I didn’t know—how could I know? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, wow. Miles, someone—who claims to be you, by the way—has been paying me five thousand dollars a month since my first prenatal appointment. Hush money to keep your name out of the press and disconnected from the twins. I still have the email you—or whoever—sent me, saying that you had no interest in me or the babies, and telling me that the money would just have to be good enough. Well, it’s not. It never has been. Money can’t replace a father.” Some of the words that I had spoken over and over in my mind spilled out of my mouth, uninhibited by the fact that I now knew he hadn’t known. I saw them cut him, and the pain reflected in his eyes lanced my heart with guilt. “Wait,” he said as the blood drained from his face. “Wait. Hush money?” “Yes! Tens of thousands of dollars, just so I would never bother you with your own kids!” Miles pushed out of his chair and threw money on the table. He handed me a twenty. “I’m sorry, Shelley. I have to go. I have some… urgent business to attend to. I’m sorry to leave you here, but this’ll cover a cab back. I’ll call you as soon as I can, I promise. Wait. I don’t have your number.”

He tossed me his phone and, stunned, I typed my number in. “I have to go. I’m so sorry.” He grabbed his phone back and dashed out of the bar like his jacket was on fire, leaving me heartbroken once more. I had allowed myself to forgive and to hope, allowed myself to reset my emotions to square one when I’d discovered his blissful ignorance, only for him to show his true colors the second I relaxed. Icily furious, I walked back to the venue.

CHAP TER 11

MILES TH E TRUTH

T

ruth. I had never given the concept much thought. I generally assumed that people told the truth, because looking into every little thing would drive me crazy. Maybe it made me a little bit gullible, and maybe the business wouldn’t have survived without Nate’s inherent suspicion of everything and everybody, but it was just the way my mind worked. I didn’t expect people to lie to me. But somebody was, and I needed to figure out who. If Shelley was telling the truth and the kids were mine, then Nate had spent almost three years lying to my face. If she was lying, then my last hope of finding a woman I truly wanted to be with was dead. Shelley hadn’t looked like she was lying, but then again, neither had Nate.

“It’s a lot easier to not look like a liar when you’re lying by omission,” I reminded myself as I pulled into the parking lot of my headquarters. “Shelley would have had to make that whole story up, kids and all. Those eyes…” I shook my head. There had to be reams of stock photos online of kids with blue eyes, and it was statistically probable that at least a few of those kids would have eyes the same shape and shade as mine. Seemed like a lot of work to go through for a quick buck, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. Still, I was pretty sure I believed her. Nate was working late, as always. The top floor glowed like a beacon in the night, floating over several darkened floors. Questions tumbled through my mind as I made my way to the top of the building, questions which demanded immediate answers. I pushed into the office to find Nate alone, shuffling through papers and muttering to himself. “I need to talk to you.” “Hm? Oh, hey, Miles. Didn’t you have that thing tonight? It’s not over already, is it…what are you doing?” His blasé attitude rubbed against my frayed nerves, and I crossed the space between us to take him by the lapels and push him against the wall.

“Shelley Smith.” His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, then a convincing look of confusion settled on his face. “Who?” “Shelley Smith. The girl I went out with, the night before we had that first meeting with the investors.” “Okay, what about her?” “What did you do?” “Let go of me.” He brushed my hands off and I took half a step back, giving him just enough room. He shook his head at me and scoffed. “How much have you had to drink? This is why you should drink with me; if you’ve always got a little in your system, it won’t hit you so hard when you binge.” “Don’t change the subject. Tell me about Shelley.” “What about her? I met her one time in passing when you were working at that dump of a bar.” “Did you send her an email?” “What the hell would I have to email her about?”

“Did you?” “You’re acting crazy. What’s the matter with you?” I slammed my fist into the wall beside his head and glared into his eyes so close that our noses were nearly touching. “Twins, Nate. She has twins. They look like me. Spill it, right now.” “All right, all right, bro, back up. Jesus. So, this chick calls—coincidentally, right after we’ve made our millions—and says that she’s pregnant and you’re the father. I knew she was lying, dude. It was obvious. The timing was too perfect. She calls right when you get your big break? Please.” I shoved my hands through my hair. “You knew. Damn it, Nate, you knew! You didn’t even bother to check if she was telling the truth; you just decided that you already knew everything.” “Look, I knew something like this would happen to one of us as soon as we started making headlines. The rising star profile on us came out that same morning, Miles. It was an obvious scam!” Nate cut in, managing to sound genuinely peeved. “How about a thank you, man? I got her off your back. I dealt with it before it could blow up in your face!”

“And clearly, you believed her enough to pay her hush money all this time.” Nate was quiet, then. I’d caught him out. Trapped him in his own lie. “Hush money is such a slimy way to put it…” he said finally, then trailed off, making little shrugging gestures. I stared at him blankly as rage built up within me. “Where did the money come from?” I asked icily. Nate sighed again. “The company. However much I told her I’d pay her automatically came off the top of anything incoming and went into a separate account, and was then transferred to her on the first of every month. It never messed with the numbers because the money never even made it to accounting. And it was a small price to pay to keep her from going to the media and dragging your name through the mud with her accusations.” “If her accusations were unfounded, why did you keep paying her off? Almost three years of payments, and you never once considered taking legal action against extortion? Why, Nate?” “Well, that would probably hit the news and…” I cut him off. “No, shut up. I know why. It was

because you knew that it could be true. And you knew that if it was true, I would step up and do the right thing.” Nate spread his hands and gave me his best negotiation smile. “What is the right thing, Miles? How do any of us really know what the right thing is? She was provided for, whether she had a kid or not, and you were free to focus on the business. That sounds about right to me.” As I stared at him in shock, it suddenly became clear. Nate Dunn, my best friend and business partner, was an absolute snake. He took my silence as room for him to maneuver, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Miles, you’re young! Let’s forget about this, all right? Forget this whole thing ever happened. She’ll keep getting her money. Hell, she’ll get more money if that’s what you want. And you can focus on your work and forget all about her. There are limits to what you can deal with, Miles. You never have to take on the burden of her kids. You never even have to talk to her again. Let’s just reset this whole thing, all right? Let it go.” Fury cooled to ice. Straightening my shoulders, I absorbed all of the new information. Nate was

absolutely right. There were limits to what I could deal with. Turning to him, I extended my hand. Relief relaxed his face into a beaming grin, and he shook my hand enthusiastically. “I knew you would see it my way. Good man. Now, let’s—” “This is goodbye, Nate.” He froze, his hand still in mine. He shook his head a little bit, and looked at me sideways. “What are you—” “You’re fired.” Nate snatched his hand away and grinned, his eyes glinting dangerously. “You can’t fire me, Miles. We’re partners. I own as much stock in this company as you do. You’re stuck with me, bro.” “The hell I am. You’ll sell your stock to me for a fraction of the price and step down, because if you don’t, I will sue your ass for every penny you own.” “On what grounds?” Nate demanded haughtily.

I set my jaw and met his eyes with a steely glare. “You have inflicted irrevocable harm to me, to Shelley, and to my family. There isn’t a court in the country that wouldn’t award me what I’d ask for. You can’t put a price on family, Nate, and your attempt at doing just that makes you the villain here.” Nate paled and backed away slightly, hunching over as if I’d struck him in the gut. “But…I did it for you.” “No, Nate. You did it for you. You did it because, without me, you wouldn’t even have a company, and you wanted me married to the work. You didn’t spare a stray feeling for me, or Shelley, and you sure as hell didn’t give a thought to the kids. They’ve been living for two years without a father. Tell me again how that was selfless on your part.” Nate clenched his jaw and pressed his lips together. He zoned out, his eyes darting back and forth as he considered everything I’d said. He pushed a hand through his hair and scribbled numbers down on a legal pad, running through some calculations. Even a fraction of what his shares were worth was better than nothing—and more than he deserved. He tapped the pen on the desk, filling the heavy silence that I’d allowed to settle over the office.

“When do you want me out?” he asked. “Immediately. Wrap up whatever you’re working on, get your stuff, and get out.” Nate shook his head with a heavy sigh. “You know you’re never going to be able to keep the momentum going without me. Especially if you’re planning on playing Daddy to a couple of snot-nosed brats. But you do what you think is best. When you crash and burn, give me a call. Maybe I’ll let you buy me back.” I didn’t react. I knew his tricks; I knew the way he planted seeds in people’s minds. I wasn’t going to let him manipulate me that way. He waited for me to say something, and I let the silence stretch out until he wriggled uncomfortably. “Fine. I resign. You’ll never see me again.” “Perfect. Now get the hell out of my office.”

CHAP TER 12

SHELLEY SUND AY IN TH E PAR K

“H

old on, you’re meeting him today?”

“Yes. He told me he would call, and he did. He wants me to meet him at the park.” Mom shook her head, chewing her lip with a worried expression. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “I know. He didn’t know about them, Mom.” “So he says. How certain are you that he isn’t just playing with you? He didn’t exactly seem excited about the idea, the way you tell it.” I shrugged as I slipped my shoes on. “It’s a lot to take in. Not just the kids, but the fact that someone in his company betrayed him.”

“Right, but when you called, you were ready to swear off him and all men altogether. He broke your heart…again.” “No, he just fumbled into an open wound. I was emotional, but now I’ve had time to cry. Trust me, Mom. I have to do this.” “Well—” “Thanks for understanding.” I left before she could reply, and I could feel her eyes follow me down the street. I walked to the park alone, which seemed strange. I hadn’t taken a lot of walks alone since moving back home. It gave me the time I needed to build some neutral ground in my expectations. No matter what happened today, I was prepared to accept it. At least we were communicating now. I considered that to be progress, at the very least. I passed the kids on the playground and stopped to watch for a moment. The usual gaggle of moms and babysitters were there, but it was the fathers who caught my attention. Gentle or playful, they ran around with the kids or pushed them on the swings, making them laugh. The looks exchanged between the dads and their kids tugged at my heart. These fathers were so

necessary to their children’s happiness, and they were so fully engaged with them. I could only hope that, one day, my twins would have that sort of relationship; if not with Miles, then with a stepfather who was utterly invested in them. The thought of attempting a relationship with someone who wasn’t biologically related to them made my gut twist the way it always had. I hadn’t dated since Miles—out of fear that the babies would be rejected, or subjected to a person who simply tolerated them. I didn’t want them tolerated. I wanted them adored the way that I adored them, and I wouldn’t settle for anything less. I saw his flashy sports car pull up, and I hurried to the picnic tables where we had agreed to meet. We reached them at the same moment, and my heart sank just a little when I looked at him. He hadn’t seen me yet, as he had been absorbed in his phone since leaving the car. I waited patiently a few feet from him as he handled whatever business lived in his phone. Expensive suit, expensive haircut, expensive watch; he looked every bit the billionaire playboy the tabloids presented. I couldn’t see my Miles anywhere in him. Then, he put the phone away and smiled at me, and there he was. My heart leapt at the light shining in his blue eyes, and I nearly forgot and forgave

everything to throw myself into his arms. A child crying for their daddy on the playground halted my impulsive emotion, and I withdrew into myself ever so slightly. “Hi, Shelley. You look great.” He moved as if to hug me, then stuck out a hand. I shook it and smiled politely at him. “Thanks. You do, too. That’s a great suit.” “Is it? I don’t really notice. I kind of just wear what my tailor recommends, and hope for the best.” His playful grin sent warm shivers over my body, and we moved to the tables. He sat on the tabletop with his feet on the bench, facing away from the playground. He seemed more like himself in that position, and I found myself relaxing slightly. Sitting beside him, I let the comfortable memory of our friendship wash over me. For all of his new expensive attire, his energy still felt the same. Maybe a little nervous and subdued, but one hundred percent Miles. “Were you able to handle that business emergency last night?” I asked him. “Yes. It’s all taken care of.” His tone was darker than I had anticipated, and it startled me.

“Oh. I hope everything’s okay?” “I hope so, too.” Awkward silence fell between us, and I began to play with my fingers. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “About what?” He had plenty to be sorry for, but I wasn’t going to accept a general apology. I needed to know what he felt, and about which part of the whole mess. He sighed and pushed a hand through his blond hair. “I’m sorry I never called you back after breaking that second date. If I had…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “If I had kept in contact with you after that night, this never would have happened.” “True.” “I know I’m too late for a lot of things. They’re two now, right?” “Yes, just barely.” “So they’ve already started walking and talking and everything.” “Well, not everything. Vincent’s not as big a talker

as Frida is, and Frida’s not as good a walker as Vincent is.” “Vincent and Frida. Great names. Artists, right?” “The best,” I said with a smile. “Van Gogh’s style always inspired me—his freedom and passion and complexity. Kahlo’s power and drive always made me feel like I could be more than I am, if I only accepted every part of myself. I’m still working on all of that, but maybe my Frida won’t have such a hard time of it if she channels her namesake.” I could tell that I was babbling, but it seemed important for some reason that he understood the history of the kids’ names, as if knowing that would give him a leg up on knowing them. “The names are great,” he said with a soft, almost sad smile. “Wish I had been there to help you work that out.” “Me, too.” The weight of the last two years settled in the air between us, creating a barrier. Miles felt it too, it seemed. He moved his shoulders restlessly, then dropped his head to stare at the scratched metal between his feet. “I want to be there for you and them. Not just with money. The money will keep coming, by the way. I

mean. I’ve rooted out the rat and booted him, but paying you support seems to be the least I can do. I just don’t want to do the least that I can do anymore, if that makes sense. I want to be everything you and they need me to be.” His words touched me, and I nudged his shoulder with mine. “I appreciate that you want that,” I said. “But…” I searched for the words to finish my thought, gazing off across the rolling grass. “But?” I could hear the anxiety in his voice, and it nearly made me wince. “But you don’t have the best track record. There’s always going to be something more exciting, interesting, and professionally pressing than our little family. I’m afraid that the day-to-day routine won’t be enough to keep you from running off again.” I could feel his retort rise in him, then die on his lips. A pained sound behind his sigh nearly made me retract what I’d said. All I wanted, really, was to forgive and forget, to welcome him back with open arms, to take him home to meet his children. But I couldn’t trust him, not yet. His pain at that fact was no fault of mine, and I had to channel my mother to steel myself against the distress radiating off of him.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said finally. “You’ve grown in the last couple of years, Shelley. You’re strong and confident. I always thought you had that in you; it’s pretty cool to see it.” He smiled at me, but it was a distant smile; a customer service sort of smile. It struck me in my gut, and for a moment, I wondered why I had even come. We weren’t anywhere near as close as we used to be, and we hadn’t been exceptionally close then. Just friends. A friendship which had ended as soon as something more exciting crossed his path, I reminded myself. “I’ve sort of had to develop a spine over the last couple years,” I told him coolly. “Even with my mom’s help, being a single mother to a pair of headstrong twins comes with all kinds of challenges. I’ve had to figure out how to be the mom they need, even when I feel like a lost little girl myself.” “Do you feel that way often?” he asked softly. Daily. Constantly. At that very moment. But he didn’t need to know that. I made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. Silence fell again. He started to say something, then changed his mind. I almost told him an anecdote

about the twins from earlier that morning, but decided against it. Who knew if he was really interested? And he might not find it as charming as I did, and maybe the mundane nature of my life would send him running before he had even met his kids. Back and forth, comments swirled unspoken into the lengthening awkward quiet. “There’s too much pressure,” he said finally, shaking his head. My heart sank, but I steeled myself. I had known that this might happen. I retreated into that neutral space in my mind, blocking my emotions from my reaction. Miles pushed himself off of the picnic table and paced the concrete in front of me, rubbing his chin in thought. “Tell you what,” he said finally, turning to me. “Why don’t you come to my place in San Bravado tonight? Just you and me. We can relax and get caught up, you know…get to know each other again.” One of my eyebrows raised of its own accord, and he held out his hands. “Doesn’t have to be romantic,” he assured me, seeing my expression. “Just two old friends getting reacquainted. I can see how protective you are of the twins, and honestly, I wouldn’t want you to be

any other way. They’re lucky to have a mother who is so invested in their lives and emotional health and everything. I can completely understand your hesitation, really. But we have to start somewhere, don’t we?” The earnest plea on his face touched my heart, but there was another problem. “My mom did just watch the twins overnight,” I said reluctantly. “I don’t know if she’ll be willing to do it again so soon.” “Oh.” He paced for a moment longer. I could tell that he wasn’t used to having to wait for an answer by the impatient twitch in his shoulders and the tightness in his jaw. Power had spoiled him. That could be a problem. “Well…call me or text me anytime and let me know what she says. If you can’t do it tonight, we can do it some other time. I’ll make my schedule work around yours. All I want is to move forward. You are completely in control over how and when and even if we do that, but…I really hope you say we can.” I couldn’t let him suffer any longer. I smiled at him gently and slid off of the table, stepping toward him. His breath caught in his throat as I looked up at him, and his eyes strayed to my lips.

“I’ll go home and talk to her right now,” I told him. “I’ll let you know as soon as I do.” A sunny smile broke through the turmoil on his face, and he took my hand in something slightly softer than a handshake. “I can’t wait to hear from you.” His smile and his voice stayed with me the entire time I was walking home. He was still in there, under the silk and cologne—my Miles, my friend and lover from so long ago. Somehow, it felt like less time had passed. My heart beat with the need to see him again, and I desperately hoped that Mom would agree to watch the twins for me again while I started this path to working things out.

CHAP TER 13

SHELLEY O N TO P O F TH E WO R LD

“I

’m glad you came.”

Relief was clear in Miles’ voice as he poured me a drink at the marble-topped wet bar of his San Bravado penthouse. I stood at the wall of windows and looked out over the sparkling city. “I am, too. I think my Mom was as well, honestly. I’m pretty sure she’s been waiting for me to get back out there. She hasn’t pushed it, but she knows how lonely it gets, being a single parent. She’s not too confident about you specifically, but I think she’s just happy that I’m—I don’t know—coming back to life a little bit.” “Coming back to life?” he asked as he brought me my drink and gestured for me to sit on the couch, which allowed me to take in the view in comfort.

“It’s been a long two and a half years,” I said pensively. “I was pretty stressed and unhappy for some time.” Guilt flashed across his face and he lightly brushed the back of my hand. “I’m sorry for my part in that,” he said quietly. I offered him a weak smile and shook my head. “I would have had to at least delay my degree either way. It was…a rough pregnancy.” I drank, needing the liquid emotional support. He did as well, watching my face. “I tried to call you,” I murmured, treading across a sore spot in my heart. “A month or two after you left, when I knew that I was pregnant. I tried to talk to you directly; I didn’t just trust all of this to Nate casually.” “Oh.” His face fell and he blew out a breath. “I lost my phone during the move to San Bravado. Well… it got decimated, actually. It fell out of my pocket right behind the moving van, and I ran it over. It was completely annihilated. When I went to get a new one, Nate convinced me to upgrade to a better carrier, and I wasn’t able to keep my number. I thought about calling you, but the only number I could find was for the bar, and that just seemed

awkward.” “Oh. That actually makes sense. I wish you would have just faced the awkwardness, but I guess it didn’t seem like that big a deal to you at the time.” It hurt my heart to know that he’d meant more to me than I had to him, but I wondered how I would have felt about it all if I hadn’t gotten pregnant. “It wasn’t that,” he said softly. “I thought about you a lot. The first year, I was so busy, I didn’t even have time to breathe—let alone date. Once things started to get more stable, and I had more staff to rely on, it seemed like too much time had passed to look you up again. And Nate kept setting me up with these women who he said were in my ‘bracket’, whatever that meant.” “Supermodels,” I said morosely, arranging my arms to hide the soft mom-curve at the base of my belly. “Frustrating, and horrible, all of them,” he said, equally morose. “Really?” “Well…no, not really. I mean, they’re all people, and some of them are smart, and some of them are less smart, some are funny, some aren’t…but they’re all obsessed with climbing the ladder in this high-stress, highly competitive environment.

They’re driven, aggressive, and dedicated…all good points for employees, but I never felt like I could relax around them. I just wanted to hang out and chill, you know, but they always had an agenda. Which, again, isn’t a problem for a business partner or an employee or whatever, but I got tired of being a bullet point in their portfolios.” “That makes sense,” I said, feeling a bit better about myself. “So, what about you? I guess it’s pretty obvious how I’ve spent the last few years…what have you been up to? I hope you didn’t give up on the art world entirely; you’re way too smart and talented for that.” He leaned forward, seeming earnestly concerned. Miles always had been the first to cheer me on, back when we were working together. I had missed that validation. It injected a confidence in me that I had been forced to develop on my own, and it was nice to have it gifted to me that way. “As a matter of fact, I’ve gone the other way with it. When I was pregnant, I dug all of my old screen printing stuff out of the attic and started doing that again…more as a way to pass the time than anything else. “And I’ve been painting as well. I didn’t really

expect anything to come of it, but people really seem to like it. I started to make a little money from it, and after the twins were born, I really threw myself into it. I make a decent living now.” “Yeah? Tell me about it.” He leaned back into the corner of the couch, crossing one leg over the other, his eyes as bright. Relaxed and intrigued, just like I remembered him. I arranged myself in the opposite corner, mirroring his posture. “It started out small, just a few thrift-store finds here and there for friends, but then they started sharing my designs online, and all of a sudden, I was flooded with requests. It was sort of mindblowing. Most of what I do are one-of-a-kind designs, taking thrift-store clothes and doing them up my way, but I also use the designs on T-shirts which I buy in bulk. Those are cheaper, obviously, and some of my best sellers. I do the same with jeans, which are also super popular.” He was watching my lips move, making me very aware of how they moved when I spoke, and I licked them. His eyes darkened in response, and a twist of excitement wriggled deep in my core. It had been so long since I had been touched that way; could I risk crossing those lines tonight? I shelved the urge, and returned to my story. “And, of course, I go to craft fairs and stuff, and

I’ve been starting to put more of my art online. I sell prints and posters and stuff, and I’ve started trying out some screen printing from the art. I managed to transfer one painting to a canvas bag successfully, but I tend to make very intricate paintings and simpler screen prints, so using one skill set on another project has been a bit awkward to figure out. I’m still working on it, though. For now, I just use the canvas bag as my diaper bag.” “Sounds like you’ve made it, in spite of everything,” he said with a small smile. “You’ve mentioned your mom a few times. Do you live near her?” “Very near,” I said with a half-laughing sigh. “I moved back in with her after I dropped out of college. God, I felt like a failure that year. Single mom, college dropout, moving back in with my mom…it was classic failure.” The shame of those months revived itself like a punch to the gut, and I blew out a breath. “Hey,” he said gently, reaching across the space to grab my hand. “You weren’t a failure then, and you aren’t a failure now. You adapted to unexpected circumstances, and you did it brilliantly. I always knew you were something special, Shelley.” His skin on mine washed the shame away in a wave

of desire, and my heart beat a little faster as I met his eyes. He moved a little closer, bringing his scent close enough to stir my blood. “I did eventually go looking for you,” he told me softly. “I went back to Finnegan’s to find you, but nobody there knew where you went. I sort of figured that fate wasn’t on my side, and tried to drown my sorrows, but you never left my mind. Now that I know about the twins…I want to meet them, Shelley. I want to be the daddy they deserve.” I searched his face and found nothing but honesty. “I’ve been waiting to hear those words for years,” I confessed. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be with us.” “That’s all I want, Shelley. To be with Frida and Vincent…and you.” He touched my face, trailing his fingers along my jaw. His eyes burned like blue fire, making my heart beat a little faster. “I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you, Shelley, and I’ve never stopped. Not for a moment.” “Do you want me now?” I asked in a shaky whisper, turning my hand over in his to trail my fingers along his wrist. “God, yes.” He pressed his palm against me,

cupping my face. I melted into his palm, reveling in the warmth of him on my skin. “I’ve missed you so much.” “I’ve missed you, too,” I said, the words catching in my throat. “I see you every time I look at the kids. You’re in their eyes, in their smiles. It breaks my heart and comforts me all at once.” He tipped his forehead against mine, and closed his eyes with a sigh. His fingers moved around to the back of my neck, tangling in my hair. “I wish I could take all of that pain away,” he murmured. “Tell me what to do, Shelley. Tell me how to fix this, please. I need you. I want to give you everything I have. I want to be there for the kids. I want…I want a family. With you. Tell me what you need from me, Shelley. Please.” His plea stirred up a storm in my heart which rained softly out of my eyes. He brushed my tears away with his thumbs, cupping my face in his large, warm hands. “Just love me,” I whispered hoarsely. “Show me how much you missed me.” Hesitantly, he brushed his lips against mine. Electricity shot through me and he sighed heavily, kissing me more firmly. I savored his taste, his feel,

his breath, falling dizzily into a whirlpool of emotion. His arms around me, he dove into me as I opened to him, heating my body from mouth to hips with the passion of his kiss. His hands began to wander, and my body ached for him to caress my most sensitive places. Instead, he pulled away. “I don’t want to push you too far too fast,” he said, his brow furrowing with concern. “That isn’t why I brought you here; I swear it.” “Come on,” I said, putting my drink down as I stood, pulling him up with me. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.” I walked backwards through the massive, glittering penthouse in the direction of his bedroom. Excitement lit his face and he took the lead, spinning me around and taking my hand. Once in the room, he used his phone to turn the lights down and put on music, creating an atmosphere so much more romantic and sophisticated than our first night together, stumbling through his dark apartment to his cluttered room. There was no clutter here. Straight lines and balanced space framed the penthouse. Egyptian cotton caressed my palm as I swept a hand over the scarlet-draped bed. Money infused every

centimeter of space, as enticing and intoxicating as his hands on my waist. He kissed my neck as he unzipped my dress, making my heart skip as he slid his palms over my skin to push the bodice off of my body. Half exposed, I leaned against him, tipping my head back to kiss him. Without another second of hesitation, he ran his hands over my torso to my breasts, taking my mouth with his as he caressed my full cups, groaning as my breasts spilled over his palms. I spun in his arms as my dress fell to the floor, leaving me in nothing but my matching underthings and heels. He swept his hands down to my hips, extracting an anxious beat in my heart as he touched the stretch marks and softness below my belly button. But he didn’t seem to notice. He groaned with desire as his fingertips trailed over the lace hem of my panties, and I gasped as he cupped my aching warmth in his hand. “I forgot how responsive you are,” he whispered in my ear. “I love the way you move under my touch.” “Then make me dance,” I told him, pulling him toward the bed.

He stripped quickly, gazing at my body as he peeled off his clothes. He had filled out as well, his hairier chest boasting more rippling muscle, his shoulders broad and strong. Cut abs drew my eyes down to the V between his hips and the throbbing, eager member between. I swallowed hard, suddenly consumed with desire. “You’re so freaking beautiful,” he murmured, pressing his body against mine. His kiss made my head spin. He surrounded me with his arms, his scent, with the slick sheen of desire. Pushing me farther onto the bed, he joined me on top of it, tracing his fingers over my palms and down my wrists. Hot chills shook me to my core and I moaned, then gasped as he pulsed against me in response. “I want to savor this,” he murmured, moving his hands to my breasts. He unhooked my bra with practiced fingers and tossed it away. Groaning, he took them in his hands and buried his face in them, moving his mouth from one hard, sensitive nipple to the next, sending erotic warmth racing down my belly to pool between my hips. Gasping, I tilted my hips against him, grinding a dance against his hard body. His tongue flicked

flames over one nipple as his rough thumb drew circles over the other. Tremors quaked through me, building a need deep inside me, igniting a fire storm of lust between my thighs. His free hand moved to press against the aching desire, sliding between lace and soft skin to part me with gentle insistence. A sob of pleasure ripped from my throat as his fingers sank into me, as his palm pressed against my swollen clit. Hands and mouth worked my body until I was crying out, arching against him, drawing his fingers deeper into me with every desperate movement of my rocking hips. He responded, intensifying his attentions, stoking the fire inside me until my legs shook, until I pulsed around him. My nails sank into his shoulders as I cried out his name, ripped over the edge of ecstasy by his fingertips. As the gasps of powerful pleasure slowly subsided, he moved up my body to take my mouth in his with a primal growl. He teased me, sliding his hot, hard cock against the hot wetness of my swollen desire. Whimpering, I moved against him, begging for him with my body as he tortured me with anticipation. I took his mouth desperately, sucking his tongue as my hips rocked into him. With a groan of pleasure, he finally sank into me, filling me to my limit.

“Jesus,” he panted against my throat. “How do you feel so good?” “Same way you do,” I moaned, dancing beneath him to slide up and down his throbbing member. “I forgot how big you are.” He chuckled low in his throat and drove deep into me, filling every inch with his soft, smooth length. Tangling my legs around his, I danced in rhythm with his powerful thrusts until he shook me to my core, a pleasurable pain that I had almost forgotten. I bit his lip and raked my nails down his back, releasing the vixen that had lain dormant inside me for so long. His eyes darkened then closed and he froze, trembling on the edge. “Not yet,” he gasped, wrapping his arms around me to roll us over so I was on top. “Show me what you got, woman.” Giggling, I traced circles over his chest with my nails, then reflected those circles with my hips. He groaned, running his hands over my thighs to my hips as I danced around him, sliding over him, bouncing against him. He watched with enraptured eyes, cupping my breasts and drawing circles over the hard peaks with his thumbs. Pleasure flowed like lava over my body, melting in a hot pool around him. Our slick bodies moved as one and he

pulled me against him, desperate for my mouth. Giving as much as I took, I opened my mouth to him, letting him twist his tongue around mine. His strong arms crushed my breasts against his muscular chest, his hips driving him up into me as I slid against him, riding him toward the edge. Every touch was electric, sending lighting over my skin, vibrating the heat at my core, melting me again over him. He gasped, hardening even more inside of me, triggering a cascade of pulsing, molten lust. Frantic hearts beat as one as we fell together into the abyss of pleasure, our bodies entwined together as I came around him, as he filled me up. A blissful eternity passed in warm, liquid spasms. Gazing into his hazy eyes, I fell into love all over again.

CHAP TER 14

SHELLEY E GGS & ULTIMATUMS

I

woke up to the smell of coffee, and I inhaled deeply as my eyes floated open. Stretching luxuriously against the soft sheets, I basked in the memories of the night before. Miles’ scent was all around me and I smiled, hoping for another round after breakfast. To that end, I slid into my panties and took one of his T-shirts off of the shelf. It fit perfectly, covering me just enough to let the bottoms of my butt cheeks peek out. “Irresistible,” I told myself with giddy cockiness as I examined the effect in the mirror. Laughing at myself, I blew my reflection a kiss, then almost skipped to the kitchen. Pans and dishes were piled in the sink, but I didn’t see Miles.

“Smells delicious, Miles!” I called out. Silence answered me. I walked through the kitchen to the little dining room, and found one place set. It was covered with a silver lid, and a single rose in a vase sat beside it. Pinned beneath the vase was a note scrawled on Miles’ business letterhead. Frowning, I sat down and uncovered the plate. Eggs, pancakes, and sausage arranged in a face smiled back at me. “Cute,” I said appreciatively. The big, silent penthouse seemed to swallow my words. It was a little uncomfortable, and I found myself regretting all the silly horror movies I’d watched when I was younger. I shook the creepy feeling away, fully aware that it was just the unfamiliarity of my surroundings which had me feeling uneasy. I bit into the sausage and picked up the note, chewing slowly as I read.

Shelley, Had to run for work. Please stay as long as you like, enjoy the breakfast, and I’ll see you again soon. Miles

“Huh. All right.” I let the paper fall from my fingers, then ate my breakfast mechanically as I mentally turned over the events of the last twenty-four hours. It was eight o’clock on a Tuesday morning; it made sense that he would have to work. Even so, didn’t he sort of make his own schedule? “Seems to me that you would set aside some time to handle this situation,” I told the paper. “I mean, it isn’t every day that a pair of twins falls in your lap. Shouldn’t you sign off your own family emergency leave for something like this?” I cut into the pancake, mulling the whole situation over. The big reveal had happened over a weekend. It was entirely possible that he hadn’t been able to rearrange his schedule to accommodate the new information, but it was equally possible that he just wasn’t ready to give up his life the way it was yet. His business had been his baby for as long as his babies had been mine. Could he find room in his life for the three of us? “Maybe not right away,” I conceded. “It could take a few days to rearrange his life. That’s not too much to give him, is it?”

A resentful little part of me said it was too much. After all, I hadn’t had any warning at all, had I? But then I remembered how long it had taken for me to pull myself out from under my obligations and move home to be a full-time parent. “Then again, I’m not asking him to be a full-time parent, am I? I’m just asking for room in his life. Or…not asking, I guess. This is up to him.” Deciding that it was his call on how much time and attention he wanted to give us, and that it would be up to me whether or not to accept what he was willing to offer, I got dressed and went home. Vincent was overjoyed to see me, and slammed into me at top speed for aggressive cuddles. Frida crawled onto my lap and took my face in her little hands. “Mommy no night night,” she scolded. “Sorry, baby. Mommy had some things she had to do. Did you have fun with Gran?” “No Gan! Mommy.” “Mommy’s here, baby.” Frida curled into me then, and I spent the morning reading my babies stories. My mind, however, was with Miles. Mom noticed my distraction, and when the twins had gone down for their naps, she took

me into the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee. “All right, spill,” she said. I sighed. “It was a great night. He’s a great guy, and he seems to really want to be a part of all this, now.” “But?” “Who says there’s a ‘but’?” “That little uptick in your tone at the end there, and the way you’re stirring your coffee like it’s your last meal.” I took the spoon out with a baleful look in her direction and set it on the table. “But…well, this morning, he was gone by eight. We hadn’t even come to a decision about him meeting the twins, not really. I mean, he said he wanted to and I agreed that I wanted him to, but we didn’t make a plan or anything. I don’t even know when he wants to see me again…if he does. I think he does, but we didn’t establish anything.” “You established that he still gets excited by you,” Mom noted with a twinkle in her eye. I slid her a sideways glare, but I couldn’t really argue. With a resigned sigh, I looked into her eyes. She had lived such a similar life to the one I was

living now, and she was all right. Wasn’t she? “What would you do?” I asked her. “What would I have done, or what would I do now with all of the knowledge that I’ve collected over the years?” “That second one.” She nodded, then sipped her coffee with a pensive air. “I would keep the lines of communication open. Limit the excitement just enough to get some details established.” “Which details would you start with?” “Well, meeting the twins, for one. Him acting as their father isn’t dependent on you two having a relationship. All he has to agree to is to be there for them before he meets them. Get him to give you a date for when he wants to take that first step, and go from there. Like I said, your relationship with him is largely irrelevant to him being a dad.” There was a soft sadness in her voice, and I reached out for her hand. “I know this hits a little close to home for you. I’m sorry.” She shook her head and smiled, but her eyes

glittered with unshed tears. “I should have moved on a long time ago. I’m just glad I have something useful to tell you.” “Me, too. Thank you, Mom,” I said, squeezing her hand. Miles didn’t get in touch until late that night, long after the twins had gone to bed. He asked me to meet him on Thursday at noon at his place, and I agreed. When I arrived, though, there was no lunch to be found. “I just called in the order,” he said apologetically. “I got caught up with work. But…” He moved to me, sliding his hands around my waist and dipping his head to kiss my neck. “That does give us an hour to kill.” My mom’s words drifted through my head. Limit the excitement just enough to get some details established. I pushed him away slightly and gave him my most serious expression. “We need to talk about the details of you meeting the twins,” I told him. “Yes,” he agreed, pulling me close. “But wouldn’t it be so much easier to sort out the details after…?” His hands trailed down my waist and over my ass, coming to rest on the curves.

He gave me that same sultry smolder he had years ago, and I melted. I would have had to be dead to resist him. “All right,” I conceded in a husky whisper, letting my body mold to his. “But you have to promise to talk it over after.” “I promise,” he mumbled as he kissed my neck again, driving me wild with his touch. He introduced me to his exhibitionist side, leading me to the couch which overlooked the city. We were so high up that there was virtually no risk of being seen by anyone on the streets of San Bravado, but it still felt extra naughty somehow to strip naked in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. He pressed me up against them, pushing my thighs apart as he knelt between them and drank me in. The cold glass against my bare back contrasted sharply with his hot mouth, filling my body with exquisite sensations. His tongue danced over me, dove into me, complemented his talented fingers and lips until I was slick with lust, fingers tangled in his hair, hips bucking against his mouth. Miles groaned as I gasped and moaned, as the climax built within me and crashed over him. He stood up with a sultry grin, then spun me around

so that my breasts were pressed against the window. His sheer size still thrilled me, and his masculine scent in the throes of passion drove me absolutely crazy. A flock of seagulls got an eyeful as he tangled a fist in my hair and drove into me, swearing under his breath as he caressed my curves. Dizziness swirled into my overwhelmed senses like a tidal wave, thrusting me into a pleasure cascade, making every part of me tremble and quake with the force of it. He moaned my name, his lips pressed to my shoulder, as he filled me with his ecstasy. He covered my shoulders with kisses as the heat subsided, leaving me shivering against the glass. Pulling me back to the couch, he wrapped a blanket around me and held me tight as we caught our breath. “Excellent lunch,” he breathed. “We didn’t even eat yet,” I pointed out playfully. “I did,” he said with a grin. I swatted at him lightly and he laughed. Just then, the doorbell rang. He scrambled into his pants to answer it, then took the takeout to the table. “Hungry?” he asked. “Starving.”

We ate until our energy was restored, then made small talk for a while. Miles seemed to be dodging the issue at hand. I was willing to let him lead the conversation, but eventually, the pressure got to be too much. “You said you wanted to meet the twins,” I reminded him as we finished eating. “When would you like to do that?” “Soon,” he said emphatically. “Very, very—oh, shoot.” His phone went off, and he checked it. “I’m so sorry, Shelley, I thought we would have more time, but I have to go. You can stay if you like.” He kissed me, but his mind was already off with his work. Frustration drove me out of the penthouse, and I spent the day losing myself in my own work. I felt a little better after I had poured myself into it, and even better after I had checked my bank account; if I kept working at this pace, I would be fine financially for as long as I needed to be. I would probably continue to live with Mom for as long as she could stand me, which would give me time to save up to buy a house—even without Miles’ money or participation. After putting the kids to bed, I sat outside on the patio, looking out over my mom’s meticulously

maintained garden. She had thrown herself into that garden since Jenna and had moved out. I had never seen before how much frustration was poured into her even rows and upturned earth. Romance had never been kind to my mother, and I was beginning to think that it just ran in the family. I called Miles, and was sent to voicemail. Taking a long drink from my wine glass, I sent him a text instead. When would you like to meet the twins? Two hours and a full bottle later, he finally responded. Definitely sometime this week. Maybe this weekend. I’ll let you know ASAP. Lunch tomorrow? I considered it. If I met him for lunch again, I would need to be absolutely certain that I wouldn’t be seduced by him. The wine swirling through my system made me think that there probably wasn’t much chance of me succeeding in my resistance, but I had to try. I needed an answer, or at least an indication of where we were going. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it? Steeling my resolve, I agreed to meet him. But the following day, just as I was climbing into my car to head his way, he sent me a text.

Raincheck, sorry. Something came up with work. “Shocking,” I huffed. My patience was wearing thin, and my mother was having a difficult time keeping her sharp comments to herself. The worst part was, I was beginning to agree with her. By Friday, I had banked our entire future on that weekend. But the weekend came and went, with me at home with the twins and him away on business, promising to see me on Monday. Monday evening, I pulled up to the restaurant he had chosen for our date, armed with a mother’s protective fury and a checkbook. He greeted me with his trademark boyish enthusiasm, but it didn’t soften my resolve. I had given him enough chances to do the right thing on his own. “Hey, Shelley! It has been a hectic week. How are you?” He kissed me and I let him, but I kept my defenses up. “To be honest, I’m pretty upset,” I told him. I watched his guard come up, then dissolve under furrowed brows. “Why, what’s up? Is everything okay?” He pulled my chair out for me and gestured for a waiter, who

hurried over. With our drinks ordered, he looked at me with a soft, sympathetic expression. “So, what’s going on?” “Nothing,” I said exasperatedly. “Nothing’s happening, Miles. That’s the issue. How long is it going to take for you to engage?” He frowned, and the drinks came. We ordered food, and I kept my selections quick and easy. If this went poorly, I didn’t want to have a reason to stick around in awkward silence. “I’m sorry about this weekend,” he said. “I would have made it, but this deal was going to fall apart on me if I didn’t attend to it right away.” “I understand,” I told him. “I really do. Your business takes up a lot of your time; I was never under the impression that it didn’t. But there’s a problem.” “What’s that?” he asked with a defensive scowl. Our food came before I could answer, and there was a bit of a hectic lull in the conversation as the waiter arranged our dishes for us. Once he had departed again, I turned back to Miles. “The problem is that if you want to be a part of this family, you have to make the time to do it. Promises mean a lot to me, but they mean a lot

more to the kids. They don’t want your money, Miles. They want a daddy. Or they will, when they get old enough to recognize what’s missing in their lives. I didn’t get to know my father for very long before he disappeared. I know what it’s like to grow up without one.” “I didn’t know that,” he said with sympathetic interest. “Do you want to talk about it?” “No,” I snapped, and then took a deep breath. “Sorry. No, I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about you, and your relationship with the kids, and your relationship with me. As a single mother, I can’t afford to waste my time on people who aren’t completely invested in me and my children. I would rather continue to make it work on my own than spend my time and energy chasing someone who can’t be bothered to show up.” A look of deep chagrin settled on his face, and I resisted the urge to comfort him. Nearly done with my meal, I pulled my checkbook out of my purse. “Oh, no, I’ve got this,” he said, gesturing to the food. “I know. I’m not writing a check for this.” I filled the check out slowly and carefully, making him wait and wonder. I knew the amount in the

account down to the last penny. There was more than enough in there to buy a new car with cash and put a down payment on a house, both of which I could have used. But in my mind, it was better that we were on a level playing field. “I don’t want to owe you anything,” I explained. “The money I make on my own is enough to support me and the kids, so I don’t need yours. I would prefer not to have it.” I slid the check across the table and he frowned at it. He didn’t make a move to take it. “What does this mean?” he asked. “It means you need to make a choice, Miles. If you want to be a dad to our children—a real dad—then you need to be there for them, one hundred percent. If you want to be with me, you need to be with me, not living on an adjacent plane and occasionally bouncing over to my reality. You’re in or you’re out; you can’t be on the fence about us.” I sat with my hands folded in my lap, bracing myself for his answer. “And the money…?” “Severs our last tangible tie. This is your choice, free and clear of all obligations; accepting you into our lives is my choice, free of anything that could

be construed as a bribe.” “Ah. I see.” He lifted the paper and spun it in his fingers. “That’s a lot of money, Shelley.” “Yes. And the kids are worth more than all of it.” He nodded thoughtfully. The awkwardness was beginning to settle, so I picked up my purse and stood. “You have my number. Let me know what you decide.” He didn’t answer, but just continued to stare at the check. I left, swallowing my emotions as I walked through the restaurant and parking lot. It wasn’t until I started my car that the tears began to flow. I was prepared to deal with the consequences of my ultimatum. I just hadn’t prepared for the way my heart would ache.

CHAP TER 15

SHELLEY A MO ND AY L ATE R

“A

nd he didn’t say anything? At all?” Jenna huffed indignantly as she pushed Vincent in the swing. “Not a word. Just sat there, looking at the check.” “Has he deposited it?” I shook my head. “Not as far as I can tell. All the money is still sitting there.” “Well, that’s a relief,” she said. I gave her a sideways look. “What do you mean, a relief? He hasn’t responded to the ultimatum, and he hasn’t released me from my debt. How is that a relief?”

She rolled her eyes. “It isn’t a debt; it’s a gift.” “It’s hush money.” “It was hush money. Now, it’s just money. Nobody’s asking you to keep quiet anymore, right? So, it’s just money. Your money, and you should use it however you see fit. I saw a cute little house for sale on my way here. You could put a deposit down on it, get out of Mom’s hair—” “Mom doesn’t mind me living there,” I objected. “She likes seeing the kids every day and she enjoys helping. It gives her something to do.” “She has things to do,” Jenna argued. “She works, and she’s got her garden, and I swear if that woman doesn’t get back to her designs soon, I’m going to start poking her with sketching pencils until she does. Besides, she’s still young. She should be out dating and stuff, not raising the next generation.” “She isn’t raising them; I am.” “With her help.” “Well…yeah…but she likes to help.” “Look,” Jenna sighed as she lifted Vincent out of his swing. “She loves you. And she loves the kids. And because she loves you, she would never tell you this, but she has a life to get back to. She was

more than happy to take you in and she’s happy to have you stay, but she’s put her whole life on hold all over again. She did it for us when we were kids, and now she’s gone and done it again. She deserves freedom, Shelley. And you deserve that money.” I lifted Frida out of the swing and set her down. She followed Vincent to the toddler-sized playground apparatus, and they began climbing the gentle slope of a plastic turtle shell. I hovered near Frida, knowing that she was going to try to follow in her brother’s footsteps, and was likely to tumble. “I don’t want the money,” I told her firmly. “I just don’t. If business keeps up the way it’s going, I’ll have enough of my own money to put a down payment on a little house in a few years. By the time the kids are in first grade, I’ll be able to move into my own place. That still gives her plenty of time to be a fascinating single lady.” I said it firmly, but suddenly, I wasn’t sure. Jenna had a way of pointing out obvious practicalities that I had a habit of missing. It threw me off balance every time, and especially this time. She was right. It was a lot of money to ignore, and I had been sort of invading Mom’s space for the last couple years. “Besides, he still has the check,” I said finally. “He could cash it any time he pleases.”

“He won’t,” she said confidently. “How do you know?” “Because he has more than enough, and he doesn’t want to take it from you. He’s had enough money for long enough to know what power it holds. I think he wants you to have that power.” “Sure, instead of him. That was the whole point, Jenna. Him or his partner or whoever has been giving me money instead of his time, and I can’t accept that exchange anymore. If he doesn’t want to be with me, then I don’t want to have anything to do with him or his money.” “That pride is going to put you in the poorhouse.” “My business is successful,” I countered. “People like my art. They like looking at it, and wearing it, and now that I’ve partnered with the ceramics company, they’re going to like drinking out of it. I have enough, and that’s all the money I need.” “I’m just saying, if Mom gets herself a boyfriend— which I hope to God she does soon; that woman needs an outlet—you better make yourself scarce.” “And if I don’t?” Her eyes glittered dangerously. “Don’t tempt me, kid. I still have pull when it matters.”

I suppressed a shudder. Jenna had a brutally efficient way of getting things done, a way that I still didn’t fully understand. But if she thought that something needed to happen and it wasn’t happening, all she had to do was whisper in an ear here or there and, suddenly, everything would be going her way. She had some kind of inherent influence which I frequently thought was an unfair advantage in her line of work. “Do you ever make news happen when there isn’t any?” I asked her grumpily. “Haven’t yet, but I could if I wanted to and you know it. So don’t push me. The second Mom decides to break out of her comfort zone of drudgery, you will get out of her way.” “All right, all right,” I sighed, glancing at the sky. Afternoon had turned to evening as we argued, and the sky was now ablaze with color, meaning the twins would be hungry soon. With much objection from Vincent and weaker echoes from Frida, we bundled them into their side-by-side stroller and headed home. “You gave him the money a week ago, right?” she asked, flipping through the calendar on her phone. “Yep.”

“Okay, so just under three months from now, the check will be invalid—whether he tries to cash it or not. Three months, Shelley. If he hasn’t deposited the money by then, you’re going to use it to get yourself independent.” I sighed, but said nothing. It didn’t really matter if I agreed to her terms or not; if that was what she thought needed to happen, then it would probably happen. I wasn’t banking on it, though. As far as I was concerned, that money was Miles’. He probably just hadn’t gotten around to depositing it yet; he seemed to have trouble fitting extra things into his life. Like me, for example. Or his kids. “Resentment is going to eat me alive if I let it,” I confessed quietly. “I don’t want to resent him. I just want to get over him.” “That’s what I want to hear. You know the fastest way to get over somebody, right?” She shot me a wicked grin. “I’m not getting under somebody else, Jenna,” I sighed. “I’ve got too much at stake to be playing around right now.” “Yeah,” she admitted, running a hand through Frida’s curls. “They’re more important than playing hide the pickle or whatever it is you do. But not more important than your mental health. Actually,

your mental health is kind of necessary for their mental health, so it’s all part of the same package. What I’m saying, Shelley, is that you need to take care of you. Okay?” “Yes, Mother,” I teased as we reached Mom’s place. “Do you want to stick around for dinner?” “I’d love to, but I won’t. I’ve got a hot date tonight.” “Oh? One of your repressed librarian types?” She shook her head. “No, I’m taking a break from them. Too much drama. This one’s a high-powered TV exec with plans to run her own talk show. She’s all glossy and meticulous with just enough bitchiness to keep things interesting. I’m excited to see how this one plays out.” “She sounds like trouble,” I laughed. “Good luck!” “Thanks,” Jenna said with a grin. “Good luck with all of your stuff, too. I hope it works out the way you want it to.” “At this point, I really doubt it,” I sighed. “He’s had all week. I’m pretty sure he’s made his choice.” “Well…we’ll see. Some people process things more slowly than others. Either way, you’ll be fine, Shel. You’re stronger than I give you credit for.”

With that, Jenna kissed the twins and hugged me, then waved to Mom, who was pruning the hedges in the front yard. I noticed the little extra bit of energy that Mom used to slice through the stray twigs, and a twist of guilt curled in my chest. Jenna was right. Mom was completely stifled here. She needed an outlet. Maybe the twins and I were getting in her way. Bath time was chaos as always, with Vincent splashing water everywhere and Frida screaming at him to stop. “I should really wash you one at a time,” I sighed as Vincent dove forward, sending a tidal wave crashing over the side of the tub. “But who has that kind of time?” I kept them in there just long enough to get the dirt off, then rescued Frida from Vincent’s enthusiastic bubble popping. She shouted nonsense at him until her little face turned red as I dried her off, but was calm again by the time I had her zipped into her onesie. “Hun-gy,” she told me with big, serious eyes as she patted her little round tummy. “All right, honey, it’s almost dinner time. Just have to get your brother—oh, Vincent!” He had splashed

water over me and Frida, soaking her jammies and my pants. I pulled him out with a sigh and rubbed him down with a towel as he giggled maniacally, then hustled them to the bedroom to get fresh clothes. Both were screaming for dinner by the time I got my own clothes changed, and I hurried downstairs, wondering what I could make fast enough to avoid a meltdown. “Who wants macaroni?” Mom sang as we entered the kitchen. “Me! Me!” “Ah! Ah!” “Thank you,” I told her, relieved. “No problem. I’m on top of it.” She grinned at me, but I thought I caught a shadow of something else in her eye. Jenna’s words had wriggled into my brain and were playing games with my perceptions, I decided firmly. Mom was fine. She was enjoying herself. But as she set plates in front of me and the kids, I was watching her a little more closely. There was definitely more exhaustion around her mouth than there used to be, and her eyes had lost some of their sparkle.

“Are we too much for you?” I asked impulsively as I spooned a bite into Vincent’s mouth. “What do you mean?” she asked as she did the same for Frida. “I mean…would you be better off if I were living somewhere else?” She gave me a disappointed look and sighed. “You’ve been talking to Jenna.” Surprised, I tilted my head. “Has she been saying the same thing to you?” She shrugged. “It’s all been in a similar vein. ‘When are you going to start dating again, Mom? When are you going to start living again, Mom?’ I mean, it’s not like I’m dead. I enjoy my life, and I enjoy you guys, and there’s nothing more important to me than making sure that you—all four of you—are happy and taken care of. Jenna can take care of herself for the most part, but if some woman ever broke her heart, you know I would be all over that. I’m not suffering, Shelley, so put that out of your head right now.” “All right,” I said slowly, but I didn’t quite believe her.

She looked as if she were about to say something else, but the doorbell interrupted her before she could get it out. “I’ll get it,” she said quickly, and moved to the door. I took a spoon in each hand to feed both kids at once, which was a bit of a challenge as Frida preferred to finish one kind of food at a time and Vincent preferred to work his way around the plate, alternating apple sauce with peas and macaroni. “Who was it?” I called out when I heard the door close. She didn’t answer, but slowly walked into the room carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. She was frowning at the card, flipping it back and forth in her hand. “They’re for you,” she said hesitantly. “From Miles. What do you want me to do with them?” Set them on fire. Tear them to shreds. Dump them in the trash. I blew out a heavy breath and deliberately relaxed my shoulders. “Put them in water, please. Can I see the card?” She handed it to me, and I gave Frida’s spoon to her, and Vincent’s to him. Vincent’s was immediately redirected to the floor as he gleefully buried his fingers in his macaroni. Frida’s followed

shortly after, when she couldn’t manage to get a pea on it. I missed both of these, as the words on the card had arrested my attention and filled my mind with hundreds of questions.

Shelley, Please meet me at the following address as soon as you possibly can. I’ll be waiting. Miles

“This is a Monterey address,” I said, frowning at it. “I saw that. Pebble Beach area,” Mom said hesitantly. “What do you think he wants?” “I have no idea,” I said, searching the card for clues that weren’t there. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

CHAP TER 16

SHELLEY P E B B LE B E ACH

M

y nerves rattled as I pulled up to the sprawling mansion. The ocean beyond sang a rhythmic lullaby against the beach, background music for the purple sunset. Golden lights twinkled across the whole front of the house, making it look like a magical palace. Replicas of David and Venus gazed lovingly at one another from their perches atop the twisted pillars which framed the gate, and the scent of a thousand flowers caressed my nose as I drove between them. I checked the address four times against the card which I still held in my hand, and found it to be correct. High, arched blue windows stood three to a side, flanking the arched double door. I felt small, under-dressed, and out of place; but somehow, still at ease. As close to peace as I had been since

college, anyway. The cobblestone drive rippled up into stairs, and I climbed them tentatively, brushing my hand against the pillars as I reached the landing. Intricately carved knockers decorated the doors, and I suddenly felt like I was living the first act of a princess movie. I lifted the knocker and dropped it again, listening as it reverberated through the foyer. There was no answer. A doorbell sat to one side, blending in to the carved detail around the door. I pressed it, and heard nothing from within. Anxiety gripped my chest and I paced the wide landing, checking the address again. “No, this is definitely the place,” I said to myself, rubbing the back of my neck. “I guess…I mean, the worst they could do is throw me out. I have the invitation right here; it’s an honest mistake, right? I mean, if it is a mistake. Or, maybe there’s nobody home at all and he’s just…I don’t know…” I had no way to finish the sentence, so with a frustrated huff at my own apprehension, I pushed the door open. It wasn’t locked. I tiptoed into the foyer, dazzled by the chandelier overhead and the mandala arranged in the glossy tiles beneath my feet. “Hello?” I called.

My voice echoed loudly enough to make me gasp. Again, I found myself regretting all those horror movies. “Don’t be silly,” I told myself quietly. Not quietly enough, apparently, because my own voice whispered back at me from the walls of the cavernous foyer. It must have been full of light during the day, as the ceiling was at least twenty feet above me, and the wall behind me was nothing but windows. I took a breath and stepped forward, determined to remove myself from the startling room. Soft music greeted my ears from a room beyond, and to my relief, the ceilings were lower here; lower, but not low. I could have stood on my own shoulders and still had head room. I followed the music down a wide hallway and through an arched opening, where I found a fire roaring in a fireplace and Miles standing beside a wet bar. “Regretting your decision to quit Finnegan’s?” I teased. He jumped, startled, and turned to me with a wide smile. “Shelley! I didn’t hear you come in.” “I don’t think the doorbell works,” I said as my

eyes wandered around the luxurious room. “What is this place?” “I’ll get to that,” he told me with an impish twinkle in his eye. “But first, have a seat. Would you like a drink?” “Yes, please. Um…wine?” “Red or white?” “Red, but not…too red.” “You got it.” He brought me a glass of something sweet and tart, and not too dry. “This is perfect,” I said appreciatively. “Whose wine am I drinking?” “Mine,” he said with a little smile. “I stocked up. I was hoping to have something to celebrate.” I looked around at the luxurious room again, taking in the detailed carvings along the walls and around the fireplace. “What are you celebrating?” “Well, nothing yet,” he said hesitantly. “Before I start, I want to apologize for taking so long to get back to you. I had a couple of things to take care of this week, and they ate up all of my time.”

Of course you did, I thought. But I only nodded and sipped my wine. The comfortable room and the wine were working together to put me at ease, but I resisted. Whatever he had brought me there to say, it would take more than words to make me relax around him. “Are you interested in what I was doing?” he asked. “Should I be?” He wriggled uncomfortably and I rolled the stress off of my shoulders. He cleared his throat and drank his wine, and I sipped at mine as well. The heat from it swirled through me, coaxing me to breathe easily, so I put the glass down. “Why am I here, Miles?” He took a deep breath. “I brought you here to tell you that I’m stepping down as CEO. That’s why I was so busy this last week. I’ve been grooming a replacement and getting everything in order to pass on to him. He’s already taken over some of the accounts, which has freed up my time a little bit.” “Why did you do that?” I asked neutrally, but my heart was beating fast with a flutter of hope.

He stood, paced the room for a moment, and then sat down on the coffee table beside my glass. He looked into my eyes, his face shining with that boyish earnestness which never failed to soften me. “I want to be there for you and the kids. I am dedicated to becoming the father they deserve, and you were absolutely right. I can’t do that if I’m spending all of my time taking care of my company. I’m still the owner, and I will still oversee things from a distance to ensure that they aren’t corrupting my vision, and I’m still going to be designing new apps—I can’t help but do that; I create programs in my sleep—but most of my time is going to be reserved for you three.” I swallowed hard and rubbed my throat. Anticipation was making my skin buzz, and I was desperate for him to say what I needed to hear. He rubbed his hands together and blew out a breath, seeming to be as nervous as I was. Almost impulsively, he stuck a hand in his pocket and withdrew a set of keys. He played with them as he spoke. “I bought this house,” he said, gesturing to the walls around us. “It’s not a bribe. I swear it. I bought it so that I would be closer to you and the kids, so that I could work on co-parenting effectively. I can’t do that from San Bravado, not

as well as I should. I want to be there for the dayto-day grind.” He turned his eyes to me, so open and vulnerable that it nearly broke my heart. “I won’t be upset if you decide to stay with your mother. I understand that I’ve broken your trust more than once, and that it’s going to take more than a couple of small gestures to fix that. But…if you want to….” He held the keys out, dangling them over my hands. “You and Vincent and Frida can call this place home.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You bought this place…for us?” “Or for me,” he said quickly. “I was hoping that eventually, some day, you could forgive me, and that you and the twins would move in and make us a real family. It’s all I want, Shelley. It’s everything I want. But I don’t want to pressure you. It’s not about me; I’ve been selfish enough. This is about you. You’re the mom. You call the shots. Tell me what’s best for you and the kids and I’ll accept it.” Tears welled up in my eyes and I stood, reaching for his hands to pull him up with me. As a whirl of emotion quickened my heart and my breath, I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder.

Pausing for a moment, he folded me into his embrace, resting his cheek on my hair. I could hear his heart beat faster, then slow down as he gently rocked me. “Does that mean…?” “I forgive you,” I laughed through my tears. “I can’t believe you did all this for us.” “I would do anything for us,” he said fiercely. “You’re everything I ever wanted and more, Shelley. You’re the girl of my dreams. Whatever you want, whatever you need, it’s yours.” “Just you,” I said. “All I want is you.” “Then I’m yours,” he said, holding me close. I looked up into his eyes as a playful smile danced around my lips. “Nice place,” I said casually, wondering if he would remember. “Thanks,” he said with a warm chuckle. “Let me give you the tour.” He pressed his lips to mine fervently, feeding me passion washed down by hot desire, and led me out of the room. The marble staircase was more difficult to navigate than his little hallway had been, but we managed it. He spun me around when we

reached the landing, and pulled me in through a pair of gilded double doors. A soft sitting room opened into an elegant bedroom the size of my mother’s garage. In the center, a four-poster bed stood, inviting us into its canopied interior. Every second of suppressed emotion poured out into the air between us as we undressed one another. His hands slid over my soft skin, heightening my senses, making each ragged breath an erotic punctuation. As we stumbled toward the bed, he tapped an icon on his phone, bringing music in to fill the space around us. It wove through our tangled limbs, filled our gasping lungs, cradled us in its soft highs and sweet lows. Lying together on the bed, he pulled away from me to gaze into my eyes. His fingertips trailed over my cheek, leaving ripples of heat in their wake. His thumb rubbed across my lower lip, and he breathed a shaky sigh. “Is it too soon to tell you how I feel?” he asked, smothering my answer with a kiss, then pulling away again. “Will it make you run? Will it entice you to stay?” He kissed me again, swallowing my words. “I don’t really like running,” I murmured when he finally released my mouth. “I’ve always preferred to swim.”

“Oh! There’s a pool,” he said brightly, breaking the moment. I laughed and kissed him, and he rolled me into his arms. His tongue wrapped around mine as he pressed his hard body to my soft contours, and I trailed my nails down his spine. He nipped at my lower lip, breathing in little growls as he stiffened against me. The soft bed accommodated my every whim, and I wrapped my legs around him, surrounding his whole body in my embrace. “I want you to be mine,” I breathed in his ear. “All yours,” he murmured. “No one else’s.” With a blissful sigh, I slid over him, pulling him into me. He whispered my name as he rolled me under him, savoring every inch. His kiss was filled with a desperate need, a passion unleashed. Small moans and gasps punctuated the musical rhythm of our bodies grinding and sliding together, pushing every thought from my head with wave after wave of unearthly pleasure. My legs began to shake as I buried my nails in his shoulder, and he slowly pulled away. “Don’t go!” I whimpered as he slid down and away. “Hush, baby,” he growled. “Trust me.”

His teeth nipped my earlobe as his hand roughly handled my breasts, filling my body with painful pleasure. I moved to grab him and he pinned down my wrist, moving his mouth to tantalize the tender flesh there. Moving up my arm and down to my breast, he devoured me slowly, tasting my skin and igniting my nerves. Releasing my wrist, he slid his hands over my sides as his mouth followed the line down my stomach to the softness beneath my navel. “You feel like heaven,” he murmured against me. My heart swelled as every insecurity I had developed since having the twins disappeared into nothingness, popping like bubbles in the wind. He slid lower, kissing my hips, my thighs, touching my knees as he trailed his tongue up the sensitive skin to my aching center. I cried out as he kissed me, plunging his tongue deep inside, moving his lips over me, hot licks of pleasure flicking over my body from my core. His fingers played me like a harp, each note of ecstasy building up a promise of an earth-shaking crescendo. Filled with his hot breath and twisting tongue, I let myself fall over the edge of eternity, crying out as reality shattered, writhing against him as wave after wave of passion ripped through my soul. I lay liquid and buzzing as he launched himself

over me, taking my mouth with the same fierce need that he had taken my sex. Miles entered me with possessive force, holding my body close to his with his powerful arms. His masculine scent filled my head, and his demanding touch dissolved my body until we were a single entity, entwined beyond the physical. Inhaling his breath, I danced beneath him, slick skin sliding in seamless rhythm. His need was palpable, swirling through my body, dripping over my tongue. With a primal growl he flipped me to my belly, and I gripped the sturdy carved headboard as he ran his hands down my torso to cup my round ass. His fingers dove deep inside, then slid over me, searching for the hard, aching nub. A gasp tore from my throat as he found it. Overwhelmed with lust and need, my hips bucked back toward him as he drove me ever closer to another riptide of ecstasy. “Oh, God, don’t stop,” I begged him. Groaning, he slid his hand around, still playing me as he entered me with an animal thrust, so deep and wild that I thought I might burst. Waves raced over me, crashing into him as he drove into me again and again. The bubble of

molten lust beneath his fingers grew, my whole body quivering with the power of it. He tangled a fist in my hair as he began to pulse inside of me, the slight pain letting the twisting tide of pleasure take over. A crack of lightning through my core electrified the waves of pleasure that had built within me, unleashing a typhoon. My body bucked against his wildly as the storm raged, washing nirvana through each cell and molecule of my being. With a primal growl he emptied into me, filling me with his hot passion. In sucking gasps and little groans, the ecstasy slowly subsided. He held me close afterward, cradling my spent and glowing body against him as he covered my head and face with little kisses. I sighed into him, floating on the aftermath of our shared euphoria. As my heartbeat slowed and I regained the higher functions of my mind, I glanced across the room at the clock. “The twins go to bed in an hour. Miles, would you like to meet your children?”

CHAP TER 17

MILES TH E TWINS

S

helley drove back to her mother’s house with me in the passenger seat. I offered her the use of my car; it was objectively nicer and faster, but she insisted on driving hers. I accepted and slid in beside her, my heart pounding anxiously. “You okay?” she asked as she turned onto the road. “Yeah, I’m great,” I lied. She shot me a look, and I shrugged. “Okay, so I’m nervous. Really nervous. Does your mom hate me?” “Hate is a strong word,” she said slowly, her lips quirking in amusement. “She hasn’t been too thrilled with you, but most of that came before you were aware of the situation. She hasn’t had the best

luck with romance, so she’s very protective of me and my sister when it comes to relationships.” “That makes sense,” I mused. “Is she still unhappy with me? This is a terrible way to start an in-law-ish relationship.” My stomach turned over at the thought of meeting an older, angry version of Shelley. Shelley laughed, which didn’t help any. “She trusts my judgment,” she said firmly. “If I say you stay, you stay. Period. She isn’t going to make your life miserable.” “Still…she’s kind of been doing my job for me for the last couple years. I should probably do something to make it up to her.” “Like what?” Shelley asked, interested. Her taking me seriously told me everything I needed to know. I was definitely going to have to earn her mother’s trust and goodwill. “I don’t know…what does she like?” “She gave up on her dreams of being a fashion designer when Jenna and I were born,” Shelley told me. “She works at an accounting firm now, but I’m pretty sure she hates it. “She usually spends her free time gardening or

helping me with the twins or fixing the house. There’s always something to fix; it’s a never-ending project. So…that doesn’t really tell you what she likes as much as it tells you what she hates; I’m sorry. She likes flowers and dolphins and fashion. She likes word puzzles and games. She likes to dance.” “She sounds like quite a woman,” I said, more nervous still. “Oh, she is,” Shelley said proudly. “She’s pretty amazing.” “I guess she would have to be, to have a daughter like you.” I paused for a moment, considering what I had just said. “That sounded a lot less cheesy in my head.” She laughed, and the sound melted my heart as it always did. Something deeper than desire twisted in my chest, frightening and wonderful all at once. The fear triggered a second fear—one that I hadn’t acknowledged, even to myself. “Do the twins know anything about me?” I asked. I hoped that they hadn’t been tearing me down to the kids this whole time, but it would have been understandable. Painful, but understandable. “No,” she said softly. “Nothing more than what

they might have picked up when Mom and I talked about you, but we never referenced you as their Daddy in front of them. As far as they know, it’s just me and Mom.” “I don’t know if that’s better or worse than them knowing I existed but never seeing me,” I confessed. I shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in my seat. “What if they hate me?” She made a noise halfway between a laugh and a sympathetic coo. “Honey, they just turned two. They don’t know how to hate yet, with the exception of Brussels sprouts.” I sighed as the tension in my chest eased slightly. “That’s a relief. Hey, I like it when you call me honey.” “Then I’ll be sure to do it more,” she said with a cute little smile. “Here we are. Are you ready?” “No, but I can fake it,” I said with a grin. “Good enough. Pretty sure those were my exact thoughts when I went into labor.” “One of these days I want to hear that whole story in gruesome detail.” “I’m sure Mom will be happy to fill you in,” she said wryly.

Unable to put it off any longer, we stepped out of the car. The small two-story cottage somehow seemed more intimidating than every mansion, office building, or foreign embassy I had ever approached. I took a deep breath and Shelley’s hand, and we walked to the door together. For some reason I expected her to knock, and when she walked right in, it sort of threw me. The smell of cooking lingered in the air, mingled with that undefinable aroma which all old houses seem to share. My heart leapt when I heard a child scream, followed by a crash. Shelley ran toward the sound with me hot on her heels, and we stepped into a chaotic scene. A woman who must have been Shelley’s mother held one curly-haired blond baby in one arm while chasing the other one around the room. The little boy was nude from the waist down and cackling like a maniac, and the woman was dodging pieces of the upturned plastic play kitchen which were scattered across the floor. Shelley didn’t hesitate for a second. She swooped in and scooped the rebel up, blowing raspberries on his belly as he shrieked happily. The other woman stood erect, blowing the hair out of her reddened face before her sharp eyes landed on me.

“Don’t look so shocked; you made them,” she huffed at me in exasperation. “I…uh…” I had no words. “Mom, this is Miles. Miles, this is my mother, Lisa.” “Pleasure to meet you,” I said, holding out a hand. She didn’t take it. Instead, she shoved the little girl —Frida, my little girl—into my arms and collapsed into the armchair behind her. “So?” she began, directing the question at Shelley. “He’s here; what does that mean?” Shelley was diapering the boy—Vincent, my son— and moved seamlessly into righting the play kitchen. The little girl in my arms stared up at me with a deep, serious expression which seemed out of place on her chubby little face. I looked back at her, frozen in something bordering on terror. “Have a seat, Miles,” Shelley invited, gesturing to the sofa. I sat carefully, making sure I didn’t pinch or squish Frida as I did so. The second I was seated, she curled into me the way Shelley sometimes did, and yawned. My heart melted instantly, beating with a powerful

emotion I didn’t quite know how to categorize. Shelley sat beside me with the wiggling Vincent struggling to launch himself out of her arms. “Settle down,” she told him. He gave her a pitiful look, and she pursed her lips at him. Giving up, he flopped limply back against her, his little tummy heaving as he caught his breath. “Miles has given me his word that he will be there for the kids, and for me. To that end, he has stepped down as CEO and bought a house on Pebble Beach.” “There are no houses on Pebble Beach. Only castles,” Lisa said with an amused twist of her lips. “And it’s absolutely fabulous,” Shelley sighed, her eyes twinkling. I recognized that look. That was how I’d looked at pretty much everything when the millions had started rolling in. As soon as I’d known that I could afford anything my heart desired, everything looked gilded and new and exciting. It had never been wholly fulfilling, though. Not nearly as fulfilling as the feel of Frida’s warm little body curled in my lap. I touched her hair gently, in awe at the softness of her curls.

“Then what happens now?” Lisa asked. “I’ve asked Shelley if she and the twins would like to move in with me,” I said, feeling like I needed to say something. “And?” Again, Lisa directed the question at her daughter. “And…I’m not ready to take that leap just yet. Would you mind if the kids and I continued to live with you for the next little while? Just long enough for Miles and me to establish a real relationship.” My heart sank and lifted again as she spoke. I realized that Shelley hadn’t exactly given me an answer back at the house, but I had assumed… which had been the biggest part of my problem over the last few years, I acknowledged. Assumptions had left me vulnerable to manipulations and lies, and had left me missing out on some wonderful things. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Lisa told her warmly. She turned her sharp gaze to me. “I wouldn’t mind having more time to decide whether you’re worthy of my daughter and my grandkids, anyway. I’m aware that you were kept in the dark, but you didn’t exactly blow my mind when you discovered their existence.”

“I handled it poorly,” I admitted. “But I can’t imagine leaving, now.” Frida looked up at me, then looked at her mother. “Who da?” “That’s your Daddy, Frida,” Shelley told her with a smile. Vincent began to cry, and Shelley snuggled him with a little chuckle. “He’s your Daddy too, Vincent,” she assured him. Vincent’s tears dried as quickly as they had begun, and he looked over at me with curiosity shining in his big blue eyes. I opened my free arm to him, and he crawled across the couch and climbed into my lap, still energetic in spite of his race around the living room. “Hi, buddy,” I said, gazing down into his fierce little face. “Daddy?” “Yeah, I’m your daddy.” My voice broke a little bit, and hot tears prickled at the corners of my eyes. I pressed a kiss to his forehead, breathing him in. “Daddy,” Frida repeated.

“Yeah, honey, I’m your daddy, too,” I told her. She seemed to think about that for a minute, then nodded sagely. “It’s bedtime,” Shelley said softly. “Would you like to help tuck them in?” “Yes. Yes please.” My heart was so full I was afraid it was going to overflow. I carried both kids up the stairs, following Shelley to the bathroom. She showed me how to brush their teeth, and I wrestled Vincent into his jammies. “You’re strong, buddy! But you have to let me put these on now.” “No!” “Vincent.” I heard my own Dad’s tone come out of my mouth and almost winced. But Vincent settled down, still grinning, and let me put his jammies on. “Why can’t you be that good for me?” Shelley asked playfully. Vincent only yawned in response. I put him in his crib and covered him up with the blanket, then handed him the stuffed elephant he was gesturing insistently for. His eyelids grew heavy as he slid his thumb into his mouth, and I kissed his curly little

head. Shelley and I switched places, and I kissed Frida. “Goodnight, honey,” I said. “Night night Daddy. Night night Mommy.” “Goodnight, baby.” “Nigh-nigh Daddy. Nigh-nigh Mommy.” “Goodnight, buddy.” I was in tears by the time we reached the hallway, and I needed to take a breather. When my vision cleared and I had whisked the evidence away, I looked up to see Shelley’s worried face. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” she asked nervously. “Oh, God no,” I told her fervently, reaching for her hands. “No, it’s not too much, not by a long shot. If anything, it’s not nearly enough. I love them. I love them more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone ever in my whole life.” Relief broke through her expression like sunshine parting the clouds, and she wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so glad,” she whispered. “They like you already.” “Well, they’re going to see a lot more of me. I hope your mom doesn’t mind me bumming around here

for a while.” “I’m sure she’ll be happy for the extra hands,” Shelley laughed. “I will too, to be honest. Not that I’m using you for your hands or anything…” “I know,” I told her, tipping her face up to mine. “I’ll be as many hands as you need me to be.” As our lips met, I knew that it wouldn’t matter if she wanted to stay apart for a week, a month, or a decade. I would always be here, and she would always be welcome to move in with me. She had waited for me for almost three years. I could wait a little longer.

CHAP TER 18

MILES B UILD ING B LO CK S

S

ix months later, I knew the time was right. Shelley and the twins had spent most of their days at our Pebble Beach house, and many, if not most, of their nights. Shelley had blossomed into the sort of woman who left me breathless, not only with her beauty, but with her fierce compassion as a mother. Her art filled the downstairs, breathing life into the mansion, and the kids had left their mark in nearly every room. I had an intricate plan to make it permanent, and I was just waiting for my chance to make it a reality. I got my chance one Thursday afternoon, after Shelley had left the twins with me to take her wares to the craft fair. I sat down on the floor of the playroom with Vincent and Frida, stacking blocks

with them. “All right, kids. Mommy is going to be back around five o’clock. Before she gets back, I have a few questions for you.” They looked at me, Vincent with that fierce curiosity, Frida with that ageless seriousness. “First question: do you like it here?” “Big stairs!” Vincent said, nodding emphatically. “I like it,” Frida said. “I like toys, and pool, and shiny, and echo! Echo! Echo!” I laughed, pleased at her rapidly vocabulary as much as her answer.

growing

“Okay, second question: do you like it when Mommy and Daddy are together?” “No kissy,” Vincent said, making a face. “Mommy smiles,” Frida said thoughtfully. She paused for a moment, then nodded. “I like it.” “Oh,” Vincent said. He made another face, then sighed. “Like smiles.” “All right, last question: would you like to see Mommy and Daddy get married?” Frida gasped and her eyes lit up. Standing, she flung

her arms out to either side and began to sing an adorable version of the wedding song from her favorite movie. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I laughed. “Vincent, would you like Mommy and Daddy to get married? We’ll make promises to each other and have a big party —” “Cake?” he asked, his eyes focusing sharply on my face. “The biggest cake you’ve ever seen.” “Cake!” “Awesome! Then I need your help, both of you. Let’s load these blocks up in the wheelbarrow; I have an idea.” Frida was still singing her song as we carted all of their letter blocks out to the foyer. Vincent dumped the blue plastic wheelbarrow with a gleeful cackle, and Frida gasped. “Big mess! Big, big mess!” “It’s okay, Frida,” I chuckled. “Can you help me find letters? How about an ‘M’?” Frida fumbled through the blocks, searching for the letter. She handed me an N, and Vincent gave me a B.

“Close, but let’s try again. Do you remember what ‘M’ looks like?” One by one, we lined the letters up in the perfect order. Vincent was uncharacteristically careful not to knock any out of place; I could see the promise of cake prompting him to move cautiously. We finished just in time, placing the last letter just as Shelley pulled into the driveway. “All right kids, come over here so Mommy can see,” I told them. I was vibrating with excitement, and sick with anxiety. If she said no…but she wouldn’t. I knew she wouldn’t. At least I hoped she wouldn’t… My palms began to sweat. The certainty I had felt all day had faded, and I second-guessed every feeling and instinct which had prompted me to take this step in the first place. As if feeling my anxiety, Frida slid her little hand into mine and smiled up at me. “Honeys, I’m home!” Shelley sang as she opened the door. “Oh, wow! What happened here?” “We were practicing finding letters,” I told her with a grin. “And we learned how to spell some new words.” “Read, Mommy!” Frida squealed, bouncing on her

toes. “Okay, okay,” Shelley laughed. “Mommy…will… you…marry…Daddy. Oh my gosh!” Shelley threw her hands over her face, dropping her armful of printed clothes as her eyes filled with tears. Frida began spinning and singing the wedding song again, and Shelley laughed through the tears. “Cake!” Vincent squealed. “I see where your priorities are,” Shelley laughed as she hugged Vincent. “You two helped with this?” “Yes! Marry Daddy, Mommy! Be princess!” Frida twirled again, her eyes glittering. I pulled the ring from my pocket, where it had been nestled for the last month while I waited for the perfect time. I lowered myself to one knee, holding it out to her, and was immediately tackled from both sides by the kids. Vincent climbed up onto my shoulders, while Frida wriggled through my arms to perch on my knee. “I…we,” I corrected with a laugh. “Would be utterly lost without you, Shelley. You’re everything to me. My best friend, the mother of my children, the most brilliant artist I’ve ever met. Would you do me the great honor and—Vincent, sit still, you’re going to fall—um, where was I?”

“You were about to get around to asking me,” she said with a beaming smile. “Right! Would you make me a very lucky man and marry the heck out of me?” She sobbed a laugh and held out her finger for the ring. I slid it on a bit awkwardly, trying to avoid tipping either child onto the floor. It glittered like a summer sea on her finger, reflecting in the tears on her face. As soon as it was on, she fell to her knees and threw her arms around me, encircling both twins in the embrace. “Of course I will, Miles,” she said through her sniffles. “Of course I will.”

CHAP TER 19

SHELLEY LIFE GO E S O N

“C

ome on, Mom; you can do it.”

“No, I can’t! I’m too old. This was a silly idea; I can’t possibly—” “Mom,” I interrupted with a laugh. “It’s a done deal. We’re already here, the course is already paid for, and all you have to do is walk inside.” She gave me a look filled with anxiety and wrung her hands. “I’m going to be surrounded by a bunch of twentysomethings,” she moaned. “Sure! It’ll give you a chance to practice your cougar skills.” “Oh, stop it,” she said, flushing red.

“We’re going to be late,” I said, glancing at the clock. “Come on, I want to see you teach those kids a thing or two about design. Besides, Professor Zain is one of the most fascinating people on the planet. You’re going to love him, and the class, and all of it. And if you don’t get out of the car right now, I swear to God, I won’t let you go dress shopping with me.” She gasped, wounded to her core. I pursed my lips and gave her my best mom look. “You’re a cruel child,” she said as she pushed out of the car. I grinned and followed her up the steps. If there was one thing she wouldn’t risk, it was the chance to help me find the perfectly princess-esque wedding gown. Of course, Frida had opinions on that, too; she had left sticky fingerprints in all of my magazines on every white dress with poofy sleeves. She was convinced that it wasn’t a princess wedding unless I had poofy sleeves, and I had the sneaking suspicion that I would eventually cave to her wishes; I just hoped that I could find a more modern look which would meet with her approval. The bustle in the hallway filled me with a peaceful sort of excitement. I felt like I had been away from

school for an eternity. I inhaled deeply, amused that the smell of body sprays mingled with paint and pizza could bring me such all-consuming delight. Practically skipping, I dragged Mom down the hallway toward Professor Zain’s room, following my nose as much as my memory. Art classes had a distinct scent, one which never failed to get my creative juices flowing. The classroom was only half full when we arrived, and the professor was absorbed in painting fluorescent outlines around classically designed cherubim. The chubby little figures had all been done in the muted tones of the renaissance, which made the modern colors that much more startling. “Interesting concept,” I said from behind him. “A little grating, though. Maybe you could outline the brights in black to make the figures look like stickers on the canvas—oh! Or, you could give them fluorescent flowers to hold and sort of tie it all together.” The professor froze with his brush halfway to the canvas. “There is only one person in the world who would dare critique my work in progress,” he growled intimidatingly.

My mother took half a step back and I yanked her to my side as Professor Zain slowly turned on his stool, glaring fiercely from beneath his bushy eyebrows. As soon as he saw me, though, his expression cleared, breaking into a delighted grin. “Shelley! My prodigal student, you’ve returned!” “I sure have,” I said proudly. “And I brought someone with me. Professor Zain, this is my mother, Lisa. Mom, this is my favorite professor in the whole wide world, Professor Alexander Zain.” “Pleased to meet you,” she said shyly, holding out her hand. “Oh…the pleasure is all mine,” he said gallantly, rising from his stool to bow over her hand. “I see now where Shelley came by her striking features. You are quite the handsome woman, Lisa. Will you be attending my class?” “I will,” she said, blushing. “I’m attempting to finish up an ancient degree which I abandoned back before Shelley was born. I planned on becoming a fashion designer, you see, but that was so long ago…nobody wears leg warmers anymore, do they?” The professor chuckled, and I began to fade backward toward a seat. I hadn’t expected sparks

to fly, but I knew enough to get out of the way before I got burned. I sat just close enough to eavesdrop, and grinned as Professor Zain took Mom through a verbal journey over the design trends of the past twenty-five years. They were still talking when the class was full, and it took a student loudly dropping a palette on the floor before the professor’s attention returned to the class. “Oh my gosh,” Mom said, glowing like a schoolgirl as she slid into the seat beside me. “You were so right, Shelley. I am going to love this class.” I grinned into my bag as I withdrew my supplies for the class. My steady, predictable mother had suddenly transformed into a giggling schoolgirl. “You have my blessing,” I whispered to her as we began to sketch. “Oh, hush,” she said, turning bright red. “There’s nothing to bless. We had a conversation, that’s all.” “That’s all, huh? I distinctly heard him offer to tutor you personally over a pint.” “He’s a very dedicated teacher, and he knows talent when he sees it,” she sniffed, turning her nose up.

“He must be psychic if he saw talent in you before he even saw your portfolio,” I pointed out. “Pay attention,” she hissed. I kept my peace and turned my attention back on Professor Zain, who had eyes only for my mother. Shaking my head at the craziness of the world, I threw myself wholeheartedly into my classwork. Jenna met us after class for coffee and sandwiches at the little café I had always passed but had never took the time to stop at, the last time I was enrolled. She was almost pink beneath her glossy black sunglasses, and her usually serious expression was sabotaged by a secretive smile which refused to be banished no matter how hard she tried. “What are you so giddy about?” Mom asked, attempting a sharp tone but only succeeding in sounding mildly curious. She was in her own blissful haze, and even her maternal instincts couldn’t sink her dream ship. “Oh, nothing,” Jenna said lightly, but the pink of her cheeks darkened. “Yeah, whatever,” I said suspiciously. “Spill it.” “No, no, no, I wouldn’t want to take the spotlight off of the soon-to-be Mrs. Millionaire.”

“Billionaire,” I corrected with a grin. “And don’t you dare use me as a scapegoat. What’s got you all fluttery and girlish?” Jenna bit her lip, but a sunny smile broke through in spite of her. “Okay, okay,” she said in a rush. “You know that woman I told you about forever ago?” “The TV exec?” “Yes!” “I figured nothing came of that. You didn’t mention her again after that.” I raised a quizzical brow and sipped my coffee. “Wait, what TV exec?” Mom asked, shaking off her own daydream. “This woman I’ve been seeing, Jade Ellen Quinn. Isn’t that a great name? I can’t get over how great her name is. Anyway, we’ve been seeing each other for about six months now, and she just signed a contract to host her own talk show. We were celebrating last night, and…” With a wordless squeal, Jenna stuck her hand across the table to show us an engagement ring on a braided gold band. “Oh my God!” “What? I haven’t even met her!” Mom’s distress

was tempered only by her admiration of the ring. “She has good taste, though. That’s a point in her favor. And she’s ambitious, which is good. I mean, considering how ambitious you are, a relationship could easily become unbalanced if the other person wasn’t. But Jenna, why haven’t you told us about her? Why haven’t we met her? Is she isolating you? Manipulating you? You might be a grown woman, Jenna, but I will still—” “Throw down with any woman for me, yes I know,” Jenna laughed. “It’s nothing like that, I swear. At first, it was because she’s so different from my usual type, I didn’t want to second guess myself before I was sure. Then it started getting really serious, and I didn’t want to jinx it, and honestly, I was afraid that your advice would be colored by this whole thing with Miles. And then Shelley got engaged, and I didn’t want to step on that. I still don’t—I feel pretty bad about this—but I just couldn’t keep it in anymore!” “Yeah, you look like you’re real torn up about it,” I said with a sarcastic twist of my lips. “But I don’t mind, really. I want to meet her, too! You should bring her tomorrow.” Jenna’s brow furrowed, and she pulled her phone out. I saw her calendar reflected in her sunglasses, and I sighed.

“You really forgot? Jenna! Tomorrow is the first wedding planning party, remember?” “Oh, crap. I completely forgot; I’m so sorry. I’ll totally be there, what time?” “Noon,” I told her firmly. “Put it in your phone. And bring the fiancée!” “Okay, okay,” Jenna said with a grin. “Jenna and Jade,” I said, shaking my head. “Alliteration and everything. Why didn’t I get an alliterative partner?” “Because you got the billionaire,” Jenna pointed out. “You can’t have both, Shelley; it would tear the fabric of reality. Law of nature, look it up.” I laughed at her and rolled my eyes. Mom looked from one of us to the other as her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe both of my babies are getting married!” Her voice wavered with emotion. “What am I going to do now?” “Alexander Zain,” I said wryly. She glared at me and sniffed, drying her tears in a huff of indignation. Jenna cocked her head at me, and I filled her in on Mom’s first day of school.

“Damn, get it, Mom,” Jenna said with a grin. “Quiet, both of you,” she snapped without conviction. “It was just a conversation, that’s all.” “A conversation with a clear ‘to be continued over drinks’,” I pointed out with a snicker. “Well, it’s about damn time,” Jenna said firmly. “Twenty-one years is way too long to go without a date. Your dry spell is officially old enough to drink.” Mom’s mouth dropped open in shock, then she burst into laughter. “How on earth did I raise such obscene daughters?” she asked rhetorically. “Not obscene,” Jenna objected. “Just blunt. It’s how I get to the truth of the matter.” The rest of the meal passed in good humor, and we sat and talked for hours longer than we had intended to. Fortunately, Miles was fully enjoying his time alone with the twins, and I figured it would do them all good. He had a lot of missed quality time to make up for, and they needed a new victim for their shenanigans. They had grown bored with driving me out of my mind. As I sat under the umbrella listening to Jenna and Mom laugh, a deep happiness flowed through me; for all of our struggles and fights, for all of our

missteps and disagreements, here we were—each of us starting a new chapter of our lives in an unexpected way, each of us blissfully happy and filled with hope. I was confident now that—no matter what happened in our lives, good or bad— we would always be there to support one another. Before I was forced to move home, during the lowest point in my life, I really didn’t know. I guess I learn best by doing, or maybe I just need things to be proved to me in a tangible sort of way. Either way, I was happy here. Happier than I had ever been. The planning party the following day was just as enjoyable, if slightly more awkward at first with the addition of Jade Ellen Quinn. She radiated power and authority, seeming to fill the room with her short, trim frame. She had a presence that drew you in and intimidated you all at once, and I could instantly see why Jenna had fallen for her so hard. “Did you pick out the rings?” I asked her, examining the matching braided gold ring on her finger. “I did,” she said confidently. “Do you like them?” “I love them,” I told her earnestly. “They’re fantastic. Do you—oh!”

A loud clatter interrupted me, followed immediately by a string of curses in my mother’s voice. Rushing outside, I found my mom glaring down at a fallen trellis topped with chipped shingles. Broken clay pots poked out from between the latticework, along with the occasional sad and broken flower. “I swear, this whole place is falling apart.” Frustration traced every line of her body, drawing her shoulders together in an almost comical posture. “Do you know what did this? A sparrow. A freaking sparrow!” “No, it wasn’t a sparrow,” Jenna said, lifting her sunglasses to peer at the roof. “Dry rot did that. The sparrow just helped.” “Dry rot,” Mom spat. “And yesterday, I found a termite on the front porch. Creepy little things. Not to mention the crack.” “The one in the basement?” I asked. She nodded. “It’s grown six inches since the last quake. This place is going to fall down around my ears one of these days.” “What’s falling down around whose ears?” Miles asked from behind us. He pushed through the side gate, herding the twins

in front of him. “The house is falling apart,” I explained, kissing him. “That’s not good,” he said, concern furrowing his brows. “Sorry to hear that, Lisa.” “Oh, it’s fine,” Mom sighed. “I’m being dramatic. It’s not that bad; I’m just tired of sticking the stupid thing back together. It’s half duct-tape and gum at this point.” “Well, there’s your problem,” Jade said with mock seriousness. “Chewing gum is a terrible adhesive.” It lightened the mood, and Miles and I shared a look as the others shared a laugh. “You don’t need to worry about your mom; I have a plan,” he murmured in my ear. This was news to me, but I couldn’t claim to be surprised; if I’d learnt one thing in the past few months, it was that Miles’ generosity knew no bounds, and I knew he still felt indebted to my mom. “I can’t wait to marry you,” I murmured to him. “Ditto, my love,” he whispered back, meeting my lips in a kiss.

And I knew that he meant it; and I knew that for all they say about settling down, for us, this was merely the beginning.

The End

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