Chapter Eight
Carly woke up the next morning to the sound of knocking.
She felt a spurt of panic. She'd overslept and the kids were going to be late to school, and of course, she'd be late to work and. . .
She felt something warm on her left.
Chuck.
No one was late for work or school. It was the kids' weekend with their dad. It was Sunday morning and she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
She pried her eyes open and saw a strange ceiling. Slowly, she looked down and slowly lifted the covers. Yep, they were both still naked in a hotel together.
She'd forgotten all about the knock on the door as she enjoyed her new favorite view.
Chuck moved, and she forced her gaze from under the covers to meet his eyes.
"Uh, Carly, what are you doing?" he asked with a grin.
"Ogling you," she informed him, without making any attempt to alter her view.
"Ogling?" He repeated the word as if it were foreign.
"Yes, sir, I believe ogling is indeed the best word to describe what I'm doing," she added. "I'd like to discuss our day's plans with you."
"Do we have plans?"
"Well, I think we should start our day by asking for a late checkout and then—" Someone knocked on the door again, reminding her of what had woken her up in the first place and interrupting her plans, all of which involved staying in bed.
"Who do you think that is? No one knows we're here, right?" Chuck checked.
"It's probably room service. I left an order for breakfast last night." She scrambled out of bed, found her bathrobe on top of her bag, and raced to the door, snatching her purse and grabbing a tip from her wallet.
She cracked open the door, and held out the bills. "You can just leave it there. I'll get it," she said, very aware of the fact there was a naked man in her bed.
"Thanks, ma'am."
She waited until the bellman had disappeared down the hall before she opened the door all the way and wheeled the cart into the room. She pushed it toward the bed and Chuck. "Breakfast in bed?"
"Only if afterward we can have some dessert." Chuck wiggled his eyebrows in such a way that Carly was absolutely sure what dessert he had in mind.
"Really? After all those times last night, you still want to . . . " She wiggled her own eyebrows and climbed back into the bed.
"I still want to. Carly, I can't imagine ever not wanting to with you."
She reached for a plate, but Chuck said, "Don't you dare start eating that yet."
Her hand froze. "What's wrong?"
"I believe you've got too many clothes on." He tsked.
"I only have my robe. . . Oh." She hesitated. "I've never eaten naked before."
Chuck laughed. "Neither have I. Let's both give it a shot and see what we think."
An hour and a half later, Carly decided that eating naked was her second new favorite thing to do.
Her first favorite thing was also done naked, but didn't involve croissants . . . it involved Chuck.
THEY SPENT THE WHOLE morning in bed.
It was a new experience for Chuck, one he'd have never considered before Carly.
It wasn't as if they made love all morning. They ate their breakfast, then read the newspaper that had accompanied their tray. Together, with coffees in hand, trading off sections amicably.
They'd made love again, then napped until it was time to check out.
Chuck could have made a plausible exit then. Normally he would have. But he wasn't ready to say goodbye to Carly just yet. Instead he changed the checkout time and ordered up lunch.
They should have run out of conversational topics. They'd been in each other's company for almost twenty-four hours, and yet they didn't. And when lunch was finished, he still wasn't ready to leave her.
If it had been warmer, he'd have suggested a walk along the bayfront, but it was a cold, blustery day. They'd packed up their overnight bags, and Carly stood, taking in one last look out their window. He stepped behind her, and as he'd done last night, wrapped his arms around her.
"Isn't it a beautiful view?"
It was a solid sheet of ice. Small ice-fishing huts broke up the whiteness. He could see the snow-covered trees across the bay on the peninsula.
He knew that was the view Carly was referring to, but he purposely looked at her as he responded, "Yes, it is."
She pressed her arms against his, tightening his embrace around her.
"I hate to leave," she admitted.
"Why don't I come back with you?"
"That wasn't a hint," she assured him. "We've been together since last night. I figured you'd had enough of me."
Part of him wanted to say he couldn't imagine ever having enough of Carly, but it sounded schmultzy even in his head, so he opted for, "Not yet."
"But you'll let me know when you have?"
He kissed her. "I don't think there's any worries about that."
"At least not for six weeks."
He studied her, but didn't see any signs of sarcasm, instead, there was humor in her eyes. He grabbed her, took her in his arms and nuzzled at her neck. "Six weeks is not a hard and fast rule, it's merely the way these things have tended to play out in the past. There are no rules for us," he repeated. And if there were, he suspected Carly wouldn't fit nicely within their confines.
Carly wasn't the type of woman to be constrained by rules.
She laughed. "I wasn't complaining, Chuck. To be honest, there's a comfort in knowing there's an end-date in sight. It makes you the perfect boy-toy."
"I'm a lieutenant on the police force," he huffed. "I'm no boy-toy."
"Chuck's a boy-toy, Chuck's a boy-toy," she taunted with a playground lilt to her chant. "You've confessed that that's the way you like it. Own your toyness, Chuck. Don't try to hide from it. Embrace your inner toyness."
"Funny." He tried to look serious, but couldn't quite pull it off in the face of her hilarity.
"Be the master of your toymain." She paused. "Get it? Domain . . . toymain?"
"Wow, that's bad, Lewis."
"Don't be coy, be a toy." She laughed, cracking herself up with her own silliness.
"Carly." He couldn't help but laugh, too.
"That's it, I'm out of toy comments."
"Good. Now, how about me going home with you?"
"The kids will be there around three."
"Fine. Let's go to your house then and wait for them. Afterward, what if I take you all out to eat? Another day of no cooking. That's always a good thing in my mother's eyes."
"Don't you have to be at your mother's? It's Sunday."
"I canceled yesterday. I said I had to work." Before she could tease him about lying, he added, "Do not comment, I'll state for the record, I did in fact work very hard."
"Chuck." Carly was suddenly all seriousness. She reached up and touched his cheek. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but no. My kids have been through enough. I'm not going to introduce them to a . . . " She hesitated.
"Boy-toy?" He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but wasn't sure he managed.
"Boy-toy in the nicest way, Chuck. You're not sticking around. We both went into this relationship—and I use that word in the very broadest sense—knowing that. I don't think it's a good idea to confuse them, to introduce another man into their lives who will be leaving eventually."
"Don't introduce me as your boy-toy then." It had started off as a funny joke, but Chuck had to admit, the term was quickly losing some of its humor for him. "I'm just the cop you're working with on the safety stuff. Nothing more as far as they're concerned."
"It would be easier if I continued to keep my two lives separate."
"Carly, I don't want to make your life more difficult. I also don't want to go home without you. And I'd like to spend time with you and your kids, Carly. So, come on. Two volunteers sharing a meal with your kids. And you don't have to cook."
"Now, that is a true temptation," she admitted. "Not that I don't like to cook."
"You do?"
"It sort of goes hand-in-hand with the whole crafty thing. There's nothing like having a new cookbook, a new recipe. I'm a huge fan of Cooking Light magazine, and Taste of Home. And let's not even get started on my obsession with kitchen gadgets. They make my little heart go all aflutter."
"You are an interesting woman, Carly Lewis."
"I have unimagined depths."
He laughed. "Yes, you do. So, about this afternoon?" He kissed her neck again and she sighed twice.
"Fine. You win. But none of this hanky-panky in front of the kids. We're two professional associates sharing a meal and planning for our last two safety gigs."
He stopped in mid nibble and asked, "What time are the kids home?"
"Three."
"And what time do we have to be out of here?"
"The late checkout time is two."
He looked at his watch. "That leaves us fifty minutes. I think we should take total advantage of every minute we have here."
"Oh, do you, lieutenant?"
"Yes." Chuck had barely gotten the word out of his mouth, when Carly took control and saw to it they used every minute they had left as wisely as possible.
AT TEN TO THREE, Carly dropped Chuck off at his house so he could pick up his own car, then follow her to her place. Inside, as he hung up his coat, she just enjoyed the view for a moment. He was wearing a pair of charcoal pants and a nicely fitted black crewneck sweater.
It wasn't a fancy outfit, by any means, but it hugged his body, reminding her that she knew that body intimately now. Images from last night left her feeling slightly breathless.
"Carly?"
She was standing there ogling him again. "Uh, I've got to run this bag upstairs before the kids come home. I don't want any questions."
She needed to get the images from last night out of her mind before the kids were there, so she paused before sprinting up the stairs. "I know it's not in the good-hostess handbook, but do you mind if I start a load of clothes? Weekends are my only time to catch up, and this weekend? Well, I've been otherwise occupied."
Laundry. Laundry was generally as anti-erotic as things came, but even thinking of dirty clothes wasn't enough to totally erase the images that kept replaying in her mind.
"I'll confess, I'm happy to occupy you that way anytime you say."
Great. That wasn't helpful in the least.
"Listen, as for the laundry, I invited myself over. You do what you need to."
Doing what she needed to? Or what she wanted to? Because what she wanted to. . .
Laundry. Think about the laundry.
"Great. Thanks. Make yourself at home."
CHUCK WASN'T SURE what was up with Carly, but he knew that he wished they hadn't had to leave the hotel. He could have spent the whole day there with her and still not been satisfied.
He wasn't sure what to do with himself while he waited for her, so he sat on the couch and picked up a Country Living magazine. He smiled as he thumbed through the dog-eared pages. He wondered if these were things Carly wanted to buy or make.
He noticed the file that had been underneath the magazine. It was marked Valentine's dance in a bold neon-green marker.
He opened it and found a very neat to-do list. The band was checked off.
Food. She had notes about the food.
Security. Did she need security for the thing? Valentine's was barely under a month away. Chuck didn't normally make plans that far in advance with any woman.
Carly arrived, bearing the basket of dirty clothes. "Thanks. I told Rhiana she was on her own for laundry, but I've already caved. Well, insofar as if it's in the laundry room, I'll wash it. I've got to start Sean's clothes first. It takes a little longer with his stuff since so much of it needs to be pretreated, and even occasionally post-treated. It amazes me how he manages to find dirt even in the middle of winter when the entire city is covered by at least a foot of snow."
Chuck held up the paper. "I was looking at your magazine and found your file and noticed your Valentine's dance list had security on it. Do you need someone?"
"Yes. It's school policy that any large gatherings must have security. And since the proceeds from the dance are a fund-raiser, they're hoping for a big crowd. Do you know a cop who moonlights cheap?"
"I have a guy in mind. His going rate is a dance with a certain committee chair." He waited for the cold sweats to start as he voluntarily made plans for weeks in advance. They didn't come. But Carly looked as if she might have caught them, though.
She shook her head. "Chuck, you don't have to—"
"Hey, I went to a private school. I know it's against the school handbook to turn down volunteers."
"Well, it's just under a month away. And given the fluidity of our relationship. . .?" She looked as if she were going to argue more, then simply shrugged. "You're sure?"
"Positive." He picked up the pen next to the folder and checked off Security. "Is one officer enough?"
"I think that one will be fine. The school parents tend to be a quiet bunch."
"Hey, I met your friends and quiet isn't quite the word I'd use," he teased.
"They're a bit protective."
She didn't get any further because the front door opened. "Hey, Mom, we're home. Dad wants to talk to you," a girl who had to be Carly's daughter, Rhiana, called as she ran into the living room. "Oh, you have company."
A boy, who must be Sean, followed on his sister's heels. "Who's the guy?"
"Rhiana, Sean, this is Lieutenant Jefferson. I'm working with him on the safety program, and he's just volunteered to help out with the Valentine's Dance."
Chuck heard the front door close and Dean—very neatly pressed—came in the room. "Carly, we need to talk about . . . " His sentence trailed off when he spotted Chuck. For a split second he froze.
Chuck couldn't decide if Dean was in shock, or merely assessing him. Chuck got up off the couch and walked over to him. His movement seemed to unfreeze the man.
Carly's ex nodded. "Hi, again."
"Lieutenant Chuck Jefferson. A good friend of Carly's."
That gave the man pause. "How good?"
Carly walked over and stood next to them. "Hey, kids, go take your stuff up to your rooms, okay?" She waited as Sean and Rhiana reluctantly left the room. "How good a friend Chuck is would be none of your business, Dean. Now what did you need?"
He beckoned her out of the room and into the foyer.
"Sorry, Chuck. I'll be right back," she said as she followed Dean.
Carly's house was a nice size for three people, but it wasn't a huge mansion. Even though they'd rounded the corner into the foyer and he couldn't see them, Chuck could still hear every word.
"It's about my visitation," her ex said quietly. "I'm going out of town and won't be able to have the kids until the third week in February."
She did the calculations, and knew why he'd cleared an escape route. "You'll be out of town for four weeks?"
"Close enough. Then we have a few weekend obligations, so I thought it would just be easier if I waited until after they're all done. Otherwise, the kids sit alone at my place."
"Easier on you, maybe. But not easier on your kids, Dean."
Chuck noticed she didn't mention herself. She wasn't complaining that she wouldn't have any time off. She was simply fighting for what was best for her kids.
"Listen, Carly, I'm a busy man, and I can't—"
"Dean, I had to listen to this when we were married, but I don't any more. And I won't. I can't make you take the kids. I can't make you want to take them. Do what you have to, and you'll have to live with the consequences."
"If you badmouth me to them—"
There was a warning in the man's words, and Chuck wanted nothing more than to go out into the hall and stand by Carly's side. But he knew she wouldn't thank him for it, so he held his place.
Carly made it evident she didn't need his help. "How could you dare suggest I'd badmouth you? Even when we were married, I made your excuses. I tried to be sure Rhiana and Sean didn't feel as if you had better things to do than spend time with them. I tried to convince them that you cared. Even at Christmas—"
"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"
Chuck could hear the mounting anger in Carly's ex's tone. He stood, poised to hurry in with help if she needed him.
"There's nothing to live down, Dean. You've made your own choices. I won't badmouth you to the kids. I never have, and I never will. But they're smart. Smart enough to realize how their father ranks when compared to their friends' fathers. You never come to school functions, rarely come to any of their activities or sports."
"Oh, here it comes, Saint Carly and her litany of my sins."
"I'm not going to do this, Dean. You'll do what you have to, and I'll pick up the pieces. I've had years of experience."
"Have you ever thought that maybe it's your holier-than-thou attitude that ended our marriage?" Dean's tone implied the question was intended to hurt Carly.
But Chuck didn't hear any pain as she laughed mirthlessly. "No, Dean. I'm pretty sure finding your secretary naked on my couch is what ended our marriage."
"I'm going."
"Do you want to go up and tell the kids goodbye first?"
"I already told them goodbye."
"Call them, okay? They'll miss you."
"When I have time."
Chuck heard the front door open and slam shut.
He still wanted to go to Carly, but she'd insisted she needed to stand on her own two feet, so he waited for her to come to him.
CARLY STOOD THERE, after Dean closed the door, trying to get her anger under control before she turned and took the too-few steps back into the living room.
Chuck was standing where she'd left him.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, there was just no way to avoid overhearing—"
"No problem. It's no secret that Dean's . . . " She remembered her promise not to badmouth him, and finished, "He's just Dean. I'm trying to learn to accept him as he is, and let go of the image I have of who he could be—the kind of father that Rhiana and Sean deserve."
She felt oddly empty. There was no more anger at Dean. No more anger at herself for not seeing him for who he was. There was only a sense of relief that she was over Dean Lewis.
Chuck came and gently ran a finger down the line of her jaw. "So, will the kids be okay?"
"I'll see to it that they are." That was a promise. Carly couldn't make Dean change, but she'd do what she could to protect her kids. She tried to love them enough to make up for their father's lack of interest.
"And you?" Chuck asked gently. "Will you be okay?"
"Yes, I will. I always am. I'm afraid, however that this may throw a wrench into the two of us repeating this weekend's activities anytime soon."
"Let's not worry about us now," Chuck said. "Why don't you go up and check on the kids, and then I'll take you all out to supper."
"You're sure?"
"Positive. When I make a promise, I keep it."
She kissed his cheek. "You're a rare man, Chuck Jefferson."
"Not really, but I don't mind you thinking so."
She laughed. "We'll be down in a few minutes."
Both of the kids were in Rhiana's room looking far too serious for seventh graders.
Carly tried to infuse a generous dose of jolliness in her voice as she said, "Hey, my friend asked if we'd like to go out for dinner."
Rhiana ignored all mention of the invitation and zeroed in on what they'd obviously been talking about. "What did Dad say?"
"He's not going to be taking you for a few weekends, but—"
"Don't, Mom." Normally mellow, Sean's voice was sharp. "Don't make any more excuses for him. We get it."
"Dad's got better things to do," Rhiana finished for her brother. "We've talked about it. We understand that's just how he is. And before you get that worried look on your face, we're okay."
"Kids, your father loves you in his own way." He did. Carly knew he did.
"In his own way," Rhiana said. "He's seen more of us these last few months than he did when you guys were married. We've figured it would ease off eventually."
"And that's fine, Mom," Sean assured her. "This way we'll get to hang out with our friends on the weekends."
"Dad didn't like to drive us anywhere, and his new place is on the west side. None of our friends lived close enough to give us a ride. And to be honest—" Rhiana's voice dropped, as if somehow Dean might overhear "—Dad's house was sort of boring."
"You know him. He works all week at work, then works some more on the weekends at home," Sean said. "He didn't like us watching TV because it made it hard to concentrate."
"So we did a lot of reading." Rhiana laughed. "And before you tell me reading's good for me, I know it is. But come on, Mom. I've been reading almost a book a day when we're at Dad's. That's not natural."
Both kids laughed, and after a moment's hesitation, so did Carly, even though she was kicking herself for not realizing that Dean was giving the kids grief about rides. She figured they were so busy with their father that they hadn't made a lot of other plans.
"You two should have said something. I'd have talked to your father for you."
"Mom," Sean said, "Rhi and I have it handled. You don't need to worry."
"You worry too much," Rhiana agreed.
"So what about this cop taking us to dinner?" Sean said in a blatant attempt to change the subject.
Carly was willing to oblige him, but first she grabbed both kids and hugged them. As they squirmed, Sean screamed, "Oh, gross." They were growing up fast. Five more years and they'd be off to college.
She wondered if Dean knew what he was missing, and doubted it.
"Okay, so you two unpack and we'll go eat," she said and headed downstairs to check on Chuck.
WHILE CARLY WAS UPSTAIRS with the kids, Chuck went back to browsing her dance preparations. He'd already checked off Security for her.
The list was pretty detailed. It even included decoration suggestions from last year's committee chair. Carly had scribbled down, "Find time to shop." Maybe she'd like some help for that, too?
Man, he'd just considered voluntarily shopping and that wasn't something Chuck was proud of.
"What's that grin for?" Carly asked as she came into the room.
"I was still looking at your Valentine's to-do list and saw where you'd scribbled, 'Find time to shop.' I thought about volunteering to help, then remembered I hate shopping."
"Chuck, I can shop for decorations on my own. I do appreciate the offer to provide security. That's one big job crossed off my list."
"But Carly, the thing is, as much as I hate to shop, I don't think I'd mind if I was doing it with you." He held up a hand. "I know how that sounded, so you don't have to tease."
"Teasing wasn't what I had in mind. Kissing you was." As if on cue they both heard the kids racing down the stairs. "And since we're about to be interrupted, I guess I was teasing by offering a kiss."
Carly gave her kids a look that Chuck recognized. His own mother had given it to him. It was a warm, mushy sort of look that spoke of pride and, more importantly, it spoke of love.
"We put everything away, Mom." Carly's daughter said.
"And by 'put away,' you mean you've hung up all the clean clothes, and put all the dirty ones in the hamper?"
"Nah," her son said. "We shoved our bags in our closets and closed the door."
When Carly shot him a look he laughed. "Hey, you say you like it when I'm honest."
She shook her head and tried to seem stern, but Chuck could see her amusement creeping around the edges of her expression. "Well, Lieutenant, are we ready for dinner?"
"You can call me Chuck," he said. "The only people who really call me Lieutenant Jefferson are the reporters. Everyone else just calls me Chuck."
Both kids looked to Carly for permission and she gave the slightest nod.
"Chuck," Sean said, trying his first name on for size. "So you're really a cop?"
"Yes. I have the badge and everything to prove it."
"And do you get to ride in a police car with all the lights and sirens going and chase people around the city? And when you catch them, do you say, 'Stop, I'm a cop' and then throw them against a car, pat them down and handcuff them?"
"Mainly these days, I'm in the office. I drive a police car, but it looks like a regular car. And even when I was on the street, I didn't throw people against anything." When the boy looked disappointed, he added, "But I did pat them down and handcuff them, and my car does have a radio, lights and sirens, too. It's just that if it looks like a regular car, no one knows I'm a cop until it's too late."
That seemed to help his image in Sean's eyes. "Wow. Do you think sometime . . . " Sean hesitated.
"Sometime?" Chuck prompted.
"Well, I'm not supposed to invite myself anywhere, 'cause it's rude, but maybe if you came over, and drove your police car you'd let me sit in it and show me how things work?"
"Sure." He glanced at Carly who was frowning. "Hey, he didn't invite himself anywhere. He asked to sit in it if I was here, and that would probably involve me inviting myself over to your house, so I'd be rude, not Sean."
"That's convoluted logic," Carly said, but she laughed and Sean gave Chuck a grateful look.
"And yes, I suppose that would be fine as long as it's okay with your mother."
"Oh, Mom will let me. She believes in letting us check things out, right Rhi?"
The girl nodded.
"Hi, Rhiana. Nice to meet you, too." Both kids were almost as tall as Carly, and though Chuck would never mention it to her, they'd probably both surpass her height soon.
The thing was, he rarely noticed how tiny Carly truly was. Five three, tops.
Maybe he didn't notice because Carly seemed to live life with gusto. And when you lived life in such a big way, things like height weren't always apparent.
"Your mom and I were working on the safety stuff and I invited all of you out to dinner, if you don't mind eating with a cop."
"Mind?" Sean said. "You can tell me all sorts of gruesome stories about being on the street. I watch Law and Order and CSI. so I know it's bad."
"I hate to burst your bubble, but real-life police work isn't quite what it's like on television." Again the boy looked disappointed. And given the kid's day, Chuck wasn't about to let that stand. "Wait though, I bet I can think of a couple stories you might enjoy."
He turned to the quieter Rhiana. "You don't mind?"
"No. Maybe I want to be a cop, too."
"Girls can't be cops," Sean said with a brotherly scoff that Chuck recognized. He'd made that same sort of comment to Julia. And he was hit with a sudden feeling of loss over his sister. Sometimes the slightest thing would make him think of her and the ache would start. It made him feel for Anderson and made him wonder how his brother-in-law was ever going to recover from the pain.
"Girls can too be cops," Rhiana argued. "I mean, there's that girl cop on Law and Order SVU. She's tough. Right Chuck?"
He nodded. "Right. Some of our best officers are women."
"See, stupid," Rhiana said to her brother.
"Okay, that's enough of that," Carly intervened. "Sean, your sister can be anything she wants to be, just like you. Gender doesn't matter."
"I know something she can't be." Sean grinned.
Chuck didn't guess and ruin Sean's moment, but he knew what the boy was going to say. He remembered using the same argument with Julia.
"There's nothing I can't be," Rhiana said.
"You can't be a father." Sean doubled over, laughing at his retort.
"Who'd want to be?" Rhiana replied without a hint of laughter in her voice. "Our father sucks. I'd rather be like Mom, 'cause she doesn't suck at all, even if she makes me do my own laundry."
"Whoa," Carly said. "Stupid and suck are on the don't-say list. Talking badly about your Dad is there, too, just in case I haven't made that clear enough."
"But Mom," Rhiana said, a stubborn look on her face. "He does s— stink. He's not going to see us, and he's not going to miss us. You miss us when we're gone. You call every day when we're gone for just a weekend."
"He won't even call us once," Sean added.
"We can't control your father's actions. We can't control anyone's actions but our own, and the three of us are going to be kind, not use nasty language—"
"And go out to dinner with me," Chuck filled in. "Come on."
He piled everyone into his car and drove to Valerio's. "It's one of Mom and Dad's favorite restaurants. Personally, I love their pasta," he said as they found a table in the dining room.
He'd taken women out in the past, but sitting at a table for four, with two kids, was different.
Sean and Rhiana carried the conversation, talking about almost everything but their father.
He learned about the school's science fair. Rhiana was experimenting with plants and music to see if there was any difference in the growth rates of plants exposed to music. Sean was testing the heat output he could achieve with different lighting sources and a magnifying glass. Different watt light bulbs, the sun, a full moon. "I started a fire once," he proclaimed proudly.
"Just smoldering, actually," Carly clarified.
Chuck leaned over to her and said, "I guess the firebug doesn't fall far from the accidental arsonist's tree."
As soon as the words left his mouth, he worried she'd take offense, but she'd laughed.
Somewhere around the time of his last meatball, Chuck admitted how much he was enjoying the meal. He liked Carly's kids. They were polite . . . well, to a point. Sean's belch was probably less than acceptable in polite society, but Chuck had earned a few points when he winked at the boy and murmured, "Impressive," while Carly and Rhiana both let out a well-timed, "Gross."
"Dessert?" Chuck asked, wanting to prolong the meal.
"Yes," the kids answered in unison.
Carly checked her watch. "It is Sunday—a school night, and I know that Rhiana and Sean have homework that I'd be willing to lay odds they haven't finished."
Chuck didn't need Carly to fill in that her ex probably hadn't even bothered to ask, let alone encourage the kids to do that homework.
"Only a little," Sean wheedled.
"Not much at all," Rhiana agreed.
"And I'm pretty sure they have a mean chocolate sundae on the menu." He suspected that Carly had been offering him a way out. He could see it in her eyes. At his response, she smiled, and for some reason, Chuck felt as if he'd won something, though he wasn't quite sure what.
"Well, what woman can resist a chocolate sundae?" she asked. "But when we get home, all homework will be done immediately, before family game night."
Both her kids promised. Chucked flagged down the waitress and ordered four.
He picked the conversation back up where they'd left it. "Family game night?"
"It's—"
"Chuck," someone called from the entryway into the dining room.
"Mom, Dad." He saw the gleam in his mother's eye—that certain matchmaking gleam he'd seen before—and he suppressed a groan. Not because that gleam wasn't groan-worthy, but because he was aware of Carly's kids sitting at the table, and knew groaning at his parents' appearance wouldn't be setting a very good example.
"Why, Chuck and Carly," his mother practically cooed. "Fancy meeting you here. And these must be your children, Carly?"
"Sean and Rhiana, these are Chuck's parents. Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson."
"Hi," both of the kids chimed.
"It's so nice to meet you both," Linda Jefferson said, the gleam in her eye even more pronounced. "And now I see why you canceled our family Sunday dinner, Chuck. You know, it's not even the end of January yet. You're not starting this new family tradition off very well. Next Sunday, bring Carly and the children."
"Really, Mrs. Jefferson, that's not necessary," Carly said.
"Of course, it's not. But I'd really enjoy the company of two other women."
Chuck watched Rhiana preen as she realized she'd been included as one of the women his mother was talking about.
"Frankly," his mother continued as she elbowed his dad, "my husband, Chuck and Anderson are less than companionable. They basically inhale their food then hurry off to watch whatever sport is available. Any sport. Even if they don't like that particular sport."
"Hey, there's no such thing as a sport a real man doesn't like," his father said.
Chuck added, "And we all have very good table manners." He realized he should probably try to save Carly. She was shooting him those help-get-me-out-of-this looks, but he ignored them.
He knew he'd really like an excuse to see Carly next weekend. They only had the two safety-program dates this week and then she'd be done with her community service. He'd already guaranteed that he'd see her at the Valentine's dance, and with his mother's help, he'd have next weekend locked in as well.
"You should see Sean eat." Rhiana pointed at her brother. "He's just gross. He even talks with his mouth full, and that's really gross."
"That's a lot of grosses," his dad said.
"He deserves them. And probably more." Rhiana turned to her mother. "So can we go, Mom? It's not like Dad's going to be taking us."
Carly shot Chuck one last look, which he again ignored.
She must have given up because she smiled and said, "Sure, we'd love to. And we'll bring the dessert, Mrs. Jefferson."
"Call me Linda," she corrected. "And that's very sweet of you and would be lovely. None of the men in my life ever offer to help cook."
Chuck's dad laughed. "As if you'd let us in your kitchen. I think she tried to teach Chuck to cook—"
"I did," his mother said with a sniff. "And to this day I've never figured out how he could mess up boxed macaroni and cheese."
"Too much milk," Chuck admitted. "I read one and one-fourth, not one-fourth. It was soup."
"Well, here comes a waitress with sundaes. We'll let you finish your meal. See you next week." His parents retreated to a table on the other side of the small dining room.
A table that was directly in Chuck's line of sight. He couldn't help but notice his mother's animated excitement as she talked to his dad, probably about him and Carly.
The waitress passed out the sundaes.
Rhiana took a bite, then said, "Your mom's nice, Chuck. Your kids are lucky. I bet she's the kind of grandma who takes them to Waldemeer and the beach. I bet she even takes them to the mall and lets them buy whatever they want."
"Rhiana, Mrs. Jefferson's not a grandmother," Carly told her daughter softly.
Chuck could tell by her tone that Carly remembered that his sister had been trying to have a baby when she'd found out about the cancer. She gave him a look of sympathy. Not pity; a quiet understanding.
He mouthed the word, thanks, then turned to Rhiana. "Nope, no kids for me. No wife either."
"Well, your mom will be a good grandma. I can tell. Me and Sean don't have a grandma—"
"Your father's mother is very much alive and well, so you do."
"She lives all the way in Cleveland. We don't get to do stuff with her usually," Sean said. "Dad was supposed to take us to see her for her birthday, but he went out with his girlfriend instead. So, Mom called her and took us to meet her in Mentor for lunch."
"And Grandma doesn't even like Mom," Rhiana added. "She says it's Mom's fault that Mom and Dad got divorced. That's not fair, although Mom says it doesn't matter what other people think."
"Yeah. She says it takes two people to make a marriage work, and it takes two to make it fail. But we know it was Dad."
"Kids, we've had this talk. I won't allow you to blame your father. When you're older you'll understand . . . well, at least understand better. Relationships, for good or for bad, do take two people."
"We know." Sean sounded less than convinced.
Chuck was aware of how badly Carly had been hurt, but to hear her defend her ex and try to reassure her kids . . . well, his respect for her continued to grow the more he knew her. "That was nice that your mom took you to see your grandmother for her birthday."
"It was," Rhiana agreed. "Mom told us she was going to study and sit at another table, saying Grandma would probably want some time with us."
"But it was really that Grandma doesn't like her much since the divorce."
"Hey, hey, time out," Carly cried. "A— Your grandmother does like me, and I like her."
Sean snorted.
" B— I really do need to study for my boards. And C— There is no blame for the divorce. Sometimes these things happen."
Both kids snorted this time, and Chuck could see a disagreement brewing, so he stepped in. "I'm sure your grandmother would love spending more time with you, but Cleveland's a long drive, especially in the winter."
"Maybe. But people have to love their grandchildren. And loving's not the same as liking. For sure your mom will like her grandkids someday." There was a wistfulness in Rhiana's tone.
So Chuck didn't assure her his mother would absolutely like her grandchildren and spoil them rotten. He wanted to do something to take away some of the sting of a grandmother who made her dislike of their mother so readily apparent, and a father who was content not to see the kids for an extended period of time. "Hey, Carly. I know they have homework, but maybe before I take you all home we can stop at my house for a minute."
"For what?"
"My city car's a take-home, so it's sitting in my driveway. I thought the kids might like a tour of the inside."
Thank you, she mouthed, and aloud said, "Well, if they eat their sundaes quickly and swear they'll finish their homework immediately after we walk in the door—"
"Sure," they both said, and Sean started eating his sundae at a very unsavory rate.
"Oh, Mom, you should know better than telling Sean to hurry," Rhiana moaned.
Chuck watched them with amusement, and caught his mother watching him from across the dining room. She had a huge smile and that knowing-mom look that so frequently drove him crazy.
What on earth had he started?