Epilogue
Zoe
I stood up and stretched with a yawn. The clock on my nightstand said that it was seven in the morning. Chloe was busy training the crew at the new store, and the downtown location was well staffed, so it didn’t matter what time I got up. Still, I had things to do today. I took a quick shower and shuffled through my closet to look for something to wear and settled on a simple, white sundress. It was comfortable and elegant, and I loved the way the fabric swished over my legs when I walked.
I put a pot of oatmeal on to boil, then walked back upstairs to knock on the door to the boy’s room where I heard little feet scampering across the carpet. “Boys.” The sound got louder, and the tapping sounds quickened. They were running away.
I cracked the door open and caught the sound of incoherent whispers passing between them. So far as we could tell, their twin language was simple, but every time they used it, they were up to something.
“What are you two doing?” There was a flash of black hair and baby blue pajamas flying through the air, and they jumped onto their beds.
“Nothing,” they said in time with one another.
“Come on.” I stood in between their beds. “It’s time for breakfast.”
“No.” Andrew crossed his arms over his chest.
Abel turned to him and said something to him in their language. Andrew sighed dramatically. “Fine.” He jumped down, and Abel followed us both out into the kitchen, where I set them up with bowls of oatmeal and a pair of danishes in the dining room.
“You shouldn’t spoil them like that.” Archer walked in holding a cup of coffee and kissed me on the cheek, then bit into a Danish. He was holding another in the other hand.
“I’m merely following your example.” I sat down to get started on my coffee. “Besides, the only reason Abel tells his brother to come for breakfast is because he knows he’ll get a sweet.”
Abel looked up at me with his mouth full and his eyes wide. Andrew laughed and said something in their language. Abel glared at him and fired back in what sounded like a string of expletives. Andrew turned back to his food.
“You’re not doing anything today, are you?” Archer asked.
“No, why?”
“Because I wanted to see if you’d like to spend the day with me and the boys,” he whispered. “I thought we could try to teach them to swim.”
“They’re going to love it,” I whispered back. Andrew was staring at his spoon filled with oatmeal dripping onto the table. Then, as I watched in horror, he pulled it back, and the steaming hot sludge slammed into the wall across from him. “Andrew…”
“Daba daba!” Abel pointed at him. “No.”
Andrew’s eyes went wide, he smiled, and he grabbed another spoonful to try again.
“What do we do?” I asked Archer.
He grabbed my spoon and flicked a wad of oatmeal at the boy. It hit the spoon he was holding, and he dropped it. His face scrunched up, he went red, and his mouth opened. Archer met my eyes, and I ran up to pick him up. It was too late. He was already screaming, so I carried him into the kitchen and patted him on the back. “Come on. It’s okay.”
He stopped after a moment, and Archer came in, holding Abel’s hand. Abel was looking at his brother with concern. “Boys.” He looked from Andrew to Abel. “Go back up to your rooms, okay?”
I set Andrew down, and he ran off with Abel. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing.” He set his coffee down and wrapped his arms around me to give me a kiss.
“Something’s wrong.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He walked back into the living room shaking his hips.
I followed him into the room. “What is going on, Archer?”
He sat down on the couch. “Nothing,” he said. “Sit down.” He patted the seat next to him.
“Why?” I crossed my arms over my chest and refused.
“Daddy! Daddy!” The twins rushed downstairs.
He turned back fast. “What?”
Andrew whispered something to his brother.
“No,” Abel said and shook his head wildly.
“You tell him,” Andrew said.
“Daba!” Abel stamped his foot.
“Ugh.” Andrew stepped up. “We can’t find it.”
“Find what?” I asked.
“Wait here,” Archer shot up off the couch, swept the boys into his arms and disappeared upstairs. I was not going to wait, not for one second. He was up to something, and I was going to find out exactly what it is.
I followed them upstairs and walked into the nursery, then burst into tears. “Oh, my God.”
“Zoe.” Archer was on one knee, holding a ring, and the boys were staring up at me.
“Be our new mommy!” they both yelled.
I had to stop to take a second to grab my bearings. Archer watched me closely and never once looked away.
“Come on.” Abel ran over and tugged on my dress.
“Of course,” I said.
Archer stood up and rushed over to kiss me while the boys jumped up and down with excitement. Life was never going to be the same. It was going to be better than I ever imagined it to be.
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
Chapter One
Aiden
There’s nothing quite like sleeping on Victorian furniture, and it damned sure wasn’t built for a situation as informal as passing out drunk. I woke up with a splitting headache and a crick in my neck, but worse than that, I wasn’t alone. There was movement from the other side of the room.
I opened my eyes with a wince, then adjusted my lids to slits so I could peek out and see who was there with me. I didn’t remember picking up anyone from the bar, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’d brought home a woman and forgotten about it.
“Well, Aiden Joseph Walker, it’s about time you wake up.” The familiar voice made me cringe, as did the use of my full name. A grown man of nearly thirty should never be called by his full name, and only two people had ever done so in my life as far as I could recall. One was my mother, who’d been dead for over a year, and the other was Mattie Johnson, our family housekeeper who had mothered me alongside Mom my entire life.
“I was beginning to think you were dead. Lord knows there’s something dead in this house. Smells like it, anyway.” She waved her cleaning rag through the air and then turned to wipe down the family clock that hadn’t had the correct time since I was twelve and pulled the pendulum too hard. Mattie had tanned my ass, and Mom had let her.
The only thing dead in the house was my sense of humor. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere spending the insane retirement fund I paid you to leave me the hell alone?”
“You shut your mouth. I don’t work for you anymore, and Lord knows why I bothered coming here, but I won’t have you disrespecting me.” The crack of the dishtowel popped about two inches from my ass before she turned around and went right back to wiping down the things around me. The smell of a chicken boiling set my mouth to watering, but I wished she hadn’t done that. My appetite wasn’t what it used to be.
I sat up and wiped my eyes and scrubbed my fingers through my thick beard, giving it a scratch. “I don’t understand what’s so hard about respecting my wishes.”
“Your wishes are getting out of hand. Look at this place, Aiden. It’s a pig sty. You might want to grow your hair and beard to look like you haven’t got two pennies to rub together, but this home needs attention, whether you like it or not. The grass is knee deep, and there’s a good year’s worth of overgrowth out on the hedges.”
“Yes, and that’s because when I gave the gardener his payoff, he left and had the good graces not to come back.”
“So that’s it, you want to sit up in here and let this place crumble around you? I’ve sat on my hands for too long, boy. If your parents could roll over in their graves, the ground would be shaking just knowing how you’re handling things around here. Your mother would take a razor to that face in your sleep and your father — he’d be damned embarrassed of you.” I pegged her with a hard glare, but she held her chin up defiantly.
“Well, you can stop worrying. They won’t be anything. They’re dead.” They’d died fourteen months ago in a tragic plane crash along with my sister, Ally and her boyfriend, Shawn Patterson. I hadn’t handled things well since then.
“Boy, to hear you talk. I’m glad I don’t have to stick around and hear it.” She shook her head and kept on cleaning.
“So does that mean you’re leaving?” I patted down my pockets until I found my wallet and the key to my bike.
“I’ll be leaving when I get this living room cleaned up. I made a good dent in the kitchen already, though I’m going to work on throwing out those science experiments you’ve got growing in the fridge. You’re going to end up in the hospital if you eat that food.”
“I’m not eating any of it.” My keys jingled in my hand as I opened my wallet and thumbed through my bills.
She turned and shook her rag at me. “Damn right, you’re not. I’m boiling some chickens now. I’m going to fix up some of my chicken noodle you used to love so much as a child.”
“It’s really not necessary, Mattie.” I stared into her dark eyes as she narrowed them at me.
“I know what’s necessary and what’s not, but you’ll be thanking me when you’ve got a full stomach. You look like you’ve lost a bit of your bulk.”
I hadn’t lost that much, but she was right. I’d been much bulkier before the accident and hadn’t cared much about myself since. Going to the gym hadn’t been en route of my destructive life’s path, but I certainly hadn’t withered away. I glanced down to my abs and was thankful they were still defined, although not as prominent as before.
“You don’t have to do anything, much less clean up.”
“I’m not leaving until these two front rooms are presentable and there’s a hot meal to get you through a day or two. You can argue with me all you want, but it isn’t going to change a thing.”
“Knock yourself out.” I took my keys out of my pocket and went out to the garage to get on my bike. I glared down the line of my parents’ cars as I cranked my engine. I wondered if any of them would even crank anymore. Surely the batteries had died by now, but it wasn’t like I’d ever drive them.
My father’s classic Shelby, which he loved to torment me with and had never let me drive, his ’Vette, which he drove to and from work to compete with Layne’s, and the family classic white Rolls, which he kept for Easter Sunday when Mother would force us to go to church. The entire collection had a good layer of dust collecting.
My sister’s newer Mustang, which had been towed to the house from the airport along with Mom’s Land Rover, was going to waste, but I didn’t care. They could sit there until they rusted. I couldn’t bear to think of anyone else driving any of them. I thought back to my little sister and the day my father bought her that car. She was in tears as she hugged him, and then I’d had to teach her how to drive a stick before she could use it.
Without another thought, I sped off with the memories of my sister twisting like a corkscrew in my gut.
I hauled ass out to the only place I frequented, a bar called Jay’s Pub, and hoped that when I returned home, Mattie would be gone. Deep down, I felt a pang of guilt for talking to her so harshly, but I’d asked the staff to move on and leave me be. So far, she was the only one who still reached out. I didn’t think her any amount of her cooking or cleaning would make me feel whole again, but if it helped her, I’d let her do what she had to. But I didn’t have to be around to see it.
I walked into Jay’s and headed for my usual place at the bar only to be held up by Meagan, who stepped out in front of me. “I was wondering if you were going to be here later; you’re an early bird today. It’s not even dark yet.”
“I’m here all the time, so I don’t know why it is such a wonder.” I pushed past her and went to the bar where Glen had just put down a beer for me. Good old Glen, he knew what I wanted before I even had to ask; now if he could only get rid of Meagan for me.
She raked her hand through her stringy brown hair as she narrowed her blue eyes. She was pretty enough for a random lay, but not really my type. “You don’t have to be snippy, Aiden. I haven’t seen you in a while is all.”
Her smile was laced with honey, and she had a gleam in her eye that I’d seen before. The last time though, she’d been on her knees and I’d had my cock down her throat. It was much too early in the night for that, and I didn’t have enough alcohol in me to start making promises.
“Well, if I need you, I’ll find you. For now, I’d like to sip this beer and talk to my best friend Glen, here.” I nodded in his direction as I brought the beer to my lips.
Glen did a double take. “How the hell did I get stuck with the chore of being your best friend?”
The bartender had been more than supportive of my bad habits, but had always managed to get me home safe, whether it was calling a cab or driving me home himself. Truthfully, there wasn’t much more between us. I’d only known him since I’d started spending more of my free time within the neon closet that he called a bar.
I’d deliberately chosen the dive to keep from having to talk to too many people, but being the professional that Glen is, he’d taken the bartender role to heart. I’d talked to him more than anyone else over the past fourteen months and though we didn’t go golfing or work out together or any of that other male bonding type of stuff, he was all I had.
Meagan stepped up into my face. “You’re an asshole, Aiden Walker. I’m not going to sit around waiting on you to want me again; I have plenty of other men around here interested.”
“Good luck to you.” I raised my glass and then took a hearty swig.
Meagan huffed. “Fine, you bastard!” And then she took off across the room to her usual table. I’d had a few good times with her, and I knew she wasn’t too upset to have a few more if I wanted. She could be awfully forgiving when she was hungry for sex.
It wasn’t like I couldn’t go pick up my usual stripper at the strip club, or a few of her friends. Sex wasn’t something I was doing without. In fact, I’d had more of it since I’d learned to lower my standards.
After things had settled down that afternoon and the night had long fallen, I noticed Meagan grinding on some poor guy in the back of the bar. He was a burly motherfucker, and the way she kept cutting me glances, I wondered if she was trying to make me jealous. I couldn’t help but shake my head and raise my glass. She shot me the finger.
I belted a laugh and then got up to go to the bathroom. All the beer had finally caught up with me, and when I returned to my seat, Meagan’s burly friend was sitting in it. The guy wasn’t much bigger than me, and I was certainly more defined and probably a hell of a lot stronger.
I could see his lips curl up as he tried to hide his smile and Meagan stood beside him with a smirk. They were hoping for a fight, and who was I to deprive them?
I walked directly over and nudged his shoulder. “Excuse me. You’re in my seat.”
He stood like he wanted to get in my face, but Glen was one step ahead of me. “Move along, Teddy. You don’t want to mess with this one. He doesn’t play well with others, and I’d have to call the police.” The man’s eyes widened a bit, and then he pulled Meagan’s hand to lead her away. Before I could take my seat, they were already headed out the door.
“Why did you go and ruin my fun? You could have at least given me one punch.” I tilted my glass high for the last swallow. “Give me another.”
Glen leaned up against the bar and shook his head. “Listen, friend. I know you’ve put it to that girl a few times, and I also know she knows who you are and where you live, if you catch my drift.
“She’s been bragging on your money as if it were her own, and all she needs to get her hands on it is for some thick-headed asshole to pick a fight with you in public or to get knocked up. She’s bad news, and he was baiting you; I wasn’t going to let that happen. You may not even care these days, but I won’t let you ruin your life over a seat at the bar.”
Glen knew I was well out of my class and normal social standing to be hanging around in his bar, but he’d let me pretend I was nothing for only so long. “I’m glad you’re concerned. Now, I’ve got my seat, so give me another beer.” I took care not to slur my words, but he shook his head again.
“I’m not serving you anymore tonight.”
“One more, Glen. Then you can call me an Uber.”
He chuckled. “The last two times, I drove you home myself, but you probably don’t even remember that. But if you’re going to keep our good buddy Scott in the Uber business, you should just hire him as your personal driver.” The guy named Scott had made a habit of staying close to the pub, knowing that I was developing a habit as a usual pick up.
“Well, at least the two of you are profiting handsomely with my alcohol issues. It’s quite a racket you’ve got going. Now, can I have that beer?”
He let out a long breath and poured me another drink. “I’m doing this against my own good sense.” Then he put the beer down in front of me.
“Good man.” I lifted the glass and took a heavy pull.
“Take it slow.” He narrowed his eyes as he went to the phone to call my ride. My bike would have to be sent for later, but that was the way most of our nights had ended over the past few months. As long as I could drink away my troubles, the world could crumble down around me. I couldn’t give a shit.