Chapter 14
Gwen
Rebecca informed Gwen that her guest had arrived. Too bad Gwen was in the middle of piercing her ear with a gem she hadn’t worn in years.
“Ow! Shit!” Gwen searched for a tissue to fend any blood off at the pass. The earring dropped to the vanity and almost bounced to the floor, where it would undoubtedly disappear, possibly to never be seen again.
So much for that.
Rebecca double-backed to make sure her employer was all right before going downstairs to tend to the guest. After ensuring that she wouldn’t bleed all over her dress, Gwen combed a few errant hairs and slipped into her Miu Miu patent leather pumps she picked up while in Vegas with James. The opulent, multicolored crystals were meant to complement the little black dress on her body. She also wore them because she liked showing them off to other women. Particularly, women people perceived her to have a rivalry with.
Too bad the shoes made her trip halfway down the stairs into the receiving room.
Rebecca met her in the front hall. “Should I bring the cider, Ms. Mitchell?”
“Yes. Bring the sampler, if you would.” Gwen had no idea if her guest liked particular flavors of cider. She had only heard that a certain someone preferred ciders to other alcoholic infusions. “Is she seated in the receiving room?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rebecca briefly nodded before heading to the kitchen to grab that sampler.
Gwen checked her appearance in the hallway mirror before standing tall on her way into the receiving room. Her guest immediately turned around in her seat.
“So glad you could make it.” Gwen extended her fingers to Cassandra, who touched them with her own fingertips and offered a ladylike smile. “And, uh…”
The little boy, dressed in a sensible black T-shirt and a pair of toddler-sized pants, played with a toy on the floor. He glanced up at Gwen with big blue eyes and waved a chubby hand in her direction.
“Patrick is very friendly with strangers.” Cassandra did not hurry to pick up her son. The hell do I do? She had a feeling Cassandra would bring her son with her, but wasn’t expecting a free-range toddler and his small bag of toys.
Sometimes, staring into the face of her husband’s son was too much for Gwen to bear. It had been exceptionally difficult before she decided to be a positive presence in her stepson’s life. Now it was… strange.
“Don’t mind him, please.” Cassandra motioned for the other empty chair at the small table. “If you try to interrupt him, he might cry. Such a sensitive boy.”
Gwen slowly sank into her chair. Rebecca entered, carrying the tray of ciders for them to sample and enjoy. “Must take after his father. Take away James’s toys, and he cries too.” Gwen didn’t mean the video games or pool tables. The man also did not appreciate misplacing his sex swings and dildos.
“The loving strangers thing is definitely from his father.” Cassandra straightened her conservative yet body-hugging dress. One would think the weather had turned too warm for her to favor those dark colors and long sleeves, but one thing people could say about Cassandra Welsh was that she appreciated a look. And she was the master of the long-sleeved body-con dress. “Can’t stand them, myself. I shudder to think of what it will be like when Patrick is old enough to invite a plethora of friends over on a daily basis. Because he will.”
“I’m assuming those friends will be coming over here, then.” Gwen forced a smile. Not because she didn’t feel friendly, but because this was still new, unknown territory for her. She barely knew how to act around children, let alone how to handle them. Maybe this was a mistake. I’m not cut out to be a cool aunt or a semi-involved stepmother. But she had made a promise, both to herself and to her husband, to do her best. James said that she would get over her embarrassment. Well, what if she didn’t feel embarrassment now? What if it was pure horror?
Honestly, they were the same thing.
“James is looking forward to playdates and sleepovers,” Gwen said. “He’s already hired a contractor to remodel Patrick’s future room here. I’m sure the blueprints include hidden compartments and secret passages.”
Cassandra offered a genuine smile when Gwen’s faltered. “There are a lot of old compartments hiding in the Merange house, as you may or may not know. He used to hide in them and scare me when I walked by. I’m sure our son has inherited that.”
“Our son.” Fuck Gwen, because that still hurt to hear. “I’m sure Patrick will enjoy what James has planned. He’ll also have plenty of privacy here. He’ll be living closer to the help than to our room.” That was fortunate for many reasons. Gwen wanted space, and she was sure that a growing boy did as well. Still, what Cassandra did only drove home how different her role would be in Patrick Welsh’s life.
“Forgive me,” Cassandra said as soon as she caught Gwen’s discomfort. “I know how awkward this must be for you. But I appreciate you wanting to get to know our son more. It’s important to me that he has family beyond my own. You know how they can be.” She looked away when she said that. “I also want to formally apologize for what happened. I know I’ve apologized before, but I want to do it again. I’ll keep apologizing too. Even if you don’t want me to, because like with a lot of things, I can’t help myself.”
Gwen pondered that for a moment. What can’t you help yourself with, Cassandra? Gwen had heard the rumors through the grapevine and from James’s own mouth. Before the drama happened, he had spent more than a few nights expressing his worries about his old childhood friend. Not only her promiscuity, but her apparent depression, her perilous relationship with her family, and how much of a pushover she had been before having a baby. I’m one of the first to admit that she’s changed for the better since becoming a mother… but did it have to be my stepson she had?
“What’s done is done.” Gwen swallowed her old thoughts and sat up straight in her chair. This was her home. This was her domain. Her queendom. Cassandra was a guest, and not even stirring the pot. Gwen held all the cards in her own home. She directed the mood, the tone, even the topics of discussion. She had to remind herself that. She could run down to the courthouse and legally make her name Mrs. Merange whenever she wanted. “I don’t want to dwell on what happened. My goal is to move forward with my husband,” she let the word sink in, both for herself, and for the woman sitting across from her, “and do what needs to be done to have a stable family. I’m more inclined to worry about your families and their infuriating ways.”
Cassandra sighed. “My mother is a piece of work. So is your father-in-law. It’s taken me a long time to realize how reprehensible their behavior has been. When my mother originally approached me about having a baby, I didn’t question it. It was like I had been waiting for her to suggest something as outlandish as purposely having a baby out of wedlock. By the time I came around to the idea, I didn’t even blink when she told me that James had ‘agreed’ to let me use his sperm. The only thing that shocked me was finding out that he didn’t know about it, but by then it was too late. It was my guilt that brought you into this.”
“We would’ve found out eventually.” As Patrick grew older, he would look more and more like a Merange. The rumor mill would pump out a million stories about a clandestine affair between the second generation of Meranges and Welshes. Honestly, that would’ve been worse. At least this way Gwen could help control the story that unraveled in the years to come. Someone had to keep those PR agencies in business, after all. “I appreciate your apology.”
Cassandra said something to her son before lifting her shoulders back and offering Gwen a steady gaze. Not used to looking her in the eye. How sad was that? But Gwen assumed that was another sign of Cassandra gradually reclaiming her sense of self outside of her toxic family.
They would never be close friends, but Gwen was determined to be cordial and respectful if Cassandra was willing to put in the same effort.
“James has told me about your own fertility related issues,” Cassandra carefully said, as if unsure she should admit she knew about Gwen’s reproductive system and how much of a stubborn ass it was, like her. “I’m sorry to hear about them.”
“Don’t be. I’m choosing to see it as one less thing to worry about.”
Gwen had said that too hastily, hadn’t she? Because that was nothing but pity on Cassandra’s soft face. Shocking. The woman with a baby at her feet feels sorry for me. “He also told me that if things go well with Patrick, he might be interested in having another child sometime in the near future.”
Another lump fell into the pit of Gwen’s stomach. “That’s what you came over to talk about, isn’t it?”
“I was under the impression it’s why you invited me to drinks, yes.”
“Well… jump right into it, why don’t we?”
“We’ve passed the pleasantries. Only seems right we get to the crux of our business. I’m not sure how long Patrick will behave, anyway. I planned to stay the hour, but…”
As if on cue, Patrick propped himself up on his feet while gripping his chubby fingers around the table leg. Cassandra paused to clap for his achievement. Gwen offered him an encouraging smile.
He looked right back at her and smiled as well.
Jesus. My heart. The kid was cute. Okay, he was adorable. Gwen had no idea what to do with him, but James had assured her that it would get better with time. Patrick would get older, learn to talk, acquire quirks and a roaring personality, and his relationship with Gwen could be its own force to be reckoned with. But right now, when he wasn’t quite yet two, Gwen only saw a vortex of the unknown. Her unknown relationship to him, her unknown relationship to her own maternal instincts, and her unknown feelings toward, well…
“It would be an excellent compromise.” Gwen drank her cider as if it were water. “No worries about my own fertility problems, and I wouldn’t have to go through the physical trials of motherhood, which my doctor has warned could cause me a new set of complications.” Not to mention her lifelong reluctance to ever do the pregnancy and childbirth song and dance. Some women changed their minds as they grew older, but so far, Gwen was entering her thirties without a speck of change. She always assumed that, if she really wanted kids, she’d have to use a surrogate or adopt.
Well, if Cassandra was offering…
What better way to grab hold of the narrative by its horns and own it? Bonus points if it made the stuck-up families lose their shit in scandal.
“Obviously, it wouldn’t happen soon,” Gwen said. “We all need time to talk it over and decide what is best for all of us.” She couldn’t stress that word enough. She didn’t want to be left out. She didn’t want Cassandra left out, and she sure as hell couldn’t forget James, who would more than likely be the father of any child the three of them came up with together.
Cassandra sipped her cider. “Of course. By the way, have you heard that Ophelia has been visiting a divorce lawyer?”
Gwen grinned. Now there was a topic she couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into!
They gossiped for the next half hour while drinking cider and eating crackers. Patrick continued to play with his small loot of toys on the floor, but toward the end of the hour, he propped himself up again and waddled toward Gwen.
He placed a wooden car in her lap.
“Oh, hi.” Gwen almost choked on the cider. “What do you have?”
“That’s his favorite one,” Cassandra said. “We can’t go anywhere unless we bring his car. This must mean he likes you!”
Gwen continued to stare at the boy plopping a toy into her lap. What the hell do I do? She hated to admit that she froze up whenever Patrick directly interacted with her. It was like… ah, hell, it was like she wanted to grab this boy and give him a kiss, but was afraid it would make him scream!
In time, Gwen would get better at interacting with her stepson. She would learn those crazy little quirks – such as his favorite toys, how he responded to certain events, and why she would never get away with a kiss to the top of his head – and develop her own language with a boy who would eventually come to her when he wanted to rant about his parents or ask how to ask his first crush out.
By then, he’d probably have a sibling. Maybe. Probably. Yes.
Until then, Gwen would help the boy steady his steps while handing him back his car. “Thank you!” Was that too over the top? Would this two-year-old think she was nuts? “I’ll take good care of it, okay?” She pretended to hide the little car between her palms. Patrick instantly furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to protest. “Oh, you want it back? Here you go.”
He slowly wrapped his fingers around the car and pulled it off her lap. The last thing he did before running back to his mother was offer her a small, coy smile that was so much like his father’s that Gwen couldn’t help but laugh.
Those Merange boys had a habit of stealing her heart, after all.