CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Over the next few days, the stretch of bone-chillingly cold, crystalline days gave way to a comparative thaw. When the mercury rose to right around freezing, it felt so balmy that Rhys—home unexpectedly early before a scheduled meeting with Karina—suggested that he and Andie take Will to the playground.
“This can be in lieu of his therapy session today,” Rhys suggested as he stood in the kitchen, stowing a variety of toddler snacks in bags for the proposed outing. “The poor little sprog could use some fresh air after being cooped up inside at preschool all morning. If we run him around a bit, he’ll probably do better when we meet Karina at the library.”
Jillian, who was in a buoyant mood after trouncing her husband’s weekly weight-loss tally by a few precious ounces, waved them cheerily out the door.
“Don’t let Will get a chill,” she called as they filed out. “Bundle up!”
Andie shrank away from Rhys as they piled into the Range Rover. He looks so much like a proud dad taking his perfect little family out for a drive. She swallowed grimly. You idiot! He is a proud dad. You’re the one who doesn’t belong in this picture. The problem was she was almost certain that the air of fulfillment Rhys currently projected had something to do with her.
Somehow, this trip away from the house together made it all so much more real—forced her to own up to the fact that the sensuous haze she’d drifted around in for the last few days would have to give way to reality sometime.
She gripped the grab handle above her window. I never meant for this to happen. But she knew that claim was disingenuous. She’d made this happen as surely as gravity caused an object lobbed into the air to plummet back to earth. Just one sidelong glance at Rhys’s serene profile was enough to clog her throat with a pent-up sob. Don’t depend on me. If it’s a future you’re looking for, you’re with the wrong woman.
Lost in his daydreams, Rhys didn’t even seem to notice how quiet she’d become. He pulled into the lot beside the playground and applied the parking brake. When she joined him at the rear passenger door to help retrieve Will and all their gear, he slid a warm hand up between her shoulder blades, over her tingling nape, and into the wavy curtain of her hair. His fingers were magic, she realized hopelessly, trying to ignore the lightning bolts of pleasure that seared her down to her toes. She wondered if there had ever been a case of spontaneous human combustion in this suburban parking lot.
“Don’t,” she murmured, shaking him off. “Not here.”
He shot her a look of consternation and withdrew his hand guiltily, making her want to catch it with both of hers and return it to that place just above her nape—a previously unrecognized hotbed of sensation. Instead, she focused on belting her coat against the cold and unbuckling Will from his car seat.
I need to set limits, that’s all. She shouldered the large bag of Will’s supplies and stepped away from the car. Just because we’ve started this physical thing doesn’t mean I’ve promised him forever.
They crunched through iced-over slush and put the snack bag down on a dry bench on the sunny side of the playground and chaperoned Will over to the object of his desire, a green plastic tunnel slide that let out onto a gray-brown puddle of snowmelt.
“If you take him up, I’ll catch him when he comes down,” Rhys suggested.
Andie nodded and shadowed Will as he climbed the stairs to the top of the slide, ready to catch him if his snow boots lost traction on the perforated metal surface. Will kept up a constant stream of murmurs, which ascended to curious squawks as he reached the opening of the chute. He sat himself down and then scrambled to his feet again as if to abandon the project, until Rhys’s comforting face appeared in the opening at the far end.
Giggling, Will ventured onto the slide, going down so slowly that “slide” was probably a misnomer.
“Gotcha!” Rhys scooped him out of the way of the puddle and set him on relatively dry land.
Will’s attention soon switched to a hanging log bridge connected by chains, which sat on the opposite side of a stretch of mushy snow. Taking one of Will’s hands each, Andie and Rhys half directed, half carried him over the slippery expanse. Andie looked to Rhys to see whether he wanted her to shepherd Will onto the bridge, but his gaze was fixed on a point in the middle distance, over by the parking lot.
“What the—”
She followed his frown to its target. A slim figure in a tailored black wool coat and a swirl of long, dark hair was picking her way toward them.
Andie was unprepared for the sense of dread that swelled in her chest. Her brain conjured the sweet, blanketing scent of jasmine wrapped around its spike of bergamot. Astonishing, given she’d only crossed paths with the woman that one memorable time. It felt as if a simulacrum of Karina were an ever-present fixture in the house.
Rhys squinted at the approaching figure.
A tense smile flickered across Karina’s face.
“Well, hello,” she drawled, taking in the scene, Will still half-suspended between Andie and Rhys, gripping their hands tightly.
“Karina.” Rhys gave her a look that could have stripped paint. “We’re not meeting until three thirty, and we decided on story hour at the library. I thought we agreed, no more surprises.”
His concerned, proprietorial glance lingered on Andie, and she saw Karina take in the two of them and frown slightly.
“I can take off and leave you two to have your visit here, if you like,” Andie offered.
“No.” Rhys looked bothered. As always, he’d offered Karina an inch only to have her grasp a mile. Suspicion flickered in the look he gave her. “Andie and I were giving Will some outdoor time before the library. How did you know we were here?”
“Oh, I was in the area and spotted you from the road,” Karina declared. “I must have a sixth sense as far as Will is concerned.”
Rhys’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “We’re going to finish our playtime here as we intended. Stay or go as you wish, but we’re not changing our plans.”
“I’ll stay,” Karina announced with a determined smile and a brisk, stilted nod of acknowledgment to Andie.
“Hello, Will,” she crooned, bending down to his level. Andie slid her hand from Will’s to let Karina take it, but he shook free of his mother’s grip and patted fretfully at Andie’s coat. Relief swamped her as he slid his hand into hers once more. A tense vibe emanated from Karina, which was completely understandable given the circumstances, but it aroused Andie’s protective instincts toward him.
Rhys took Will and helped him onto one of the platforms that anchored the log bridge, carefully ushering him onto the bridge’s swaying path. The structure was not easy for him to manage, given that the logs undulated and tipped underfoot. Andie actually liked it as a new test for his confidence, and she strode to the opposite platform to offer support.
She was so intent on monitoring Will’s progress across the bridge that Karina took her by surprise as she stepped up beside her. What are you doing? There was a challenge in the gaze Karina flicked her way as they stood side by side.
Rhys looked thunderous as he followed Will across the bridge, well aware of the zero-sum test Karina had just set up, forcing Will to choose which of the two women to go to. Andie swallowed nervously. Why would she do it? Of course he’s going to come to me. Isn’t he? She cast a sidelong glance at Karina and was disturbed to see a turbulent sort of pleasure in her expression. Of course. She loves the drama.
Will squinted at Andie and Karina as he approached, an uncertain look on his face.
“Come on, sweetie,” Karina called, kneeling down with open arms.
It was then that a streak of pure, unalloyed want gripped Andie. She knew in some rational part of her brain that she should abdicate this absurd contest and ensure that Will would cross the bridge straight into his mother’s arms. But she didn’t want to. It was more than just protectiveness. It was possessiveness. Mine. Mine. Mine. Karina felt like a rival.
Andie didn’t bend down and call to him. She had enough self-control to refrain from that, at least. But she visualized Will’s sturdy little form pressed up against her. She mapped out the path of his steps even before he took them, as if by doing so she could influence his course. She thought about the texture of his hair against her cheek and his sturdy shape in her arms.
She needn’t have fretted. All those hours of games and cuddles laid out his trajectory as if guided by a compass.
“Andie!” Will capped off her resounding victory by bellowing her name as he advanced toward her. She was overcome by an intoxicating tide of emotion as he wrapped his arms around her legs. Joy. Gratification. Love. Pride. The same complex blend of responses she’d felt when he’d first said her name. The same ego-driven sense of reward that had first launched her on the path that led to this very point.
Then realization dawned. I’m a monster! Sweat prickled at her hairline, and her whole body went hot with mortification in spite of the chilly day. She stood stock-still, letting the full implications of her folly sink in. She’d crossed an ethical line into a no-man’s-land. Of course, she’d always loved her clients. Particularly when she got to work with children long-term, it was impossible not to become invested. To revel in their successes. To cry, always in private, over their frustrations and the tough road they faced. But this?
Why did I let this happen? But she knew why. Ever since she’d taken this job, she’d been pinning her hopes for redemption on this one small boy. She’d thought she could prove something to herself and then step neatly away at the conclusion of the designated three months. She’d never expected to become this entangled.
“Well!” Karina huffed, turning to Rhys. “You see what happens when you give an outsider more access to our son than you give his own mother.”
Andie, still queasy and aghast at her own hubris, almost burst into hysterical, horrified laughter when a wet eruption from Will’s diaper region signaled the need for some quick attention. Karina blanched as Rhys fixed her with an ironic look.
“Care to take diaper duty?” he asked her, then hauled Will into his arms as she hesitated. “No, I didn’t think so.”
“Andie and I can stay here and chat,” Karina said. “Perhaps she can give me some tips for exercises to do with Will.”
Rhys looked at Andie questioningly, and she nodded. It was the least she could do, despite the fact that the idea of talking with Karina filled her with apprehension. Guilt was a powerful motivator.
“I’d be happy to show you some games he likes,” she offered. Her mind was still racing. She had to make this right. She had to step back and facilitate Karina’s bond with Will.
“It won’t work, you know,” Karina said as Rhys bore Will off to collect the diaper bag.
“What won’t work?” Distracted by her own thoughts, Andie had to force herself to attend to the woman. “The games for Will?”
“No, I’m talking about that butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-your-mouth, child-whisperer act you’ve got going on. Rhys isn’t one of those men who falls for the nanny, you know?”
“I’m not ‘the nanny,’” Andie said, oddly calm as resolution overtook her. Her fears that the woman had instantly detected the chemistry between Rhys and her were apparently unfounded, and Andie wasn’t about to enlighten her. “I’m your son’s occupational therapist, and I actually have some advice I’d be happy to give you, if you’d care to listen.”
“Call yourself what you like,” Karina responded dismissively, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. “But I saw the way you looked at Rhys. You should know, though, that on that front, we’re both out of luck.”
Karina surveyed Andie archly. “At first I assumed that you and he were together. I was a bit confused, as you’re not his usual type.” She gave a commiserating smile before launching her next salvo. “But he set me straight on the fact that there’s nothing between you. In spite of that, he tells me he’s not romantically available.”
Karina paused, a glimmer in her eye. “I suspect he’s romancing someone at work. He always did have a thing for women engineers.”
For one fleeting instant, Andie wondered, Is it true? Is there someone else? But the seed of doubt Karina wanted to plant simply wouldn’t take root. Andie could still feel the echo of Rhys’s touch at her nape and the protective warmth of his gaze. Nice try, Karina, but if you’re trying to faze me, you’re going to have to do better than that. The fact that Karina thought the ploy stood a chance of working only highlighted how little she really knew her ex.
Andie was distracted by a hint of bergamot and jasmine, its dispersion contained by the cold air but still discernible as Karina leaned closer.
“I will get him back, you know,” the woman confided with lethal softness. “However long it takes.” Close-up, the delicate skin below her eyes looked dry and fatigued under a careful layer of foundation. In the stark outdoor light, her irises were eerily pale turquoise rings around encroaching blackness.
I can’t be having this conversation. I have to get things back on track. Andie gave a noncommittal smile and took a few steps back in the direction of the car, where Rhys was finishing cleaning up Will. When Karina fell into step with her, she launched into a mini lecture on Will’s triggers, sensory aversions, and cravings, and how to recognize opportunities to connect.
Rhys was standing by the car with a harried look on his face as they approached, holding Will, whose lower half was now swathed in a blanket rather than padded in snow pants.
“Will had a blowout,” he announced, causing Karina to recoil subtly. “It’s poop central over here. We need to take him home and change him. Then I’ll bring him to the library.”
Home. Andie realized with a shiver that she was starting to think of it as her home, too. She’d barely thought about her little rental apartment since she’d arrived in Concord, but now she reflected that it might have been better if she’d never left. How was it that good intentions and subterranean motives could aid and abet one another, sweeping a person along until she found herself in a place she’d never intended?
Andie was dimly aware of Karina watching as she swung into action and helped Rhys finish packing Will and his supplies back in the car, working as smoothly together as a well-oiled machine. Soon they were done, but Karina continued to stand there, a dark figure against a dappled landscape of winter beige and white, following them with a basilisk stare as they pulled out of the lot and headed for Monument Street.
Andie looked troubled as they drove toward the house. Rhys was tempted to attribute her mood to the encounter with Karina, but she’d appeared out of sorts ever since they’d headed out to the playground.
“Is everything okay?” he asked mildly, his gaze focused on the road ahead. He had the sense that interrogating her too closely would spook her. He remembered how she’d pulled away in the parking lot, her withdrawal a sucker punch to the gut. Don’t. Not here.
“I’m fine,” she responded, reaching back up for the grab handle and peering out the window as if to make a thorough study of the scenery as it flashed by.
“I don’t know how the hell Karina tracked us down out there.” His ex-wife was making such a habit of ambushing him at odd times that he was beginning to wonder whether she’d somehow secreted a tracker on his person. It was a ridiculous thought, of course, but her preoccupation with him was unsettling.
“You do know that Karina’s master plan is for the two of you to get back together.”
“I’ve told her it’s never going to happen.”
“That may be, but I’m not sure she’s received the message.”
They drove for a minute in silence.
“I do think it’s important that she bond with Will,” Andie said as they passed the Civil War obelisk and the old courthouse.
“He’ll come around to her if she puts in the work,” Rhys responded.
Andie swallowed convulsively, as if steeling herself, and turned to peer at him.
“Rhys, you do know that I have my own life to get back to when my time here is over?”
There it was again. Her persistent focus on the end of their relationship, just when things were getting started.
“Of course you have a life,” Rhys agreed, although her implication worried him. Wasn’t what was happening between them part of her life, too? Or did she regard it as something hidden? Throwaway. Separate.
“But presumably you’re not just going to leave us, cold turkey, at the end of the three months?” he said carefully. “Like you said, I would expect that you’d keep working with Will. And I hope that you’d continue to see us, you know . . . generally.” Generally. If that wasn’t a completely pathetic way to sum up all that Andie was coming to mean to him.
“I’m worried,” she said. “With this thing we’ve started between us, we’ve really upped the ante. Now there’s so much that can go wrong. And when it does, it will be an awfully long way down.”
“Andie, we were friends first,” Rhys said with an exaggerated confidence he suddenly didn’t feel. “Why should anything go wrong? Must we be all doom and gloom? Can’t we just take it a day at a time and not second-guess ourselves?”
“You’re right. We were friends first. That is, we are friends. But I was Will’s therapist before that.” She fixed tormented eyes on him. “I’ve crossed a line, Rhys. I’ve done the very thing I swore to myself I wouldn’t do when I came here.”
“If you’re worrying that you’ve done Will a disservice, then please stop,” Rhys beseeched her. “Look at how happy he is. Look at how he’s progressing.”
She turned to look over her shoulder at Will, who had fallen asleep, lulled by the motion of the car. The expression on her face as she watched him made Rhys’s heart lurch.
“I trust you, Andie,” he said, his voice thick with feeling. “We both have his best interests at heart. We won’t let him down. We wouldn’t do that.”
“I know,” she said pensively as they pulled up to the house. “But I don’t want you getting crazy ideas, Rhys. We’re friends who happen to have an . . . attraction. That’s all.”
As soon as Rhys cut the engine, she jumped out and bustled over to Will’s door.
“Hey,” Rhys said, reaching out to touch her shoulder as she started to gather Will’s bag and toys. She turned, her cheeks flushed, and allowed herself to be folded against him. There. There was nothing like the charge that passed between them when they touched. Trust in that, Rhys willed silently.
“Don’t worry.” He spoke into her fragrant hair. “There’s nothing bad here. It’s all good. Let’s just keep moving forward. We get started on Will’s hippotherapy tomorrow. We’ll keep working together just as we have been.”
She nodded and sniffed, and he tried to take comfort from the instinctive way she leaned into him, like she never wanted to leave.