Chapter Thirteen
“So . . . you’re here with Zach . . .”
Pulling the lasagna out of the oven, Abigale braced herself for the next inquisition. She recognized the low, smooth sound of Sebastian’s voice without even turning around and she already knew how to handle this one.
Over the past few hours, she’d handled the curious questions from the twins, seen the odd gleam in Ron’s eyes, and almost went head-to-head with Keelie, although she really didn’t know why Keelie despised her so much.
The easiest person, by far, had been Denise and that had been a shock. Denise, Zach’s mom, was the one person Abigale had been sort of dreading to face over this and she hated that, because she adored Denise. Because she adored Denise, because she knew and loved the woman, she knew what Denise wanted most was to see her kids all happy.
Denise didn’t necessarily equate happy with married, but more than a few late-night conversations had cemented one certainty in Abigale’s head.
Denise suspected her second-oldest son was lonely.
Not crying-in-his-beer lonely, Denise had told her once. But he was looking for something.
Abigale hadn’t ever seen it, and that bothered her because she was his best friend, but Denise had told her that there were some things a mom just knew. Maybe so. It wasn’t like Abigale had the best mom to really judge things by.
But Denise had been easy.
Sebastian was the other person she’d been dreading having to face over this. Might as well get it over with, she told herself as she reached for a towel and turned around to look at him.
They were alone in the kitchen, although that wouldn’t last long, she knew.
Denise had been bustling in and out of the kitchen for most of the afternoon and in a few minutes, Abigale knew she’d be pulled out there to enjoy the party as well. Pretty little Chinese lanterns strung throughout the back swayed in the breeze and people were laughing, calling out to each other. All in all, everybody seemed to be having a good time, even Trey, although every now and then, he’d get a far-off look in his eyes and Abigale knew he was thinking about his wife. Cara had only been twenty-three when she died. Too young, Abigale thought. Far too young.
Blowing out a breath, she surveyed everything around her. She was pretty much done. It was a buffet-style meal and she wasn’t feeding an army. A party for thirty people was easy for her. Somebody else was handling the cake and everything so she was almost at the point that she could take a few minutes, but she’d rather take those minutes with Zach. Playing twenty questions with Sebastian wasn’t her idea of fun.
It was going to happen, though.
“I’m often at places with Zach,” she pointed out, giving Sebastian an easy smile. They were friends . . . usually, and got along well enough, when Zach wasn’t in the picture.
But the two of them lived very much in two different worlds.
“You probably don’t remember a lot of it, but Zach and I have often been in the very same place for more than twenty years.” She winked at him and added, “There were even a few times when I was there while you were there . . . in diapers.”
Sebastian was twenty-two and the youngest of the crew. He was also the prettiest, prettier even than Zach, and it seemed he was determined to chase after the career Zach had walked away from. He still lived in LA and he was doing pretty well lately . . . a few small parts on a TV show and there was talk that his character was going to become a regular next season.
He looked up to his older brother with something that was near adulation, she knew. Zach could do no wrong. He was almost fiercely protective of him. But Sebastian had tunnel vision. He was almost certain that Zach’s main issue in life was that he just hadn’t found the right venue back into Hollywood.
Sometimes she wondered if Sebastian and Roger had been drinking the same Kool-Aid.
“So I hear your show is going well,” she said, shifting his focus from Zach to his other love in life.
Or trying to.
She failed.
He shrugged and said, “It’s going well. But you know how it goes.” Shrewd eyes, just a shade darker than Zach’s, studied her face. “You know, if Zach ever decides to come back, my agent is there to help him . . . and I know you’re done with it. How are you going to feel if he does it?”
Instead of pointing out that Zach had said a hundred times that he didn’t want to go back, she reached for the knife and started slicing up the last loaf of bread. “Zach’s life is his own, Seb. I can’t control it.” She shot him a look and then went back to the chore in front of her, hoping he’d take the point. See . . . look at me, I’m busy, busy, busy.
He laughed a little. “Yeah, that’s what you think.”
The undercurrent in his voice got to her, rubbing her so very, very wrong. Carefully, she put the knife down. Because she didn’t want to get pissed off here, and pissed off at Sebastian, she took a minute to reach for her wine. It was more to give herself a minute to think through anything she might say, to puzzle through just what that might mean. But she had no stunning revelations in the thirty seconds it took to drink the yummy ratafia that Zach always managed to keep on hand for her. It came from a winery in Albuquerque and she was tempted to toss the entire glass back and then pour another.
But she doubted it would do a damn thing to lessen her irritation.
So instead, she lowered the glass back down and lifted her gaze to study Sebastian. “Okay. So you think I can control Zach’s life. Exactly how do I do that?”
“You got him to move away from LA.” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed on her face and although his voice never once raised, she heard the resentment there.
And it was strong. Damn it, where in the hell had that come from?
“I got him to move?” she asked, pushing away from the counter. “Exactly how did I do that? We’ve been seeing each other for exactly two weeks. He moved to Tucson years ago.”
The door opened, but neither of them paid it much attention.
“He’s spent more than half of his life doing exactly what you wanted him to do, Abby,” Sebastian said, his voice icy, full of disgust. “Are you ever going to—”
“Sebastian.”
He cut a look over his shoulder at Zane. “Back off,” he snapped. “This is between me and Abby.”
“There shouldn’t be a damn thing between you and Abby,” Zane said.
Abigale glanced over at Zane and the look on his face was one of apology, but she ignored it, looking back at Sebastian. “Am I ever going to what?” she demanded.
“Sebastian, if you don’t shut the f*ck up,” Zane warned. “I’m going to—”
Whipping her head around, Abigale glared at Zane. He’d been like the big brother she never had, teasing her, protecting her, needling her. And right now, he was pissing her off.
“Zane, you shut the f*ck up, or I’m going to punch you,” she said.
She was vaguely aware the door had opened again, vaguely aware that more people had trickled into the kitchen, but she didn’t give a damn. Sebastian was still glaring at her, although when he shot the people around them a look, a muscle pulsed in his jaw.
“We’ll discuss it some other time,” he said quietly.
“Oh, the hell we will.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him. “You started this here. We finish this here. I want to know just how in the hell I’m controlling Zach. I want to know how I’m stopping him from chasing after a life back in California . . . even though he sure as hell doesn’t want it.”
“How would you know?” Sebastian snapped. He shoved a hand through his hair and advanced on her, bending down to snarl in her face. “You don’t know shit about what he wants, because the one thing he does want? You’ve never even—”
His eyes shot over her shoulder and Abigale watched as he slowly straightened. His jaw clenched and that pretty face of his went hard as stone. “Zach.”
A hand came up and curled over Abigale’s shoulder. Abruptly, the rush of anger cleared from her head and she felt a little sick as she looked around. Almost the entire family had gathered in there. Not just Denise and Ron. Not just Zach’s brothers and their dates. But cousins, kids, friends. Nearly thirty people had managed to squeeze their way inside the brightly lit kitchen and they were now watching the entire thing.
Pressing a hand to her belly, she blew out a breath and then shifted her attention over to Denise and the twins. The hell if she apologized to Sebastian, the jackass. But Denise, the twins . . . it was their day. “Denise, guys, I am so sorry,” she whispered.
Denise’s eyes snapped and burned, but she smiled at her. “Abby, I don’t think you’re the one who needs to apologize.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he slid his mother a look.
Then he looked back at Abigale and like he was chewing off ragged bits of rusty metal, he bit out, “Sorry.”
Without looking at anybody else, he turned to go.
Zach, until that moment, hadn’t said a word. But then, after a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, he eased around her. “Sebastian, kid . . . you and me need to have a word.”
Abigale groaned. She knew that tone.
Passing a hand over her face, she said, “Zach, just let it go.”
But it was like he didn’t even hear her, and before she could try to go after him, Zane barred her way. “Leave the two of them alone,” he advised.
“They don’t need to be fighting at the twins’ party—there are kids here. They don’t want to fight around the kids.”
A grin split his face. Thick brown hair tumbled into his eyes as he caught her in a hug and pulled her close. “Oh, now come on, Abby. Since when have we ever managed to have a single party or even a cookout without one of us getting mad about something?”
She scowled and wiggled away from him. “Just because you always do it doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it.” Shoving her hair back from her face, she looked around and figured she could take another break, since nothing was in the oven, and all the food was outside except the next round of bread. “Look, I’m—”
Most of the family had started to trickle out, but Denise was still there and Abigale felt the blood start to crawl up her neck under the weight of that gentle, watchful gaze. “I’m just going to talk to Zach,” she finished lamely.
A shout came from somewhere off in the depths of the house.
“Abby.”
As she untied her apron, she put a lot more focus on the task than she knew she really needed to. “I’ll just be a few minutes, Denise. I—”
“You’re so stubborn.” Denise slid an arm around her shoulders. Then she hugged her. “Leave the boys alone. They’ll work it out. Sebastian has words he has to say. He’s wrong. He needs to figure that out. And Zach probably has a few words of his own, and after that scene? He’s more than entitled.” She reached up and brushed Abigale’s hair back. It was such a gentle, familiar, loving gesture, it left an ache in Abigale’s throat. “Leave them be for now, okay, sweetie?”
Another shout rose, this one followed by a string of curses.
Denise winced. “If they were a few years younger, I’d have to dig out the bar of soap over that one.”
Abigale closed her eyes. “I knew this was going to turn out bad.”
“Oh, hush.” The older woman kissed Abigale on the cheek and then stepped back. “Come on. Let’s get the bread out there and eat so we can dig in to the cake. I tried that new lady you recommended and it looks divine.”
* * *
Zach pressed a knee into Sebastian’s back. If the idiot kid didn’t stop jerking around, he was going to get really mad and hurt him. Just then, he was trying to remember that Sebastian was still pretty damn young, and like the typical youngest sibling, he was spoiled as hell. He was also headstrong, thought he could do no wrong, and thought he knew everything.
Zach was tempted to disabuse him of all that in a painful way, but he figured it wouldn’t help things if he broke his baby brother’s nose when the jackass was supposed to be back at work in a few days. “Kid, if you don’t stop it, that pretty face you’re so proud of isn’t going to be so f*cking pretty. I’m going to do some rearranging and you’ll have a lot of fun explaining that to the agent you’re always trying to ram down my throat.”
Sebastian grunted and tried once more to dislodge Zach and when he couldn’t, he swore. “Look, man. The reason you’re so pissed is because you know I’m right. I’m f*cking right.”
He slammed Sebastian’s head against the floor. “The reason I’m so pissed is because you’re interfering . . . right when I finally get things where I want them and you’re trying to f*ck it up for me.” Anger blistered through him and he knew he had to move before he did something he regretted.
Swearing, he surged up off Sebastian and stormed across the room. Distance. Needed to get some distance. Because the longer he thought about what he’d just walked in on, the madder he got.
Hearing Sebastian get to his feet, he spun around and glared at him. “What the hell, Seb? You want to tell me why in the hell you’re trying to f*ck my life up?”
“This isn’t your f*cking life!” Sebastian glared right back. “You sit in a damned hole-in-the-wall and play with needles and ink and act like that makes you happy while you wait for that woman to notice you’re alive. If she hasn’t done it yet, when is she going to?”
It was a punch in the gut and a blow to his pride and damn it, Zach knew there was truth to it. Had he been waiting a long-ass time for Abby to finally see him? Damn straight. Were there days when he thought it was just never going to happen? Hell, yes.
And he’d been willing to deal with that, willing to live with it, because he couldn’t see himself anyplace else. Where she was, that was where he had to be.
Things had changed and damn it, he was going to make the most of it. And what the hell was Sebastian doing, trying to screw it up for him?
Gut in a knot, he glared at his younger brother. “And just what in the hell do you think I ought to do?” he demanded. “Go back to a life where the only women interested in me were interested because of what I was? Who I was? They didn’t give a damn about me. And here’s another problem, Seb . . . I don’t want that life. It suits you, but I grew out of it. It’s not me anymore.”
“And sitting around waiting for her is?”
“I’m not exactly waiting right now!” Spinning around, he slammed his fist into a wall. For about five seconds, that helped. A lot. But then, as the adrenaline faded and pain bloomed in his hand, he had to bite back a groan. Smooth, Zach. Real smooth. That had been the hand he’d burned and the healing skin was no longer healing. The scabs across his knuckles split open and as he stared at the blood, he muttered, “Now that just tops it off.”
Sighing, he headed over to the bar and grabbed one of the towels from under it.
“She just got dumped by her fiancé,” Sebastian said, his voice flat. “Do you really think you’re going to have a chance building anything there?”
“Seb,” Zach said softly, taking his time as he wrapped the towel around his hand. “You don’t even have a clue what I want out of my life, you know. Not a damned clue. You think because you’re happy with where you’re heading, that life is going to suit me, too.”
Sliding his brother a look, Zach shook his head. “You’re wrong. You’re so very wrong.”
A muscle pulsed in Sebastian’s jaw and finally, he looked away. “Maybe you don’t want that anymore, but I’m not wrong about Abby. She’s never going to see what you feel, Zach. I . . . I don’t want you to get hurt.”
There were a thousand things he could have said. Probably a million. But he didn’t want words between him and his brother that couldn’t be taken back. So instead, he just chose the few words that had to be said. “You need to keep out of what’s going on between me and her,” he warned, still focusing on the towel. “It doesn’t concern you.”
“You’re my f*cking brother,” Sebastian snapped. “How am I not supposed to be concerned with shit that affects you?”
“You’re my f*cking brother.” Zach laughed a little. “And you’re acting out of concern for shit that affects me? Oh, that’s rich, Seb. Because what you just pulled had a pretty damned big effect. She makes me happy, damn it. You’re trying to f*ck it up and she makes me happy.”
* * *
He found her in the backyard.
She wore another one of those dresses that just drove him nuts and all afternoon, he’d been watching her in the kitchen and having insane fantasies about that lovely, pale green dress and the pretty white apron.
Just then, she had the skirt hiked up to her knees and she was sitting with her feet in the water while she watched some of his cousins playing in the pool with his nephew, Clayton.
Lowering himself down onto the edge, he took a minute to pull off his socks and boots, rolling his jeans up to the knees and sliding his legs into the water. Abby didn’t look his way.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked quietly.
A sad sigh escaped her and she reached over, caught his hand. “Why would I be?”
“You don’t like it when I fight with my brothers.”
He watched as she ducked her head. She’d pulled all of her hair into a thick, complicated twist but a few wayward curls were starting to escape, trailing down her neck, curling around her ears. He wanted to catch one of them and wind it around his finger, but just then, he hesitated to touch her.
“Right now, I’d almost like to fight with one of your brothers.” Then she nodded at his hand. “Did you hit Seb?”
He glanced at his hand. He’d taken a minute to go into the bathroom and actually bandage it, then he’d cut a wide berth around his mom, hoping she wouldn’t notice. He wasn’t counting on it. Moms noticed everything.
Wiggling his fingers, he shrugged and said, “Nah. I hit the wall. It’s almost as hard as Seb’s head, and it wouldn’t cause problems when he heads back to work. If I busted his pretty face, it would cause a headache and a half and it’s not worth it just because he’s an ass. At least not yet.”
He stroked his thumb down the back of her hand, looking across the pool. Sebastian had finally come out of the house and their mom was heading for him. The kid had the look on his face of a deer caught in the headlights of a car bearing down on it, at oh . . . two hundred miles an hour.
Zach could pound him into the ground and Sebastian would fight right back.
Put their mother in the mix and the two of them felt like they were back in middle school.
“I can still go punch him if you want,” he offered, watching as Sebastian tried to get lost in a crowd of the cousins. They aren’t going to protect you, kid. Nobody got in their mom’s way when she was on the warpath.
“Yeah, sure you will.” Abby snorted. “I see what you’re looking at. Denise’s after him now. You want me to believe you’d go punch him now when she’s about to get a piece of him?”
He ran his tongue across his teeth. “Sure.” She was bluffing. Abby wasn’t that mad.
She let go of his hand. “Have at it, slugger.”
Aw, hell.
Panic shot through him. Now what in the hell did he do? Slowly, he pulled his feet out of the water, his mind working rather furiously as he tried to figure a way out of it. But he’d said he’d do it, and damn it if Sebastian didn’t deserve it and—
Abby caught his wrist, laughing a little. “Damn it, Zach. The look on your face is just about priceless. Enough. You don’t have to go risk your mom’s wrath on my account.”
He was only a little relieved. Okay. A lot. Zach would slay just about any dragon for her.
But his mom wasn’t a dragon. His mom was . . . hell.
Blowing out a breath, he tried to put on a brave face. He could still act, right? “I can go do it,” he lied through his teeth. “It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.”
“Oh, he deserves it, all right,” she agreed. “Stupid ass.” Then she blew out a breath and shrugged. “But being a stupid kid and having you punch him in the face and cause problems on set isn’t worth it. Besides, then people would start wondering how it happened and we don’t know everybody here. It would get out and that would just lead to a hassle there. For all we know, they’d start speculating on why you punched him in the face.”
“According to the media, I’m on everything from drugs to human blood.” He shrugged and shifted in closer, bracing one hand on the ground behind her. Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to her shoulder. “What’s it matter if I punch him in the head?”
She shrugged and smoothed out a crease in her skirt. “What was he rambling on about, anyway? He’s acting like I dragged you out of California or something.” Her eyes cut his way, lingering for a second, before she went back to toying with the full material of her skirt. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t kidnap you and lock you in the trunk of my car when I headed out here.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, dancing around the edge of the subject. Don’t ask . . . don’t ask . . . He couldn’t very well tell her that the very second she’d told him she was leaving California and had found a place in Tucson, he’d started looking for a place there as well. That wasn’t going to help matters any, was it?
“Look, Sebastian is just being . . . Sebastian. You know how he is. He gets an idea in his head and it’s like he can’t see anything else. It warps everything he does, everything he sees.”
She opened her mouth, but this time, before the words could escape, he leaned in and kissed whatever questions she had away.
Sooner or later, he thought. He’d explain it all sooner or later.
Just not yet. This was all too new and he needed to give her time first. If he knew a damn thing about Abby, it was how she reacted and if he told her that he’d been in love with her for well . . . forever? Yeah. That was the kind of news that was best delivered after she’d had some time to get used to things. Used to having him in her life like this, as something more than just her friend.
* * *
Questions.
Damn it, Abigale had been planning to ask him a question . . . or five.
But as his hand caught her face, all thoughts of questions, all thoughts of Sebastian and everybody else seemed to fade away.
Only one thought seemed to exist for her now.
Only one thing.
Zach.
That was it.
Groaning, she opened for him as he twisted and leaned into her body, his warmth wrapping around her. The noise of the party, the high-pitched giggles of the children, the low hum of music, everything faded away . . . nothing but Zach existed.
His hand curled into the wide lapel of the button-up dress she wore, his thumb stroking back and forth over her skin, slow and steady. A simple touch. Almost innocent, but not quite. And she was melting inside. Melting and burning and shaking.
Finally, he eased back, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed that way, his brow pressed to hers, his eyes lingering on hers. “Abby, I . . .”
“C’mon! It’s time for me to eat Daddy’s cake!”
The moment shattered, but it was broken with laughter as they pulled back, grinning at each other for a minute before they looked over at Clayton, Trey’s son.
“Is that what it’s time for, pal?” Zach asked, reaching over and catching Clayton’s ear. He tugged on it lightly and ruffled the boy’s hair.
“Yeah!” Clayton practically bounced on his heels as he looked around. “Meemee told me that I could eat it as soon as I got all of you ready so I gotta find everybody else!”
The four-year-old took off with the single-minded intensity of the young. Sighing, she looked back at Zach and reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand. “You ready for some cake?”
He kissed her palm. “I’m ready for what I was just having.” Then he pulled his feet out of the pool and stood up. “But cake will work for now. The sooner we finish up the birthday stuff, the sooner we can go.”