Читать книгу The Beaumont Children - Sarah M. Anderson - Страница 11

Four

Everything was, unsurprisingly, delicious. Leona especially liked the croquetas—she’d never had them before. Yes, the evening was full of good food and comfortable conversation. It should have been relaxing—fun, even.

The only problem was, she still hadn’t told Byron about Percy. And, as George regaled her with story after story of Byron learning how to cook the hard way, she couldn’t figure out how to break the news to him without running the risk of losing Percy.

Byron served three desserts—an almond cake that was gluten-free, peaches soaked in wine and yogurt, and a flan flavored with vanilla and lavender. She looked at her notes. A vegetarian dish, gluten-free options—with the hamburger, he’d have a menu that met most dietary needs.

“You like peaches, right?” he said as he set half of a peach in front of her.

“I do,” she told him. Seemingly against her will, she looked up at him. Byron stood over her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body. He remembered that peaches were her favorite. There’d been a time when he’d cooked for her, peach cobblers and grilled peaches and peach ice cream—anything he could come up with. Those had been things he’d made just for her.

“Thank you,” she told him, her voice soft.

“I hope the wine sauce is okay.” He didn’t move back. “I didn’t know...”

“It’s all right.” She used to drink wine, back when he’d make her dinner and pick out a bottle and they’d spend the evening savoring the food and the rest of the night savoring each other. But she hadn’t drunk a thing while pregnant and then she’d been breast-feeding and pumping and who had the money for alcohol anyway?

He stood there for a moment longer. Leona held her breath, unable to break the gaze. All of her self-preservation tactics—clinging to the memory of being cast aside by a Beaumont, just like her father had warned her, and the very real fear that Byron would take her son away from her—they all fell away as she looked up at him. For a clear, beautiful second, there was only Leona and Byron and everything was as it should be.

The second ended when the door to the kitchen flew open with a bang. Byron jumped back. “George!” a bright female voice said. “Have you seen— Oh, there you are.”

Leona looked over her shoulder and her heart sank. There stood Frances Beaumont in a stunning green dress and five-inch heels. “Byron, I have been texting you all...day...” Frances’s voice trailed off as she saw Leona. They’d met a few times before. Frances had liked her then. But that felt like a long time ago.

Byron cleared his throat. “Frances, you remember—”

“Leona.” Frances said the word as if it were something vile. Then she grabbed Byron by the arm and hauled him several feet away. “What is she doing here?” Frances added in a harsh whisper that everyone in the room had no trouble understanding.

Leona turned her gaze back to the luscious desserts. But her stomach felt as if a lead weight had settled into it.

“She’s helping with the restaurant,” Byron whispered back in a quieter voice.

“You’re trusting her? Are you insane?” This time, Frances made no effort to lower her voice.

Leona stood. She did not have to sit here and take this assault on her character. Byron was the one who’d abandoned her, not the other way around. If anything, she shouldn’t trust him. She didn’t.

“I’ll show myself out. George, it was a pleasure meeting you. Byron, I’ll look over my notes and come up with some suggestions.” She met Frances’s glare as she gathered her things. “Frances.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Byron offered, which made Frances hiss at him. But he ignored his twin and held the door for Leona.

“Good meeting you, too,” George called out after her. “Come back anytime.”

Which was followed by Frances gasping, “George! You’re not helping...”

And then Leona and Byron were down the hall, the sounds of the kitchen fading behind them. They walked in silence through the massive entry hall. The evening had been, up to this point, an unmitigated disaster. Byron’s cooking was amazing and, yes, George was just as sweet as she’d always pictured him.

But Byron had this habit of looking at her as if he wanted her, which didn’t mesh with the otherwise icy shoulder he’d given her. He confused her and after everything he’d put her through, that seemed like the final insult.

She could not let him get to her, just like she couldn’t let Frances’s undisguised hatred get to her. Byron had left. He’d done exactly what his father had done and simply walked away. He didn’t care for her—certainly not enough to fight for what they’d had.

She simply could not allow herself to care for him. It was not only dangerous to her heart, but also to Percy’s well-being. She had to protect her son.

Thus resolved, she expected to say goodbye to Byron at the front door and call it a day. But Byron opened the door and stepped outside with her, pulling it shut behind her.

She walked past him, shivering in the chilly autumn air. She would not lean into him and let his warmth surround her. She did not need him. She did not want him. She could not let him ruin everything she’d worked so hard for and that was that.

Once the door was shut, he took a step into her. He wasn’t touching her, not yet. “I’m sorry about Frances,” he said in a quiet voice. “She can be a little...protective.”

A part of Leona—the old part that cowered before her father—wanted to tell Byron it was all right and she’d smooth things over. But that part wasn’t going to save her son. So she didn’t. “Obviously.” He looked confused, as if he couldn’t guess that his sister would have been less than helpful in tracking Byron down. “I have no interest in reliving the past. That’s not why I’m here.”

She didn’t know what she expected him to do—but lifting his hand and cupping her cheek like she’d said something sweet wasn’t it. “Why are you here, then?”

“For the job.” To her horror, Leona felt herself leaning forward, closer to his chest, to his mouth. “Byron...”

But before the words could leave her lips, a noise that sounded like a herd of elephants came through the door. Byron grabbed her by the arm and led her away. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.

As they walked, his hand slid down her arm until his fingers interlaced with hers. It wasn’t a seductive gesture, but it warmed her anyway. He’d always held her hand whenever they were alone, whether they were watching a movie or watching the sun set over the mountains. She leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked. If only things had been different. If only...

She jerked to a stop less than five feet from her car. And the telltale car seat in the back.

“What?” Byron asked.

“I just...” She fumbled around for something to say and came up with nothing.

So she did the only thing she could think of to distract him.

She kissed him.

It wasn’t supposed to be sexual, not for her. It was supposed to distract him while it bought her enough time to think of a better exit strategy.

But the feeling of Byron against her drove all rational thought from her mind. She melted into him. His hands settled on her waist and, as the kiss deepened, the pads of his fingertips began to dig into her hips. He pulled her into him. Her bag dropped to the ground as she looped her arms around his neck and held him tight.

She hadn’t allowed herself to think about this, about how he used to make her feel. She’d made herself focus on how much she hated him, hated how he’d abandoned her—she hadn’t allowed herself to remember the good parts.

Heat flooded her body and pooled low in her stomach as she opened her mouth for him. She wanted this, wanted him. She couldn’t help it. She’d never been able to stay away from him. Some things never changed.

“I missed you,” he whispered against her neck before he kissed the spot right under her ear.

Her knees wobbled. “Oh, Byron, I missed you, too. I—”

Suddenly, he pulled away from her so fast that she stumbled forward. His hand went around her waist to catch her, but his attention was focused on something behind her.

The car.

“What’s that?” he demanded, taking a step toward the backseat of the car.

“What?” Again, her voice was wobbly. Everything about her was wobbly because this was the official moment of reckoning.

“That’s a baby seat.” He let go of her. “You have a baby seat in the back of your car.” This statement seemed to force him back a couple of steps. He cast a critical eye over Leona.

She wanted to cower but she refused. She was done cowering before any hard gaze, whether it was her father’s or her former lover’s. So she lifted her chin and straightened her back and refused to buckle.

“You—you’ve changed.”

“Yes.”

“You had a baby?”

She had to swallow twice to get her throat to work. “I did.”

Byron’s mouth dropped open. He tried to shut it, but it didn’t work. “Whose?”

Leona couldn’t help it. She wasn’t cowering, by God, but she couldn’t stand here and watch, either. She closed her eyes. “Yours.”

“Mine?”

She opened her eyes to see that Byron was pacing away from her. Then he spun back. “I have a baby? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I was—I was going to.”

“When?” The word was a knife that sliced through the air and embedded itself midchest, right where her heart was. “And what? You had to kiss me? This I have to hear, Leona. I have to know the rationale behind this.” He crossed his arms and glared at her.

No cowering. Not allowed. “I— You— You left me. I can’t lose him.”

It was hard to tell in the dim light from a faraway lamppost, but she swore all the color drained out of Byron’s face. “Him?”

“Percy. I named him Percy.” She bent over and retrieved her tablet from her bag. After a few taps, she had the most recent picture of Percy up on the screen. The little boy was sitting on her lap, trying to eat a board book. May had taken the photo just a couple of weeks ago. “Percy,” she said again, holding the tablet out to Byron.

He stared at the computer, then at her. “I left? I left you pregnant?”

She nodded.

“And you didn’t think it was a good idea to let me know you were pregnant? That you had my son?” His voice was getting louder.

“You left,” she pleaded. Now that he knew, she had to make him see reason. Why hadn’t she assumed he’d be this mad at her? For a ridiculous second, she wanted to beg for forgiveness, say whatever it took to calm him down—whatever it took so that he wouldn’t take her son from her.

But she wouldn’t beg. Not anymore. She’d fight the good fight. “You were gone by the time I got away from my father and I was afraid that your family would take Percy away—”

Byron froze midturn. “Wait—what?”

“I got away from my father. I took my little sister with me. May. She’s watching Percy now.”

Byron moved quickly, grabbing her by both arms. “Your sister? Is watching my son?”

“Our son, yes—”

He half shoved her, half lifted her up and carried her to the car. “Take me to him. Right now.”

“All right,” she said, retreating to grab her bag and fishing her keys out of the pocket.

They drove in painful silence. Her apartment was out in Aurora, which meant a solid thirty minutes of feeling Byron’s rage from the passenger seat.

She was miserable. Just when she had a moment of hope, thinking maybe there was still something between them, something good—and it hadn’t lasted. It would never last with Byron. It would always be like this—the two of them straddling the thin line between love and hate.

If only she wasn’t a Harper. If only he wasn’t a Beaumont. If only they’d been two nameless nobodies who could fall in love and live happily ever after in complete obscurity.

But no. It wasn’t to be. He hated her right now because she’d kept quiet.

They pulled into the apartment complex parking lot. “You live here?” Byron asked. She could hear the confusion in his voice.

“Yes. This was all we could afford.”

“And your parents? Your father?”

She got out of the car. “Please don’t mention my father around May. She’s...still nervous about him.”

“Why?”

“Just...don’t.” Because she didn’t want to go into why her parents were terrible people right after she’d finally told Byron about the baby. She grabbed her bag and locked the car. “This way.”

Byron followed her up the two flights of stairs to the third floor of the apartment complex. “Here we are,” she told him, unlocking the door.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re home,” May said from the couch, where Percy was crying. “I really think he’s got another ear infection and—oh!” She recoiled in horror at the sight of Byron.

“It’s all right,” Leona told her little sister. “I told him.”

May stood, cradling Percy in her arms. “He didn’t come to take Percy, did he?”

“No,” Byron said a little too loudly. “I just came to meet my son.”

May’s gaze darted between Leona and Byron like a rabbit trapped between a fox and a rock. And Byron was definitely the fox. “It’s okay?”

Byron stepped up next to her. “Hello, May. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Byron Beaumont.”

Percy looked at Leona and held out his chubby little arms. May couldn’t seem to do anything except stare in openmouthed horror at Byron.

“Let me have him,” Leona finally said. She laid her bag on the kitchen table and took Percy from her sister and whispered, “It’s going to be okay.”

May attempted a smile and failed. “I’ll just go. To my room.” She all but sprinted down the hall. Seconds later, her door clicked shut.

“Hey, baby,” Leona said, hugging Percy tight. “Aunt May says you have another ear infection. Do your ears hurt?”

Percy made a high-pitched whine in the back of his throat.

“I know,” she agreed. “No fun at all.” She looked over at Byron, who was gaping at the two of them. “I’m going to go find his ear drops. Do you want to hold him while I look?”

If possible, Byron looked terrified at this suggestion. “He has red hair.”

Leona smiled down at her son. He had his fingers jammed into his mouth and he was getting drool all over her work blouse. “Yes, it’s coming in redder. He takes after you.”

Byron took a step back. “He takes after me,” he repeated in a stunned whisper. “How old?”

“Sit down. I need to get his drops. Then we’ll talk.”

Almost robotically, Byron walked over to the couch and sat heavily.

“Percy, baby, this is your father,” she whispered to her son as she sat him on Byron’s lap. “Just hold him for a second, okay?”

“Um...” came the uncertain reply.

Leona moved quickly. She hurried to the bedroom and stripped out of her suit. She grabbed a clean pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved tee and then rushed to Percy’s room. “May?” she called out. The walls were thin enough that her sister should have no trouble hearing her. “Where are the drops?”

“I couldn’t find them,” May replied through the wall. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

“He’s Percy’s father,” Leona replied quietly. “He has a right to know.”

There was a pause. “If Father finds out he’s back...”

Yeah, that was a problem. Leon Harper would not take kindly to Byron’s return any more than he’d taken kindly to Leona leaving with May. They’d reached an uneasy truce in the family since Percy had been born, but Leona didn’t want anything to set off her father. She didn’t even want to think about how low he might sink to get even with the Beaumonts.

She did a hurried check of the medicine cabinet and then checked her bedside table—ah. There they were—on the floor. They must have gotten knocked off and rolled under the bed. Leona fished the bottle out and held it up to the light. The little bottle was only one-fourth full, but that would have to do for now.

When she got back to the living room, Percy was leaning back against Byron’s chest, starting up at him with curious eyes. “Here,” she said, sitting down next to them. “I need to put the drops in.”

She tilted Percy onto her lap. “Mommy’s going to count to ten, ready? One...” She put the drops in and counted very slowly.

Byron rested his hand on Percy’s feet, and then picked up one foot and held it against his palm. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” he asked in a shaky voice.

“...Ten,” she said in a happy voice. “That’s such a good boy! Let’s roll over.” She lifted Percy so that he faced her. “Yes,” she told Byron, “it all happened.” Then she began to count brightly again.

All of it—finding out Byron was exactly like all the other Beaumonts, realizing her father was right, keeping Percy far away from any Beaumont, long nights worrying how she was going to make it all work—it’d all happened.

Without Byron.

When she got to ten again, she sat Percy up. He was half on her lap, half on Byron’s lap, safely stuck in the space between them. He looked up at Byron and smiled a drooly smile.

Byron managed a weak grin and then stroked Percy’s hair. “How old?”

“Almost six months. I was three months pregnant when...” She couldn’t bring herself to say, “when you left.” At least, not out loud.

“I don’t— You didn’t—” He took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, I could have helped out. I could know him.”

She sighed. She’d long since put the events of that night behind her—or so she’d thought. But the pain felt as fresh as it ever had.

“He’s a good baby,” she said, desperate to avoid the hurt of remembering. “He’s teething and that leads to a lot of ear infections, but that’s about the only problem. He’s happy and he eats well. And we...we do all right. He’s got his own room here.” Which was why they were so far out on the edge of Denver. The rents were cheaper, so they could afford a three-bedroom apartment. “I work for Lutefisk Design and May is finishing up college. She watches him when she doesn’t have classes, but when she does, we have him in a day care. He likes it there,” she added.

Percy squirmed against them. “It’s his bedtime,” Leona explained when Byron tensed. “You could help me get him ready for bed. If you want.”

“Yeah,” Byron said. “Sure.”

She picked Percy up and carried him into the small bedroom. They’d found most of the furniture at resale shops. They had a crib, a glider and an old dresser that doubled as a changing table.

Leona laid Percy out on the changing table. With Byron watching, she changed the baby’s diaper and got him into a clean set of footie jammies. Then she lifted him up. “Sit,” she told Byron. To his credit, he sat in the glider and held out his hands for the baby. He didn’t look less shell-shocked, but she appreciated the effort.

Leona leaned over the small basket that held the books. “How about...” Percy reached his hands out for the worn copy of Pat the Bunny. “All right,” she agreed. “Can you read to him while I wash my hands?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

She hurried to the bathroom, which was on the other side of May’s room. In the distance, she heard Byron’s deep voice read the simple story.

May’s door opened and she popped her head out. “He’s not staying, is he?”

“May,” Leona said in a quiet whisper. “No, I don’t think he’s staying.”

May shot her a disbelieving look. “You don’t think? Leona, you know what he’s like. He’s a Beaumont. What if he wants to take Percy with him?”

Leona washed her hands in the bathroom. That was the question, wasn’t it? Byron had the weight of the Beaumont name and family fortune behind him. And what did Leona have? She had May and Percy. She knew what lawyers could do to a woman. Her own father had regaled the family with tales of how he’d left his first wife penniless after she’d been seduced by Byron’s father.

“I don’t think he’ll do that,” she told May, who hovered in the doorway as if she expected to have to bolt at any second. Once, Leona would have said yes, Byron would take the boy and she’d never see her baby again.

But now? At dinner tonight he’d been the Byron she’d once thought she’d known. Caring, attentive, thoughtful. Heck, he’d even apologized for Frances’s behavior. Those were not the actions of a man out to destroy her.

Of course, that had been before he’d seen the car seat. She had absolutely no idea what he was thinking now.

“I’m sorry,” May said. “I’m just worried.”

“I know.” Leona dried her hands and gripped May by the shoulders. “I won’t let him take Percy. I promise.”

May’s eyes watered. “I don’t want him to hurt you again.”

Leona pulled May into a tight hug. “I won’t let him,” she promised.

“Leona?” Byron called out. “We’re done. Now what?”

At the sound of Byron’s voice, May hurried back to her bedroom and shut the door.

Leona paused to take a deep breath. She couldn’t let Byron break her heart again. She couldn’t lose her son. And if they could keep her father out of it, that’d be great, too.

Sure. No problem.

Byron was rocking Percy, whose eyes were half closed. “Hi,” he said when she entered the room.

Despite it all, she smiled at him. To see him holding Percy—she had dreamed of this moment.

This was what she’d wanted before that horrible night when it’d all fallen apart. For the months they’d been seeing each other, she’d thought about Byron being a father—being a husband. Helping with the babies, because of course they’d have children together. She and Byron were different than their families. Better. Electric. They were going to love each other for the rest of their lives.

Then he’d left before she’d gotten the chance to tell him she was pregnant and Leona had put those old dreams away.

She couldn’t help it. Part of her still wanted those dreams, even knowing how much of a Beaumont he was.

But that vision of them growing old together was just that—a vision.

It could never happen.