Unexpected Arrivals(71)
Here she sat with a child she wasn’t even related to, playing the doting family friend, while she couldn’t be bothered to stay home to help me acclimate to a new town and school when I was forced to leave New York. I couldn’t decide whether to resent her more for it or be grateful she’d been here for Legend when he needed someone. Selfishly, I wanted to focus on the first, even if I knew it should be the last. It just didn’t make any sense to me. The woman I’d just spent the last four hours with wasn’t the one whose house I’d shared as a teenager or the one my father had painted a picture of. I liked Dottie, I loathed Gwendolyn, but I had a hard time differentiating between the two.
There was never a point during the afternoon or evening that provided an opening for me to pull my grandmother aside to find out what was going on, and we ended up leaving without Legend or an explanation.
Once we were back in the car, James put his hands on the steering wheel, and before he backed out of the parking space, he said, “That went really well. Don’t you think?” He started to drive waiting for me to respond.
I was at a crossroad. Either I confirmed for him how well things went with Legend, or I brought up how unnerved I was by Gwendolyn’s involvement. One would draw us closer while neglecting the other, and one would push us apart while accomplishing nothing.
“Yeah, it did. He’s a great kid. I’ve never seen such an infectious smile. It was hard not to scoop him up in a hug and refuse to let go. Are you excited to spend some time alone with him tomorrow?”
Dottie thought it would be best to make a slower introduction and have Legend go home with her tonight and then us spend more time with him the following day. I agreed. Ripping him away from the only place he’d ever lived wasn’t a good idea, although I hated thinking of him being so little in that enormous house. I’d felt lost there as a teenager, so I could only imagine how tough it would be for a small child.
“You ready to face the firing squad?” He acted as if seeing his parents would be worse than what I’d just endured. He hadn’t had much of a relationship with them until the last few years, but they’d never been unkind to me, just indifferent.
“It won’t be that bad. What did they say when you called them yesterday about us coming?”
“They were really excited we wanted to stay with them.” The way his tone lingered told me that wasn’t all. “But I didn’t think this was news I should give them by phone.”
“You haven’t told them?” I screeched and jerked my head in his direction. “Are you insane? They’re going to murder you in your sleep. I’m tired. I can’t sleep with one eye open. We need to get a hotel.”
He laughed like any of this was funny. “We’d have to leave the island. You know there’s no hotel anywhere nearby. Plus, it’s possible they might be excited.”
His optimism wasn’t humorous. His parents would not be the slightest bit amused by finding out they had a grandchild born out of wedlock five years after the fact. This was the stuff scandals were made of, and their appearance was of utmost importance in their circles. The Carpenters and the Chases ran in similar crowds—none of which approved of marrying outside of the pack, much less fathering children with people not of the same social standing.
I sat back hard against the seat and crossed my arms over my chest in protest. “Fine, it’s your funeral.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic. I’m in my thirties; what are they going to do?”
“Disown you? Publicly humiliate you? Stone you? Burn you at the stake? Do you have a preference? If so, I’ll try to get them to lean in that direction—possibly tar and feather? My powers of persuasion can be hard to resist.”
He stopped and put the car into park. His hand slid up my thigh and rested between my legs, and then his lips were on mine. James could distract me from just about anything with his touch, but a make-out session at a stoplight wasn’t going to get him anywhere with his parents. Or the car honking behind us. I fought him off with a laugh as the guy behind us came around the car, shaking his fist in irritation.
“Just drive. Might as well get this over with.”
Geneva Key was a hop, skip, and a jump from one side of the island to the other, but we were only a hop away from the Carpenters’ house. When we pulled up, the lights were on out front, and it was the same house I remembered visiting in high school. Not even the landscape seemed to have changed. But where there was always a butler or a maid who’d answered the door then, his mother welcomed us before we knocked.
Instantly, her arms were around her son, and she pecked him on the cheek. As quickly as she’d latched onto him, she let him go to embrace me. My arms were stuck at my sides, yet I did my best to return the greeting with an awkward pat on her back and a contorted grin she couldn’t see. After she finally released me and blood returned to my limbs, I looked up to find Brock Carpenter standing behind her. His stern features had softened over the years, and the intimidating expression that had always lingered in his eyes had been replaced by warmth.
“Hey, son. It’s good to see you and your beautiful bride.” His baritone timbre made me blush.
Thankfully, he wasn’t an affectionate man—at least, not with James or me. A man in a suit appeared flanking Brock’s side before silently moving past us to grab our luggage.