Season of Gifts (Neighborly Affection #8)

31. Alice

Chapter thirty-one

Alice

W ade hauled himself out of the driver’s seat and leaned on the rental car’s roof as Alice got out. “Doesn’t happen every time, but with clients, you have to expect it. Part of building the one-on-one connection so they bring you the next project and the next.”

They slammed their doors simultaneously, a sharp crack in the chilly evening air. Alice snugged her scarf ends into her coat. Giving her hands something to do stopped her from checking her phone obsessively. She’d barely had time to tap out a response to Henry’s voice message on her way to the lobby to meet Wade. Henry was sensibly going to make it an early night anyway. Fuck, today must’ve been scary as hell for him. An ambulance overnight, more time at the hospital—he was dealing with so much by himself and somehow keeping it together. Meanwhile, her brain was throwing a snit fit because of one stupid dinner. With, okay, the ex she’d rather not see again and who deserved one hundred percent of the blame for her being away from her husbands in the middle of a crisis.

A rap on the car roof jolted her out of navel-gazing. Wade tipped his head toward the house. “You ready?”

She shook out the wiggles like a kindergartner and slapped on a friendly corporate smile. “Ready to project confidence that we’ll have a solution for them soon.”

Normally she’d love an analysis task with a puzzle to solve. Not today.

With a snort, Wade started walking up the driveway. “If you want to move up in project management, client development is the big lift. You know how to handle the tech stuff”—he waved down the protest on her lips—“yeah, yeah, you didn’t presto-chango the machine today, but you will. I remember what it was like. Point is, when you have all the numbers in your head, it’s the people that give you fits.”

He wasn’t wrong. Nine hours of beating her head against an intractable problem—and it was, because she hadn’t found a single misstep in the guts of the build, yet the puncher missed by micrometers, and that was enough to throw off the entire rest of the process, which meant the line didn’t churn out the pieces and nothing else at the site could happen until it did—but nine hours of that was nothing compared to the torture behind the door in front of her.

“So a bunch of travel”—she ticked the list off on her fingers—“and dinner at clients’ homes, missing time with your family, no more marathon design sessions…” She shrugged as he rang the doorbell. “Why move up at all?”

“The money. Kids are expensive.” He laughed, maybe joking and maybe not. “Most places you get to try a nice restaurant or two—and then you and the client can argue over who gets to expense the meal.”

A restaurant would’ve been exponentially more comfortable than dining at Adam’s house. The place looked cheery enough, with welcoming yellow light shining through the windows. And enormous, a rancher at least twice the size of her parents’ house. But Wade had kept Adam busy with administrative networking or whatever all day in what seemed like a deliberate move to give her space to work. She hadn’t said more than good morning to him since his sniping at the airport.

The door jerked back a few inches, then a few inches more.

“Oops, no no no”—a woman’s voice grew louder—“Caylin, wait for Daddy—Aidan!”

A half-dressed child toddled through the gap, and Wade scooped him up and onto his hip before the kid’s bare feet hit the concrete. “Hey there! Are you Aidan? Are we dinner buddies? This is my friend Alice.” He dipped the kid sideways, making him giggle. “We’re hoping for chicken nuggets. How ’bout you?”

One wide-eyed stare, and the kid’s face disappeared against Wade’s sweater, inside his unzipped jacket.

“I’m so sorry about that.” The woman snatched up a second child, barely bigger than the first, and nudged the door farther open with her hip. “I thought Adam was getting him dressed, but that battle’s clearly been lost. I’m Chelsea. Aidan you’ve met, and Caylin here”—she bounced the little girl, who produced a winning smile—“is our unexpected door opener. Come in, please.”

Relief sluiced down in a wave so powerful Alice knocked her shoe into the doorsill and grabbed Wade’s free arm to say no-thank-you to a faceplant. “Yeesh. Usually I walk fine, I swear.”

This dinner wouldn’t be half the nightmare she feared. Adam was happily married, with a pair of preschoolers who looked like copies of their parents on a printer running out of ink—lighter brown hair, lighter hazel eyes, but stamped with the same features as Mom and Dad. No pissing contest, no rehashing of old times. The crick in her neck finally released as she shrugged out of her coat.

Chelsea, after the obligatory are-you-okays, patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Adam told me you’ve been on the machine floor all day crawling through every inch of the place. I should be offering you ibuprofen instead of appetizers.”

“That and a hot shower are what made me presentable for dinner.” She grand flourished like Jay would have done, copying his playful public face. Her plain black pants and red-and-black checked sweater were meant to be for meetings. Dinners out hadn’t factored into her packing. “At least, I hope they did.”

“They did, they did, you look great. Here, let me trade you”—she thrust the girl at Alice, who quickly rearranged her arms like Wade’s to form a snug seat against her hip—“and I’ll take Aidan so we can find where his shirt and socks have gone.” She plucked the boy from Wade’s grasp and rubbed noses with him. “Did you run off and leave Daddy behind?”

“Chelsea? Did Aidan come through here? It’s almost time—” Adam strode out of a hallway and stopped dead at the line where living room met kitchen. “Correction, it’s exactly time. Wade, Alice, welcome to the chaos.”

Handshakes and hurried married shorthand sent Chelsea and Aidan down the hall while Adam checked on the stove and opened the fridge. “What can I get you? Beer, wine, water?”

“Whatever you’re having will be perfect.” Wade posted up at the kitchen island, planting his shoe on the footrail. He settled his winter jacket around a seatback, then slipped Alice’s coat out of her Caylin-cradle and added it on top. “You have a lovely family.”

“Yeah, thanks. Huh. The matching was unintentional.” Adam winked at Alice as he set a beer in front of her and uncapped the bottle. “But pretty as a postcard.”

Of course it was unintentional; it’s not like he could’ve engineered the kids to come out with their parents’ hair and eyes. “They are adorable.”

“What?” Adam pushed at her shoulder. “No, you, silly.”

Maybe she hadn’t formally rescinded his permission to touch her, but he needed to cut that shit out. Could she retroactively draw up a breakup contract that included don’t put your hands on me, because we aren’t pals ? Probably not while holding his kid. “Me?”

Wade gestured a finger behind her. A long mirror on the wall past the dining table showed her, in her red and black, holding Caylin in her red and black—a Christmassy red dress over black leggings and shiny black shoes with gold buckles.

“Oh. Unintentional, yes.” She wasn’t about to touch pretty with a thirty-foot pole. And holy shit were kids heavy. Jay had an advantage with all his athleticism and little nieces and nephews; she had no idea what to do with the forty-pound creature winding fingers in her hair. She shifted her feet so her hip jutted out. No wonder people with kids stood crooked. “That time of the year, I guess.”

“Wade, you’ll appreciate this.” Adam pointed to a large cabinet in the living room, like a dining hutch for company dishes but displaying other stuff at the top. Sports memorabilia, maybe. “Go have a look.”

Wade good-naturedly ambled over to the showcase, beer clasped by the neck in two fingers.

Adam swept up beside Alice. “And I’ll take this one.” He set Caylin down on her feet and let her run loose. “I do make beautiful babies,” he whispered. “Just think, one broken condom, and this could’ve been your life.”

No sip of beer yet meant nothing to retch into the sink. Silver lining.

He had a wife clearly too good for him, two sweet kids, a giant house in the suburbs—and he had to disrespect all of it, and her, to crack some shitty joke? And it had better have been a joke. Guess I dodged a bullet sat on the tip of her tongue, aching to spill out. “You want to repeat that in front of your wife?”

“Relax, Christ. You’re still so sensitive.” Tipping his beer back, Adam took a long swallow. “Now I remember why I ended things.”

“Why you …” She clamped her teeth tight. This argument wasn’t fucking worth it. Adam wasn’t worth it. Tomorrow she would damn sure fix the problem and get the hell out of town. “How about we leave the past in the past?”

“A tour of the house, absolutely.” Adam raised his voice as Chelsea returned with Aidan, who’d gotten a tiny button-down shirt and bow tie above his black pants, plus what looked like dinosaur socks. The kid ran past and hurtled himself onto the couch.

“Compromise. It’s a lifesaver.” Chelsea turned down the heat on the stove and stuck her head into the fridge, coming out with a cheese platter. “I think we may have agreed that Santa’s sleigh is pulled by stegasauruses. Stegasauri?” She added a stack of napkins to the counter. “We’re about twenty minutes from dinner, I’d say. Go, explore the house. Adam put in a home office last year so he could stop having so many late nights at work.”

Adam reached for Alice’s elbow, and she moved a step faster.

“Oh, this way?” Being around him was enough of a headache; if he touched her again, she’d be hard-pressed not to deck him. That hadn’t exactly worked out her way with Jay’s sister. A friendly witness would be a lifesaver. “Wade, you won’t want to miss the tour.”

“No, I definitely don’t.”

Wade stuck by her side through the main floor and the walkout basement, Adam the obliging host with a story to tell in every room, from how they’d had the house built to the workshop he’d insisted on at the back of the garage. “Can’t see from the front, but really it’s a four-bay, not a three. Cost extra to deviate from the builder’s plans, but a real engineer needs a workroom.” He ushered them into the office. “And a design center, of course.”

His setup was nice, if a little overkill. Four monitors. Maybe he still gamed online and just told his wife he was working. She complimented the space anyway, pausing as Wade’s phone rang.

He dug out the device. “My wife. One sec.”

Her fingers itched to check her own phone. Out here, it was her only lifeline to Henry and Jay. To normalcy, even if nothing was normal right now. Maybe nothing would be normal again. Sickness did that to a family. But Henry’s mom had heart trouble, not a back injury. She wouldn’t suffer through useless surgeries and get addicted to pain meds and turn every conversation into a fight.

One sec turned into a raised finger and a gesture toward the door. Wade waited for Alice’s nod as he tipped the phone away from his mouth. “Sick kid. Be right back.”

He stepped out toward the basement rec room, the low-toned conversation fading away.

“Well?” Adam rested his hand on his desk, a massive metal beast with industrial-mesh sides. “Pretty swank, right? This place cost me nearly six hundred. Thousand. But I can afford it.”

His one-upmanship bullshit was fucking exhausting. Had his arrogance been charming in college? Maybe she’d been looking for dominance—competent leadership—even then but misunderstood what it was. Something to ask Henry, whenever they had time for long, lazy talks again. In bed on a Sunday morning after a string of orgasms like firecrackers. Wouldn’t that be sweet.

“It’s a nice house, Adam.” Catching up might be a competition for him, but not for her. Knowing her house had cost upward of six million would just make him more determined to best her on some other axis. “You and Chelsea must be really happy here.”

“You could’ve had this life.” Twice tonight he’d dangled that like it was some great enticement. His smug smirk screamed ick . “Bet you’re sorry now you said no.”

Not in the slightest. Happier, actually, because he’d turned out to be a douche and a half.

“I think we ended up where we’re supposed to be.” Henry would be so damn proud of her. She hadn’t even threatened to punch her ex, and he full-on deserved it. But they still had to work with his company, and losing the client account wouldn’t win her any points, even if Wade backed her. “Congratulations on your success, Adam. And your fantastic wife and beautiful children.”

Maybe if she kept reminding him, he’d knock off the dick measuring.

“I am a success.” Hips on the desk, he crossed his arms over his chest, his chin raised. “Youngest division leader in the company history. And you, what?” He couldn’t look more down his nose at her if he tried. “Avoiding me all day while I’m trying to help you boost your career. You could show some gratitude, you know.”

“You could show some professionalism.” Well now she’d done it. But he only wanted to snipe at her supposed faults. And she wasn’t anyone’s fucking doormat. “If your goal was to see me groveling and kicking myself because I missed out on the awesomeness of you? It’s not going to happen. So maybe I should leave before anything ugly gets said.”

In the rental car to which Wade had the keys. Dammit. She should’ve faked the start of a cold, said she must’ve caught it on the plane, and ordered dinner from the hotel bar. She could’ve called Jay on video, and they could’ve eaten together. Discussed how to support Henry through the new setback.

Adam leaned forward, his intimidating stare about as strong as light beer. “Still the girl who can’t admit when she needs me.”

Anger seared her chest for one blazing moment. And then it flamed out, leaving genuine laughter. He couldn’t score a hit because he couldn’t even see who she was. He’d never known her. They’d fucked, sure. A decade ago. But the real her, the person with hopes and dreams, the woman capable of love—she’d saved that woman for Henry and Jay.

“I feel sorry for you, Adam.” What a fucking wasted life. Years since they’d broken up, and he couldn’t think of anything better to say to her than you should’ve stayed with me . “You’re so obsessed with what you don’t have that you ignore all the wonderful things you do have.”

Jesus did that feel good. He gaped at her, his mouth flopping uselessly, with no smart comeback for the truth she’d delivered. What she wouldn’t give to see—

The truth swung into her face like a semi jackknifed on a snowy highway. That’s what I need to say to Dad.

Adam and his bullshit were a convenient target, but he was nothing to her, and his opinions were even less. Her swirling anger belonged to a bigger problem. Another man who’d grown bitter and smug, who sniped at her just to satisfy his own need to feel better about himself. A man whose words could still hurt her as long as she kept letting them.

“Sorry about that.” Wade stepped back into the room. “Sounds like strep throat. I miss anything?”

Only a decision that had been brewing for a decade. Somehow on this trip, she absolutely needed to go home.