Chapter Twenty-Two
The next few weekends leading up to Christmas play out the same way. Liam and I fly Pippa back from Colorado on Friday, then a quick day trip to Lake Placid Saturday, and back to Colorado Monday morning.
Rinse and repeat.
But come Saturday night after her coaching, when I open my front door, I’m met with those lust-filled eyes and her kissable lips, I’m too greedy to question it, too eager to have my mouth on her body, nipping and sucking and marking her up to take a second to discuss things.
We don’t talk about this new routine. We don’t voice how impetuous this whole situation is. We don’t mention the elephant in the room.
One night only has come and gone, our agreement mutually and silently negated.
She also hasn’t mentioned my frenzied attack on her the night I received that voicemail from my dad. And I haven’t asked why she showed up on my doorstep in the first place. The reason is moot now, anyway. It doesn’t matter anymore. My resolve has been broken. I can no longer resist her. Instead, I’m restless, pacing my floor every Saturday night, telling myself I’m not eyeing the clock while waiting for her to show up.
During our flights, nothing has changed, though. We stay professional as best we can with my co-pilot, but she’s still Pippa. She’s still the girl who likes to push my buttons, flirt to the point of obscenity, tease me until all I want to do is push Liam out of the plane doors. We carry on as normal, acting the same because even though we know what we’re doing is wrong; if either of us were to bring it up, it could end.
Or maybe that’s just me. Maybe I’m the only one who’s gone and done the stupid thing of wanting more than I can have.
“Why are you looking so serious?” Teddy jars me from my thoughts as he enters the living room and joins me at the large window overlooking the front yard. He’s wearing a god-awful Christmas sweater Sadie bought him, the flashing lights on the front dancing in the reflection in the glass as he glares toward his in-law's house before turning his back. The whole family is wearing grotesque sweaters, each one a different color and design, but Teddy’s is by far the worst.
“Nothing,” I reply, itching my arm, the wool uncomfortable against my skin. Teddy gives me a skeptical look but doesn’t push further. It’s not that I don’t want to tell him that I’ve been sleeping with my boss’s daughter… Okay, it’s partly that I don’t want to tell him because Teddy has a big mouth and won’t keep it to himself, but it’s also that I don’t know how to answer the inevitable follow-up questions.
“You excited to become a dad?” I ask, cringing at how stilted I sound. If Teddy notices, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his entire face lights up like the damn twinkling ones on his sweater.
“Cannot fucking wait,” he beams. “Can you imagine? Another little Teddy or Ana?” He mimics holding a baby in his arms. “I’m going to buy them a mechanics tool set so they can be like me.”
“I might buy them a pilot's hat so they can be like their favorite uncle.”
“Dude, don’t even joke about that. A baby pilot? Too fucking cute,” he says excitedly. “I will say, though, I’ll miss Ana being pregnant…” Looking toward the living room door, he checks to see if his wife is there, then he leans toward me, lowering his voice. “Pregnant Ana is horny as hell, and I cannot get enough of it.”
I snort, shaking my head, incredulously. “You are such a dog.”
“Like you’re not,” he says, acting offended. “My big brother is the biggest playboy I’ve ever met.” He holds his hands wide like he’s reading off a sign. “Romancer of the young and beautiful, leaving a string of broken hearts in his jet stream.”
His use of young has me wincing, and I lift my beer from the side table and bring it to my lips. “I haven’t been that guy for a while now.”
“You haven’t been what guy for a while now?” Bowie asks, joining in our conversation.
“Apparently, he’s not being a massive slut anymore.”
“I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m a lady's man in the first place,” I say as Teddy scoffs aloud.
“Lady’s man is putting it nicely.”
I flip him the bird. “Just because I have— had— a healthy sex life doesn’t make me a playboy. I’ve never been disrespectful to women. I’ve never used them or led them on. They’ve always known the score.”
I sound testy even to my own ears.
Bowie raises his eyebrows questioningly, but keeps his opinions to himself. Christmas miracle, I guess. Or at least that’s what I think until he says, “How’s the hiatus going?”
I swear to god, it’s like he knows I’ve crossed the line with Pippa and is fishing for the truth.
“Fine,” I say, earning a silent exchange from my brothers. I step away from them, thumbing toward the kitchen. “Does Sadie need any help?”
Bowie shakes his head. “Nah, it’s about ready. She actually sent me to get you two.”
We walk through to the kitchen, and Teddy rushes forward, pulling a chair out and helping his pregnant wife as she sits down. He kisses the top of her head, and she looks up at him. Love and devotion pass between them as she reaches up, her fingers trailing over his forearm.
“Can I get you anything, baby?” he asks softly, leaning down to run his hand across her swollen belly.
My stomach twists as I watch them, a feeling I’ve never had before making itself known. It’s not that I want a child—far from it—but the affection, the openness of Ana and my brother’s love, the pair of them sitting here now with my family… I…want that.
Smiling, she shakes her head. “I’m okay, come sit down. Your mom’s been working her butt off making dinner.”
Teddy sits beside his wife as Bowie and my dad carry dishes full of potatoes, roasted vegetables, and a giant turkey to the table. It’s the usual chatter as we tuck into the spread Sadie made, my tastebuds having a party with the flavors. The whole time, she sits with a warm smile on her lips, contently watching as we enjoy each other's company.
She lifts her wineglass, our voices lowering as she says, “To family. I am so unbelievably blessed for mine.”
We clink bottles and tumblers and flutes together as Dad threads his hand into her hair and pulls her in for a kiss that’s far too PDA for the dinner table.
“ Dad, ” Teddy groans dramatically, and Ana giggles, her hand resting on the top of her bump.
“Oh, shut up, you prude,” Dad chides, pecking Sadie’s lips once more before turning to address my brother.
“I think we all know I’m not a prude,” Teddy says, shoveling a potato into his mouth. Then he points his empty fork at Dad before swinging it purposely at his wife. “Case and point. You don’t know the dirty things we used to get up to in your garage when you weren’t home.”
Ana stretches forward, patting his arm mockingly as she whispers loud enough for us all to hear. “Sweetie, that wasn’t me.”
Rearing back, his mouth drops open. “Wha— Yes, it was.” She shakes her head, biting her bottom lip to stop from laughing. Teddy glances around the table, clearly looking for help, before he slumps down in his chair, covering his face as he groans, “Fuck.”
Hoots and hollers echo in the room, Teddy’s face getting redder underneath his hands. Ana leans toward him and kisses his shoulder before resting her head there.
“It’s okay. It all worked out in the end,” she says, looking at her belly.
Teddy shifts his chair closer, wrapping his arm around her, murmuring, “I’m sorry, baby.” Running his nose up the side of her face, he kisses her temple. “I love you.”
“I know you do.” She smiles, touching his cheek, and my stomach tightens again.
How would Pippa feel if my past discretions were brought up?
My hands freeze, my cutlery halfway to my lips, the thought catching me off guard. We’re not a couple. We’re two people caught up in an infatuation, a thrill at crossing a line we both know we shouldn’t. And given who we are, that’s all it can be.
And if you lie harder, do you think you’ll start to believe that?
I couldn’t be more delusional if I tried.
Dessert was just as delicious as the rest of Christmas dinner, and now I am beyond stuffed. Sitting on the sofa, I nurse a second bottle of beer that’s still practically untouched, as I flick through the channels playing the same Christmas movies on repeat. My phone vibrates in my jeans pocket, and I tug it out, swallowing a smile when I see who it’s from.
The Boss
I have something for you to unwrap when you get home
I roll my eyes at the first message in a new thread, instantly knowing who it is, remembering the night we returned from France.
“I’m surprised you didn’t steal my number from your dad’s files the night you stole my address.” I yawned, well and truly worn out. She scrunched her nose, her lip curling up in a fake growl. I laughed, clasping my hands behind my head, and watched her fingers rapidly add her contact details. “Good to know where the line is.”
With a sigh, she locked the phone and rolled it around in her hand. “It’s not under Pippa. I wish we didn’t have to, but…”
“I know,” I told her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She’d looked at me, tossing my phone to the side before straddling my waist, peppering kisses across my jaw.
Wyatt
Really? The boss?
The Boss
I enjoyed it.
I click into her contacts and press edit, my thumbs quickly typing out a new name before taking a screenshot and sending it to her.
Wyatt
*Sends image*
Brat
Maybe you don’t deserve the gift I got you.
Wyatt
Then the new name is fitting.
Teddy pokes his head through the doorway, and I look up from my phone. He points at me, his gaze jumping from my face to my cell. “Now I know that smirk isn’t nothing . You’re texting some chick.” I lock the screen even though from where he’s standing, he won’t see a thing. He sticks out his lower lip. “Boo, keep your secrets. I’m going to bed. See you in the morning?”
“Yeah, man. Sleep well.”
Bowie’s next to say goodnight, and before I know it, I’m alone watching A Christmas Story for the millionth time. I’m not sure where Sadie and my dad are, but I know they’re not in bed when I hear the back door close.
“Miles, please, not now.”
I try to focus on the film playing on low rather than the hushed voices of my stepmom and dad in the hallway outside.
“He’s not returning my calls, and this is the first time I’ve seen him in weeks,” Dad replies, sounding angry, yet I know it’s not directed at his wife. “He’ll just text me random superficial crap about the game or respond with some stupid innuendo in the group chat. He’s avoiding, Sadie.”
And now I feel like shit.
“I know that, but it can wait. It’s Christmas,” Sadie snaps. “I will not have you ruining my boy's day because that woman…” Her voice wobbles as she cuts herself off. “When is she going to stop messing with his head?”
And now I feel worse.
Dad sighs, and I can picture him pulling her into his chest. “I know, baby. But I need to talk to him.”
I close my eyes, listening to his footsteps as he walks into the living room. I don’t move, don’t look at him as I wait for him to speak first.
“Can I have a word?”
His tone is gentle, like one you’d use on a kitten, terrified that if you’re too rough, it will get spooked and run away.
“Dad…”
“I’m sorry, Wyatt, I am. I really don’t want to do this now, but if you’d called me back weeks ago…”
“And said what?” I ask, my gaze snapping to his. Dad runs his hands through his hair, blowing a long breath from between his lips.
“Nothing. All I need is for you to listen. Hear what I need to say before you make up your mind.”
I grit my teeth, my pulse picking up speed. “Fine.”
“Your mom—” I glare at him, and he clears his throat. “ Fiona’s got metastatic glioblastoma, Son…” I see his lips move, but it takes a while for the sound to register as he says, “Brain cancer.”
There’s a high-pitched ringing in my ears at the truth of her diagnosis. The pit in my stomach that formed when I listened to the voicemail is back, growing larger with each distorted word, his sentences sounding like he’s underwater.
“The doctors have tried everything, but unfortunately, the tumor has stopped responding to treatment.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “It’s progressed faster than they thought, and she’s now receiving palliative care.”
“How long does she have?” I ask, my voice sounding cold. Detached.
Dad winces, scratching his chin. “That’s the thing, Wyatt. Paul, her partner, called yesterday and said she’s started having seizures and has been in and out of consciousness… Fiona was wondering— hoping— that you’d go and see her before… before…”
“Before she dies.” My fingers coil around my beer bottle, my knuckles white as I stare unblinkingly at it.
“Before it’s too late. Before you miss your chance to speak to her… To get closure.”
“Closure,” I breathe, the word bitter on my tongue. I swallow, but the movement’s hard as my throat feels like it’s closing.
“I can go with you or even drive to the hospital…” Setting the bottle still in my hand on the floor, I push to my feet, silently walking past my dad. He whirls around, confusion and concern crossing his face as he calls after me. “Wyatt? Where are you going?”
“Home,” I state, distant, vacant, numb.
Dad bolts forward, his hand wrapping around my arm. “No, Wyatt, you’ve been drinking.”
Shaking my head, I walk on autopilot into the kitchen to find my car keys. “I’ve had one. Hours ago.”
Sadie jolts up from her seat at the empty dining table, worry shining in her brown eyes. “Wyatt? Baby? Speak to me.”
“I need to go,” I tell her, just as I locate my keys next to the fruit bowl and pocket them.
She gasps, glaring at my dad as he watches in the doorjamb, arms crossed, looking imposing, as if his hulking frame will stop me from leaving his house.
“I told you this was a bad idea. I told you to wait.” She’s a blur as I step past my dad, her small hands lacing into mine, tugging me back. “No, Wyatt. You’re not leaving. Please sleep on it. Go when you’re not so upset.”
“I’m not upset,” I say, my voice void of emotion. I turn before I reach the door, meeting her tear-filled eyes as I bend down and kiss her cheek. “Thank you for dinner.”
She whimpers, grabbing my face with both hands. “Please.”
I dislodge her hold, and a tear streaks down her face. Dad comes behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her against his chest. She elbows him in his stomach as I open the door and step into the freezing December air.
I don’t stop as I continue toward my car, hearing Sadie snarl, “I will never forgive you if something happens to our boy.”
“I’ll follow behind him,” Dad says as I slide into my seat and catch the jingle of his keys.
“But…”
“I haven’t had a drop of alcohol, baby. Could you imagine if Ana went into early labor and no one could drive her to the hospital?”
“Oh, thank god,” Sadie sighs. “I’m coming, too.”
I slam my car door as she grabs her coat before they make their way to his truck. Their headlights are in my rearview mirror the entire thirty-minute drive to my house. My mind remains a blur, silent, shutting down.