Chapter Twenty-Three
Magnolia
"You okay, Babe?" Vance asked, shooting me a look when we pulled up to a stop sign.
"Just tired," I lied. It wasn't completely a lie. I was tired. Rosie wanted her formula every few hours, never mind if it was the middle of the night.
We switched off night-time feedings, but it was still exhausting. I liked my sleep, preferably a solid eight hours of it. At this point, eight hours of uninterrupted sleep was a distant memory.
Lack of sleep wasn't why I was so quiet. It was the phone calls.
First, Brayden's. Six of them, each with increasingly desperate messages. He needed to talk to me, wanted to meet, didn't understand why I was ignoring him.
I didn't pick up. I should have erased the messages without listening.
Brayden’s calls weren't as bad as the one from Sloane. That one, I did answer. I had to. We had a show in two days, and I still had a job to do.
I knew she was just causing trouble, and I knew she was a bitch. That didn't make it any easier to hear her shrill voice telling me about her 'intimate tête-à-tête' with Vance.
I didn't believe for a second that he'd touched her, despite her insinuations. Vance didn't find Sloane attractive, a point he'd made clear more than once.
That didn’t mean I liked hearing her say, "I see why you fell for him, darling. His mouth is delicious."
It was, but there was no way Vance had kissed Sloane. No way. He wasn't a cheater.
But the other part? When she'd said, " I don't know how to tell you this, but I thought you should know.
We were talking about things, and he said straight out, 'I'm not looking to be husband material.
I'm still trying to figure out how to be a father.
I've got enough going on without making it complicated.
' His words exactly, Maggie. I just didn't want you to get your hopes up.
You two work so well together, and I know how mixing sex with business can lead to disappointments. "
There had been catty triumph in her voice, which was—oddly enough—the reason I believed she'd quoted him accurately. When she talked about his mouth, her voice had been high-pitched, with a barely discernible thread of anxiety. But when she quoted him, she sounded nothing but smug.
I could hear those words coming out of his mouth. Easily imagine him saying them. We'd never talked about what our relationship meant or where it was going.
If it was going anywhere. Rosie had shown up, they’d moved in with me, and then Vance and I had fallen into bed together. It was all so very convenient for him, wasn't it? I was just along for the ride.
Vance hadn't made any promises. He had never given me the impression he was thinking long-term. The best I'd gotten from him was that this wasn't 'casual'. But that didn't tell me anything at all.
Dwelling on it wasn't going to do me any good. We were in the car on the way to Winters House, would be there any second, and if I looked mopey and upset, Charlie would pick up on it. The others might too, but Charlie knew me best. I didn't want to talk about it with her.
Charlie loved me, but Vance was her cousin, close as a brother, and I knew she’d just tell me to hang in there. Maybe she was right, but I'd spent years 'hanging in there' for Brayden only to get dumped. Waiting for Vance to figure out what he wanted was feeling less appealing by the day.
Aiden met us at the door, looking as casual as I'd ever seen him in an untucked button down and jeans.
Before I could think to stop him, he took the baby carrier from me, deftly unsnapped Rosie, and gave her a smacking kiss on the nose. She pressed her palms to his cheeks and drooled in delight.
Aiden noticed us staring and said, "What?"
"I never thought of you as being good with babies," I said. Most of my interactions with Aiden were business related. He was a shark in a suit, not a guy you pictured tickling babies under their chins. With comfortable ease, he held Rosie against his chest.
"I'm the oldest of the eight of us. I was nine when Charlotte was born. Trust me, I've changed my share of diapers."
He didn't wait for a response, but turned and led us into the house. I'd been to Winters House a few times before, but never when it was so full of family. The house was formal, designed in a grand Mediterranean style, but the sound of voices softened it, made it welcoming.
It looked like the entire Winters clan was gathered in the parlor. The room, with its high ceilings, Persian rugs, and polished woodwork, demanded cocktail dresses and suits. Everyone wore jeans except for Tate's girlfriend, Emily, and Jacob's girlfriend, Abigail.
Emily had a sense of style I envied. Even casually dressed, her look had flair. I loved her cropped lime pants and fitted cream lace top. I needed to get her to take me shopping. I tended toward the boring at work, and lately, my wardrobe was whatever I threw on that I didn't mind Rosie destroying.
But maybe when she stopped throwing up on me, I could talk Emily into giving me some pointers. I was never going to be as polished as Charlie or Abigail, but I could use a little more style.
Abigail headed for us, her heels clicking on the wood floors. She was never anything less than elegant. I wasn't sure she even owned jeans. Tonight, she wore a pale pink sheath dress with black spike heel sandals. She looked gorgeous, but the sight of her shoes made my toes hurt.
She made a beeline straight for Aiden and plucked Rosie from his arms. Turning to us, she said accusingly, "You've been keeping all the baby goodness to yourselves. Unfair. You do know I'm available to babysit."
Vance grinned at her and put his arm around me. "No, we didn't. But now that we do, I can promise we'll take you up on it."
"See that you do. She's adorable." Abigail dropped her head and breathed in the scent of Rosie. I had to admit, except when she needed a diaper change, Rosie always had that deliciously sweet baby smell. Like lavender and baby powder and love.
"She looks so much like you," Abigail said.
"If you mean devastatingly attractive, then yes, she does," Vance said, winking at Abigail, who looked at me and shook her head.
"Vance Winters is a rogue," she stated. "But I'm sure you already know that."
I laughed. "I'm not going to argue," I said. "But he has his good points."
"I'm standing right here," he protested.
Abigail looked up at him, a gleam in her eye, and said, "You are standing right here.
And while I've got your attention, and your daughter, I wanted to know—are you aware that the Winters Foundation is doing a benefit next month for ACFB? It's a silent auction—"
Vance cut her off with a grin. "I'm always good to support the food bank," he said. "You can have whatever you want."
"Whatever I want? What if I want a Vance Winters piece for the auction? Do you have anything you're willing to donate?"
Vance shook his head. "Anything that's not sold would work. Why don't you hook up with Magnolia, and she can take you through what's available? Pick what you want before the show this weekend, and we'll mark it as sold."
"I'll have to talk to Sloane about it," I said, "but we can put together a plaque stating that it's available at the silent auction and maybe drum up some interest for the benefit at Vance's show."
Abigail beamed. "Wonderful, wonderful. Thank you so much." In a lower voice, she said, "This is my first big event for the Foundation, and I want it to be perfect. I got thrown into this last-minute and I'm a little nervous."
"I'm sure it'll be a success," I reassured her. "If you have time tomorrow, we can get together and I can take you through what we have. We can talk to Sloane—"
"Oh, yeah, by the way—I fired Sloane," Vance said, looking a little uncomfortable.
"What?" I asked, shocked. "When?"
"This afternoon," he said. "I don't want to get into it. We can talk later, but we're not working with her any longer. After the show is over, she'll have another thirty days before the contract officially terminates, but she might give you some trouble tomorrow. I'll take Abigail to the gallery."
"Why don't you want me to go?" I asked, suspicious.
What had happened with Sloane? She hadn't said anything about Vance firing her when she'd called earlier. Vance shook his head.
"We can talk about it later. Just stay away from her."
I shrugged. This wasn't the time to grill him about Sloane.
"Call me tomorrow morning," Vance said to Abigail, "and we'll set something up. Now, are you going to give me my kid back?"
"Not yet," Jacob said, interrupting. He slid an arm around Abigail's waist, pulling her against his chest, looking down to study her face as she cuddled Rosalie.
If Aiden was a shark in a suit, Jacob had a reputation for being even worse. He was cold, hard, and uncompromising.
He'd always been kind to me, but I didn't doubt the rumors. Seeing the look on his face as he watched Abigail with Rosie, I also believed the rumors that Jacob Winters was deeply in love.
There was something in his eyes, more than affection, more than warmth. He looked at her like she was everything to him. Like she was his world.
Abigail tilted her face toward Jacob, but didn't take her eyes off Rosie's. "Do you want to hold her?" she asked. Jacob took Rosie with the same ease Aiden had displayed.
At Abigail's look of surprise, he said, "Aiden wasn't the only one with a herd of younger cousins and siblings. By the time Charlie was five, I swore I never wanted to see another baby again. But this one looks okay."
He nuzzled the top of his Rosie’s head, the tender gesture surprising.
We were interrupted by the sound of metal striking glass and turned to see Holden grinning, his arm around Emily, the fork he'd struck against his glass dangling in his hand.
Wait, what? Emily was Tate's girlfriend. Why did Holden have his arm around her like that? Jo, Holden's girl, was watching with a half-smile.