Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
“ I can’t believe I fainted.” I placed two adorable, light-up ceramic pumpkins in my shopping cart the next day.
“Chaz said stress can really take a toll on a person’s body, especially a pregnant woman, and you’re not just any pregnant woman. You’re having twins. Make sure you take it easy.” Zoe tossed a bunch of cobwebs in her basket.
Zoe had a Halloween party she was planning for the Wellingtons. They were friends of my grandmother, and their son was the man Grammy had wanted me to marry. Instead, I’d married her other friend’s son, Bud Grant. He’d been handsome and charming, while Nelson Wellington had been stuffy and boring.
Turns out Grammy knew best.
Stuffy and boring was loyal and still married.
“How cool is this?” Harm snagged a red-headed witch that looked surprisingly life-like to put by her front door. Her eyes were drawn to a man down the aisle headed our way. “Hey, there, Peter Sherman. Haven’t seen you in forever, my dude. How’s it hangin’, bro?” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows.
His eyes widened, and then he quickly turned around and walked the other way.
“See what I mean? I can’t even get Pewee Sherman to talk to me.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “A few months ago, he had been begging my mother to set us up on a date. I don’t get it.” She sniffed her shirt. “Do I smell?”
“You smell great with all the amazing products in your shop. But, um, is that the way you always talk to guys?” Morti wrinkled her nose.
Harm shrugged. “What’s wrong with the way I talk?”
“Nothing when you talk to us, hon,” Zoe pointed out gently, “but, well, you might want to try sounding less like your brothers when you talk to men.”
“And the eye wagging might be a bit too much, doll.” I patted her arm.
“Really?” Harm sighed. “I guess my desperation is starting to show. Thanks for keeping it real, babes. I need all the help I can get in the romance department.”
“You know we’re here for you.” Morticia graced Harmony with a rare smile, then her eyes lit up when she spotted a full skeleton and immediately put it in her cart.
“Great costume,” a man said as he walked by Morti.
“Oh, it’s not a costume.” She pointed at the heap of bones doubled over. “He’s a skeleton.”
“Huh?” the man said, just now noticing the skeleton in her cart, then scratched his head. “I meant your whole getup. The outfit and wig.”
“Well, that’s not a costume either. So, there’s that.” Morti shrugged. She’d left her long black hair down for once and was wearing her usual black attire but this time a dress since she had a funeral to help conduct later.
The man flushed a red the color of beets then grabbed his silent phone and held it to his ear. “What’s that? Of course. I’ll be right there.” He slid his phone back into his coat pocket. “Gotta go meet the wife at the butcher.” He left his half-full cart in the middle of the aisle and made a beeline for the door.
Morti shook her head and looked at Harm. “You think you’ve got problems. Try being me for a day.”
“You’re both gorgeous, intelligent, funny, amazing women. If any man can’t see that, then he’s not worthy of either of you. There’s someone out there for you both. I just know it.” I patted my growing tummy. “Meanwhile, I’m a mess. Tabatha was right. This morning, I couldn’t tie my own shoes. That set me off on a thirty-minute crying tangent. Then Matt slipped these fuzzy slippers with thick arch-supported soles on my feet.”
“I have to admit I never thought I’d see the day Tiffanie Eisenhower wore fuzzy slippers in public.” Zoe winked at me as she loaded her cart with several strings of spider lights with glowing orange eyes.
“They are the most comfortable shoes. It’s like walking on clouds.” I shook my head. “My whole world has changed. I used to care so much about how I looked. Now, it’s all about the comfort.”
“Amen to that.” Morti tossed a couple tombstones into her basket.
“So, how did it go with your sister and mother, Tiff?” Harm grabbed a broomstick and cauldron, adding them to her cart.
“Awkward,” I admitted. “Tabatha and I are progressing. We’ve met a couple times for lunch and even exchanged text messages a few times.” I lifted my hands, palms up. “It’s Rita. I know she’s trying, but it’s just weird. She really doesn’t act anything like how Grammy made her out to be. She seems genuine, and that confuses me.”
“Don’t stress, hon.” Zoe gave me a hug.
“I just feel so guilty because I actually like her.” I wiped away a tear. “I never heard Grammy say a single nice thing about Rita. I could tell she cared about her, but she was angry and hurt and about as stubborn as they came. I’m afraid she’s rolling over in her grave at me talking to my own mother. And I have to admit…I like having a sister. I know I have you ladies, and you know you’re my soul sisters, but to have an actual blood sister is special. I never believed in the twin thing, but there is something about her that draws me in.”
“It’s okay to do what you want to, Tiff.” Morti squeezed my hand. “Your grandmother would want you to be happy.”
“She’s right.” Zoe nodded.
“I don’t believe it!” Harm ran over to a bin.
We all jumped.
“Don’t believe what?” I shuffled over to join her with Zoe and Morti hot on my fuzzy heels. There was a bin full of pumpkins, leprechauns, and pots of fake gold. Then my gaze zoomed onto the item Harm held in her hand, and I gasped.
A string of four-leaf clover lights.
I met each of their eyes. “It’s a sign.”
“You’re not still entertaining the idea that Matt is a member of the Children of the Clover cult, are you?” Zoe groaned.
“Signs don’t lie. Right, Harm?” I looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“She does have a point.” Harmony lifted one shoulder. “There have been a lot of signs lately that point to clovers.”
“It’s not a sign. It’s a store that sells old merchandise. I’m with Zoe on this one, Tiff.” Morticia stared at me with a serious expression filled with worry. “You’ve got a good thing going with Matt. Careful about taking this whole clover tattoo thing too far. It just might blow up in your face.”
“That’s okay by me.” I added every strand of the clover lights to my cart and headed for the register as I called over my shoulder, “Then I can get a good look and put this legend to bed once and for all.”
Matt got a good chuckle over my clover lights and adored my little light-up pumpkins. I’d even worn a big pumpkin-colored sweatshirt that said Mama Pumpkin, with a cute little green stem hat and green maternity leggings, with my fuzzy slippers, of course. While Matt wore a Pumpkins are my Jam t-shirt that hugged every muscle, leaving nothing to the imagination, with a pair of jeans that hugged his buns and thighs.
Let’s just say it had been really difficult to focus on the children.
We’d handed out candy and even shared some apple cider with our neighbor, Mrs. Cartright. She was a widow, whose children and grandchildren all lived away, so she adored us and our growing family.
During the next two weeks, no matter how close I tried to get to Matt, nothing “blew up.” Not his ego. Not his libido. Not his temper. Nothing. He was onto me and now locked both his bedroom and bathroom doors.
We’d fallen into a routine of sorts, living life and co-existing in the same house as if we were a real couple. A family. Except for the no-romance rule. Matt wasn’t my lover, but he didn’t feel like a friend, either.
He felt like something more.
I knew he liked most foods but hated pickles and creamed corn. His favorite color was green—go figure—and he loved reading. His favorite sport was hockey. He was afraid of heights and spiders. He rarely got angry, but when he did, you’d best not be on the receiving end. He was fiercely loyal and protected what was his. Yet he got teary-eyed over sappy greeting cards, and that endeared him to me even more.
He was a big teddy bear on the inside.
He discovered I loved French food, wasn’t big on vegetables, and loved bread. I didn’t really care about sports. I liked to read, but loved a good drama or romantic comedy movie. I loved to travel and was into art. I had a fear of drowning and hated rodents of any kind. I was also very loyal to my small circle and would defend them to the end.
Our conversations had started getting deeper lately.
“So, I know you have a big family, but I don’t know much else about them.” I was leaning back on our massive couch with my feet up on an ottoman.
Matt was giving me a foot rub while I sipped hot chocolate. I was twenty-six weeks and feeling enormous. It was mid-November now and chilly, so he had turned the fireplace on. His hands were huge, and I couldn’t help moaning. He gave the best foot massages. The human foot had so many nerves in it. Carrying around all this extra weight made my feet ache something fierce, and what his hands were doing to them was literally orgasmic.
His lips tipped up at the corners over my moans of pleasure as he switched to my other foot and began to speak. “Well, I am the middle child of five. Two older brothers who help me dad run the family pub in Ireland. And two younger sisters who help me mam run her catering business.”
“How come you moved to Mayflower?” My entire body felt so relaxed and cozy as I took another sip of hot chocolate.
“Me uncle wanted to train me to take over his pub, and I wanted an adventure.” He finished with my other foot and moved onto my calves.
“Do you have any regrets?” My eyelids grew heavy.
His gaze held mine captive. “Not a one, love. Not a one.” He paused a minute to study me. “Do ye?”
“Do I what?” I was half out of it.
“Have regrets.”
“Several,” I admitted. I tended to be more guarded than him, so when that came out of my mouth, I blinked.
He frowned. “I see.”
I was already shaking my head. “No, you don’t. My regrets aren’t about you. I might not have planned to have children, but now that I’m pregnant, I can’t imagine the idea of not having them in my future.”
He relaxed and covered my feet with the blanket then joined me on the couch, resting his feet on the ottoman as well. Our bodies touched from our shoulders to our feet. It felt natural to tip my head until it rested on his shoulder.
“What are yer regrets, then?” He leaned his head down to rest on the top of mine as I talked.
I opened up about my ex, and everything else spilled out. I told him about my grandmother, my parents, and my sister. My fears about giving birth and being a bad mother. Guilt about wanting a relationship with my birth mother. Betraying Grammy. Worrying about living up to her reputation and how to do her proud.
“Mostly, I regret ever letting myself be vulnerable,” I said softly.
“Letting down yer walls and being vulnerable is a good thing, lass,” his deep voice rumbled close to my ear.
“Not for me.”
“And why’s that?” His voice was filled with compassion.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Because I get hurt every single time.”
“How so?”
“Every time I let someone in, they reject me. It makes me feel like I’m not enough. I wasn’t enough at birth for my parents to keep me. I wasn’t enough for my husband to stay faithful to me. I’m not enough for this town to respect me.” My voice grew even more emotional. “And I wasn’t enough for your family to approve of me.”
“Hey, now.” He tilted my face up until I looked at him. “That’s not true, love. That was me fault.”
“It was?” I was mesmerized by his eyes.
“Aye.” He nodded slowly. “I fancied ye.”
“Y-You did?” I would have believed anything he said to me at this moment.
“Yes, but ye made it clear ye didn’t fancy me back.”
I blinked. “That’s definitely not true.” I thought he knew how I felt about him, but then I realized I’d never actually said the words.
“Okay, so ye lusted after me, but that was it. I wanted more than just a one-night stand. I wanted it all.” His gaze traced the features of my face. “I wanted it with ye.” He was so close I could feel his breath on my cheeks.
I swallowed hard. “Then why did you say I wasn’t the type of woman you would bring home to your mammy because I am divorced?”
“I was angry because I thought ye only wanted to prove some stupid legend, and I didn’t want to start something that would only end up with me getting hurt.” He sighed. “Ye made it clear you never wanted to get married again or have children.”
“Well, I’m having children now.” I laughed.
He shook his head. “Aye, and ye still don’t want romance.”
I sat up a little straighter. “Because I don’t want to get hurt again.”
He nodded. “I know, lass, but where does that leave us?”
All my bravado left my body on a big exhale. “I honestly don’t know.”
“I’m not yer ex, love, and I would never hurt ye.” His eyes looked sad, and all I wanted to do was make his pain go away.
“Matthew…” His name was a whisper on my lips as I reached up and cradled his cheek with my palm.
“Tiffany…” He turned his head until his lips brushed my palm.
Neither of us spoke.
His head started to slowly lower to mine, and my breathing quickened. My gaze locked onto his lips, and I licked mine, waiting for the electricity to hum between us the moment our lips touched like it always did. My eyelids fluttered closed, and my lips parted in anticipation when my cell phone rang.
I let out a yelp and jumped.
Matt jerked back, startled.
I frowned at the caller I.D. and answered my phone. “Zoe? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. Chaz called and said Bitsy Beaumont Brimstone just had her baby… and she’s asking for you.”