His blue eyes held an understanding she dare not explore. Did her own son question her abilities as a mother? It certainly seemed to be a growing consensus among men she slept with. Perhaps they were picking up on something she wasn’t.

  But then Michael had a baby with you, and he’s a very good judge of character. He hated Marcello nearly the moment he met the man.

  And yet she’d still married him. She should have listened to her best friend. Michael was rarely ever wrong—something he loved to remind her of too.

  “Mom?” Nolan whispered, reaching over onto his nightstand to grab a tissue from the box. “Why are you sad?” He handed her the tissue.

  She thanked him and blotted her eyes. “I’m just tired, sweetheart. It’s been a long, busy day. I just need to close my eyes. Tomorrow, the new day and new year will be better.”

  He squinted at her, still not entirely convinced. But her warning look must have been enough, and she could see him abandon his need to press her for more information. Instead, his little mouth flattened into a thin line before he spoke. “I forgot Ziggy,” he said calmly, not an ounce of panic coloring his tone. She’d never seen him so unaffected by not having his best friend with him when he went to bed.

  Her eyes narrowed before she slowly asked, “In the car?” She knew the answer before he gave it to her.

  He shook his head calmly. “No, at the party house. Can you call and have Josie’s dad bring it over? Maybe set up a playdate while he’s here.”

  Nolan couldn’t have.

  Could he?

  Had her son orchestrated a plot to get Zara and Emmett back in the same room? Had he deliberately left behind his most beloved toy, his best friend in the entire world, so that he could see Josie again, so that Zara would have to see Emmett again?

  Nolan yawned, released Zara’s cheek and flopped down onto his pillow. “I’ll be okay tonight without Ziggy. But not tomorrow night. We need to have breakfast or lunch with Josie and her dad so I can get Ziggy back. One night, I’ll be okay. Two nights, I won’t be.”

  He had planned the whole damn thing!

  Was Josie in on it too?

  Zara’s head hurt. Her heart hurt.

  “Will you lay with me until I fall asleep, Mama?” Nolan asked, his eyelids growing heavy.

  She nodded, and he scooted over in his bed toward the wall. His bed was just a single—they wouldn’t be able to manage the two of them on there for much longer.

  She turned to face him. He blinked lazily and smiled.

  Gently, she ran her fingers over his butterfly—oh, sorry, dragonfly—bandage. Thankfully it hadn’t started to bleed again.

  “I’m okay, Mama,” he said, yawning. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Josie’s dad did a great job.”

  Zara’s heart constricted in her chest. She smiled thinly. “He certainly did.”

  Nolan’s eyes blinked a few more times, then he didn’t bother opening them again. Seconds later, his breathing became even and his lips parted just a touch—he was out.

  Zara spun in the cramped bed until she was on her back, staring up at the ceiling decorated with over a hundred glow-in-the-dark stars and planets. The entire evening began to play over in her mind.

  She’d never been so wrong about a person before in her life. Never.

  She thought Emmett was one of the good ones.

  Ah, but you never did ask him your three questions. Bouquet needed or not, the way a person answers those questions tells you everything you need to know about them.

  She didn’t need to know Emmett’s answers to those questions to know that the man needed counseling though. Hell, they could probably see that from the space station.

  The man had been like a goddamn light switch. Affectionate and practically carnal one minute, taking her in the wine cellar, making her feel like the most beautiful, desirable, incredible woman to walk the Earth, and then the next minute, he couldn’t even look at her.

  She was good enough to fuck in a basement but not good enough to stand next to. Not good enough to speak to his daughter, to comfort his child. In Emmett Strong’s eyes, she just clearly wasn’t good enough. An unfit mother and unfit partner.

  What the actual fuck?

  And what made him so goddamn perfect? So goddamn special?

  The man was so fucking wishy-washy. So hot and cold, she was sweating and shivering around him at the same freaking time.

  She understood his desire to shelter Josie, protect her from potential heartbreak and confusion, but the man took it to the extreme. Did he not allow any woman at the park or gymnastics or swimming or whatever to speak to his daughter out of fear he might or might not end up dating that woman? God forbid his child meet them before the six-month or whatever mark.

  Was he that inflexible?

  Was he that much of a control freak?

  Did he make his life that rigid? That structured?

  She couldn’t be with a man like that.

  Maybe it was a good thing he’d given her the cold shoulder. He saved her from what could have been months of not knowing where she stood with him while constantly trying to live up to his unrealistic expectations and inevitably always falling short.

  And if she’d met him under alternative circumstances with no Josie around, how long would he have waited to introduce her to his daughter? If they passed the six-month mark and he never made any move to introduce her to his daughter, would that mean he didn’t deem her worthy? That he considered her an unfit mother and their future was bleak because she’d never be around his child? Would she end up spending months, possibly years trying to live up to some hidden expectation he had in order for them to take the next step?

  She was overthinking things …

  And yet … was she?

  The man had two very different sides to him. Almost like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, only in this case, it was Dr. Jerk-yll and Dr. Strong, the sexy, hilarious man she’d met in the coffee shop earlier that morning.

  Had it really only been just that morning?

  It felt like so long ago that they’d met. Not years, obviously, but not less than twenty-four hours either.

  They’d already been through so much together.

  Perhaps she should dig into who his ex-wife was—he mentioned she was a dermatologist—and pay the woman a visit. Get a mole checked. See if Emmett was the crazy person in the divorce or not. Maybe she’d left him for good reason?

  She grabbed her phone off Nolan’s nightstand and checked the time. It was eleven forty-five.

  People up and down the Pacific coast would be getting ready to ring in the new year. Getting ready to hug their loved ones, kiss their paramours or the stranger beside them and hoot and holler until the cows came home.

  Not Zara though.

  Would she hear the celebration at Daisy and Riley’s house from her house? There were certainly enough people there, and she only lived a couple of blocks away.

  Emmett had probably already forgotten about her and was snuggled up with that gorgeous redhead from earlier, his arm around her, whispering all the right things in her ear while Josie slept in the guest bedroom down the hall, none the wiser to her father’s new midnight kiss companion.

  She squeezed her eyes shut but then opened them again when all she saw on the backs of her eyelids was Emmett kissing that redhead.

  The man had burrowed his way so deeply under her skin, he was like freaking ringworm or something.

  She scratched her arm.

  Now she was itchy.

  Rolling her eyes, she grumbled, grabbed her phone and slid off Nolan’s bed, heading toward the kitchen to go and pour herself a glass of wine.

  Once she’d nearly filled the glass, she wandered into the living room. She didn’t bother to flick on any lights but instead sat down in the hand-me-down recliner from her mother and turned on the television, preferring the darkness and harsh glare of the television. It better reflected her mood.

  She found the television channel that had pre-recorded the ball dropping in Times Square from earlier that night and turned up the volume, sitting back into the chair and taking a big sip of her wine.

  Seven minutes until a new year.

  And once again, she would be ringing it in alone.

  Chapter 10

  Emmett made his way through the house, Ziggy in his hand. Everyone at the party seemed to have congregated in the sunken living room or dining room.

  It looked like Daisy had succeeded again, at least for the night. There wasn’t a person standing alone, except for Emmett.

  He spied Mason standing off to the side. Well, at least he figured it was Mason. All he could really see were the backs of about five women and what he knew was biological clocks going off and ovaries exploding.

  He elbowed and maneuvered his way through the crowd. Everybody was staring intently at the television, which was tuned in to Times Square. Everybody but those five women, that is.

  Mason caught his eye over the heads of the slew of admirers who were not only ogling Mason and his tattoos but the sleeping baby he wore on his chest in the Ergo.

  The man always had his baby in the carrier. And he always attracted a shit-ton of female attention when he did it.

  Emmett often wondered if Mason did it on purpose, that he used his adorable baby as a chick magnet.

  “Hey,” Mason greeted him, encouraging a couple of the women to make room for Emmett. A few of them allowed their eyes to roam up and down Emmett’s body.

  Emmett sidled up next to his friend. “Hey.” He leaned in to check on Willow, who was out like a light. “How’s she feeling? You said she had the sniffles over Christmas?”

  He nodded. “I think it was actually teething. Just came out as a runny nose and crankiness. But I keep checking her mouth and so far, nothing.”

  Emmett nodded. “They tend to do that for a while. JoJo didn’t start getting teeth until about eight months old, yet I swear she started teething at like two months.”

  Mason grumbled. “Lovely. So I have at least another four months of these restless nights until anything actually pops out?” He stroked his finger over his daughter’s chubby little flushed cheek, which made the women around them croon.

  Emmett shrugged. “She might pop teeth sooner. All babies are different.”

  “Liam and Scott said you were getting to know Zara Olsen.” Mason craned his thick neck around, using his height to his advantage and glancing out over the heads of the crowd. “I don’t see her.”

  Unease began to slither its way up Emmett’s spine. How did the built, dark-haired, tattooed corporate executive-turned-bar-owner know Zara? Had they dated?

  Mason’s mouth slid into a sly grin, and he reached out and slapped a hand on Emmett’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Relax, bro. Zara’s my florist. I won’t go anywhere else to get my mama a bouquet for Mother’s Day, her birthday, or just because.”

  More feminine moans and coos echoed around them.

  “I love a man who treats his mother well,” one woman said. “Says so much about what kind of a husband he’ll be.”

  Emmett’s eyes flared, and he lifted his eyebrows, careful to make sure Mason was the only person who saw his reaction.

  Mason simply smiled a big grin that Emmett was sure caused a few more hearts to flutter. “Zara’s a real sweetheart. She’d be good for you. Where is she?”

  Emmett swallowed. “She went home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t get my head on right, and I think I fucked it all up.”

  Mason’s brows pinched, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Daisy and Riley were back up in front of the hearth, and Daisy was tapping a spoon to her champagne flute.

  “All right, everyone. We’re less than a minute to midnight!”

  Murmurs and shuffles resonated around the room as people got into position.

  Emmett spied Scott off in the corner with the brunette from earlier. Scott lifted his champagne flute in Emmett’s direction and grinned that infamous Dixon smile, all while squeezing the brunette closer to him. She snagged her bottom lip with her top teeth and gazed up at him like she’d just hit the jackpot.

  Emmett cocked one eyebrow, nodded, then continued to scan the room for Liam.

  He found him down the hallway on the phone, with no woman on his arm or waiting in the wings for him. Interesting.

  “Ready, everyone?” Daisy chirruped, wrapping her arm around Riley.

  Riley wrapped his arm around his wife and gazed down at her with all the love in the world. They held their champagne flutes in their free hands and, with the rest of the crowd, began to count down.

  “Ten … nine … eight … seven … ”

  A couple of the women around Emmett and Mason inched closer to them. Emmett fought the urge to roll his eyes. Mason just smiled wider and pecked the top of Willow’s head.

  “Four … three … two … one! Happy New Year!” The entire house erupted into hoots and hollers, whoops and cheers.

  Music began to play, people clapped, and suddenly everyone around Emmett and Mason was kissing.

  “Ah, come here, you dumbass,” Mason said, grabbing Emmett around the back of the head and, before Emmett could pull away, planting a big, smacking, closed-mouth smooch onto his lips.

  Emmett was stunned. So were all the women around them. Their gasps, groans and then murmurs of “of course, all the good ones left are gay” filtered in through the continuous celebration.

  Mason finally released Emmett and pulled away.

  Emmett glared at him. Mason just smiled even wider.

  “Dude,” Emmett said, wiping his mouth, “not cool. Love is love and all that shit, but not cool.”

  Mason rolled his eyes before leaning over. “Did you want to kiss any of those does in estrus?”

  He grimaced. “No.”

  His friend shrugged. “Neither did I. Got my eye on a cutie who keeps coming to the bar and interviewing guys. It’s fucking bizarre, but when we started to count down, she was the only person I could think of that I even wanted to remotely kiss. Knew I couldn’t kiss anybody else.” He bobbed his eyebrows and then lifted his hand to cup Emmett’s cheek, gazing at him lovingly. “Well, besides you, handsome.”

  Emmett batted his friend’s hand away. “You’re a dork.”

  “A dork you find irresistible.” Mason’s eyes turned soft and he made to cup Emmett’s face again, but Emmett ducked his advances.

  Mason hadn’t mentioned a new woman on his radar though. The man was so deep in new-dad mode and work, Emmett didn’t think he had time to date.

  The ruckus in the living room began to die down. Liam was up at the bar now, his phone no longer glued to his ear, and he was ordering a drink from the bartender. Mason and Emmett climbed the few steps out of the sunken living room.

  “Who were you on the phone with?” Mason asked, ordering a beer from the bartender.

  Liam shook his head. “Just … nobody.” He sipped his scotch.

  Emmett and Mason exchanged knowing glances. Liam had been on the phone with Richelle. There wasn’t anybody else out there he would have dismissed speaking to. The question was: Did Liam call her, or did she call him?

  “Where’s Zara?” Liam asked, his eyes scanning the living room. “Didn’t see you two sucking face a moment ago.” He pointed at Mason and Emmett. “Saw you two sucking face but figured that was just to avoid random lips.”

  Mason tapped his nose to indicate Liam was on the money with his assumption.

  “Zara left with her son about an hour ago,” Emmett said, thanking the bartender for his rye and tonic and immediately taking a big, long sip.

  Liam’s brown eyes narrowed. “You drive her off?” His face fell, his infamous Dixon smile disappearing. “Fuck, did I drive her off?” He looked truly remorseful.

  Emmett shook his head. “No, I drove her off. We reconciled after your oversharing earlier, and she gave me another chance. We actually … ” He cleared his throat. “In the wine cellar earlier. But then I started to get squirrelly when she was trying to make nice with JoJo. I just don’t want to confuse my kid.”

  Now it was Liam and Mason’s turn to exchange glances.

  “You do tend to get squirrelly,” Liam agreed. “You need to loosen up. Zara seemed like a really nice woman—one I would consider dumping your ass for as a client and representing her instead of you in your inevitable divorce.” His smile turned mischievous as Emmett’s glare darkened. But true to form, Liam couldn’t give two shits that he’d offended Emmett and just kept on talking. “So what if she met your kid already? She’s got a kid too, right? And you met him, and she didn’t get all squirrelly on you.”

  Emmett nodded. “Yeah, Nolan. I cleaned up the cut on his head after he fell on the stairs. And he comforted JoJo earlier when some girls downstairs were mean to her. He’s a great kid.”

  “Because he’s got a great mom,” Mason added. “Honestly, dude, if I wasn’t hung up on this mystery chick at the bar, I’d be hitting on Zara. However, I don’t know if I want to wreck my relationship with my florist. Where would I go if the relationship went south? Pike Place Posies? Pffst, no. Zara knows exactly what my mom likes. The relationship between a man and his florist is sacred. I don’t know if I could jeopardize that by sleeping with her.”

  Both Liam and Emmett snorted.

  The relationship between a man and his florist is sacred.

  What the fuck?

  They stepped to the side so other people could sidle up to the bar and order drinks.

  Willow began to stir in the carrier, and Liam perked up, drained his scotch and made gimme hands. “Gimme that little chick magnet,” he said, waiting for Mason to pull her sleepy little body from the carrier. Once she was free, she stretched, made goofy faces, yawned and blinked a bunch.

  There was no doubt about it, Willow was an adorable baby. Mason must have had a gorgeous egg donor.

  Liam took Willow and held her against his chest. “Hey, baby. It’s your Uncle Liam. The smartest and best-looking of all your uncles.” He kissed the top of her head and rested his nose against her hair, letting his eyes gently close.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18