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  I watched, stupefied, as he strode towards Jonathan and Max. He gave Jonathan a hug so strong it lifted the boy right off the ground. When Alex turned the stroller back toward the entrance of the park, Jonathan sent me an impish smile as he walked, slowly, to where I sat.

  I threw the napkin onto the decimated remains of our sundae, and then cleaned up the mess on our table.

  Jonathan and I met over the garbage can. “Are you mad?” he asked.

  “I’m not happy,” I replied. I crossed my arms and waited.

  “I’m sorry, Rachel. I just wanted you to see that you have him all wrong. And that he has you all wrong. No one has to fight. We can be friends. We can get along. Please, Rachel,” he implored with those bright blue eyes. “I want to have a family. A real one.”

  I pulled him over to an empty table. “Real families fight,” I said. “Real families don’t always get along. But they never stop being family.”

  He shook his head and one lone tear rolled from the corner of his eye. “You stopped being family with Zach. Dad stopped being family with Mom. Alex stopped being family with everyone. I just don’t want to lose anyone else.”

  I sighed and pulled him into my arms. “You’re not going to lose me,” I promised, but he shook his head.

  “Everybody leaves eventually. No one keeps their promises.”

  I pulled him apart so that I could look him in the eye. I lifted his chin up with my finger. “Rule #5: I never break my promises. Ever,” I emphasized. I held up my hand and offered the most sacred of all childhood bonds. “Pinky swear.”

  He tightened his little finger around mine before he threw his arms back around me. “I love you, Rachel,” he said.

  “I love you, too,” I whispered back. They were scary words to utter, but I meant them with all my heart. In fact, that made them all the more terrifying. Bonding with Jonathan had helped heal my last broken pieces, but what did that mean for him? Was he merely transferring all those feelings for his absent mother onto me?

  “As long as you’re here, he’ll never go back to his mother. Tell me you don’t know that.”

  For the gazillionth time since I first landed in Los Angeles months ago, I cursed Alex Fullerton. He may have been a black sheep and a rogue, insulting and patronizing, but there was also the very real possibility that he was right.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “He’s here!” Jonathan hollered from the living room.

  I wiped my hands on the apron I wore as I met the excited boy in the foyer. The door opened and Drew Fullerton stepped over the threshold, looking ever so dashing in his perfectly tailored suit. He had discarded the tie and carried his jacket over one arm, which just so happened to carry a bundle of yellow flowers wrapped in cellophane.

  “Dad!” Jonathan exclaimed as he jumped up into his father’s arms. It touched my heart to see how excited he was to see his father. As close as Jonathan and I had bonded over the last two weeks, this time away from his dad – his closest family – had been lonely for him.

  That was likely the reason he felt so strongly about my getting along with Alex, to the point of manipulating us together at the zoo. He desperately needed connection to the family which he belonged.

  “Hey, buddy,” Drew said as he cuddled him close, before his eyes swept over my casual appearance.

  My job as teacher wasn’t a fancy one. I was allowed to dress in jeans and plain old button-down shirts, keeping my hair in a standard ponytail and all makeup to a minimum. Yet the smile he greeted me with was warm, as though he were truly happy to see me. “Rachel,” he said with a nod my direction. He offered the flowers. “For you,” he said.

  “They are beautiful,” I said as I examined the sunflower bouquet, as bright and sunny as summer itself. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  He chuckled as he pulled a wrapped present out of his bag for Jonathan. “That’s the whole premise behind a gift,” he pointed out. “Right, champ?”

  Jonathan’s head bobbed, barely containing his excitement as he tore into the present. It was an entire collection of DVDs from one of Jonathan’s favorite British sci-fi shows about time travel. “Cool!” he exclaimed, before running over to me to show me his bounty. “Can we watch them tonight, Rachel?”

  “Let’s eat dinner first,” I said as I turned for the kitchen.

  “Dinner?” Drew asked and Jonathan dragged him by the arm to the dining room.

  “We made you a welcome home dinner,” he told his father.

  I arranged the flowers in a crystal vase and placed them in the center of the table in the formal dining room, where all the dishes had been set for the meal. Jonathan had insisted that I cook a regional favorite from my neck of the woods, so I prepared chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes, complete with a side of country gravy and the fried okra Jonathan had grown to love. I didn’t figure such a meal would impress my boss much, but Jonathan was adamant. “Cook as though this was your home,” he had said.

  I was slightly embarrassed by the low-brow meal as I sat at the table. Drew, however, was a perfect gentleman. “What a thoughtful surprise. A perfect homecoming,” he added with a smile while he put the cloth napkin across his lap.

  “It’s nothing fancy,” I said. “Just some of the comforts of home.”

  He took a bite and murmured his approval. “I see why they call this comfort food. You really are a woman of many talents,” he toasted with a glass of wine.

  Jonathan dominated the conversation thereafter to prove exactly how talented I was. I blushed from his exuberance as he proudly ticked off all our accomplishments during Drew’s absence. Drew indulged his son with a bemused smile.

  “Why don’t you ask your father how his trip went?” I gently coaxed.

  “Oh, yeah,” Jonathan said as he remembered his manners. He turned to Drew. “How was your trip, Dad?”

  Drew sent me a knowing smile before he answered. “Busy but productive. Much like your work with Rachel. We’ve acquired a new company. Perhaps you would like to join me at the office one day next week to learn a little bit about it.”

  From the way Jonathan’s eyes lit up, I wondered if this was the first time such an offer had been extended. “Can Rachel come?” he asked immediately.

  Before I could shake my head, Drew responded. “Of course. We’ll make a day of it. If that’s okay with you,” he added as he glanced at me.

  My first impulse was to decline. These two needed to bond without any outside interference. But as I looked from Jonathan’s hopeful, pleading face to Drew’s more commanding stare, all I could say was, “Sounds like fun.”

  “Excellent,” Drew declared. We finished off the meal with a tart cherry cobbler topped with vanilla bean ice cream, then retired to the media room to watch Jonathan’s new DVDs. He happily nestled between Drew and me and insisted we watch episode after episode until he fell asleep, leaning against my shoulder. Drew hoisted the sleepy child into his powerful arms to carry him off to bed. I used the time to finish cleaning up the kitchen so Cleo wouldn’t have to worry about it the next morning.

  Drew found me there ten minutes later. “You are a miracle,” he said as he joined me at the sink, pitching in to dry the last few dishes I hand-washed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jonathan this happy.”

  I chose my words carefully. “I think he just needed some one-on-one attention.”

  Drew shook his head. “It’s more than that. We’ve had other teachers. You have a way with him they didn’t. You were definitely meant to work with children.”

  My gut twisted. Jason’s birthday loomed ahead of me like a big dark cloud. Most of the year I could forget the gaping wound in my heart and carry on like I was like any other normal human being. But two days out of the year, the anniversaries of his birth and of his death, both notable dates within a week of each other, I was reminded in bleak detail how much of a half-human I remained. “I’m glad to help,” was all I could manage as I handed him the last dish.

  He dried it a
nd put it in the dish drainer. “Join me for a drink,” he said softly. It wasn’t a request, but a command.

  “I really shouldn’t,” I said. “We have a busy day tomorrow. I wanted to spend some time in Santa Monica so we could make it a less daunting place to visit on the weekend. He’s dying to try the trapeze but I told him you’d have to give consent for that. Instead we’re going to rent some bikes, collect some shells and get some exercise in.”

  He grinned as he leaned one hip against the counter. “You talk a lot when you’re nervous,” he pointed out. “It’s just a drink. And I insist.”

  I said nothing further as he guided me towards his study with his hand on the small of my back. He closed the door behind me and headed to the bar. I sat on one of the wingback leather chairs on either side of the fireplace. When he brought me a small crystal tumbler, I sniffed the bubbly liquid inside. “Ginger ale?”

  He grinned as he sat on the sofa. “Unless you want something stronger,” he suggested as he cupped his own glass of whiskey in his lap.

  I averted my eyes. “Ginger ale is fine. Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” he mirrored back at me. “You’ve done an incredible job with Jonathan and with the house, and especially with my brother. I know it hasn’t been easy or comfortable, but you’ve surpassed all my expectations.”

  “Jonathan makes it easy,” I said with a smile. “Alex, on the other hand, is a pain in the neck.”

  Drew laughed. “Tell me something I don’t already know.” I chuckled but he was serious. “What is something I don’t know about you, Rachel?”

  I shrugged. “What more do you need to know?”

  “That wasn’t the question,” he pointed out. “All I needed to know I knew before I offered you the job. Now we get to fill in the rest of the picture. I’ll start. My favorite color is blue.” His eyes met mine and he waited.

  “Yellow,” I finally responded. “And I’m a Pieces. I love southern rock and cry at the end of sad, black and white movies. That about covers it.”

  He chuckled softly. “You’re entirely too modest for such a deeply faceted woman.” His eyes deepened as he studied my face. “Tell me why you’re not married.”

  I sucked in a surprised gasp at the unexpected question. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate topic.”

  “Why not?” he wanted to know. “You work with my son and live in my house. Shouldn’t we try to be friends?”

  “I’m not comfortable talking about this subject, even with friends,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  I placed the tumbler on the table beside the chair and rose to my feet. “Goodnight, Drew,” I said as I turned to leave.

  He was on his feet and by my side before I could reach the door. He pulled me back by the arm. “Calm down. The reason I ask pertains to Jonathan. Most women your age aspire to marry and have families of their own. Given how close you two have become already, if you should meet someone and opt to settle down elsewhere, it would seriously affect my son. I need to know if that is a possibility.”

  We had already covered this ground before, so I was surprised he was bringing it up again. But then again, I had been fairly cryptic when I signed on the dotted line, stating only that I didn’t intend to leave and have children of my own. Like always, I had sidestepped any inquiry into my non-existent love life. I had to set him straight, if only this once.

  “I’m not most women,” was all I could say in response.

  “Tell me something I don’t already know,” he said softly. For some reason, his voice slid across my skin like fine silk and I shivered in spite of myself. His hand lifted, as if to trace the goose bumps on my arm, but he dropped it just as quickly.

  “I’ll tell you three,” I answered at last. “I have no desire to marry. I’m not a romantic fool. And I don’t believe in happy endings.”

  There was a long stretch of silence before Drew finally said, “Very well. Goodnight, Rachel.”

  “Goodnight, Drew,” I managed before I turned for the stairs.

  My legs were still shaking as I shut my bedroom door behind me. Though his curiosity made sense, the implied intimacy of our conversation left me shaken. It lurked around the fringe of my subconscious, giving birth to yet another dream that night, where Drew hadn’t turned me away but taken me into a passionate embrace that I – for some insane reason – submitted to instantly. I was powerless as those strong arms wrapped around me, holding me firm against his hard body. His lips were soft but commanding as they covered my own. When his tongue traced my lips, I gasped. I could taste the whiskey that lingered in his mouth.

  When the dream Drew pushed me up against the door, I wrenched almost violently from the murky depths of my subconscious. I hadn’t kissed a man since well before my son died, yet it felt so real.

  I lay there, gasping for breath, as I tried to make sense of all these mixed-up emotions. We had been thrown into an intimate setting because I lived in his house and virtually mothered his child. If I had passed him on the street, I would have kept walking and never looked twice… even though he was probably the most powerful, alluring man I had ever known.

  I was no horny teenager whose hormones were out of whack. I could keep company with a man like Drew and never once be tempted to take it any further than a proper working relationship.

  Clearly I was emotionally compromised because of the sad anniversaries at the end of the month, which made my hollow soul reach for something, anything to fill the void.

  The dream allowed me to do that with no risk. It was a mirage to comfort me… that was all it was. Drew was a convenient co-star. Who else would I fit into the fantasy? Harrison?

  Or Alex?

  I shuddered as I turned out the light. This was a job, for crissakes. Not some stupid soap opera. I closed my eyes, determined not to allow my temporary insanity take me further down the rabbit hole.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I managed to avoid Drew for the next couple of days as he caught up on business at the office. He left early and came home so late that it was pointless to hold dinner for him. Jonathan’s mood took a nosedive because of it, but there was precious little I could – or wanted – to do about it.

  The more space I put between Drew and me, the better. Every now and then the memory of my dream would bubble to the surface, and my traitorous body responded as if the embrace had actually happened. My pulse raced, my skin flushed, and more than once Jonathan asked me if I felt well.

  Not really, I thought to myself.

  The last time I had these feelings I ended up a teen bride. Zach had been persistent in his pursuit and I succumbed to the allure of the “happily ever after” he promised with his kiss and with his touch. In retrospect I had always cursed my own childish stupidity.

  It depressed me to no end to find I was still that bubble-headed girl deep down. How could I not be? As staunch as my resolve had been, I fell prey to my misguided hormones the second I was in close proximity to a single, handsome man.

  I resolved then and there to tighten the lock on my chastity belt and throw away the damn key once and for all. I would deal with Drew only when I needed to, which, for the rest of the week was not at all.

  He had not acted inappropriately, and it was likely he never would. I was clearly not his type, and he had such a full plate with his business and his son that he appeared utterly uninterested in pursuing any relationship outside of a professional one.

  Still, I refused to give him a chance to change his mind.

  His schedule had kept him so late that he didn’t even check in with me for a daily update on Jonathan’s studies. I placed any paperwork or progress notes on his desk in his study before I retired to my room, in bed and unavailable by 9:30 each evening. That kept our interaction down to a minimum, which was somewhat odd given how well we had communicated while he was overseas.

  In truth, I kind of missed those nightly chats.

  But I wasn’t there for Drew, I told myself for the gazillionth
time. I was there for Jonathan. He benefited the most out of my undivided attention, and responded in kind. It made me wonder what his life had been like before his mother left. Had she done anything to fill the void left by his workaholic father?

  As I drove him to Santa Monica that Saturday, I used our commute to ask. He grew quiet as he stared out the window. “She wasn’t like you,” he said softly.

  “That’s an unfair comparison,” I gently reminded. “It’s my job to focus entirely on you. I don’t have a house to run or a husband to consider.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” he said. “She’s not strong like you.”

  “Jonathan,” I said. “That’s no way to speak about your mom.”

  “It’s true,” he pouted. “When Dad would yell, she’d run away. She stayed in a separate bedroom from as far back as I can remember just to stay away from him.”

  Both revelations were shocking. “Why did he yell?” I found myself asking.

  Jonathan shrugged. “I think he found her weak, too.”

  I chose my words carefully. “I don’t think your father would marry anyone he considered weak.”

  “They had no choice,” Jonathan said. “I was an accident.”

  Though we were on the freeway, I pulled off at the nearest exit and came to a stop in front of a busy gas station. I turned to Jonathan and took both his hands in mine. “I never want to hear you say that again. You are not an accident. You are not a mistake. And I’m one-hundred-percent certain neither of your parents think that way about you.”

  “I know,” he mumbled as he glanced down at his hands in mine.

  “Is that why you blame yourself for the divorce?”

  He shrugged. “If I hadn’t been around, they never would have gotten married in the first place.”

  I reached over and kissed the top of his head before we pulled back onto the street. “You don’t know that, hon.”

  “They both said it,” he pointed out, which made my gut tighten with anger.