A Stroke Of Magic (16 page)

She left then, and I sat on the edge of my bed, my thoughts centered on everything we’d discussed. Was my inability to find any answers this past week my fault? Maybe. Because somehow, suddenly, I wanted to ignore the whole freaking mess. But I couldn’t. Even without knowing exactly why, my instincts screamed that Miranda spoke the truth. Which meant I needed to make a decision. If my magic wasn’t going to be of help, then I’d have to figure it out without it. And that meant—yep—I needed to see Kyle.

The room spun slightly. I took a couple of breaths to stop the wooziness. Of course, there was that
thing
about Ethan that resonated with me. No way was I giving up on him yet. I couldn’t. Even if I should.

Besides, I hadn’t seen his shoulder yet. So that meant, as far as I was concerned, Ethan Gallagher was most definitely still in the running.

Saturday’s craziness stayed with me through the rest of the weekend. So much so that when Monday rolled around, my obnoxious alarm barely fazed me. Getting up and going to Enchanted Expressions gave me a much-needed reprieve. Just the simple act of performing my job allowed me to put all the other stuff on the back burner, at least for a little while.

But now it was lunchtime. I’d taken a later break than most of the other staff, so I had the break room to myself. People strolled in every now and then to refill their coffee cups, or to get a soda from the fridge, but for the most part I was left alone. That was okay by me. I’d had plenty of social interaction lately.

I spooned the last bite of lemon yogurt into my mouth and then set the container down. Other than some faint queasiness in the morning, my nausea had, thankfully, all but disappeared. And that had bolstered my spirits in a big way.

Missy entered the room. She paused for a split second before aiming for my table. Dressed in black slacks and a long black tunic belted at her waist, she made me think of the wicked witch from
The Wizard of Oz.
Not a fair comparison, because Missy certainly hadn’t done anything wrong, but the image refused to leave.

Maybe it was intuition, or a sense of foreboding, because when she stopped in front of me, an icy chill skittered from my neck all the way down my spine. She crossed her arms. “We need to talk.”

I fiddled with my empty yogurt container. “About the Kendall account? I’m still on break.”

“No, Alice.” She glanced around the room to make sure we were still alone. We were. “I need to talk to you about Troy.”

In an instant, what remained of my good mood vanished. “Is this about his contact information? If so, you can just e-mail me.”

“No. That’s not it.” She paused, as if trying to decide what to say. “We should go somewhere else for this conversation. Somewhere private.”

I almost argued with her. Not because I disagreed, but because my innate muleheadedness had kicked in. Luckily, I was able to set it aside. “That leaves your office or the conference room.” Standing, I cleaned up my lunch debris.

“Wherever you’re most comfortable.”

“I don’t think I’ll be comfortable anywhere,” I snapped. I hadn’t meant to. Sighing, I mimicked Missy and crossed my arms. “Sorry. Your office is fine.”

She nodded once and then pivoted on her heel.

Trailing behind her, I tried to prepare myself for whatever she was going to say. Of course, I couldn’t. Before we reached her office, another thought processed, and panic edged in. What if Troy waited for me now, in this woman’s office? As quickly as the panic had come, anger slammed in on top of it. If he’d decided that an unannounced visit was a way to push my buttons, then not only had he underestimated me, but he was even more of a jerk than I’d given him credit for. Maybe I’d wish him into a toad or something.

When I arrived, however, the room was empty save for Missy. I stepped in and closed the door behind me. Already seated behind her desk, she motioned to another chair. “You might want to sit down for this.”

Nope. Not happening. I just wanted this, whatever
this
was, over with. So I kept my stance near the door. “I’m fine. Tell me what this is about.”

Twisting her long silver necklace with her fingers, she didn’t speak. The air weighed heavily, almost stagnant with apprehension. Both mine and hers.

Not able to take another moment of silence, I decided to start the conversation. “You’ve told him about the baby?”

Missy’s hazel eyes skated to the side of me. She released a breath. “No, I didn’t. But I did tell Terri, and she told Troy. She’s going through hell right now.”

“I can imagine. I’m sorry about that.” And I was, but that didn’t change my circumstances or my feelings in any way. “So what’s going on?”

Her fingers still played with her necklace. “He called me this morning.” She grimaced. “It wasn’t a pleasant conversation.”

I thought I knew where this was headed. My stomach turned upside down, and my nausea roared to life with a vengeance. “He’s coming here, isn’t he?”

A quick shake of her head. “No, that’s not it. He gave me a message to pass on to you.”

“What is it?”

“I really think you should sit down.” Letting go of her necklace, her hands went to her desk, palms flat on its surface.

“I’m not going to keel over. What’s the message?” I asked again.

“Look. This is awkward for me. If I weren’t Terri’s friend, I wouldn’t be doing this.” She shuddered. “I hate that I’m doing this. I hate that I’m even involved. But here we are, so I’m just going to say it, even though it’s not very nice.”

I backed up against the wall for support. “That’s fine. Go for it.” I could handle it if it came at me fast. At least, I thought I could. Sort of like ripping off a Band-Aid. The faster you did it, the quicker the pain left.

“I’d feel better if you’d sit down.” When I didn’t move or respond, she sighed. “Okay, then. Here goes.” She whisked a strand of toffee-hued hair off of her forehead. I braced myself. “Troy has no desire to be involved with you or the baby. In any way.”

Something strange happened then. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it was as if everything around me, everything inside of me, stopped, and then drained away. I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. “That’s it?”

“No. Troy, the asshole that he is, would like you to sign a legal document that removes his rights as a parent. He doesn’t want to pay child support; he doesn’t want his name even connected to the baby.” Her eyes didn’t meet mine as she spoke. “And if you refuse to sign the document, then he’s going to insist on DNA testing.”

The entire situation seemed unreal. As if I were watching a play or a really bad movie, none of it affected me. I knew I should be feeling
something,
but weirdly, everything was numb. “DNA testing doesn’t bother me, because Troy’s the father. That being said, I prefer for him to stay away, so you can tell him I agree to his…demands.”

“I know this is a crappy thing. I’m sorry to be the one to deliver the news.”

“It’s fine.” For some reason, I found myself staring at the back of the picture on Missy’s desk. The one with her, her husband, Troy, and Terri. Maybe I felt something, after all? Because I definitely wished I could walk over, pick that photo up, and slam it down on the desk. Productive? Not at all. So I tucked the urge away.

“There’s more,” she said softly.

“More? What more could there be?”

“While Troy isn’t interested in knowing the child, his mother is. She would like to set up a meeting.”

Finally, I really felt something: stunned disbelief. “Doesn’t the very fact that Troy is excising himself from his child’s life pretty much wipe out any familial connections?” Besides, I knew nothing about Beatrice Bellamy other than that she’d raised a jerk. Oh, and that she might be a witch. Neither of those things endeared her to me.

“It’s completely up to you. I know Beatrice fairly well. She won’t push. Or, I don’t think she will. But she wanted me to ask.” Missy spoke calmly, but it sounded forced. I’m sure she wanted this discussion over with. Which made two of us.

“Why did Troy even tell his mother?”

“I don’t think he did. Terri has always been close to Beatrice. It probably came from her.”

“Oh.” Not that it mattered. Making a decision about Beatrice wasn’t going to happen. Not right now.

Missy walked over to me. “I was so angry at you. Now I’m just angry at him.”

A choked laugh spilled out, but I didn’t speak.

“You’re white as a ghost. Do you need to lie down or something?” The concern, so evident in her voice, pushed me forward.

Lifting my chin, I plastered a smile on my face. “I’m okay, Missy. Tell Troy to send his papers here and I’ll have an attorney go through them. Assuming there are no issues, I’ll be happy to sign. As for Beatrice…” Suddenly, I lost steam. “I’ll need to think more about her request.”

She reached out, as if to touch me, but then stopped. “Okay. I’ll let him know.”

A tight, uncomfortable haze surrounded me. All at once, the only thing I wanted was to get out of that room. I walked to the door. “My break is about over. I should go.”

“I need to say one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. For everything. I don’t really know what happened between you and Troy, but I do know what kind of man he is. I should have been nicer to you.”

“I appreciate that.” Still numb, I twisted the doorknob, but before I could make my escape, something crashed behind me. Turning around, my gaze landed on Missy’s desk. The framed photo was facedown.

Setting it upright and looking surprised, Missy held her other hand up as if testing the air. “There must be a breeze in the room.”

“Yeah. Must be.”

This particular wish coming true probably should have put me in a better mood, but it didn’t. Other than shock, I still felt nothing. Because there was nothing else to say, I marched from Missy’s office, keeping my head up and my back straight. Then, rounding the corner out of the hallway, I concentrated on getting to the restroom, where I could lock myself in a stall and let myself feel whatever I was going to feel. Because surely, when the shock wore off, I’d feel something.

You’d think I’d be happy. Wasn’t this what I’d wanted?

So focused on moving forward, I didn’t see Ethan until a millisecond before colliding with him. The impact sent me staggering backward a few steps, and the file he held flew through the air before dropping to the ground, all of its contents spilling out in a messy fan shape.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. Kneeling down, I grabbed one loose paper after another, stacking them up in front of me.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he teased in his Irish accent. Balancing himself on the soles of his feet, he helped me gather the pages. He was so close. Too close. The scent of his cologne, which normally had me in a near-drooling state, almost unhinged me. I wanted to turn to him, lean on him, gain comfort from him, and that was utterly stupid. Because as nice of a guy as Ethan was, he didn’t need to deal with this mess. Hell, I had no choice, and I still didn’t want to deal with it.

I tipped my face away from him. “Nowhere. I wasn’t paying any attention. That’s all.” My voice shook, and I hated that it did. I finished picking up the last few pages strewn around. Grabbing the entire stack, I slid it into the file and then handed it to him. “Here. They’re all out of order now. I’m sorry,” I repeated.

“It’s okay.” He stood and then helped me to my feet. I averted my gaze.

A shudder rippled through me. The numbness had begun to wear off, and I wanted it to come back. “I’ll talk to you later,” I mumbled, and went to walk around him.

“Alice?”

Funneling every bit of strength I had, I smiled as brightly as I could and faced him. “Yes, Ethan?”

He looked down at me, his smoky eyes searing. Once again, it was as if he could see everything about me, everything inside of me. I blinked to break the moment, but as soon as I did, a tear dripped down my cheek. And then another. Hell. I hadn’t even realized I was that close to crying. I swiped them away. “Not here,” I managed to say.

That was all he needed to hear. With one hand on my elbow, he guided me forward. I let him, because as much as I’d wanted privacy before, now I craved his presence.

We maneuvered toward his office in quick, short steps. Luckily, Grandma Verda wasn’t at her desk. I didn’t know if she’d already gone home, or if she was off somewhere else, but it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that she wouldn’t see me in this condition. Not only would it break her heart, but she’d likely go find Troy and break his legs. Seriously, she could do it too. Of that I had no doubt.

Ethan closed his office door and then led me to his couch. “Sit down,” he ordered. Good timing, because at that minute my legs trembled, and I didn’t think I would have been able to stand much longer, anyway. I sort of collapsed on the couch. He joined me and angled his body toward me but kept silent.

A weight sat on my chest, heavy and unrelenting. All of a sudden, anger whipped in, followed by a blast of pain so strong that I gasped. Not physical pain. Emotional pain. And it pissed me off even more. Because how could Troy hurt me? When had I given him that power?

“Do you want to talk?” Ethan’s deep baritone sifted through the haze, offering me support, comfort.

I shook my head. I didn’t cry, and that surprised me. Not only because I’d just about burst into tears a mere few minutes earlier, but because now that the shock had worn off, the hurt inside of me was so huge, you’d have thought the tears would come pouring out. But they didn’t. So I sat there while all these emotions tore into me.

My chest tightened even more. I forced myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Slowly, too slowly, the sharpest edge of the pain—of the anger—began to subside. And the entire time I went through this, Ethan watched, remaining calm, waiting to be or do whatever I needed.

That knowledge also surprised me. But it was there. I saw it in his eyes, in the way he looked at me, by the way he held himself. It reminded me of Grant and the way he was with Shelby, and the power of
that
nearly took my breath away. I mean, I knew it wasn’t the same. Not exactly, anyway, but it was the closest I’d ever gotten. And even in the fallout of Troy’s latest betrayal, I recognized it as important.