A Very Christopher Christmas (A Death Dwellers MC Novella) (9 page)

“So I’m going to meet McCallister or what?” Val asked, ignoring Johnnie’s angry glare.
 

Brooks wiped his brow and sent Christopher another hang-dog-I’m-so-fucked look. “It’s Outlaw or no one.”
 

“Oh-fucking-well,” Christopher barked. “It gotta be no one.”
 

He didn’t allow Brooks another chance to try and change his mind. He walked the fuck out, determined to forget McCallister fucking existed.
 

 

“I want this, this, this, this, that, that, that, and that, MegAnn,” CJ informed Meggie, his chubby finger landing on the photos of the toys he expected Santa to deliver.
 

Forcing a smile, she followed her son’s thumps, considering the bake set, kid-sized 12-volt Camero, farmhouse, and alphabet computer, but ruling out the gun, sword, and knives. Christopher would start his lessons with real weapons soon enough.
 

“I’ll talk to Santa, sweet potato,” she promised, wondering if she should place a call to Dr. Will. In the three weeks since she’d started feeling
“off,”
it had grown worse as the days passed. According to Dr. Howser, her cervix was effaced at ten percent. He swore while it bore watching, it wasn’t something to really worry about. Meggie didn’t feel right, though, and she worried it was something more than what he said. Sharp pains in her stomach came and went, and general
unwellness
hung around her. Maybe her regular OB/GYN could check Meggie out and confirm Dr. Howser’s report.
 

Doctors were supposed to know best, but this was one of those instances where she knew her body better. She’d also read up on effacement online. Given her history, it
was
serious. When she confronted Dr. Howser, he said he understood her concerns, but she was stressing herself out for nothing.
 

What else could she do?
 

She’d been trying to hide how sick she felt from Christopher, but for the past three nights she’d declined his lovemaking. Something she never did unless she was mad with him, and then she had to be
really
mad. In their four years together, she’d rebuffed him out of anger, only four times.
 

CJ tugged her hair and she looked at the catalog again. “This, too,” he said, pointing to a doll.
 

“For you?”
 

“Uh-huh,” he squeaked with his exaggerated nod.
 

Meggie sighed, knowing Christopher wouldn’t want his son playing with a baby doll. She wasn’t up to that battle, but she didn’t want to deny such an innocent request. “I’ll see what I can do. But you have to be a really good boy. Promise?”
 

“Pwomise.”
 

She raised her hand. “Hi-five.”
 

Giggling, he tapped his smaller hand against hers and scrambled off the bed where he’d followed her after she’d put the twins down for their afternoon nap.
 

“Outside, Mommie.”
 

Meggie plopped her head back on the pillow. She needed to go over accounts for the home healthcare business and finalize her guest list for the party that she was throwing the Saturday before Christmas. At the moment, she couldn’t do anything else but... “Let’s take a nap first, buddy. Mommie is really tired.”
 

Instead of giving her a hard time, he climbed next to her and smiled. “I tired, too, MegAnn.”
 

She pulled him into her arms and kissed his forehead. “Then let’s sleep, so we’ll be nice and fresh when Daddy gets home.”
 

Smiling, he stilled and squeezed his eyes shut, affecting a loud snore. Meggie grinned at how easy her son had complied, wishing whatever ailed her would be as simple to fix.
 

 

Strains of Tchaikovsky floated to Johnnie through the speakers wired into his garage. With the garage door lifted, cold air blasted in the scent of pine and damp leaves as he circled his Harley, wondering if Kendall would mind if he went for a spin on it.
 

He didn’t want to stress her out, so he hadn’t ridden in months because it worried her too much. Missing his bike like fuck, he ran his fingers along the cold chrome, remembering how blazing down the highway at full throttle freed something within him.
 

Maybe, he’d list a spin on his bike as his most wished-for Christmas gift. It didn’t have to be a long ride. Ten minutes tops would tide him over until Kendall got better.
 

Then, again, according to Kendall, if he got a taste he’d want the full meal. Her very reasoning for not allowing him to toast at the Halloween party.
 

She’d rewarded his easy compliance with a dick suck and very raunchy sex, appeasing his disappointment at leaving the party early.
 

“Roxy has Rory again,” Kendall said from behind him.
 

Grinning at her sultry tone, he turned to her, her beauty hitting him in the center of his chest as always. He’d abandoned his suit the moment he’d gotten home, but she still wore her office attire—a finely cut winter white suit that showcased her height and figure. She’d swept her red hair up, allowing strands to escape and frame her lovely face.
 

“I have your aperitif,” she announced.
 

Johnnie offered a chagrined smile. “St. Germain’s again?”
Shit. Elderberry liqueur.
 

She nodded. “I can’t wait until I deliver Matilda, so I can join you.”
 

“You know, gorgeous, I’d really love a cold beer.” Something she’d stopped stocking months ago, right around the time she stopped her meds. “Just one.”
 

Her face fell. “I don’t like beer.”
 

“I’m not asking you to drink it.”
 

Folding her arms, she sniffed. “You can take the man out of the club…” She trailed her voice off, leaving him to silently add,
but not the club out of the man
.
 

“Don’t start. I’m not out of the goddamn club. I don’t want to be. It’s where I belong. Where we both belong.”
 

Tears rushed to her eyes and she sniffled, turning on her heel. “I have dinner,” she tossed over her shoulder, switching tactics on him. She knew her tears upset him. Being pregnant kept her waterworks in overdrive.
 

Ever since the argument he’d had with the boys earlier today at the law office, he’d been out-of-sorts. He shouldn’t allow them to affect his thinking, but they did. Mainly, because they were right. No fucking reason he had to live in this misery. Kendall could take her antidepressants. She just chose not to, which, in turn, made her miserable. She didn’t want to be the way she was, but the side effects were so great she’d used the first opportunity available to her to thumb her nose at the pills.
 

Closing the garage door, he debated calling Megan for advice, then quickly nixed that idea. Kendall would have a shit-fit. Besides, Megan hadn’t spoken to him since Christopher’s stabbing when Johnnie had yelled at her one time too many. He sincerely regretted his behavior. However, that had been the only way he could think of to get her out of the way so they’d move Christopher.
 

But she was one of the few people who could actually reach Kendall. One of the few people who overlooked all of Kendall’s faults, to the woman beneath the hurt and insecurity.
 

Unfortunately, at this point, shooting down one of Kendall’s decisions with Megan’s help would do greater harm than good.
 

Inside the dining room, Kendall sat in her usual spot at one end of the table. He rubbed the back of his neck. Not wanting to have a long fucking table between them, he snatched up his place-setting and moved it to his wife’s end, arranging everything to her right. Once he seated himself, he leaned over and thumbed away her tears, his heart breaking for her.
 

“You love me. Don’t you?” he added when she remained silent.
 

“Very much.”
 

“Then get back on your medicine. Don’t wait until Matilda is born. Call your doctor and start now.”
 

“I’m not me when I take them.”
 

“You are,” he insisted. “You’re just an altered version of yourself.”
 

“I don’t feel the same.”
 

“Ask for a change of meds. A lower dose. Something,” he said with desperation. “Neither of us can continue on like this.”
 

Her eyes widened before she dissolved into loud, gut-wrenching sobs.
 

Jumping from his seat, Johnnie rushed to her and knelt down, gathering her into his arms. “I didn’t mean I’d leave you or send you away.” Fuck, what did he mean? Because what, besides medication or separation, was the alternative? He threaded his fingers through her hair. “We’re in this together, gorgeous. ‘Til death do us part.”
 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly before pulling away and grabbing her cloth napkin to dab at her eyes and nose. “I always swore I’d never,
ever
be dependent on you like Meggie is with Outlaw.”
 

“Kendall, please leave Megan out of this. She has absolutely no bearing on our marriage.”
 

“As long as I take those nasty pills, I’m not me. I can’t focus to do discoveries or briefings or mediation or anything.
I’m not me
. I can’t win cases. Don’t you understand? My career is the only thing that gives me my own identity. A semblance of me.”
 

“You don’t think Megan has her own identity?” he snapped. “She does. She’s a co-partner in the home-healthcare business with Zoann. She does all the office work. Christopher didn’t make her do that. She chose to do it. But even if she was just his wife and the mother of his kids, that would be
her
goddamn identity. What’s so fucking hard to understand about that? You’re not Megan. You’re not better or worse than she is. You’re not above or below her. You’re you, Kendall. My wife. My children’s mother. The woman I love with everything in me. Attorney or housewife, you will still be you. Witty, educated, cultured, and unrepentant.”
 

“How do you see Meggie?” she whispered, everything else he’d said flying over her head but how he felt about Megan.
 

He absolutely couldn’t win where Christopher’s wife was concerned.
 

No one seemed to give a fuck that Megan had stopped talking to him. No one but him, that was. On the other hand, Kendall was over the fucking moon with satisfaction at the turn of events.
 

It didn’t matter how much he missed Megan as a friend. Nor did it matter that, to appease Kendall, he kept as much distance as possible when they had been on speaking terms. The only way he knew how to show Kendall she was the only woman for him was to be a jackass to Megan. He’d expected Megan to always automatically forgive him. This time, he’d miscalculated and lost her completely.
 

To compound matters, Kendall made a concerted effort to break his bond with Christopher. Yes, the man was a fucking dick to her, but, at times, she provoked him past his point of tolerance.
 

When Kendall allowed herself to get the help she needed, she understood all the dynamics. She wasn’t lost in unreasonableness.
 

“Does it matter how I see Christopher’s wife? She belongs to him and she hates my fucking guts.”
 

“Because she’s a spoiled little bitch.”
 

Fuck.
“So are you,” he gritted before he stopped himself.
 

Gasping, she froze for the briefest moment before anger settled into her brown eyes and she slapped his face. She shot to her feet, toppling him over in her bid to escape.