Meant to Be Mine (A Porter Family Novel Book #2) (20 page)

“I’m an attorney,” Neill was saying. “I commute to Plano for work.”

Neill looked to be about thirty-five. He had shiny black hair,
glasses, a polo shirt, topsiders. Neill was about as different from Ty as caviar was different from Cheetos.

Celia couldn’t seriously like this putz. Cheetos were better than caviar. Everybody knew that.

As their conversation continued, however, it seemed that Celia might prefer caviar. Yesterday she’d told him that there was no chance of a romance between them and that she wanted to make their divorce official. This Neill was probably the type of character she’d date as soon as the ink dried on their divorce certificate.

Ty’s chest tightened at the thought. He wanted nothing more than to sweep out his arm and push Celia behind him. She was
his
wife.

At the same time, she wasn’t his wife. He had no influence over her choices. She lived alone in this house with Addie. Neill lived next door. And Ty lived across town. Celia and Neill would have easy access to each other, and Ty wouldn’t be close enough to do a single sorry thing about it.

Even so. The thought that filled his head?

Over my dead
body
.

C
elia painted the interior of her house in colors more commonly found inside a package of tropical-flavored Starbursts. For the living room: pale aqua. The dining room: piña colada yellow. Kitchen: mango. Hallway and bathroom: honeydew melon green. Her bedroom: the light purple of an orchid petal.

For two days she worked ceaselessly on priming and painting. Members of the PFHS (Porter Family Help Squad) showed up frequently to lend a hand.

The easiest company was also the worst painter: Meg.

Celia could count all of her true friends on one hand, and Uncle Danny took up a finger. It was extremely rare for her to meet someone and feel that mysterious
click
. But after spending just an hour painting with Meg, Celia was pretty much ready to rush out and buy the two of them best friend heart pendants divided in half by a jagged line. She didn’t even mind that she had to retouch the sections Meg had painted after Meg went home.

The hardest company was also the best painter: Jake.

Just eighteen months younger than Ty, Jake had been in Celia’s grade all through high school. Celia’s deep infatuation with Ty had made her extra aware of Jake because he was Ty’s brother. Her
attention had heightened every time she’d seen Jake, spoken with him, or heard others discussing him.

Jake had been flawlessly handsome back then, and also the football team’s quarterback. Handsome quarterbacks at big high schools in the football-crazy state of Texas were often conceited, elitist, or downright obnoxious. That’s not how Jake had been. She remembered him as smart and laid back and kind, careful with his words.

Her recollections of the high school Jake made it painful for her to interact with the Jake of the present. The scar across his face wasn’t puckered or red. It was white, smooth, and blade thin. Despite that, it was impossible to miss. Its path started at his nose and slashed across one side of his face. It did not make him ugly. Nothing could. But it did seem to be outward evidence of much deeper inner scars.

The two times he stopped by to help paint, he did so with a minimum of words. At first Celia had tried to reminisce with him about Plano East High School. He’d responded, but his demeanor had assured her that the canyon between his old and current self wasn’t challenging for her alone. At the first opportunity, he’d taken his can of paint and gone to work in another room.

Celia had come to the conclusion that the war had killed something inside Jake Porter. Perhaps he’d seen too much over there, been devastated too deeply. He had a stony outward shell and—from what Ty told her—his work training Thoroughbred race horses. But he no longer had much else. Looking into his eyes was like looking into the eyes of a bitter seventy-year-old man, hard-worn by life.

The most absent company was also the most pervasive: Ty.

Since he couldn’t help with the painting because of his knee, he kept Addie at his house for several hours each day so Celia could paint. If only it had been an out-of-sight-out-of-mind thing. Instead, she could
not
get that blasted kiss out of her head. Whenever she dropped off or picked up Addie and had to spend a few moments talking with him, she was glaringly, alarmingly mindful of
the attraction twining through the air between them. What went unspoken had become more powerful than what they said.

Celia baked in the early mornings to calm herself, worked on the house all day, then kept on working after Addie went to bed at night.

The empty hole inside of her that refused to be filled seemed to urge her to be still and listen. She’d hoped that a more stable financial situation would fill her sense of incompleteness, but no. It loomed bigger every day. What the voice seemed to suggest was that if she would rest, then it could offer her peace.

Rest? She slept too little, she worried too much, and she churned out more predawn pastries than a Nestle Toll House test kitchen on steroids. It wasn’t sustainable, this pace. But
rest
?

Rest made no sense to Celia.

She was a single mother. Single mothers didn’t rest.

The day of Addie’s fifth birthday dawned in an identical way to every other August morning in Texas: hot, humid, and sunglasses-not-optional bright.

Something that would not be identical to its predecessors? Addie’s birthday celebration. For the first time, Addie’s father would be hosting her party.

When Ty had asked Celia if he could invite his family over to his place for Addie’s birthday dinner, Celia’s heart had tweaked because she’d always been the one to organize Addie’s parties. Nevertheless, she’d agreed. The gingerbread house, covered in draped furniture and drying paint, was much like her emotional state at the moment—not party ready.

And so it was that Celia found herself standing in Ty’s kitchen the evening of the fifth anniversary of Addie’s birth. The Porter family surrounded her, talking, joking, and snacking on the Ruffles and onion dip that Nancy had brought as an appetizer.

Celia’s mind traveled back to Addie’s fourth birthday, just one year prior. She’d had no thought then of ever leaving Corvallis.
She’d not known most of these people. And she’d had absolutely no intention of ever crossing paths with Ty again.

But here he was. Chewing on a chip while Addie gazed up at him adoringly and explained to him why Cinderella always wore her hair up and Aurora always wore her hair down.

Since arriving at Ty’s house forty-five minutes ago, Celia had been trying not to be so ridiculously attuned to Ty’s every word and gesture. So far her efforts were bombing. He was wearing another pair of cargo shorts and a navy UFC T-shirt. He looked like the sort of images that came up on Pinterest when a person ran a search for “hot guys.” Not that she’d ever done something so debasing.

“Addie Potaddie?”

Celia and Addie snapped their faces toward one another. Uncle Danny had finally arrived in Texas?

“Yoo-hoo! You here somewhere?” Danny’s voice drifted in from the front of the house.

Addie gave a happy yelp. She and Celia hurried in the direction of the front door. The bunches of pink and purple balloons that Nancy and Celia had tied to every available spot in Ty’s living and dining room swayed as they passed.

Uncle Danny had told Celia repeatedly that he planned to arrive in Holley in time for Addie’s birthday. Privately, though, Celia had begun to have her doubts. Over the past days he’d said things to her on the phone like, “Since I’m close to Wyoming I’m going to check out Grand Teton National Park,” and “I think I might stop and do some mountain biking at Moab in Utah. They’ve got some sweet terrain there.”

Celia rounded the corner that led to the foyer in time to watch Danny wrap Addie in a bear hug.

“Happy birthday!” He gave Addie a smacking kiss on her hair. “How are you, girl?”

“I’m cool. You cool?”

“I’m cool. Can’t complain.” He presented his fist, and Addie bumped it. “This hot weather down here is
awesome
, isn’t it? I
feel like I’m in a Swedish sauna. Good for my pores.” He released Addie and gave Celia a hug. “You hanging in there, sister?”

“I’m hanging in there. I’m so glad you’re here.”

The Porters had gathered nearby. “What a house, man!” Danny said to Ty as they shook hands.

“Thank you.” Ty grinned at her uncle.

“You’ve got a lot of land around you,” Danny said. “Real natural vibe.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Danny zeroed in on Nancy. “This can’t be your mother can it, Ty?”

“She is.”

“Are you single?”

“Uncle Danny!”

But Nancy tossed back her head and laughed. “I haven’t been single for thirty-five years. But make me an offer. I’ll consider it.” More laughter. Even her husband, John, joined in.

“I’m hoping to meet some of Holley’s single ladies,” Uncle Danny told Nancy. “Maybe you can help me?”

“Sure! I’d be happy to help.”

Celia introduced John, Bo, Meg, and Jake to Danny. If any of the Texans were leery about a fifty-something man who’d just hit on their mom and was wearing a shark tooth necklace, a sleeveless shirt, and board shorts, they didn’t show it. Except maybe Jake. But then, Jake treated everyone with leeriness.

“Now that Danny’s here, let’s eat!” Nancy clapped her strong hands. “Anyone hungry?”

Celia, for one, wasn’t hungry for hot dogs. But since Ty had let Addie choose the menu, Celia acted the way she imagined an easy-going mom might act and pretended to be cool with Addie’s choice. Really, though. Hot dogs?! Did a more processed food exist?

Once the dinner things had been swept away, Celia fetched the cake. Addie had placed a request for vanilla with pink icing. Celia, deep in sanity-via-baking mode, had made a three layer cake large enough to feed thirty. She’d covered it in mounds, dips, and artful
crests of delicately flavored peppermint frosting. The topping of translucent sprinkles caught the light and gleamed. Five candles balanced their flames, and all the Porters sang as Celia crossed from the kitchen into the dining room, carrying the cake.

Addie, sitting at the head of the table on a chair that had been mounded with pillows, closed her eyes and took her time formulating her wish.

The contours of Addie’s face were so dear and familiar to Celia. The teal glasses. The straight hair in its neat bob. The downy curve of her cheek.

Today her daughter was five years old. Five. And as happy as Celia had ever seen her, here in Ty’s big brown house, celebrating her birthday in a way they’d never celebrated it before.

Her precious one, her Addie, was getting older. Sadness descended through Celia like moss through a lake, slow and twisting. Tears gathered at the backs of her eyes.

Ty, who was standing on Addie’s other side, caught Celia’s gaze. He quirked a brow questioningly, those magnificent blue eyes gentle with compassion.

Goodness gracious! She could handle his teasing, sparring, and bantering.
Anything
but heart-slaying kindness.

Addie blew out her candles, which sent clapping and hooting ringing through the room.

The instant Addie finished her slice of cake, she cajoled them all into moving into the living room so she could open presents. The adults, who were still finishing off their servings of cake and sipping decaf coffee, watched as Addie calmly and methodically unwrapped each of her gifts.

Early in the day, over a breakfast of homemade waffles, Celia had presented Addie with a beautiful set of princess books she’d found online at a good bargain. She’d been hoping Ty would act like a normal person and give Addie a similar caliber gift. But when the last present had been revealed and none were from Ty, Celia began to worry.

When he winked at Celia and made his way out the back door on
his crutches, her worry intensified. What had he gotten for Addie that was so large he couldn’t wrap it? A Rolls-Royce? A Learjet? A stack of gold bullion?

A loud knock on the front door caused Addie to lift her head from the set of Polly Pockets she’d been playing with.

“Who could that be?” Nancy asked Addie, rounding her eyes with exaggerated confusion. Nancy had clearly been let in on the secret. “You’d better go see.”

Everyone followed Addie to the door.

Celia was going to
kill
Ty if he threw more money at her child—

Addie pulled open the door, revealing Ty standing on the front porch next to a round white pony that looked like a sausage overstuffed into a casing of hide. Pink ribbons dangled from the pony’s mane and tail and a huge purple bow circled its neck.

“Happy birthday.” Ty gave Addie the same breath-stealing smile that had captured Celia’s fourteen-year-old heart.

A live animal? He purchased a PONY without asking
my permission?

Addie’s lips formed an astonished oval.

“Want to come say hello to her?” Ty asked, looking as pleased as if he’d just been handed a winning lottery ticket.

Addie broke from her bliss-daze and went to the pony. “Oh my gosh,” she kept whispering as she wrapped her thin arms around the animal’s neck. “Thank you, Daddy. Thank you soooo much.”

At this rate, her daughter was going to become irredeemably spoiled.

“Is that an overgrown dog?” Bo asked.

“I think so,” Jake answered.

“Now, now, boys,” John put in. “It might be a cat.”

“A sheep?” Nancy chortled.

“A hamster?” Bo proposed.

“Don’t mind them, Celia.” Meg squeezed Celia’s forearm. “They’re all horse people, but I happen to love ponies. I convinced Bo to get a few for Whispering Creek, and they’re wonderful.”

Wonderful!
What if Addie fell off? She wouldn’t fall as far off a
pony as she would a full-sizer, but still. She could break her neck trying to ride a pony.

“She’s mine?” Addie asked Ty, as if she didn’t dare believe her good fortune. “Really?”

“All yours. What are you going to name her?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You want to go for a ride?”

“Yes!”

No!
Celia thought.

Ty caught the end of the pony’s rope beneath the right-hand grip on his crutches and set off across the lawn in the direction of the stable. Addie took hold of Danny’s hand on one side and Meg’s on the other, then followed. Celia slid on her sunglasses and rushed past everyone to catch up with Ty.