No Magic Moment (Secrets of Stone Book 4) (36 page)

I looked up, bolting my stare to hers, not even trying to hide the swell of feeling that overtook me. Instantly, her eyes bulged.

“
Michael.
”

Air burst off my lips. A laugh? A sob? No. Neither. The moment surpassed those boundaries. It was too damn surreal. Too damn good.

“Mom.”

“Michael?”

Just like that, a grin split my lips. “Dec is dead.”

She plunked onto the bed. Her hands shook in her lap. “Wh-what?”

“It’s true.” Killian inserted it, as if he knew she needed the outside confirmation.

“Oh my God.” Her face twisted on a sob as she rose again, crushing me with a hug. “Oh
thank
God.”

I returned the ferocity of her hold until my shoulder was soaked with her tears—the best puddle I’d ever wear in my life. I was still smiling as she finally pulled back, though a new frown crumpled her features.

“So…where are you going?” She scowled at my bag.

“Kil’s driving me back to the city,” I explained. “He’s got his Aston Martin so we’ll fly.” Right now, that was exactly the intention. “I’ll come back for the truck this weekend, and to check on you.”

Her excited smile formed at last. “And it
won’t
be Killian driving you?”

I leaned and kissed her cheek. “That’s the idea, mama bear.”

She let out a squee then hauled me into another stranglehold. “Holy shit! At last!”

I chuckled. “Guess I’ll bring a big bar of soap with me, too.”

“
Pssshhh
. Just go get our girl. Shoo; both of you.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

*

By the time
Kil dropped me at the El Cortez, the setting sun danced with dramatic clouds across the downtown skyline. I thanked him—well, tried to—then took a moment to look around before entering the building. The gold and gray twilight washed over the neighborhood, turning the pavement and walls and windows into something ethereal. The transition between day and night was one of Margaux’s favorite times of the day, when she could simply stop and
be.
I wondered if that was how I’d find her…and if we’d be able to borrow some of Mother Nature’s alchemy for ourselves.

Just one magic moment. Please
.

I yearned for it so badly, I stopped and prayed for it.

As the elevator took me higher, my pulse pounded my body like artillery tests from Pendleton, shaking every foundation until the roots of my teeth rattled. My sweaty palm slipped on my duffel’s strap as I readjusted it against my shoulder. The
ding
at the fifteenth floor jolted me like rifle fire.

“Man up, candy ass.” I channeled the determination into every stride toward the condo door. I didn’t dare think of it as
our
condo door again, though I went ahead and grabbed the proverbial bull by fishing out my key and testing it in the lock.

It still fit.

The door clicked open.

My chest turned into a nuclear test range.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I walked in—or that she’d even be home. It had just felt right to come here. At this time of night, we were usually on the couch making fun of the trashy TV gossip shows or on the patio having dinner and trading sarcasm—mental stimulation usually ending in fun of other kinds.

Right now, I just hoped she wouldn’t toss my ass back out into the hall.

Music. An alt rock station.

I kicked up half a grin. No surprise there. Our debates about the merits of Led Zeppelin versus Coldplay were a running joke in our relationship. Or had been.

Two factors turned this particular discovery into a surprise. One, the Coldplay tune was coming from the kitchen. Two, Margaux was singing along to it. And she wasn’t alone.

I stopped short after the air itself delivered surprise number three.

It smelled like cookies. Actual, baked-in-the-oven, non-burnt, tons-of-butter-and-other-crap, cookies.

I dropped my bag as quietly as I could. Just as carefully, stepped around the corner.

After that, silence wasn’t such a problem. If asked to issue even a word, I would’ve been a dumbstruck fool.

The woman of my dreams had never taken my breath away more. Her hair was pulled in a high poof of a ponytail over her makeup-less face, which was smudged with flour. A streak of red frosting trailed down her neck, and I instantly imagined licking it off.

Are you even
considering
the concept of letting your dick lead on this one, fuck brain?

There were some pressing priorities on top of that, anyhow—like the thousand questions about who stood next to her. I’d stared at the truth for at least a minute and still hardly believed it. She was really here: the woman so elusive I’d almost thought her a ghost if not for the photos Margaux had kept pristine as a shrine. Though she was almost twenty years older, hardly anything had changed about the structured beauty of her features.

Caroline.

What the hell
?

It wasn’t even the most stunning revelation. Staring at her now, sharing a laugh with my girl as she iced a star-shaped sugar cookie, the truth hit like a damn nuclear holocaust.

“Well, hello there.” The woman’s resemblance to Margaux was even more stunning as she looked up, smiling as if I’d just returned from fetching them some more flour.

Margaux tossed Caroline a puzzled glance before her periphery snagged on me. “Holy shit.” A knife full of frosting dropped from her hand, streaking her apron and the floor with red. I swallowed, hoping the murder scene palette wasn’t a harbinger of things to come.

I finally managed coherency. “Hey.”

Margaux wiped her hands on the apron, smearing the red shit even more but hardly noticing. Her gaze crashed into mine, glistening and tremoring though she clenched the tears back, ordering them not to spill over onto her face. Her breathtaking, soul-stealing, torment-filled face.

“Hey.” She barely rasped it. I watched her start to unspool the mental caution tape, her expression switching from cookie-making joy to monster confrontation. I hated that look. I hated myself for being the cause of it—but law school gave no pointers on conveying the right demeanor for this one. So I stood there like a goddamn slab, hoping my remorse blasted through the rips in my gut.

“Michael.” Thank fuck for the third wheel in the room, proving to be the savior of the moment. “I’m so glad we finally get to meet,” Caroline said while seizing me in a full hug. Her warm grip was so much like Mom’s, I forgot to be stunned. “I’m Violet. Mary’s mother.”

That did it. My confusion was officially validated. “But—I—”

She smirked back at Margaux. “Eloquent, isn’t he?”

I ignored Margaux’s answering eye roll. “Your name’s supposed to be Caroline.”

“Ahhhh.” She pulled her hands up beneath her chin. “
There’s
the tiger on your tongue. Caroline was the name Andrea made me take when I lived with her and Mary.” As she looked to Margaux, I recognized I wasn’t the only one in the place battling regrets. “A legally binding contract was the only way she’d let me be near Mary at all. I signed it in desperation when Mary was four days old, never comprehending Andrea would consider throwing me out.”

Her voice cracked as she relayed the story, the pain tangibly mixing with the butter and sugar aromas in the air.

Margaux wrapped both hands around her mother’s. “Ancient history now, Mom.”

The smile she gave the woman turned me back into a block of clay. I’d never seen such a look on her face before. A new light infused her skin and glowed from her eyes, reminding me of angelic maidens in illuminated manuscripts from the obligatory museums in Europe.

Great. Now I was a star-struck poet—who still stood like a speechless lump. Her joy from reuniting with Caroline—
Violet
—was clear as sunlight on the bay. Maybe she’d come to the conclusion that I was actually useless weight in her life, best cut free forever.

If that was the case, it was best to find out now.
Goddammit.

“I’m honored to meet you, Violet,” I forced out. “And from the bottom of my heart to yours, thank you for having the courage to come forward.”

I wanted to say more but was suddenly edgy. Hopefully, the soft smile I directed at Margaux was my megaphone.
Most of all, thank you for making her so happy.

When the older woman smiled, I knew at least part of the message had gotten through. “Please, call me Caroline if that’s more comfortable for you. It’s my middle name, anyhow.” Her sparkle faded by a degree as she added, “As for my ‘courage’? Well,
that
should have happened sooner. When I think of how Andrea’s pettiness kept me leashed—”

“Okay,
stop
.” Margaux locked both smudged hands on her blue jeans-covered hips. “Wallowing is for swine. And we’ll let the authorities deal with Andrea Asher. She’s not worth another second of our energy.”

I cast a meaningful glance at the cookies. “Especially when there’s important
other
work going on.”

Caroline laughed. Her energy was a little less intense than Margaux’s, imparting a peaceful happiness to the air. “This sweet girl is helping me fill baskets for the Children’s Hospital bake sale. We do it every year at the Seaport Village holiday kick-off festival. It’s a lot of fun. You two should come!”

I averted my gaze. From the rustle of her apron, I judged Margaux had done the same, betraying the sync of our thoughts. The last time we’d ventured over to the Village, truths had been shared, passions exchanged, unforgettable moments created. Just thinking about it eased the weight on my chest. Those had been some dark times but we’d made it through. Did I dare hope that such a light would shine for us again?

“I think it might rain tonight.” Margaux’s nervous murmur disrupted the silence. “I’d better go cover up the chaises and barbecue.”

“I’ll help.” I fell into step behind her, not leaving her time to protest. If she wanted me out of here, now was her opportunity to let me know—and I didn’t doubt she’d use it.

We’d stepped all the way out to the patio before she turned again.

Correction. Spun.

Shit.

I braced myself for the princess seethe but was broadsided by her quiet grief, instead. She waged an intense battle against her tears, nose crinkling and lips twisting. “Just shoot it to me straight, Pearson.”

The mandate, I should have anticipated. Knife through the bullshit…
there
was my perfect princess.

“Well?” She braced hands to her hips. “What can I do to
really
help you, Michael? Did you come back to grab more clothes? Pack up your shit for good? You weren’t just passing through, that’s for damn sure.”

I dragged in a deep breath.
Calm. Calm. Calm.

“You’re right.” Dammit. In this case, calm also meant cagey. I refused to get in her face like a shoe salesman on commission, demanding she buy my plea for redemption if she’d already cut up her card for my store. “As a matter of fact, Killian dropped me off.”

That got rid of the tears. She flashed a trio of stunned blinks. “The hell how? Or why?”

“Because I wanted to get back here as soon as possible, and he was the one at the farm with the Aston Martin.”

“The
farm
? No. He went to the car show in LA.”

“He told you and Claire that.” I dared half a step more toward her, thankful my news had mystified her too much to notice. “He came clean to Claire when we were driving back in.”

“And she forgave him?”

“When she found out why he kept the trip a secret? Yes.”

She tilted her head, training her wary cat’s gaze on me. “Why’d he keep it a secret?”

“Because he might not have been successful in his mission.”

“His
what
?”

“You heard me. He had a mission. I was part of it.”

“A mission to do what?”

I leaned a hand against the barbecue. The move didn’t box her in completely but she’d have to scramble backward over one of the chaises to escape me at this point.

Dear God, don’t let her want to escape me.

“To yank my head out of my ass.”

Her face crumpled with new emotion. The look didn’t disclose anything about whether she’d longed or dreaded to hear that. Her heavy swallow didn’t help, either.

“So…was he successful?”

What the hell was the right reply for that? A dorky nod?
Oh,
that’s
smooth, dweeb.
A tentative
yes
, blurted like one of the drops that began falling from the clouds, splatted into nothing between us when done?
Because she’ll find that so much more appealing? Or trust it at all?
Like
that
was happening. She had no reason to trust any testimony I gave, declaration I swore, or promise I vowed.

She had no reason…so I had only one option.

Show her.

It was the only option that made sense—and the only one that terrified the marrow from my bones.

Show her
.

I dared another step toward her. Lifted a hand to her cheek. She was so goddamn beautiful. Her eyes, alive with green fire. Her chin, set with such pride. Her sweet little smile, filled with such hope.

Her strength, pulling me through the fear.