Secrets Gone South (Crimson Romance) (17 page)

He should make a list. It needed to be a long one if he was going to keep his mind off Arabelle and what he wanted to be doing to her, what he wanted her to be doing to him.

But for now, he was going to get up and make coffee. Might as well. He pulled on a pair of socks. It was cold in here. He’d adjust the thermostat so it would be warm for Arabelle and Avery when they woke up. He came to an abrupt stop outside Arabelle’s door. She’d left it open. He ought to keep going. Spying on people was not really the thing to do, especially not your wife, who didn’t want to be married to you and didn’t like you worth a damn. Still. She’d left the door open. What if he just peeped in? Just for a second? It was barely light out, so it wasn’t like he’d see anything much, even if she was buck naked, which wasn’t likely.

He slowly pushed open the door a little wider. It squeaked a little. He’d add
oil hinges
to his list. Apart from a lump in the bed that was allegedly Arabelle, he couldn’t see a thing. Too dark. Not surprising. That’s what you got from windows no bigger than a cereal box. He briefly considered activating the flashlight function on his phone but that was too far into the creepy stalker zone.

Maybe he’d have better luck with Avery. There was a nightlight in there. He quietly entered and peeped over the bars of the crib. Arabelle would murder if him if he woke the boy.

To his surprise, Avery was sitting up. He looked up from the board book that he seemed to be showing to Jiffy. “Hi, Daddy.”

Well, score! Avery was truly an exceptional child; what kid his age would just sit quietly without screaming to be let up? “You’re awake!” He lifted him out. “How long have you been awake?”

“Chocolate milk?”

“You bet! Let’s get you some dry pants and then we’ll see about chocolate milk.” He laid the boy on the changing table. This was not his favorite part but it had to be done. The off part was easier than the on. “Off with the wet,” he said. At least it was just wet.

“Jiffy, pweeze.”

“Well, since you said please.” But wait. Was he old enough to be left on the changing table even for a few seconds? What if he rolled off or jumped? “Does your mama leave you up here while she fetches Jiffy?”

“Yes!” Avery said enthusiastically.

Why had he even asked that? It was probably a lie. Avery lied all the time. Of course, he didn’t know he was lying. He wasn’t old enough to know what lying was. When would that change? He needed to look that up. And come to think of it, he needed to find out how long a kid was supposed sleep in a crib.

For the second, Avery seemed to be distracted from the thought of Jiffy by the little hairbrush he’d grabbed and put in his mouth. There was a chance of getting him into a dry diaper before he remembered. Wet wipe. Sprinkle of baby powder. Now for the diaper. Maybe if he was quick, it would go fast. Perfect. He might get good at this by the time Avery was toilet trained. And just when was that, anyway? He’d look that up, too.

His pajamas were half off. Might as well dress him. Usually, Arabelle put overalls on him for everyday. They were in the closet but she kept the shirts in a drawer of the changing table.

“You want to pick a shirt?” he asked Avery.

The boy looked confused but then nodded enthusiastically. “Yes!”

Will opened the drawer and held him in reach of it. Avery immediately plucked out a red and blue striped one. That was easy enough—easier than getting it on him. His arm went through the neck twice.

“Now for overalls.” Still not sure if he could leave him on the changing table, Will carried him to the closet. “What to pick?”

Avery grabbed some purple plaid ones. They didn’t match, but clothes were clothes, meant to cover nudity and protect one from the elements. These fulfilled that purpose just fine. The rest was pretty easy. Overalls, socks, shoes.

Will set him on his feet and handed him Jiffy. “What do you say, you walk out to the kitchen like a big boy and sit in your highchair while I fix you some breakfast?”

“Avery a big boy!”

“Yes, you are.” Will took his hand and led him down the hall.

• • •

Arabelle woke with the feeling that something was very wrong and a quick glimpse at the clock told her what. She had to be at work in a little more than an hour! She hadn’t slept this late in years. There was no way she could get herself and Avery fed and dressed and be on time. For the first time, she understood what
hit the ground running
meant. It could be done, literally. But she stopped short in front of Avery’s crib. Empty.

Then she remembered. Will lived here now. Yes. There were sounds coming from the kitchen. She made herself take deep breaths and walk slowly. Last night had gone well enough and the last thing she wanted to do was start today with a bunch of unneeded drama.

She was tired of it. Still, she had to hurry. But maybe not as much as she thought. The smell of coffee and food was in the air. Maybe Will was feeding Avery.

Not only was Avery in his high chair with Will spooning what looked liked hot cereal into his mouth, Will had set the table with the placemats and cloth napkins from last night. At her empty place was an empty bowl, juice glass, and coffee cup. In the center of the table he had placed a little pitcher of milk and bowls with brown sugar, honey, and raisins.

“Mama!” Avery squealed and Will swung his eyes toward her. Damn. How had he cooked breakfast, dressed himself and Avery, and still managed to look so luscious? She hadn’t even run a comb through her hair.

Still, he gave her a smile and Avery pounded the tray of his highchair and laughed like he was glad to see her. “Good morning,” Will said, getting to his feet. “I mixed some of those grains you bought yesterday and came up with a pretty good concoction. There’re raisins, if you want. I didn’t know.” He poured her a cup of coffee and a glass of apple juice.

It was when she bent to kiss Avery that she noticed what he was wearing. “Is Avery going to clown school today?” she asked. Then she wanted to bite her tongue. Would she never learn to stop being negative?

But Will just laughed. “Not a great combo, I admit. But Avery picked it, didn’t you, pal?” He plopped a wad of gray slime into her bowl. It was like oatmeal, but worse, and she had never been able to eat oatmeal without gagging. There was no way she could eat it and no way she couldn’t. Will sat back down and resumed feeding Avery, who seemed to love the slime. Of course, Avery loved everything Will did.

“We don’t have any chocolate milk,” Will said. “I had to go down to the Heavenly Confections kitchen and steal chocolate syrup from Lanie to make some for Avery.”

“You did
what?
” Arabelle stopped with her coffee cup in midair.

“I didn’t think she’d mind. I just took a little. I’ll give her a dollar if you think it’s a problem.”

Arabelle shook her head. “What possessed you to give Avery chocolate milk?”

Will frowned. “He asked for it. Should I not have?”

As if he knew what this discussion was about, Avery grabbed his sippy cup and turned it up, sucking every drop down like a drunk on an island with the last dram of rum that would ever be made.

Arabelle willed herself to be patient. These things took time. “It’s a lot of sugar, Will. Avery always asks for it after spending time with my father. He plies Emma, John Luke, and Avery with chocolate milk to make them love him.”

“Does it work?” Will raised an eyebrow, got up, and began to load the dishwasher.

“Yes.” She folded her napkin into her lap and picked up her spoon. “But don’t get any ideas. Avery already loves you plenty.” She dipped her spoon into the mess in her bowl. Might as well get it over with. But something stopped her. There was a stillness in the air.

She looked up and Will’s green eyes were wide and his lips parted. “Do you think so, Arabelle? Do you really think that’s true?” His voice was a whisper.

She put down her spoon. “Yes, Will. I do. He adores you.”

Will nodded. “I thought maybe it’s just that I’m new … And I buy him trucks.”

It was the honest angel dancing on her shoulder that forced her to say, “No. Avery doesn’t like new. He likes what he knows, what’s familiar. It was different when you walked in. He took to you.” She looked at her coffee cup. “It was almost like he
knew.
” She swallowed. “Sometimes I feel like the odd woman out.”

Will shook his head. “I’ll never catch up. I’ll never have what you had. But I have let that go. This isn’t a contest.”

“I doubt you have let it go. And sure, this is a contest,” she said. “I agree that it shouldn’t be but we both feel it.”

He nodded. “Maybe you’re right. But we need to try to get past that.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “What’s important is what’s best for Avery.”

“Absolutely.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “The best thing we can do for Avery is to be good to each other. I’m going to do that. And I hope you will too.”

It would have been wistful thinking to hope they could do that for the sake of each other. But still, the idea of less strife, for whatever reason, lightened her heart. “I feel like this is the most honest conversation we’ve ever had.”

He smiled. Slow. Sweet. Kind. “This is where we start.”

Avery slammed his sippy cup down. “Chocolate milk!”

“No!” Arabelle and Will said in unison. And they laughed, even if Avery didn’t.

His hand still on hers, Will ended the laugh and squeezed her hand. “I’m headed to the woods to work. I’ll drop Avery off across the hall.”

“No—” That was
her
job. But wasn’t that contrary to what they had just agreed to?

Will lifted Avery from the highchair. “Arabelle. He’s eaten. He’s dressed, even if it’s for clown school. Allow yourself to eat and dress in peace.”

She nodded.

“Give your mama love.” Will put Avery in her arms.

As they walked away, Arabelle called, “Will. Be careful of your hand. Don’t do too much. And call me if you have any pain.”

He nodded.

Arabelle dumped her cereal down the garbage disposal and put her dishes in the dishwasher, where Will had already put his own and Avery’s. She thought again what a good thing it was that they were staying in this apartment. There were sure to be bumps ahead but maybe the worst was behind them. Here, in this safe, familiar environment, she could weather them.

She had forgotten how quickly she could shower and dress without worrying about what Avery might be doing. She was really going to work on not feeling threatened, but to appreciate the help. As she finished her makeup, her stomach growled. Lanie had baked goods delivered fresh every morning to sell with coffee. If she hurried, she could get a pastry to take with her to work before they were gone.

A little wave of shame went over her. She should thank Lanie for the help with the wedding and for keeping Avery while she and Will were gone. And maybe she’d ask when the next book club was. She couldn’t change everything in a day but she could start the change. Wasn’t that what she told her patients who needed to make healthier choices?

Feeling better than she had since before Will found out about Avery, she stepped out the door. She considered popping in across the hall for a last goodbye kiss for Avery, but thought better of it. He didn’t have a sense of time and if he saw her he might think it was lunchtime or, worse, the end of the day.

That’s when she saw the boxes. There were a dozen cardboard boxes stacked neatly against the wall. From the looks of them, they had come from candy making supply companies. Odd. Why would Lanie store supplies up here when she had a huge storeroom right off the candy kitchen? She lifted the lid of one. Empty. They all appeared to be empty. That made even less sense. Lanie always had boxes broken down and left to be recycled.

She shrugged and made her way to the bottom of the stairs where she met Phillip Pearce, who ran Lanie’s coffee bar and did marketing.

“Morning, Dr. Arabelle,” he said with a wink. He was way too charming. “Can I fix you a coffee to go? Mocha, skim milk, no whip, one pump?” Phillip prided himself on remembering everyone’s favorite order.

“That would be great, Phillip. And do you have a scone or a cinnamon roll left?”

“I have orange rolls this morning.”

“Even better,” she said.

“Sure thing. Did you see the boxes I left you?”

It almost got past her. She was already headed toward the kitchen where Lanie would be making candy, already planning what she would say. But she stopped.

“Boxes? For me?”

He nodded. “Not that anyone is trying to rush you. I still have a month and a half on my lease but Lanie said we should start saving boxes so you’d have plenty when you’re ready.”

“I see.” And she did. Lanie had assumed she was moving and had rented the apartment to Phillip.

He continued down the hall toward the storefront. “I’ll get that coffee and orange roll ready for you.”

Lanie was pouring hot syrup into heart shaped lollipop molds. She looked up and smiled. “I was surprised to see that you and Will stayed here last night.” She moved on to some molds shaped like lips. “Can you believe it’s almost Valentine’s Day?”

Arabelle did not point out that it was a good three weeks until then which did not constitute
almost
.

“Lanie,” she said evenly. “Did you rent my apartment to Phillip?”

“Yes!” Lanie said happily, still pouring syrup. “I was fretting about getting someone who wouldn’t complain about the kids across the hall—all the noise and comings and goings. Phillip said his lease was running out. He has one of those duplexes across town and he hasn’t been real happy there. Something about the plumbing. Anyway,” she babbled on, “Phillip has an MBA and he only promised to stay eighteen months when I hired him. He’s been here longer than that already and I’m thrilled that he’s willing to stay another year. And won’t it be great not to have to worry about someone complaining about the kids?” She put her empty pot down and met Arabelle’s eyes. “I want them to be able to play on the balcony once it gets warm and make all the noise they want. Phillip won’t care.”

“I see. When do you want me out?”