“How is she?” Sean asked, his look strained as he trailed them to the door, clutching Emma to his side like it was happening to her.
Marcy slipped her coat on. “She’ll be fine, this is number four. It’s old hat to Faith.”
Emma’s smile was tender. “I’d like to come to the hospital if there’s room, Marcy, or we can take Gabe home, if you like—whatever you need us to do.”
“Why can’t Gabe stay here with me?” Steven asked, arm hooked to Maggie’s waist.
“Because you have to take Maggie home, and once Gabe hears her cousins are having a sleepover, there’ll be no rest. And, yes, Emma, please come because I’m sure Brady and Luke have everything under control.” Marcy sighed when something crashed in the kitchen. “On second thought,” she said with a quick kiss to Sean’s cheek, “maybe they could use your help while Emma goes to the hospital with us, all
right?”
“What do you need me to do?” Steven asked, feeling like a spare cog in a finely tuned machine. “Maggie and I can clean up the kitchen, but what else do you need?”
Marcy lifted on tiptoe to buss Steven’s cheek. “Nothing else, Steven, a clean kitchen would be lovely.” She smiled at Maggie, giving her a hug before cupping her face in her hands. “I’m so glad you came tonight, Maggie. We look forward to welcoming you to the family.”
Maggie’s smile was shaky. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Connor, for the warm welcome. I . . . ,” her throat shifted, “can’t thank you enough after all the trouble I’ve caused in the past.”
“Nonsense,” Marcy said with a pat of her cheek, eyes as glossy as Maggie’s. “You and Glory are family now, so the future is the only thing I’m concerned about.”
“Mother!” Charity rushed in the door, breathless. “Father said to hurry.”
“Coming,” Marcy said, flying out the door.
Emma brushed a kiss to Sean’s lips before grabbing her coat and hightailing after Marcy. She paused at the door to shoot a smile over her shoulder. “Oh, and it was wonderful meeting you, Maggie. And Steven, she’s beautiful.” She blew a kiss to Sean. “Don’t wait up, darling—babies are my passion . . . after you, that is.”
Shaking his head, Sean shut the door with a smile. “It’s not always this wild, Maggie, so I hope we haven’t scared you off.”
“No, it’s been a lot of fun seeing the dynamics of a large family, especially during Pinochle.”
Sean ambled toward the kitchen with a grin, hand flush to the swinging door. “Yeah, well, you might reserve your opinion till you play with Charity and Luke for more than an hour or two—it can get pretty ugly.” Pushing through, he halted with a grimace over his shoulder. “Steven, if you don’t want Maggie to change her mind, you may want to take her in the parlor till we clear out the kitchen. It’s a little crazy right now.”
“Good idea.” Steven steered Maggie to the sofa, then sagged down and tugged her along. She snuggled in, and his arm slid to buff hers, conjuring painful memories of the night his father caught them on this very couch in the wee hours of the morning.
He closed his eyes and exhaled, suddenly worn from the day. Although he’d brought Maggie home to meet his parents again after he’d proposed, today was the first time she’d met everyone else, and it had been draining to say the least. His family couldn’t have been kinder or more welcoming, but the shock of seeing Maggie instead of Annie with his sisters was still too raw for them all. Which is why he’d put off giving Maggie the ring after dinner as originally planned. That was something he needed to do with Maggie alone, he’d decided, to spare both his family and her the awkwardness over the turn of events he’d sprung on them all.
A quiet sigh escaped from his lips. Not that his family hadn’t reached out, because they had from the moment Maggie walked in the door. And Maggie had sparkled and shined, of course, saying all the right things. Yet somehow she hadn’t fit in like her sister had, and Steven suspected they missed Annie too. He sucked in a deep breath and released it. With everyone gone, this was the perfect time to give Maggie his ring and seal their fate—a ring he had hoped to give to Annie some day instead. Exhaling softly, he resolved to make this work and tucked Maggie close, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You gotta be exhausted, meeting so many new people.”
“A little,” she said, burrowing in, “but this is important, to fit into your family, Steven. For your sake and Glory’s as well as mine.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Mags. My family loves Glory, they’ll love you too.”
She paused. “As much as they loved Annie?”
His throat constricted. “More.” He kneaded her arm. “After they get to know you.”
“Do you really think so?” Her voice trembled like a scared little girl. She sat up to meet his gaze, the tragic look of hope in her eyes causing a twinge in his chest.
He studied the girl who’d haunted him till he’d fallen in love with her sister. The memory of their past, the way they used to feel, tugged at his heart. He smiled. “Yeah, Mags, I do.”
She paused as tears welled in her eyes. “Will you?”
The kitchen door flew open with shouts and giggles while Luke, Brady, and Sean herded cousins into the foyer to bundle them up in coats, hats, and scarves.
“Three weeks and counting, you two,” Luke called, buttoning coats while kids sparred and giggled. “Enjoy single life while you can.”
“Nice meeting you, Maggie, and welcome to the family.” Brady glanced up, easily attending to hats and gloves with his baby in his arms. “Sorry, Steven, we tried to clean up, but the ruffians got into the ice cream, so there’s a royal mess. Sean’s doing dishes now, but the kids had a food fight, so you can guess what the floor looks like.”
“No problem, Brady.” Steven put two fingers to his teeth and whistled, halting all commotion. “Hey, anybody gonna say goodbye to their uncle?”
Cousins flew into the parlor, giggling while Steven kissed and tickled. Maggie asked for a hug, and the girls obliged. “She’s pretty,” Abby said, “but I miss Annie and Glory.”
The smile withered on Maggie’s face, and Steven hooked her close. “Annie and Glory spent Thanksgiving with their aunt Eleanor, but next year Glory’ll be with us and maybe Annie and Aunt Eleanor too.” Ruffling Abby’s curls, he gave Henry a Dutch rub. “You guys didn’t eat all the ice cream, I hope, because if you did, somebody’s going to pay.”
“We did!” they squealed, and Steven jumped up like he was going to chase ’em down.
Bedlam broke loose when cousins shrieked out the front door just as Gabe thundered down the steps. “Steven,” she shouted, latching her coat on the way out, “make sure Pop knows it was Henry who blew ice-cream bubbles out of his pipe, okay? Bye!”
Sean sauntered through the kitchen door, pipe in hand and a crooked smile on his face. “Good thing Pop likes butter pecan, or Henry could be in big trouble.” Setting Patrick’s pipe by his chair, Sean strolled to the front door to put on his jacket, flashing a warm smile. “Great meeting you, Maggie.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Don’t let Steven coerce you into mopping up—it’s no place for a lady. G’night, all.”
The door slammed shut like a vault, leaving nothing but silence and air that was hard to breathe. Steven popped up, preferring to deal with his mother’s sticky kitchen instead of Maggie’s sticky question. He squeezed her hand. “Mags, put your feet up and relax while I clean up, okay?” He paused. “You want anything? Coffee, soda, water?”
“You?” she whispered with a shy tilt of her head. She twined her fingers in his and pulled him back down.
“Maggie, I—”
She kissed him, and the familiar taste of her mouth reminded him how this very attraction had altered their lives. He pulled back to stroke her cheek. “Mags, I need to get the kitchen cleaned up and then walk you home. Unless you want to call Frailey since I don’t have a car?”
“No . . . walking’s fine.” She hesitated, peeking up beneath sooty lashes. “Steven?”
/> “Mmm?” He brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said softly, blue eyes locked with his. “I know you had feelings for Annie or you wouldn’t have dated her, but . . .” She swallowed hard. “You care about me too, right? Enough to make this marriage work?”
He smiled, his eyes softening as he studied her. “I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me, Mags, if I didn’t. Nobody’s that noble.”
Her smile wavered. “Oh, I don’t know—you seem to be.” She tilted her head, her gaze fragile. “You’ve changed a lot, Steven. There was a time you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “But I was wrong, and I regret it.” He leaned in to graze his lips against hers. “But trust me, Mags, the chemistry’s still there.”
“But I need to be sure,” she whispered, eyes clouded with insecurity.
He stared, the pull of attraction there to a faint degree, but nothing like it once was. His gaze flicked to her full lips before he slowly leaned in to take her mouth with his, reminding himself that Maggie, not Annie, was the mother of his child and would soon be his wife. His mind clung to the thought, but when she deepened the kiss, alarm curled in his stomach. He nudged her back. “Come on, Mags—I want to keep this aboveboard till we’re married.”
She sat up with a hurt crimp of brows. “But we’ll be married in less than a month, Steven, and all I’m asking for is a few kisses. And it’s not like we haven’t been intimate before.”
He drew in a deep breath. “That was then, Maggie, this is now. I want this marriage to work for Glory’s sake and ours, which means we do it God’s way, period.”
She blinked. “God? Since when are you interested in—” Her eyes flared wide. “Wait—this has to do with Annie, doesn’t it? She got to you, didn’t she?”
He sighed and rubbed her arms. “I won’t lie—Annie’s been a positive influence. She started me thinking about God in a way I never have before, and it’s changed my life.” He lifted her chin, gaze gentle. “Which is why I want to marry you. Yes, I care about you, and yes, I’m still attracted to you, but Glory deserves two parents who love her and you deserve a man you can trust.” He drew in a fortifying breath. “A man who promised to marry you when you gave him your all. I didn’t honor my promise then, but I intend to now for Glory and for you.”
Her eyes drifted closed. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
He was tempted to lie, but he knew he couldn’t. Not anymore. “That’s not important.”
“It is to me!” Her eyes blazed open, fire and pain burning in their depths. “Are you?”
He studied her, loathe to hurt her but unwilling to deny the truth. “I was on my way.”
Hand to her eyes, her body crumpled with a heave, and he scooped her up, head bent to hers as he kneaded her back. “Maggie, it doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” she rasped. With a violent shudder, she angled her chin. “Does she love you?”
“I . . . don’t know . . . ,” he said, quite sure Annie probably hated him by now—he certainly would. He’d left it to Maggie to explain the situation, avoiding Annie ever since.
“You do know!” she screamed, tears ravaging her face. “Don’t lie to me, Steven. Annie said you and she were just dating and nothing more, but I have to know—does-she-love-you?”
He stared for several seconds. “You have to ask her.”
She shook his arms, teeth clenched. “I’m asking you!”
He paused. A muscle quivered in his cheek. “I think so.”
She sagged back on the couch with a hand to her eyes.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, gripping her arms. “All that matters is you, me, and Glory.”
A shiver rippled as she shook her head. “It does matter,” she whispered. “I love my sister, Steven, and I’m not a monster.”
“No, Glory is the only thing that matters now,” he said quietly. “Everything else is insignificant next to our daughter.”
A low moan trailed from Maggie’s lips as her shoulders slumped into a sob. “Not ‘our’ daughter, Steven,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “mine.”
His blood stilled to a crawl. “What do you mean?” he said, voice hoarse.
She looked up then, and he saw it all—her love for him, her grief, her shame. “I lied because I need you, and yes, I care for you . . . but you’re not Glory’s father.”
He shot up, fury stuttering his words. “W-what?”
Bolting to her feet, she grasped his arm. “I thought . . . that if you still cared for me, maybe, just maybe, we could try again and make a home for Glory.” She moved in close, slipping shaky hands to his waist. “Steven, I only did it because I love you . . .”
He flung her arms away, eyes burning with fury. “By lying and manipulating? God help Glory with a mother like you! And to think I almost made you my wife.”
“It’s not like that,” she cried, her voice almost shrill. “I was angry at Annie for betraying me and angry at you for telling me the past was dead and gone, because for me . . . ,” her eyes met his, brimming with tears, “it isn’t, Steven. I could tell you still cared and I certainly knew you were still attracted to me, so I just . . . ,” she drew in a shaky breath, “stretched the truth a bit.”
“Stretched-the-truth-a-bit?” he enunciated tersely. His jaw sagged in disbelief before it went to rock. “You can’t stretch what you don’t have, Maggie.”
She rubbed her arms, eyes desperate. “I would have never done it if you told me you loved Annie, Steven, but you didn’t, and then you proposed—”
“Because you tricked me!” he railed. He paced, bile thick in his throat, then wheeled around. “What kind of woman are you anyway?”
“A desperate one, in love with my daughter!” She moved to where he stood, a tic pulsing in his jaw. “You said you still cared, Steven, and I care about you too, and you said you didn’t love Annie, so I just thought . . .” She shuddered, avoiding his gaze. “What did I have to lose?”
“Oh, I don’t know—your self-respect?” He clenched his hands for fear he would shake her. “Why would you do that to your own sister if you knew she loved me?”
“Because she told me she didn’t!” she screamed, fingers quivering when she pushed the hair from her face. She closed her eyes, shoulders slumping as she turned away. “And because I wanted to be a mother to Glory,” she whispered, “and I c-can’t do that a-alone.”
She started to weep, and he felt his fury fade, but he wasn’t willing to let it go.
Not yet.
Striding to where she stood, he gripped her, her tears finally softening his hold. He willed his body to settle down, forcing his temper to calm. “Maggie, we’ll get through this somehow,” he said stiffly, “but not before you tell me the truth.” He lifted her chin with a firm finger, muscles twitching his jaw. “Who’s the father?” he breathed.
She shook her head and tried to back away. “It’s not you, Steven, so why do you care?”
He jerked her back. “Blast it, Maggie, I care about Glory, and God help me, I don’t know why, but I care about you too.” He sucked in a halting breath, compelling himself to relax. He lowered his voice. “We were going to be married, Mags, I was going to be Glory’s father. I have a right to know who it was and when it happened.” He thought of Glory, and his heart wrenched, forcing a crack in his voice. “I need to know if there’s the slightest chance Glory can know her father.” A thought struck, and the air thinned in his chest. Please, God, not Brubaker or Brannock, he thought, painfully aware Maggie had flirted with both to make him jealous.
Body wavering, she stared, lids rimmed red and despair bleeding from her eyes. He steadied her with a gentle hold, watching as her lips opened and closed.
His heart thudded in his chest while he massaged her arms. “We’ll get you through this, Mags, I promise . . . but first I need to know.” He drew in a deep breath and took her hands in his, encouraging he
r with a light squeeze. “Who is it?” he asked quietly.
Her jaw trembled as she pressed a kiss to his palm, eyes raw with pain. “Oh, Steven, please don’t hate me.” Her gaze dropped as if she couldn’t bear to witness his reaction, but not before he saw the truth in her eyes.
Joe.
18
So, help me, Walsh, you’re a dead man. Steven latched the iron gate of Aunt Eleanor’s Georgian brownstone and stared at the house where two sisters resided for whom he cared deeply—one he’d planned to marry and one he now hoped he could. He noted all windows were dark, which was to be expected long after midnight. Burying his hands in his pockets, he headed north to Washington Street where his partner lived, the best friend who’d betrayed him with the woman he’d loved. His jaw hardened as he picked up his pace, wounded that Joe never told him how he’d felt about Maggie. Since they’d traded baseball cards in the first grade, he and Joe confided in each other about everything—everything but Maggie, it seemed—and Steven felt the sting deep in his soul.
The wind whipped at his unbuttoned coat, but he didn’t feel the cold. He was too hot at Joe to even notice, and God knows he needed to cool down. He’d always known Maggie and Joe were close, even spending time together when Steven couldn’t, but he hadn’t known how close. After he’d raged and ranted, he and Maggie had talked for hours before he walked her home. He soon discovered she’d turned to Joe when Steven broke up with her in their sophomore year. His lip curled. A real friend in need: comforting her, supporting her.
Loving her.
Steven never meant the breakup to last for long. He’d only wanted to give Maggie some of her own after she’d flirted and done God knows what else with both Brubaker and Brannock to make him jealous. The two guys he hated most in the world, and Maggie knew it, letting them paw and parade her like some prize trophy. Like she belonged to them, but she didn’t. She belonged to Steven, body and soul, and he belonged to her. But in a jealous rage to teach her a lesson, he’d taunted her with Erica, and he and Maggie had paid the price.