Playing All the Angles (18 page)

“I wish you had! I’m so sorry I missed it.”

“You’ll love Tad, Issie. He’s really wonderful. He’s—well, I was smart to lock him down before he could come to his senses. And his parents are so amazing.”

“Do you have a photo of the back of the gown?”

Eve sent over several more pictures, and the sisters sat cooing over little details until Eve’s doorbell sounded. She could hear Tad going to answer, then another familiar voice in the hall, and she begged off quickly. “Issie, we just had an unexpected guest. Let me ring you back later.”

“All right. I love you! I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you! I love you too.”

She hung up just in time for Dominic to stalk through to her kitchen, muttering aloud that marriage was not all it was cracked up to be.

“It’s all rather a big build up to nothing,” he groused. “Nothing different anyway, save once you’re married, you’re expected to go to the shops all the time. She’s not going to do it anymore.”

He was complaining to Tad, who followed along with a bemused expression.

“She says since I don’t have a job, I should do the shopping and the cleaning up. But I don’t have a job because she didn’t like my job, so she can shove her shopping.”

Tad was biting his lips together to keep from laughing. “Eve, Dominic’s here for a visit.”

“So he is.”

Dominic eyed Tad, making his body as imposing as possible.

Tad simply drew up to his full height, not put off in the least. “Don’t mind me. I’m back and forth moving boxes. If you need me, I’m in and out, love.”

Eve nodded and welcomed Dominic into the kitchen.

“I’ve shagged you in there,” he said. “Your
husband
done that yet?”

“I wondered if you were going to come over,” she said and then wrinkled her nose. “You smell like a pub, and you look like shit. When is the last time you shaved?”

“I look fine,” he huffed. “When did you get married?”

“On Saturday,” she said lightly. “When did you last cut your hair? You’ve really let yourself go, Dom. Are you drunk?”

“Maybe. Some. Why?” he demanded.

“Because you’re acting—”

“No. Why did you get married?”

“Why did I get married? The usual reasons. The same reasons you married Isabelle. I love him. He loves me.”

“Does he know about the baby?”

She laughed so hard that it took him aback. “Ah. That I’m having one and it isn’t his? Yeah. It’s fairly obvious. And haven’t we had this bit of conversation before?”

“And he’s okay with it?”

“You have bad breath too. Sit down. Drink?”

“No! Yes. What’ve you got?”

“You can have tea. Yes, he’s okay with it. He wants both of us.”

“But it’s mine.”

“Dominic,” Eve warned. “You’ve already nearly taken us both down with your mouth. We agreed that you would be Uncle Dominic, remember? And then I didn’t hear from you for weeks—so much for calling to check up on me. When the baby comes, it will be Tad’s name going on the birth certificate, and unless you demand a paternity test, that’s all it will ever be.”

“I won’t give up my parental rights.”

“You don’t have any to give up,” she countered. “And really, think about what you’re saying. Did nearly losing Isabelle recently have no effect on you? What do you think she’ll do if she finds out that you and I were together more recently than Uni and that you’re the father of my baby?”

He gaped, and she put her hands on her hips.

“Dominic, you and I have nothing. Just the fact that you were willing to walk away the first time and not so much as glance backward—no. You’re married to my sister, and God, look at you. You’re gross. Have you bathed this week? What? Do you just sit around playing video games all day now? Do a sit-up, for God’s sake.”

“You told me to walk away,” he argued, ignoring the insults. “I did what you said you wanted!”

“Right, and I still want that. More than ever. I love Tad, and we’re going be a family—me, him, and this baby. So, do everyone a favor and just walk away,” she said. “And do Isabelle a favor and go to the gym. Something.”

“She made me quit racing,” he said, pouting.

Eve laughed at him. “Poor asshole. You quit racing so you could make her marry you. Isn’t that more like it?”

“She wouldn’t marry me till I retired!”

“Who in their right mind would? You’ve nearly killed yourself before. Need I remind you that you nearly died at least once?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t, though. And everything still works. Got you knocked up, didn’t I?”

“Only because God has a sick sense of humor.” She snorted.

“Why the neighbor?”

“What?”

“Why did you marry the neighbor?”

“It was easier than marrying the plumber? Dominic, listen, I see that you’re upset. God knows why, but it’s obvious you are. And I see that you’re depressed.” She put a cup of tea down in front of him. “And that married life isn’t agreeing with you. Do you want to talk about it? You know, rather than just aggravating me? I am pregnant and have a very waspish temper just now.”

“It’s not married life that’s not agreeing with me,” he said, shrugging. “It’s just that I don’t have any other life now.”

“It’s not like Isabelle’s keeping you chained to the couch,” Eve pointed out. “You’re free to go and do other things. Not other people. Other things.”

“I miss the groupies,” he admitted, looking up through his lashes. “And the crowd. The adoration.”

“I always thought it was so silly that people found you exciting because you can ride a motorbike in a circle.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. “I was trying to be serious.”

“I was too. I mean, think about it, Dominic. My sister adores you because of
you
, not because of how fast you can drive a glorified bicycle around a dirt track. And really, are you going to find a hotter groupie? No. So, you’ve got this gorgeous, smart, funny wife and—oh. I see.”

“What?”

“You’ve got a gorgeous, smart, funny wife, but you’ve never believed yourself particularly worthwhile without the roar of the crowd, so you’re not sure what to do with her. And you’re not sure what to do without a whore to go along with your virgin, are you?”

“What? That’s not it at all.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that. I would hope that isn’t the problem, especially since you haven’t been married very long,” Eve said. “But then, you were forced to quit cold turkey, so maybe you’re just suffering from withdrawal like any other addict.”

“I’m not addicted.”

“Then you explain your symptoms.”

“I’m bored,” he finally said.

“Then get a job!”

“I wanted the one in LA. Isabelle refuses to go.”

“Dom! You picked her over LA before. Why are you upset about it now?”

“I just want a change,” he admitted.

“And to get away from the possibility of her finding out what you’ve been up to,” Eve said, knowingly. “Well, coming here and making demands is not the way to keep it quiet. Didn’t you tell her you were going to the shops? She has to be wondering where you’ve got to by now. We were on the phone forever!”

“I just went to the off license on my way here.”

“Then you’d better be running to a shop now.”

“I left my beer on the train,” he realized. “Shit. I’m a mess.”

“Yes. Yes, you are. Finish your tea and get out of here.”

He shook his head and stood up. “Thanks, but I’m just going to go.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“Right,” he said, looking lost for a moment before adding, “Congratulations.”

She walked over and hugged him, ruffling his hair. “Dominic, I should be encouraging you to leave her. I still think you’re terrible for her. But if you’ll just give it a chance, everything’s going to be okay. Just give it a chance. It’s okay for life to be quiet. And look at who you’re getting to be quiet with. And if it’s too quiet, go home and make some noise. With your wife.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, then he turned and walked out, passing a box-laden Tad as he went with a tight nod.

Eve watched him go, feeling it was the close of a chapter, wondering if she’d done the right thing in encouraging him to stay the course. If he was unhappy, and if Isabelle was having doubts, maybe the best thing would be for them to call it quits before any lives were truly ruined. Or maybe they could make it. For love of both of them, or maybe for sentimentality, she found herself hoping they could.

Chapter 12

N
EWS
O
F
A
LORA’S
M
ISCARRIAGE
came slower than Eve’s nuptials, but it made the way down the grapevine to Eve’s home in the next week. She sighed and chewed her nails over the note her mother had sent. What to do? The obvious seemed for her to stay farther away in order to keep from making things worse on Alora having to look at Eve’s big, pregnant belly.

She responded to her mother’s e-mailed message by offering to skip out on the upcoming party her parents had planned for Dominic and Isabelle. It was a late reception for their wedding, but the first time both D’Amicos and Phillipses could gather their entire clans for an event. Her mother had replied that she thought that was for the best and encouraged her to simply send any gifts she might have purchased directly to the happy couple. Strangely, it was a blow.

What she had wanted was for her mother to tell her to come anyway, that she was part of the family and important, and that she belonged. It never failed to break her heart a little more when one of them said the opposite. Still, she recognized that she never made things any easier for them.

Feeling her baby roll inside, she smiled, but felt sympathy for Alora. Olive and Una were Alora’s life. She wanted children like most people wanted money.

For the briefest of moments, Eve allowed herself to recall the loss of her first pregnancy. It was a memory she usually fought to suppress, happier pretending it had never happened. It had, though, and she knew firsthand how awful it was to lose even an unwanted baby. A wave of real sorrow for her sister swallowed up the pain of the past, and she determined to make an effort to express her sincerity. She switched from her e-mail to a shopping web site and shipped her older sister a gift basket full of pamper-yourself goodies, then switched back to e-mail and wrote her a note.

Alora, I sent you a gift. I’m so, so sorry to hear about the baby. Please accept this as I intend it. I wish I could do more. Rest. Be good to yourself. You can call on me if you need anything.

A week passed with no response, delivery of the basket confirmed, and Eve sighed about it to Tad. “I suppose I should quit trying.”

“Never stop trying.” He shook his head. “It’s been years of living one way. It’ll likely take years more to turn the ship around.”

He had just gotten the good news that his firm had landed the Olympic contract and he would be heading up the design team. It meant a three-week tour of Beijing, Barcelona, Athens, and Sydney, visiting the former Olympic sites and talking with the corresponding design teams in those cities. He would be gone for most of August, but would be home well in time for the baby to arrive.

They were looking over the calendar, seeing if they could take a holiday before he left, but it wasn’t looking feasible. “Baby’s due at the tail end of August or start of September,” Tad said. “I’m gone the end of July through mid-August, so maybe we can sneak away somewhere before then? We won’t go far. Maybe out into the country?”

“That sounds good,” she agreed, not really interested in the calendar at all. “Have you noticed my parents haven’t offered to do us a party?”

Tad leaned back and looked at her. “I thought you didn’t want them to.”

“I don’t. But I want them to want to. I’m their daughter too. Alora gets baby showers no matter how many times she’s pregnant, and Isabelle can run off and marry that nutter, and they fall all over themselves, even though she dashed their plans for a wedding. I’m like…I’m like a second cousin. Nothing for my baby. Nothing for my marriage. Nothing.”

“Maybe if they thought you cared.” He shrugged at her. “You’re kind of prickly, Red. You know? They’re probably afraid if they offer, you’ll rip off their heads and use their empty skulls for toasting goblets. I mean, they should offer. They’re your parents, and they should man up, but you’ve made your hatred well known. Your defense mechanisms are ruining your chances. If you want a party, let’s throw one and invite them.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Us. You and I. We should throw a party and invite them. Invite everyone we want to be there. Or do an Eve’s-Family-Only party. It’d be fun. I’d like to meet them.”

“You’re mad.”

“I get that a lot from the likes of you,” he said, bumping her nose. “But I’m not. I’m reasonable. So, you want a party?”

“I want them to give me a party,” she replied, pouting.