Almost Forever (25 page)

“Let's try this again,” he whispered. “I love you, Claire Westbrook, for all the things you are. You're gentle and loving, and you have dreams in your eyes that I want to share. Will you marry me?”

She would never have believed that she could soar so high. With her arms locked around his neck, straining up to put her mouth to his, Claire looked up into those brilliant sea-colored eyes and said, “Yes.”

 

She walked down the aisle of the huge, drafty old church with her cream-colored satin gown rustling and the veil trailing behind her. Her father's arm was steady under her hand. Familiar and beloved faces turned toward her as she walked: the faces of the many people she had met this past week, all beaming at her; Sarah Matthews, pale and serene, with her children beside her; Derek Taliferro, his golden eyes wise beyond his years, smiling as he watched her. Alma, smiling and crying at the same time and still looking lovely while she did it. Lady Alicia, her eyes brimming with pride. At the altar, waiting for her, were Martine, and Max's sisters, four heads in varying shades of blond. Rome Matthews stood beside Max, his dark eyes seeking out his wife where she sat in the pews, and a silent message passed between them. Clayton also stood there, and two of Max's cousins.

And Max. Tall, impossibly handsome, and so beloved that it hurt her to look at him. His image was blurred by the veil she wore, but he watched her, and there was a moist glitter in his eyes, like that of the sea.

Her father gave her hand to Max, who moved to stand by her side. The pearl on her hand gleamed in the golden candlelight of the many tapers that flickered throughout the church.

Max pressed her hand warmly, and she looked up at him. His eyes were steady. Hers were dark, secretive pools, but there were no more secrets between them. Turning toward the altar, they began speaking their vows.

For M.S.R., always.

came to her profession the long way around. came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she'd been an actress, magic of romance, she'd been an actress, a salesclerk, a janitor, a model, a phone a salesclerk, a janitor, a model, a phone sales representative, a teacher, a waitress, sales representative, a teacher, a waitress, a playwright and an office manager. Now a playwright and an office manager. Now that she's finally found work that suits her that she's finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Those experience” for her future as a novelist. Those who know her best withhold comment when who know her best withhold comment when she makes such claims; they are grateful that she makes such claims; they are grateful that she's at last found steady work. Christine is she's at last found steady work. Christine is grateful, too—not only for the joy she finds grateful, too—not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day's in writing, but for what waits when the day's work is through: a man she loves who loves her work is through: a man she loves who loves her right back, and the privilege of watching their right back, and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma. Visit Christine at with her family in Oklahoma. Visit Christine at www.christinerimmer.com.

C
lay Barrett watched his cousin, Andie McCreary, push her food around on her plate. He knew she was trying to make it appear that she was eating, but he wasn't fooled. He'd also noticed that she'd refused both wine and a cocktail.

“Everything all right?” their waitress asked.

Andie shot the waitress a smile, one that tried its best to be bright. “It's wonderful. Thanks.” Then she bent her head earnestly over her plate and pushed the food around a little more.

Clay cast about for the right opening. “You know, it's worked out surprisingly well, your running the office. I'll be frank. I didn't expect it to.”

Andie looked up at him, her brown eyes unnervingly direct. “I know you didn't. You let me stay on when you took over because Uncle Don asked you to give me a chance.”

Her frankness surprised him a little, but he recovered quickly and admitted in a cautious tone, “That's true.”

Don and Della Barrett had adopted Clay when Clay was
ten years old. The love and gratitude he felt toward them was the cornerstone on which his life was built. There was very little he could refuse either of them.

Andie added pointedly, “But you
kept
me on because I run Barrett and Company better than you ever thought it could be run.”

“Right again.” Clay tried a smile.

Andie didn't smile back. “I'd be difficult to replace.”

“No argument.”

Andie caught her inner lip lightly between her teeth. It seemed to Clay that he could hear what she was thinking:
are
you going to replace me?

But she didn't say the words aloud. A few other things still remained to be said first. They hadn't quite worked their way around to those things yet. But they would, very soon now.

Andie concentrated on her plate again. Clay looked at the sleek crown of her head and thought of the past, of their rivalry when they were growing up.

Andie had been the family darling, the
lovable
one, the mere fact of her existence enough to get her anything she wanted. Clay was the achiever. He showed his worth by what he did.

Their resentment of each other had been as natural as breathing. They'd disliked each other on sight, from the day the Barretts had adopted Clay. And they went on disliking each other, right up to the day Clay left home, on full scholarship, for UCLA.

When Clay left, he'd been eighteen and Andie had been seventeen. Clay hadn't come back for ten years, except to visit. But then last April his father had suffered a heart attack. At the family's urging Clay had decided to return right away to Northern California to take over his father's one-man accounting and investment-consulting firm.

When Clay stepped in at Barrett & Co., his cousin Andie
had been the office manager there for two years. Clay had been absolutely positive that he and Andie wouldn't last a week as a team.

He'd been dead wrong. In the years that Clay had been away, his willful, unfocused cousin had grown up.

Clay was stunned to discover that Andie was absolute dynamite at her job. She could work circles around any of the topnotch clerks and assistants he'd used in L.A. at the major international firm where he'd been clawing his way up through the ranks for five years.

Andie kept ahead of the work load. She was pleasant and businesslike. The clients adored her. And if she remembered how she and her new boss used to squabble and fight when they were teenagers, she never mentioned it or let it affect their working relationship.

Yes, it
had
worked out. It was still working out, in spite of the change in Andie the past couple of months.

Andie pushed her plate away, giving up the pretense that she would eat the food on it.

The waitress appeared again. “All done?”

Andie nodded. Clay ordered coffee. The waitress looked questioningly at Andie.

Andie shook her head and murmured, “Nothing more for me.”

“You can bring the check, too,” Clay said.

The waitress went about her business, pouring Clay's coffee and bringing the bill. Andie fiddled with her water glass and watched the busers and the hostess, the waiters and the other customers, anyone but Clay.

Clay studied Andie, noting, as he was always doing lately, the faint shadows, like tender bruises, beneath her eyes, the grim set to her pretty mouth. She seemed thinner than before, and there was a tautness about her.

At the office, she was as wonderfully efficient as always, maybe more so. But the charm and the openness that Clay had believed as much a part of her as her gleaming nearly black hair and her easy, musical laugh, were gone. For the past several weeks, Andie had burned with a determined kind of heat.

And Clay had to face facts here. It was the end of
February,
for God's sake. Tax time was upon them. Barrett & Co. was enjoying a brisk business. And it was going to keep getting busier until April fifteenth. If Andie flaked out on him, Clay was going to have problems.

And if Clay had problems, his father, who only worked a few hours a day now, would be drawn back into the business full-time. Don didn't need that kind of pressure, not anymore. That kind of pressure could cause another heart attack. And another heart attack might be the end of him.

“I know what you're thinking, Clay.” Andie's voice was tight.

Clay realized he'd been silent too long. He looked up at the beamed ceiling overhead.

“God, Andie…” He breathed the words softly and in them he heard all of his own worry and frustration.

“I'm not going to let anybody down,” she said slowly and evenly, as if she was afraid he might not understand the words. “I swear to you. I can handle this.”

The moment of truth was upon them. He demanded, quietly, “And just what is
this?
”

Her mouth twisted. A spark of anger lit her eyes. All at once, the old rivalry was there again, rising up to poison the air between them.

“You know. Don't pretend you don't.” She spoke in a low, intense whisper. “I've seen you watching me lately,
measuring
me, putting that razor-sharp mind of yours to work on the changes in me. We might as well be kids again, the way you've been following me with those eyes of yours.”

Clay stared at her, understanding exactly what she meant. When they were kids, he
had
watched her. She was always doing things she shouldn't and he was always finding her out. He'd caught her pawing around in Granny Sid's bureau drawers when she was nine, smoking one of her father's Roi Tans when she was eleven and riding on the back of Johnny Pardo's Harley Davidson when she was fifteen.

“I never ratted on you.” The childish words were out of Clay's mouth before he knew he would say them. They were words from the old language they had shared growing up, the language of their rivalry and mutual resentment.

Andie answered in the same vein. “You never had to rat. You knew. You knew
everything.
I hated you for that, for watching and knowing all the ways I messed up, while you were so perfect and did everything right.”

“Andie…”

“No.” She chopped the air with a hand, then dragged in a breath. Her eyes shone with tears that she wouldn't let fall. She looked up at the beamed ceiling, just as Clay had a few moments ago, as if seeking whatever he had sought there.

At last she lowered her chin and met his gaze across the table. “I'm sorry. I promised myself I wasn't going to do that.”

“What?”

She sighed and the saddest hint of a smile tugged the corners of her mouth. “Act like a brat.” She waved a hand on which a gold bracelet of delicate linked hearts gleamed. “Prove to you that I'm still the flaky little twit I was when we were kids.”

“I know you're not.” He spoke with firm conviction.

She peered at him sideways and in the dim light, for a single instant, she almost looked mischievous. “Meaning I
was
a flaky little twit back then?”

He looked at her, not speaking, realizing he'd more or less put his foot in it.

She echoed his thoughts. “Cautious Clay puts his foot in it once again.” She called him by the name she used to taunt him with back in the old days.

He tried to look accusing. “You set me up for that one.”

She let out a teasing chuckle. “I certainly did. And it's all right. You only said the truth. I
was
a flaky little twit when we were kids.”

“A very charming flaky little twit.”

Two spots of color appeared on her pale cheeks. “Well, thank you very much.”

“You're welcome.” He felt absurdly satisfied to have heard her laugh, to have been the cause of her blush, however faint.

They were quiet for a moment. But it wasn't a bad silence, Clay thought, with some relief. Somehow, resurrecting their old antagonism had reminded them of what their current professional relationship often made them forget.

Beyond being a boss and an employee, even beyond the actual fact of being cousins, they were
family.
They were
connected
—not by blood, since Clay had been adopted—but through the people they both loved and through a shared past.

“Hell. Andie.”

“Go ahead. Ask it.” The last traces of her teasing laughter had fled. Her eyes were haunted again, her expression resigned.

There was nothing else to do but say it. “Are you pregnant?”

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Yes, I am. Are you going to fire me?”

C
lay glared at her, offended. “I wouldn't fire you just because you're pregnant. What do you think I am?”

But Andie didn't want to fight with him. “Clay, don't get self-righteous on me. Please.”

He relaxed a little. “All right. Sorry. Let's try this another way.”

“What way?”

“Let me start out right now by saying that I have no intention of firing you.”

Her slim shoulders slumped, whether with relief or weariness, Clay didn't know for sure. “That's one problem solved,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. I'm the one who should be thankful that you aren't planning to quit. As you pointed out a while ago, you'd be damn near impossible to replace.”

“Oh, Clay.” Her expression was very vulnerable suddenly. In a totally spontaneous gesture, she reached across the table
and squeezed his hand. “Do you have any idea how much it means to me to hear you say that?”

Her hand was warm over his. Clay liked the way it felt, which shocked him a little, for some strange reason. He must have stiffened, because she quickly took her hand away.

“I've embarrassed you,” she said in a tiny voice.

He cleared his throat. “No. No, really. You haven't. Not at all.” God, he was babbling like an idiot. He drew in a long, slow breath. Then he reminded himself that there were still some things they had to get clear between them.

He made himself ask, though it came out sounding pompous and ridiculously formal, “So then it's settled that you won't be leaving Barrett and Company?”

“Yes.”

“Good. So. Are you planning to get married?”

“No.”

“I see.” He forced himself to go on, though each word emerged more stilted than the last. “Then as far as the, er, child. What exactly do you plan to do about that?”

That burning intensity came into her eyes again. “I'm going to keep it.”

He tried to assimilate what she was telling him. “Raise a baby
alone?
”

She let out a little puff of air, then pointed out in a too-reasonable tone, “I'm a single woman. How else would I raise it?”

He knew he should probably just let it be, yet he heard himself asking, “Do you really believe that's the best choice?”

“It's
my
choice.” She looked down at the table and then lifted her head again to face him directly. “I've thought about it a lot, Clay, believe me. It's what I want and the best I can do, given the circumstances.” She curled her fingers around her water glass, as if to steady herself. Then she shot Clay a defiant look. “A lot of women raise children alone these days.”

“That doesn't mean it's a good thing.”

“I didn't say it was
good.
I said it's the way it is.”

Right then, the hostess led another couple to a booth near theirs. Both Clay and Andie fell silent for a moment, guarding the privacy of their conversation.

As Clay watched the hostess handing out menus, he reminded himself that he really shouldn't get in too deep here. He shouldn't push for answers to questions he was probably better off not thinking about.

He already had most of the information he required as Andie's boss. She was going to be a mother and she wanted to keep working for him. All he needed to know now was how she planned to manage everything—how much leave she was going to need and when she would need it. The rest was her own personal business.

But he couldn't seem to stop himself. Once the other couple was settled with their menus, he turned to his cousin and asked, “What about the father?”

Her shoulders tensed. “What about him? He's not involved.”

Clay leaned forward. He pitched his voice low. “Who is he?”

She flinched, then steadied herself. “It doesn't matter.”

“Of course it matters.”

“No, it doesn't. As I said, he's not involved.”

“Andie, I just want to know who he is.”

“I understand that.” Her jaw was set. “And I'm not going to tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it's not really any of your business, Clay. And because it would probably only cause trouble if you knew.”

“What do you mean, trouble?”

“I mean, you might get it into your head that you should go after the guy or something. I don't know.” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “How should I know what you'd
do? I just know that nothing but trouble could come from your knowing the man's name.”

“That's not necessarily true.”

“I don't want to argue any more about this. I'm not telling you. That's all.” She had that stubborn, determined look she used to get when they were kids. Whenever Andie got that look, it didn't matter what a guy did, she wouldn't talk.

Clay tried another tack. “Are you saying that the father wants nothing to do with the child?”

Andie sat back from him, then she lifted her water glass and drank from it. Carefully she set down the glass. “Look. What was between me and him just didn't work out.”

“Does he
know
that you're pregnant.”

“Yes. He knows.”

“How did he find out?”

“I contacted him and told him about it.”

“And?”

“I told him I thought he should know, that's all.”

“What did he say?”

“What could he say? I told you, it was already over between us. There was no chance of trying again, even for the sake of a child. We just…aren't suited to each other. But I did tell him about the baby, because it seemed like he had a right to know. And he said he'd help out wherever he could, but he didn't want me to involve him.”

Clay's chest felt tight. “And that was it?”

He saw the flicker of hesitation in her eyes before she answered, “Yes.”

“What else?”

“Clay…”

“Just tell me. What else?”

“You're bullying me.”

“What else?”

“All right, all right. He sent some money.”

“Money.”

“Yes. To help out.”

“To help out.”

She glared at him. “Is there an echo in here?”

He ignored her sarcasm. “Is he going to give the baby his name?”

Andie looked away, then back. “No. He's not. And that's fine with me.”

“But I thought he said he'd help you
wherever he could?
”

“Clay, I—”

“What does that mean,
wherever he could?
”

“Clay, if you don't stop this—”

“Just answer me. What does that mean?”

“I'm not kidding here, Clay.”

“He could help you by marrying you. Did he say anything about that?” Clay heard the leashed rage in his own voice. He tried to rein it in. He reminded himself again that the things he was grilling her about didn't really concern him at all. But now that the fact of Andie's pregnancy was out, he was finding it very hard to deal with.

Damn it, she
was
family to him. And she had been used. He just couldn't help imagining the immense satisfaction he'd feel if he could only get his hands on the thoughtless bastard who'd done this to her, the rotten worm who now seemed to think a few lousy bucks would get him off the hook.

Andie was looking at him guardedly.

He asked again, “What about the man doing the right thing and marrying you, Andie?”

“Stop it, Clay.”

“Well, what about it?”

“If you don't settle down, I'm going to get up and leave.” She spoke softly but very deliberately.

He stared at her. On the table between them, both of his fists were clenched. “I'm sorry.” He pushed the words out through his teeth.

She met his gaze, unwavering. “Then relax. Sit back. Take a deep breath or two.”

“Fine. I will.”

“Good. Then do it.”

He closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten. Then he made himself sit back in the booth. He pulled air into his lungs and slowly let it out.

“Better,” she said warily.

“Good. Now, what about his marrying you?”

She looked at him for a moment, as if gauging how much to say. At last she allowed, “I told you, it's over between us. It didn't work out. I don't want to marry him. And he doesn't want to marry me.”

“Why is that?”

She looked away. “Enough. Stop.”

“What?”

“I said, enough. I don't want to talk any more about the father. There's nothing more to say about him. I cashed the check he sent me and that's the end of it. I want nothing more from him. I'm not going to marry him, but I
am
going to raise my baby. The man is out of my—
our
—lives. For good and all.”

“There are laws, Andie, that will force the man to take responsibility for—”

She put up a hand. “I don't care about laws. My baby and I will be just fine on our own. We'll manage. If you can't accept that, Clay, then maybe I will have to look for another job.”

“More coffee?” The smiling waitress appeared out of nowhere, coffeepot held high.

Clay shook his head tightly. Andie gave the young woman a sheepish smile.

“Well, if you need anything else…”

“We won't,” Clay said, not bothering to disguise his impatience. The waitress left them. As soon as she was out of sight, Clay turned to his cousin. “Please don't quit.” Somehow he managed a rueful shrug. “I'll do my best to mind my own damn business.”

Andie nodded. “Fair enough.”

 

Clay forced himself to stop thinking murderous thoughts about an unknown man and to consider the things they really did have to agree on. “So. Have you figured out how you intend to run my office and also have a baby a few months from now?”

“It's more than a few months away, thank goodness,” she corrected him.

“When?”

“I'm due in September. That's seven months.”

In his head a voice whispered,
Then she's two months along.

Which meant she'd probably become pregnant over the holidays.

Over the holidays, while Jeff was here…

“My due date is September twenty-fourth,” Andie was saying. “I saw a doctor just last week.”

God. He didn't want to think it. But the timing was right.

And Clay had seen the signs that Andie and Jeff were drawn to each other. His best friend and his cousin had spent at least one evening alone together, as a matter of fact.

“Clay?” Andie's voice showed concern. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. I'm fine.”

No, he told himself firmly, it wasn't Jeff. It
couldn't
be Jeff. He wasn't even going to let himself imagine a thing like that. He reminded himself for the umpteenth time to mind his own business, to stick to the question of how she planned to manage both a job and motherhood.

“Clay?”

He blinked. “Yes. Now, where were we?”

“Are you sure you're—”

“Absolutely.” He answered the question before she finished it, then suggested, “Since you've thought this all through, why don't you tell me exactly what you have in mind?”

She actually smiled as she launched into her plans. “All right. I'd like to work as long as I can and then I'll take a short leave, maybe eight weeks at the most, to have the baby. I intend to be back at the office as soon as I can find a good baby-sitter. It should work out just fine. Or at least as fine as something like this
can
work out. I mean, September isn't a half-bad time, really. Things aren't too crazy then. And I can be back before the first of the year, when it all starts picking up again.” She tipped her head and regarded him. “So, how does that sound?”

Superimposed over Andie's features he saw Jeff's face, the laughing blue eyes and the devilish grin.

“Clay?” Andie asked anxiously.

He could hear Jeff's voice, back in college, when a woman Jeff didn't even know threw her arms around him at a home-coming game and kissed him right on the mouth. Jeff had winked at Clay over the woman's shoulder.
Hell, bud. I'm fatal to women. What can I say?

“Clay, does that sound all right?”

Clay blinked and forced himself back to the here and now. “Yeah, Andie. It sounds just fine. And I'm glad to hear you've been to a doctor, that you're taking care of yourself.”

“I am. I promise.” She gave him a real smile now, and it occurred to him how much he'd missed her smiles the past few weeks. She shifted in her seat. “So, then. Are we done?”

“One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Your parents—have you told them yet?”

“No.”

“When will you tell them?”

“Right away.”

“And what will you say?”

“Just what I said to you. That I'm going to have a baby and I'm raising it on my own.”

 

The very next night Andie faced her parents.

She had them over to her apartment on High Street and she cooked them pot roast. Her father loved pot roast.

Andie waited until the dinner dishes had been cleared away and her father was on his second helping of chocolate cake before she dared to broach the subject of the baby.

With her stomach feeling queasy and her heart pounding a little too fast, she got up to refill her parents' coffee cups and took her seat again. Then she folded her hands on the tabletop and gave a little cough, because her throat felt so tight.

“Andie?” her mother asked, before Andie had said a word.

Andie met her mother's dark eyes and saw the worry and apprehension there. The past several weeks, her mother had asked her more than once if something was bothering her. Andie had put her mother off with vague replies. She said she was fine, or that she was a little tired. But her mother hadn't been convinced, Andie knew. And now, with that emotional sixth sense a mother often has, Thelma McCreary understood that she was on the verge of finding out what had been troubling her only child.