Great. As if she needed the man to be any more tempting to either her or her son. Their son. She had to start getting that verbiage right.
On her way home, she stopped at the grocery store for the final items to round out dinner. The big news they’d planned to share was out of the bag, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be difficult questions that may or may not have answers. Whatever Matt had already told Caleb, it seemed to have planted him firmly in the idol column.
With that thought, she turned down the aisle and added an extra bottle of wine to her cart. She’d open it later tonight to unwind after Caleb was in bed and Matt was out the door. There were yesterday’s cookies ready for dessert, but she added some ice cream to the cart anyway. She could surprise them both with ice-cream sandwiches.
It was bribery, plain and simple, and she was glad she’d thought of it.
When she reached the checkout lane, her cart loaded with too many extras, it looked as if she was hosting a party for a dozen people. Just covering all the bases, she thought pragmatically. She wasn’t planning on feeding her nerves at all.
This was their first dinner as a family, and it should be memorable for more than just the bombshell that they were a family. Would Matt wait until they were alone to say I told you so? Were he and Caleb already discussing how this situation was all her fault? She could hardly blame her son for reaching that conclusion without any help from Matt.
At home, in her kitchen, with the chicken and vegetables roasting in the oven, she poured a sparkling water instead of the wine she wanted and started on the ice cream sandwiches. Did Caleb hate her now that he knew she’d kept his father from him all this time? He surely felt betrayed, a fact which would make any further lessons on honesty and integrity harder for her to sell.
And she still hadn’t heard how he’d found out anything about Matt in the first place. Her queries via text message had been brushed aside with Matt’s reply that he’d explain it all in person. Oh, that didn’t make her nervous at all.
With dessert individually wrapped and back in the freezer, she stirred up dip for an appetizer tray and set it to chill. Caleb would want something to graze on as soon as he arrived and she assumed Matt would, too. She arranged slices of cheese and cut veggies on a platter and put it back into the refrigerator. When they pulled up, she’d set everything out and add crackers.
With that done, she walked through the dining room and family room, looking for anything out of place. Although she knew she was overthinking it, she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want Matt to find any reason to criticize the house or her parenting. The house was clean and tidy, thanks to a chore list, ingrained habits and some creative nagging. At last, she turned toward the bedrooms, forcing herself to make sure the guest room was ready if Matt insisted on staying here.
Would he insist? She supposed he’d have to since she had no intention of inviting him to stay over.
She felt heat rising in her face at the idea of Matt sleeping under her roof, just down the hall from her bedroom. It had been years since she’d seen him in person and yet he was still the man she wanted most, the man she held up against all others. And he continued to star in her most erotic dreams. At least that was a secret she could take to her grave, privileged information that never had to be listed anywhere.
The sound of a burly engine in the street drew her toward the big front window in the dining room. A quick chill of uncertainty slid down her spine when the glossy black Camaro with silver rally stripes pulled into her driveway. She was startled to find herself blinking back tears as she watched father and son emerge from the car. Happy tears, she told herself. This would be a happy occasion.
Caleb, the backpack on his shoulder, was practically dragging Matt to the front door. Side by side, the resemblance was uncanny, all the way down to their stride. Caleb was lanky, more elbows and knees right now, but already she could see him growing into the charming version of Matt she’d met at West Point.
The years had been good to him. He looked as fit as ever in an untucked soft gray button-down shirt, dark khaki slacks and brown leather boat shoes, with a light jacket in his hand. No wonder she’d been unable to make room for another man in her life. No one else was Matt. The man she’d always loved. The man she still loved.
Foolish, she scolded, schooling her expression into something she hoped came across as stern. Her feelings for Matt were impossible and could wait to be examined over that bottle of wine. Caleb was her priority and he needed to know that, happy endings aside, his actions today were absolutely unacceptable.
Hearing another car on the street, she saw Matt turn his head. Following his gaze, she didn’t recognize the slow-moving car. The window behind the driver rolled down and the unmistakable barrel of a gun appeared in front of a shadowy figure in the back seat.
A scream lodged in her throat, she raced toward the front door. She heard Matt shout, prodding Caleb into a run as the rapid popping sounds of gunfire chased them. The door opened and Caleb tumbled inside, onto the slate foyer, with Matt practically on top of him. The stained-glass window at the top of her oak front door dissolved in a shower of colorful, glittering splinters.
“Get down!” Matt shouted. He slammed what remained of the door closed with his foot. “Move, move.” He urged them back, deeper into the house, closer to the protection of the dining room.
“Caleb!” Bethany dropped to the floor, checking him for injuries. “Are you hit?” What on earth was going on? This wasn’t a drive-by shooting sort of neighborhood. “Talk to me.”
“I’m fine,” he promised.
The coppery tang of blood stung her nose and her hand came away sticky and smeared with blood. “You’ve been shot,” she insisted. “Where?” She reached for his clothing, searching for the wound.
Vaguely, as if she’d been packed in cotton, she heard Matt calling 911, relaying her address and the incident, including details of the car.
“Not me, Mom,” he insisted. “It’s Matt.” Caleb squirmed out of her reach, heedless of the glass scattered across the floor. “Gotta be.”
No. The world couldn’t be so cruel as to give her son his father and take him away again in the same day. She ignored the slivers of glass biting into her hands and knees as she followed. Matt had pulled himself to a seated position against the wall across from the door.
“How bad?” she asked, lifting away the jacket he’d pressed to his side.
“Grazed.” He sucked in a breath as she looked for herself. “Burns a little, that’s all.”
He wasn’t simply being stoic. High on his left side, his shirt was torn, the fabric scorched by the bullet and stained with his blood. “Not too bad,” she agreed. “Caleb, go get the first-aid kit.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Stay away from windows,” Matt called after him.
“You think they’ll come back around?”
He shrugged, winced. “Better to be safe...” His voice trailed off as his gaze locked with hers.
She didn’t need him to finish the familiar idiom. Silently, she vowed that whoever had fired a gun at their son would be the only party feeling sorry about this particular incident.
Caleb returned and knelt beside them, the first-aid kit in hand, along with clean dish towels. “Need a bowl of water?”
“That would help,” she said.
He nodded and scrambled off again.
“He’s great,” Matt said as she unbuttoned his shirt so she could get to the