Matrimony With His Majesty. Rebecca Winters
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She drew in a deep breath. “I couldn’t. It was an exhausting business trip. But I have an idea. After we get back to the condo and I freshen up, how would you like to go somewhere for dinner? You name the place.”
“Why do we have to go out? Can’t we just stay home?”
To her disappointment, he was more truculent than usual. She reached out to squeeze his arm. “Sure we can. I’ll fix us some tacos and we’ll just hang out.”
When he didn’t respond she said, “I don’t know if I told you Danice was transferred to Washington D.C. She’s invited us to spend the Fourth of July with her. That’s the day after tomorrow. We’ll watch the fireworks from a boat on the Potomac. It’ll be fabulous. What do you say?”
“I’d rather not go.”
Darrell moaned inwardly. “How come?”
“Danice treats me like a little kid. I hate it.”
Danice was her good friend, but right now Phillip didn’t care how he sounded. She started to feel panicky. His depression was definitely worse.
“Here we are,” she said unnecessarily as she pulled into the garage of their condo. “Take your clothes into the laundry room and we’ll get a wash started.”
“Mrs. Holbrook already did mine.”
“That was nice of her.”
When Darrell reached for her suitcase and saw the Zurich tag on the handle, she tore it off and stuffed it in her purse before entering the hallway.
She was convinced he was suffering more than usual because he’d just come from Ryan’s, whose father was known as Mr. Dad.
Phillip only had a mom. Life was unfair.
It was unfair.
Darrell no longer had a sibling. With her grandmother already passed away, Darrell had been virtually alone when she’d taken on the role of mother to raise Phillip.
Over the years she’d dated off and on. She’d even come close to marrying her boss earlier this year. But he was too soft on Phillip who needed a strong hand. Darrell had feared her son would always be in the driver’s seat after they married, so she’d stopped seeing him except in connection with her work.
Since then she hadn’t dated anyone.
“Phillip?” she called to him. “I’ll be upstairs changing, then I’ll come down and fix us a meal.”
“Okay.”
The condo felt like an oven. On the way up to the bathroom she turned on the air-conditioning to cool off the house.
Once beneath the spray, she quickly lathered her hair, then used the blow dryer until the strands swished soft and silky against her shoulders.
Afraid to keep him waiting too long, she applied a fresh coat of coral frost lipstick, then slipped on white shorts and a sleeveless navy top. Dispensing with shoes she hurried downstairs. He needed to talk.
She knew the drill. They would discuss all sorts of things, but inevitably he’d bring the conversation around to the father he was growing to hate for not being there for him.
It was so sad he’d reached the age where he understood about a man sowing his wild oats without compunction, and one had taken root in the Rocky Mountains.
Heartsick for Phillip who was acting out with increased frequency, she walked in the family room off the kitchen to find him. He was playing a video game. In her opinion they were a curse. No communication could go on with his hands on the controls, and his eyes glued to the screen. Luckily he enjoyed sports, which kept him busy a lot of the time now that it was summer.
“Want to grate the cheese and cut up the tomatoes?”
Without saying anything he got up and followed her to the fridge. Athletically inclined, he looked good in his old cutoffs and T-shirt. One day he would look…fantastic, just like his father, whose arresting features and physique eclipsed those of any man she’d ever known.
She could still picture him standing in the doorway of the jet, staring at her with those hauntingly beautiful green-gray eyes. They seemed to follow her into the kitchen where she fried the tortillas and ground beef. Then she and Phillip sat down to eat.
She was glad to see his dark mood hadn’t affected his appetite. She waited until he’d finished off his third taco before venturing into uncharted waters.
“Sweetheart?” she began. “I love you more than you’ll ever know, and it hurts me that you’re so unhappy. There’s an old adage that says something like, ‘Give me the wisdom to accept the things I can’t change, and help me to change the things I need to do something about.’ It’s a good rule to live by.
“No matter how much you want things to be different, your father didn’t stay in Colorado, so he didn’t know you were born. That’s the painful fact of the matter.
“Now the ball is in your court. You can either make up your mind it’s not going to ruin your life, or you can grow up an angry man so fixated on your own hurt, you’ll never live up to your full potential.
“I know I’m just your dumb mom, but between us, we’re all we’ve got. I promised your mother I’d love you and take care of you forever. So I think the time has come for you to go to a counselor you can talk to. Someone impartial who will listen to whatever you feel like saying and won’t judge you.”
“No way—” He flung himself out of the chair. His blue-gray eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I’m not crazy!”
“Of course not, but you are in pain and a counselor might be able to help you where I can’t.”
His expression stiffened. “I won’t go to a shrink and you can’t make me!”
The next thing she knew, the front door slammed.
Darrell sat there in shock. Just before he’d bolted, he’d looked and sounded exactly like Melissa.
With her heart aching, she ran over to the sink to look out the window. He was already halfway down the street on his dirt bike. He’d never exploded like this before. She had to go after him. Grabbing her purse, she hurried into the garage and backed the car out.
She doubted he had a destination in mind. All she could do was drive in the direction he’d gone. But after ten minutes of searching the neighborhood for him, she realized he intended to stay lost for a while.
Defeated, she drove back to the condo and made a call to a couple of his friends. Eventually she found out from Steve’s stepmom he’d gone swimming. They’d probably be back in an hour.
Relief swept through Darrell. Hopefully he would come home a little less angry and they’d be able to start over.
While she cleaned up the kitchen, she heard the doorbell ring.
He must have come back to get his swimming suit and had forgotten his key.
She hurried to unlock the door.
“Phillip sweetheart?” she cried as she flung it open, prepared to give him a hug whether he wanted one or not.
But instead of a belligerent twelve-year-old boy standing there on the porch, a solidly built male filled the aperture. A man she’d presumed was already in the air on his way back to Switzerland.
Beyond his broad shoulder she glimpsed a bulletproof limo with smoked glass parked in front. She didn’t doubt for a second his security people had surrounded the complex where she lived, providing heavy protection for him.
“Hello again, Darrell Collier. In case you’ve forgotten, my name is Alex.” His deep male voice resonated to her insides.
Speechless and feeling light-headed, she held on to the door for support. “I—I’m sorry, Alex.” She stumbled over her words. “But I never