The Bravos: Family Ties: The Bravo Family Way / Married in Haste / From Here to Paternity. Christine Rimmer
didn’t tell you?”
“He said it was ‘sudden.’”
“It was. She had a stroke. One of those freak things you’d never imagine could happen to someone that young. She and Ashlyn were at Belinda’s parents’ house in upstate New York. Belinda told her mother she had a headache. She went to lie down—and never got back up again. Her mother went to check on her and found her dead.”
“How awful …”
Celia touched her shoulder again. “It is very new between you and Fletcher. And he’s been hurt. He’s a guarded man—just like Aaron was when he and I got together. Fletcher never knew his father. He loves his stepfather, but Grant didn’t come along until later. I think Fletcher and his mother had a tough time there for a while.”
“Grant. That’s his stepfather’s name?”
“Yeah. Grant Holland. He’s a great guy. Truly. So Fletcher did get at least half of a decent childhood. But then there was Belinda. And whatever went wrong there, I’d guess the wounds go deep.”
“I have to say I think you’re right.”
“But, Cleo …”
“What?”
Celia’s hazel eyes twinkled. “I think it’s all workable—for the two of you.”
“Oh, God. Not really. Not in any permanent way. He’s just not the kind for that.”
“Oh, yes he is. With the right woman, a woman like you …”
Cleo reminded herself not to float too far up in the clouds. She teased, “And you know this how?”
“Intuition.”
“Oh. Well.”
“Don’t you dare scoff at intuition.”
“I’m not scoffing. It’s only, well, I’m hardly daring to believe the way this is going. The other day, when it started with us, I was absolutely certain Fletcher and I couldn’t last five minutes.”
“Yeah. You made your doubts painfully clear at lunch.”
“Two big glasses of Chenin Blanc will do that to a girl.”
“Oh, so now you say it was the wine….”
“Well, without it, you and Jane and Jilly would never know all my deepest secrets.”
“Then here’s to white wine—and serendipity. You shared your feelings about Fletcher and then you instantly ran into him.”
“Was that strange or what?”
“Cleo, life is strange. And miracles do happen. They did for me. One day I realized I was in love with my boss—a guy I’d known all my life, a guy I knew would never look twice at me, what with the glamour girls he always dated. I thought it was hopeless. But look at me now. Happily married to the very man I was certain would never love me in return—and with two gorgeous kids, to boot.”
“Oh, Celia, it’s all happening so fast, you know? Here it is, three days later, and I’m finding myself hoping the craziest thing….”
“Tell,” Celia commanded.
“It’s too wild.”
“Tell me anyway. I can take it.”
“Well, okay, then. I’m starting to dare to imagine what it might be like if Fletcher and I had a lifetime.” A nervous laugh escaped her. “Is that insane or what?”
“Not in the least.”
“Well, it’s nice that you sound so sure.”
“I am sure. I am absolutely positive. I am a total romantic and darn proud of it. And you know what? I’m going to lay it right out here.”
“Lay what right out here?”
“The truth as I see it.”
“And that would be …?”
“Cleo, what I think we’ve got here is love.”
Chapter Ten
Love.
Could it be?
Though Celia’s enthusiasm was contagious, Cleo thought it was a little too early to be calling what she felt for Fletcher love. She wouldn’t put labels on it. No. Not yet.
She’d just … go with it. See where this thing between them took her. He wasn’t the man she saw herself building a life with—and yet, there was no way she could turn her back on the power of what she felt for him.
So she decided to enjoy herself, day-to-day.
For a woman like Cleo, who liked to know where she was going and how long it would take to get there, keeping it open-ended was a whole new approach. But she did it anyway. With enthusiasm.
She spent every spare moment at Fletcher’s side and every night in his bed. Within a week she’d moved half her wardrobe over to his place. It was just easier, she reasoned, to use his penthouse as home base. They both had demanding jobs and there were only so many hours in a day. If she kept her things at his place, she didn’t end up wasting precious time going back and forth to her house after work and in the early morning.
He gave her half of his huge walk-in closet and dressing room: endless hanger space, two sides of the big central chest of drawers and all she needed of the slanted cedar shelves built especially for shoes.
“Bring it all over,” he suggested. “I’ve got plenty of room. And if it keeps you here with us longer, it works for me.”
Us.
He meant Ashlyn, too. The three of them just naturally fell into a routine. Every morning they shared breakfast in the penthouse kitchen, then Cleo would take Ashlyn down to KinderWay. On the nights when Cleo and Fletcher didn’t go out, they would all three have dinner together.
It was working out beautifully, Cleo thought. She was actually happy just taking it day-to-day. Fletcher and Ashlyn seemed happy, too.
No, Cleo didn’t really believe that it would last forever. But while it did, well, she was certainly having the best time of her life.
The only faint shadow on her happiness was the mystery of the lost Belinda. Cleo still wanted to know what had happened in his marriage, what had gone so wrong that he had not only put his wife behind him, but also, for three years, his child.
She didn’t raise the subject, though. Eventually, she was sure, if they stayed together long enough, they would get around to it again.
On Friday morning—a week and a day after she and Fletcher became lovers—as Cleo and Ashlyn walked along the hotel hallways headed for KinderWay, Ashlyn tugged on Cleo’s hand. Cleo smiled down at her.
Ashlyn didn’t smile back—but then, she rarely smiled. She said in an easy, conversational tone, “My mommy was tall, like you, Cleo. And so pretty. She died.” Cleo slowed her steps a little as Ashlyn frowned, considering. “I don’t remember her very well. I think she was nice. But until Daddy came to get me, I mostly stayed with Grandma and Grandpa.”
Iron-lace benches with seats lushly padded in red and gold were spaced at intervals along the hallway. “Come on,” Cleo said. “Let’s sit down.”
Ashlyn hung back. “But we have to go to my school.”
“Just for a moment or two.” She led the child to the nearest bench.
Ashlyn obediently climbed up and sat. “Okay.” She waited until Cleo was seated, too, then folded her hands in her lap. “We’re sitting.”
Cleo looked at the sweet upturned face of Fletcher’s child and felt distinctly