Storm Shells (The Wishes Series #3)

  Ignoring the dig, I told him about the bank renovation. “I can’t wait to finish it,” I said. “It’s a lot more rewarding than studying. I like watching it take shape.”

  I’d given Ryan the perfect opportunity to throw a sarcastic comment, but he didn’t. He’s seen the magic of Pipers Cove first hand. My brother knew exactly the kind of life I’d found there. He focused back on the screen in his hands. “She looks more like Charli than you.”

  I grinned at him. “Well that’s good news considering she’s a girl.”

  “Is it weird?” he asked, lowering the iPad to his lap. “Having a kid, I mean.”

  His serious expression demanded a serious answer so I thought carefully before replying. “I used to think I had it all figured out but I don’t know anything any more. When Bridget looked at me for the first time, I realised that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t even know how to explain it. It was as if she knew I was her dad.”

  “And she didn’t burst into tears, totally devastated?”

  I laughed at his stupid comment. “No, she saw the deeper picture.”

  “Of course she did,” he replied dryly.

  “It’s true, Ryan. She knew I’d finally come through for her and she knew how much I love her mom. Nothing else matters.”

  His smirk morphed into a thoughtful stare. “You’re such a dick, Adam. She used to cry over you,” he revealed. “Charli thought I didn’t know, but I used to hear her.”

  Pure agony coursed through me, throwing me straight into defence mode. “I’m not the only dick. If you’d bothered to call and tell me about Bridget, I would’ve gone sooner.”

  “Charli would never have trusted it,” grumbled Ryan, pulling a face. “She spent six months waiting for you to come to your senses and go to her. If she thought you’d only gone because of the baby, she would never have believed it was real.”

  “I know,” I conceded. And if I hadn’t been able to prove it with the delivery receipt, she probably still wouldn’t believe it.

  “You’re lucky she even let you back in the door.”

  I grinned at him. “I know that too.”

  “I’m glad it worked out for you,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the screen in his hands.

  I swiped both hands down my face. “I’m not sure it has yet. I still have to face Mom and Dad.”

  “We should probably talk about that,” he said ominously. “I changed the story a bit, which means you have a bit more studying to do if you want to stick to the tale I told them.”

  I groaned, fearing the worst. “What?”

  “I told them that you knew about the baby all along,” he confessed. “They think you made a last-minute decision to man-up take responsibility.”

  “What?” I practically shouted. “Why would you do that?”

  He shrugged as if it was no big deal. “I didn’t think it was fair that Charli should take on the role of bad guy. You were the asshole here, not her.”

  He was right. He was absolutely right; but it wasn’t going to make placating them any easier. Not only did they think I’d bailed on my career; they thought I’d spent six months bailing on my child.

  I let out a long sigh. “I can’t deal with them right now.”

  He continued scrolling through the pictures. “You don’t have to. Concentrate on passing the bar, stop by to see them on the way to the airport and go back to your family.”

  He’d broken it down in such a simple way that I realised he was right. If my father never forgave me, it wouldn’t be my problem. My life would continue in the same perfect direction I’d been heading in since Bridget was born. It was up to him whether he wanted to be part of it.

  * * *

  I ended up caving in and going to my parents’ place on the night before my first exam. Ryan gallantly suggested coming with me but I declined, worried that he’d twist the story even more. I had enough ground to make up as it was.

  Mrs Brown met me at the door with a tight hug and a gift for Bridget. I thanked her and made my way through the glass doors into the lounge. Obviously they were expecting me. The scene had been perfectly staged. My dad was standing at the windows with his back to me. He didn’t even turn to greet me. My mother was sitting on the very edge of the sofa, already blubbering.

  I felt like a little kid in trouble.

  “Hey, Ma,” I greeted her.

  She walked over and threw her arms around my neck. “I am so upset with you, you horrid boy.” She broke her grip to whack me, swatting her hand hard against my chest.

  I was in an impossible position. There were two different reasons for the anger in the room. My mother was furious for no other reason than Bridget, thinking I’d spent months denying her. My father didn’t give a damn about Bridget. His fury stemmed solely from the fact that I’d shut down my career before it even got started. Both were disappointed beyond belief, and I felt hopeless knowing I wasn’t going to be able to make either of them happy.

  “Are you prepared for tomorrow?” asked my father, finally turning to face me.

  “As best I can be, I think,” I replied.

  He shook his head. “Not good enough.”

  I pulled in a long breath to make sure the next words out of my mouth were calm. “I’m probably never going to be good enough for you, Dad. But I’m not trying to be good for you. Bridget thinks I’m good. Charli thinks I’m good. That’s all that matters to me.”

  My mother gripped my arm pulling me closer to her side. “Charli sent us pictures,” she told me. “She’s such a lovely little girl, Adam.”

  “She’s perfect, Mom,” I beamed. “She looks just like her mama but she has my eyes, your eyes.”

  Mom gripped me tighter and I realised I was probably holding her up at that point.

  “The child will be taken care of,” my father announced mechanically.

  “Yes, she will be,” I agreed. “By me. She’s going to have the best life imaginable and it’s going to be nothing like mine was.” I pointed at him. “If you want to know her, you’re going to have to make allowance for that.”

  A flash of anger crossed his face. I was impressed by how well he was holding it together, considering he wanted nothing more than to rip me apart.

  “How can I make allowance for the fact that my son has thrown away his entire career? Surely your child would benefit from her father’s success.”

  I wondered how. My father’s professional success had only ever set the bar impossibly high for Ryan and me. Growing up under that kind of pressure had been unimaginably hard to stand. It had very nearly ruined me and I vowed to never subject Bridget to it.

  “I’ve thrown nothing away,” I responded. “I’m still here. I’m still your son.”

  “You should want to give your daughter the very best,” he said sourly. “A good strong foundation to –”

  “I will give her everything. I will teach her French, and I will bring her back here to see my city in every season,” I said strongly. “And if you’ll just soften a little bit, I’ll make sure she has a decent, loving relationship with her grandparents.”

  “We want that,” insisted my mother, tugging hard on my sleeve.

  “Of course we want that,” agreed my father, no louder than a mumble.

  “Good,” I choked. “I want that too.”

  “The child will always be welcome here.”

  I groaned, wondering if I was making any headway at all. “Say her name, Dad. She has a name.”

  Jean-Luc took a step back, seemingly taken aback by my rough tone.

  “Bridget,” he announced. Not that I’d ever admit it to him, his thick French accent made it the best rendition of her name I’d ever heard. “Bridget will always be welcome here.”

  I felt as if I’d gone ten rounds in a boxing ring. I also felt immense relief. We were never going to be a perfect family unit. It was a complex mash up of two completely different
worlds, and it had been that way from the very second I’d nearly run Charlotte down with my car. My life forever changed that day. My only regret was that it took me so long to realise it.

  * * *

  I aced my exam, just as I’d spent years hoping I would, which pleased my father no end. It meant that whenever Jean-Luc was asked what his sons did, he could quite honestly answer that both were attorneys.

  Like my brother, I was now a licensed but non-practising lawyer in the state of New York. I didn’t know if I’d ever return to that life, but passing the bar meant the door had been left open.

  I was excited to be going back to the Cove. Mom sent me home with a small fortune worth of excess luggage – gifts for Bridget, clothes for Charli and junk food for me. My father took the extraordinary step of seeing me off at the airport. Not once did he try talking me out of going. Instead, he wished me well and made me promise to bring my girls back to visit sooner rather than later.

  I left my city finally feeling as if all loose ends had been tied, and I was no longer in danger of being strangled by them.

  August 3

  Charli

  I’d never been more excited to see Adam’s car pull onto the driveway. He didn’t even make it to the veranda before I pounced. Mercifully, he caught me as I launched myself at him.

  “This is exactly the kind of homecoming I was hoping for, Charlotte,” he murmured, walking us up the path toward the house.

  “I aim to please,” I replied, making him laugh.

  I finally let him go once we were inside because I no longer had dibs on him. I now shared him with a little person who was wide awake as if she’d been waiting for him too.

  Adam scooped Bridget out of her bassinette and showered her with a week’s worth of missed kisses. “She looks bigger,” he said glancing at me.

  “That’s because I’ve been feeding her,” I explained, putting my hand to my heart. “Didn’t forget once.”

  He chuckled his way back to me, babe in arms. “I am so glad to be home,” he said, leaning to kiss me.

  “Tell me about your trip.”

  He shrugged. “Passed the bar, handled my parents, hung out with Ryan. All boxes checked.”

  I smiled. “Great. So now we have your undivided attention.”

  “Forever, Charlotte,” he replied, sounding absolutely sure.

  * * *

  Alex hadn’t had any luck finding my rings, which meant I had no choice but to fess up to Adam. Like a true coward, I picked my moment to tell him, waiting until late that night when he was nearly asleep.

  I held off explaining why I’d thrown them in the garden. Ethan didn’t need to rate a mention.

  “You lost them?” he mumbled.

  Adam didn’t notice me cringe. His eyes were closed.

  “Not exactly. I almost know where they are.”

  He thought for a moment. “So, after all your searching, you almost found them?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m sorry you lost them, Coccinelle,” he slowly murmured, on the very edge of sleep. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

  I reached across and turned off his bedside lamp.

  “No, they’re not lost,” I whispered, resting my head on his shoulder. “They’re in the garden.”

  He wrapped his arm around me. “We’ll keep looking then. Go to sleep.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “No.”

  “I love you, Adam,” I said quietly.

  “I love you too, Charlotte. Go to sleep.”

  “Okay.”

  “Charli.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up and go to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  I smiled into the darkness, realising that I had thousands of tomorrows to share with this man. And we were going to spend every one of them foraging for rocks, searching for diamonds and raising our baby.

  August 20

  Adam

  Most days were perfect – except this one. We had a wedding to go to. The mere thought of it made me shudder.

  Everyone in town was expected to be there, except Alex and Gabrielle. According to Alex, his wedding allergy was as severe as his dog allergy. I wish I’d thought of it first.

  Charlotte couldn’t have gotten out of it if she’d tried. And she did try exceptionally hard when Jasmine had turned up at our door a few days earlier begging her to take on the role of bridesmaid number six.

  “I’m desperate, Charli,” she wailed. “My cousin Vicky was supposed to do it but she backed out at the last minute.”

  “Why on earth would you want me to take her place?” asked Charli, doing little to hide her horror. “We’re not exactly close.”

  Jasmine straightened up on the couch, still snivelling. “Well, you have great shoes and you’ve lost all the baby weight. You’re skinny and pretty again.”

  To imply that Charli had ever been less than beautiful was ridiculous, but I wasn’t about to argue the point with Bridezilla. I retreated to the kitchen instead. It was all I could do to stop myself laughing.

  Agreeing to play bridesmaid was conditional. Charli wanted no part of the pre-wedding festivities and agreed to do it only on the proviso that she’d meet the rest of the wedding party at the church.

  “Oh, come to the house first,” begged Jasmine. “We’re having lingerie pictures done before we get dressed.”

  “No chance,” blurted Charli, appalled.

  Jasmine didn’t try too hard to change her mind. She knew she was treading on thin ice already. “Are you sure you’ll be there?”

  “I’ll be there, Jasmine,” grumbled Charli. “But I’m not wearing the hat.”

  * * *

  She did wear the hat. And as expected, it looked ridiculous. I just wasn’t brave enough to tell her. I caught my first glimpse of it when I returned to the cottage after dropping Bridget at Alex and Gabrielle’s for the day.

  “If you laugh, I’m going to kill you,” she warned, running her hand across the top of the feathers sprouting from the tiny top hat.

  “I wouldn’t dare,” I replied, holding up my hands.

  There was something remarkably odd about seeing her all gussied up, Beautiful style. I hadn’t known a dress could be glittery, pink and shiny all at the same time. She looked radioactive.

  “I can hardly breathe in this thing,” she said, putting her hands to her stomach.

  “Maybe I should help you take it off, then,” I suggested, swooping my arms around her and dipping her backwards. It was a good move on my part. The stupid hat fell off and hit the floor.

  She put her hand to her head. “You broke it,” she moaned. “Do you know many hot pink chickens had to die to make that hat?”

  I righted her, threw her over my shoulder, and carried her to the bedroom. Jasmine’s decision to put the zipper on the front of her trashy bridesmaid dresses helped me immensely.

  “Adam,” breathed Charli, “I just got dressed.”

  Her protest was weak considering she did nothing to stop me. “So did I.”

  She dragged off my tie. “Who taught you to tie a tie?” she asked irrelevantly.

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember,” I mumbled against her skin. I was a Décarie. I was probably born wearing a tie. “Who taught you to be so lovely?”

  Both of her hands moved to my face and her warm brown eyes locked mine. “You did.”

  I couldn’t speak. I could still move, though. I dragged the horrid pink dress off her and tossed it on the floor.

  “If you had any idea how long it took me to get that contraption on, you wouldn’t have done that,” she told me.

  “I’m pretty sure I would’ve, Charlotte,” I replied dropping my head to kiss her.

  * * *

  I’d been to a lot of high society events in my time but nothing compared to the wedding of Jasmine and Wade.

  It was taking place at the local church. The limestone building had the same old-world charm as the bank, which meant the wedding should’ve been equally
as elegant and classy. I realised early on that this wasn’t going to happen. The pink carpet path leading to the door was the first giveaway.

  Meeting the rest of the bridal party at the church wasn’t conventional, but it was the only way Jasmine was going to get her sixth bridesmaid. I offered to wait outside with Charli but she insisted I go inside. “They’ll be here in a minute,” she assured, fussing with her stupid chicken hat. She looked like she was gearing up to run.

  “No flee-itis?” I teased.

  Charli handed me her bouquet to free up her hands while she straightened my tie. “None. I’m cured.”

  I wasn’t convinced but I left her there anyway, armed with nothing more than a good luck kiss.

  I regretted my decision to go inside the second I walked through the door. Pink flowers, silver streamers and glitter decorated every surface. It was sensory overload. And never before had I seen an arbour of balloons decorating an altar.

  I had no idea which side of the church to sit at. The choice was made for me when a lady wearing a big straw hat shuffled along the back pew and patted her hand on the space she’d made.

  It seemed a long time before the show began. Someone hit play on the sound system and a mediocre version of Ave Maria filled the air. Everyone turned their heads toward the back of the church in time to see the first of the wedding party come in. Bridesmaids one through five floated through the door, arm in arm with their partners. They looked like amped-up showgirls, and every groomsman looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. Groomsman number three seemed to be handling it best, mainly because he looked drunk.

  My eyes were glued on bridesmaid number six. It didn’t even bother me that she’d been partnered with Flynn. My beautiful girl looked poised, confident and totally unfazed, despite the two-dollar hooker look she was working. She winked as she drifted past, sending my thoughts in a totally inappropriate direction considering we were in church.

  I quickly recovered when the bride walked in. Cracked-out Scarlett O’Hara looked like she’d been hit at close range with a shotgun load of chintz and diamantes. Her dress was so wide that her father had to walk behind her so she’d make it up the narrow aisle. Everyone oohed and ahhed, probably in disbelief, and I had no problem hearing Meredith’s attention-seeking sobs from the back pew.