After the Climb Page 19

  “Okay, so I have this clear, if you clam up and get in your head, I got your permission to shake you out of it?”

  She nodded vehemently. “Absolutely. I cannot even begin to tell you how ridiculous and pathetic I feel that my marriage ended because my husband and I didn’t talk to each other. And then it was too late. Now you and I have found each other again. And that’s an impossibility. And you mean so much to me, I honest to God don’t know what I’d do if I threw you away because I didn’t open my mouth and speak.”

  And you mean so much to me…

  Yeah, he could be down with this guy in their life.

  Totally.

  “Well, just pointing out, seems like you’re not havin’ a lot of issues with that right about now,” he teased.

  Her body jerked.

  Then she melted into him.

  And did it laughing.

  Thank fuck.

  He tucked her even closer and held her through it.

  When it was waning, it sucked, but it had to be done.

  “I’m sorry you went through that. I’m sorry he did that to you. And I’m sorry you lost him. I also hope he gets it together so in the way you got, you can have him back.”

  Right.

  He got that out.

  Now the easy.

  “But I’m glad you lived and learned it, honey. Because I honest to God don’t know what I’d do if I lost you either. So let’s both keep our eye on the ball and make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  She burrowed in and muttered, “That’s a deal.”

  “Now, I remember you’d rather cut off your own hand than serve meatballs that were not freshly cooked with your sauce, so by my estimation, the time is now to get frying. But I would not be doing my job if I didn’t share with you that your mascara is a disaster so you probably should get on that first.”

  She lurched out of his arms and her hands flew to her face.

  “Ohmigod!” she cried.

  “Can I start frying while you’re in the bathroom wiping?” he requested.

  She nodded and took off, bossing, “Low heat, Bowie. Browned, not burned.”

  Like he’d forget that.

  He’d had meatball duty a lot back in the day.

  But he might often be veggie, there was one thing he agreed with his dad about.

  A man knew how to cook meat.

  The skillet was already out.

  He found the meatballs in the fridge.

  She didn’t skimp on those either.

  There had to be three dozen of them.

  Jesus.

  Gen re-joined him to look in on the sauce while he was putting them (or at least the first round of them) in the skillet.

  She stayed close, probably to make sure he did it right.

  So he curled an arm around her shoulders and held her there while he completed this task.

  “Thanks for listening,” she whispered.

  He gave her a squeeze. “You’re welcome.”

  “Thanks for knowing there was something wrong and pulling it out.”

  “You’re welcome for that too.”

  “And thanks for sharing honestly I was annoying you with the Imogen Swan stuff. I’ll back off doing that.”

  He turned and kissed the side of her head.

  Then he said, “Do you. If I get irritated, we’ll hash it out. But we will hash it out, Gen. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she mumbled, resting her weight into his side.

  “When do the Cardinals get here?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “I’m only assuming, since you made enough to feed a football team.”

  She made a “puh” noise and pressed her hip into his.

  He grinned at the meat.

  He stopped grinning when he heard a door go up in the garage.

  “Is Chloe coming back tonight?” Gen asked, because clearly, she’d heard it too.

  “No, but regardless, she had the opener for your door, something you now have.”

  “You mean, my daughter had my spot before me?”

  He shot her a smile as he moved to the garage door.

  He opened it.

  And sighed.

  Because in Gage’s spot in the four-car garage, folding out of his youngest son’s orange Subaru Crosstek hybrid was not only Gage.

  But Sully.

  It was Friday night so no class on the weekend.

  But for fuck’s sake, his oldest lived nearly two thousand miles away.

  Apparently, Gage was up from Tucson.

  And he’d swung by Sky Harbor on his way.

  “Please tell me my eyes are deceiving me,” he called.

  “Whose Cayenne, Dad?” Gage called back, eyeing the Porsche.

  “Did the global satellite network fail so you couldn’t call me?” Duncan asked.

  “Is she here…like, now?” Sully asked back, eyeing Duncan.

  “She is but you weren’t supposed to be,” Duncan pointed out.

  “Holy fuck, Sul, we’re cock blocking Dad,” Gage declared.

  Duncan checked to see if the lock worked on the door.

  “Thank God I fixed my mascara,” Genny whispered from behind him.

  From where he was still barring the door against his own flesh and blood, he looked over his shoulder at her.

  She appeared as if she was in pain in an effort not to laugh.

  “Are you gonna let us in, Dad?” Sul asked.

  He was turning back to see them both right there, with their hulking bags, likely filled with laundry they were going to call Bettina and beg her to come on a Saturday to clean, when he heard Gage sniff.

  “Dear Lord in heaven, what is that smell?” he demanded, then bowled through his brother and his father to achieve entry.

  Sully came in behind him.

  “Son two, or Gage, who fortunately thinks mostly with his stomach rather than other parts of his anatomy,” he introduced.

  Genny giggled.

  Gage had forgotten about the smell of garlic and meat cooking and was staring at Genny with his mouth hanging open.

  “He’s also slick and real good with the ladies,” Duncan joked.

  “Holy cannoli,” Gage breathed. “You’re like, seven thousand times more beautiful than in the movies.”

  “Well, wow, thank you, Gage,” Genny replied warmly.

  “Dad,” Sul said under his breath, elbowing Duncan in the ribs.

  “And this is son one, Sullivan, or Sully,” Duncan said.

  Gen reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Sully.”

  He took her hand. “Real cool to meet you, uh…”

  “Genny,” Gen filled it in.

  “Right, Genny,” he said, pumping her hand.

  Gage shoved him out of the way and stuck his hand at her. “Yeah. Genny. Hi. Gage.”

  She took it and shook. “Hi, Gage.”

  “I get it, people take pictures of you eating at El Gato. You don’t even have to be famous. If I saw you at El Gato, I’d take a picture of you,” he stated.

  “And again, thank you. That’s so sweet,” Genny said, now not shaking, but Gage still was.

  “Let her go, son,” Duncan said low.

  Gage did and popped back like a cat who’d been confronted with a cucumber.

  “God, you are such a dufus,” Sul said, again under his breath.

  “Shut it, Sul,” Gage bit out.

  “Then cool it, Gage. Jesus. She’s just a human.”

  “A gorgeous one.”

  “You’ve seen gorgeous women before.”

  “Not in our kitchen.”

  “All right, we’re done with this,” Duncan decreed.

  “Good I made plenty,” Genny noted, looking at him even as she skirted his sons to get to the meatballs, a twinkle in her eye.

  “Yeah, good,” he agreed, because his boys could pack it in, they loved food, and they’d love her (more, apparently, when it came to Gage) the minute they tasted it. He looked between his sons. “But, as much as I lo
ve you and pine for any time I can spend with you, I’d still like to be let in on the secret of why you two are here without you sharing that with me.”

  “We decided you needed, like, moral support,” Gage said, having dumped his bag, he was following Genny like a puppy.

  He turned to his eldest.

  And got what he expected.

  The honest story.

  “We were worried,” Sullivan said quietly. “That maybe you weren’t saying something. Like, you know, it was clear she was real special to you. But then we didn’t see anything on social media.”

  “Dad, have you ever had this much meat in the house in your life?” Gage called from hanging at Genny’s side.

  He ignored his second son.

  “It isn’t like every moment we share is going to be captured and disseminated on Instagram,” Duncan pointed out to Sully.

  “It also isn’t like our dad is going to call and share he got his heart broken so he needs his boys around, is it?” Sul returned.

  Fuck, they were nuts.

  But he had good boys.

  “Point taken, son, but as you can see, it’s all good.”

  “Well, our crystal ball broke so we took a shot,” Gage entered the conversation.

  Genny started giggling again.

  Then, before Duncan could make note he wasn’t a fan of his son’s smart mouth, when he actually was, seeing as his kid was hilarious, she waded in.

  “Okay, we don’t know each other at all, but we’re at a crucial juncture with this meal so it’s all hands on deck. I need water boiling. Spaghetti out. The oven needs turned on to pre-heat for the garlic bread. And we need dishes and cutlery. Then the salad has to be tossed.”

  And there was Gen being a mom in his kitchen.

  He loved that too.

  Gage saluted crisply and declared, “Aye, aye captain. I’m on water.”

  He then went to get a pot.

  “What’d’ya need the oven set to, Genny?” Sully asked, now having dumped his own bag and he was heading to the oven.

  “Four hundred, Sully. Thank you,” Genny answered.

  “Get on what Gen wants and then get these bags to the utility before the scent I’m sure that canvas is barely containing breaks free. And for Christ’s sake, pay some attention to the dogs before they explode,” Duncan ordered.

  Shasta was actually beginning to keen.

  The oven was on, but the water didn’t get put in the pot before the boys focused love on the dogs.

  But then they got down to it.

  Things got sorted and Duncan was tossing Genny’s homemade Caesar dressing on the romaine while the boys wisely got of the way and had taken seats at the now-set-with-plates-napkins-and-cutlery island and they were watching her.

  “So, like, famous people cook food?” Gage asked.

  Duncan looked to Sully who was staring at his brother like he wished he wasn’t his brother.

  “Not really, I have a cook as part of my entourage that travels everywhere with me, but she has the flu so needs must,” Genny stated breezily.

  “Wow, cool, a cook!” Gage exclaimed, likely thinking what that would mean to his eating habits when he was home.

  “She’s kidding, Gage,” Sully spilled it.

  Gage looked crushed. “You don’t have a cook?”

  She swirled pasta at the same time twisting to him and saying, “No, honey. I’m sorry. But if it’ll make you like me, I’ll hire one.”

  “If you haven’t gotten it, Genny, he already likes you,” Sully shared.

  She winked at Sullivan and turned back to the stove.

  “Are Harvey and Beth coming to dinner or something?” Gage asked.

  Duncan looked to him. “No.” And when he saw Gage turned on his stool to face the entryway, he knew it wasn’t about the amount of food being prepared that he was asking. So he finished, “Why?”

  “Because I saw lights. Someone is coming up the—”

  The dogs rushed, barking, and in Killer’s case yapping, to the front door.

  He was already out of luck for their evening plans with his boys home.

  But with them, he did not feel it would leave long-lasting marks if he took Gen back to the hotel and spent the night with her there at the same time his den was in no danger of being redecorated.

  And he was happy to see his sons, especially Sully, who only came home for holidays, and in the case of spring break for the last three years, not even that.

  Gen was going to have to get to know them eventually, she seemed relaxed and cool with them there, not nervous or awkward, so Duncan was seeing this as a good thing.

  But if Harvey and/or Beth were adding themselves to the mix, he might just lose it.

  “See who it is and send them away,” Duncan ordered Sully.

  “On it,” Sul said, sliding off his stool.

  “You need any more help, Genny?” Gage offered as Duncan dumped in the croutons and parmesan to mix that in.

  “You can check the bread,” Gen said.

  “On it,” Gage muttered the same thing his brother said, jumping off his stool.

  Feeling Genny’s eyes, Duncan looked from his boy to her.

  She gave him a happy smile.

  She liked his boys.

  She liked family.

  She liked cooking.

  Yeah, this was a good thing.

  Her face froze when a female’s voice could be heard crying, “Oh! Look at you precious babies!”

  And then dogs barking happily.

  He then watched Gen’s eyes get big as she whispered, “Sasha.”

  Sasha?

  Her daughter?

  Suddenly, Genny was racing out of the room.

  Duncan looked at Gage. Gage looked at Duncan.

  Then they both headed toward the front door.

  “Momma!” they heard cried.

  Dogs continued to bark excitedly.

  “Baby girl!” was cried back.

  And he rounded the corner just as Gen hit a body that was in the opened door, wrapped her arms around it, and swayed it side to side.

  “Uh…” Gage prompted.

  “Her daughter,” Duncan muttered.

  “Ah,” Gage said.

  Sully was standing off to the side, still and staring.

  Too still.

  Duncan would get why in a second.

  Gen pulled away but kept her hands on a woman Duncan could not see.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Chloe told me I had to meet this Duncan. And so, here I am, to meet Duncan.”

  Gen shifted aside and called to him, “Look, darling, Sasha’s here.”

  Gage stopped dead.

  Chloe had her father’s coloring and her mother’s style.

  Sasha looked like her mother.

  Long, blonde, beach hair, supremely ripped jeans, little satin cami, massive slouchy cardigan, tangle of two dozen necklaces, moccasins on her feet, and entirely makeup free, but healthy tan notwithstanding.

  At least she had on shoes.

  That’d be an additional item of clothing both his sons had to mentally take off.

  Which was what they were doing.

  “You’re Duncan,” Sasha said, coming forward, hand extended.

  He was wrong.

  She was taller than her mother. Slimmer. Willowy.

  But she had Genny’s glue eyes and bright, big smile.

  “Yup.” He put out a hand. “Sasha, really cool to meet you, kid.”

  She folded her fingers around his, cupped her other hand on top, and replied, “Right back at cha.”

  He let her go and she turned side to side, taking in his sons.

  “My boys, Sullivan and Gage.”

  “Hi, guys!” she greeted excitedly, going to Sul first, who’d pulled it together to return her greeting and shake her hand. Then to Gage, who shook woodenly and couldn’t stop staring. She then whirled and exclaimed, “God, Momma! Are you making meatballs?”

 
“Yes, darling,” Gen confirmed.

  “Have you had them before?” Sasha asked Duncan, whirling back to do it.

  “A long time ago,” Duncan answered. And then, when it looked like this information was a weight she could not bear, he quickly said, “And really lookin’ forward to having them again. My boys having them. And having you at my table. Glad you’re here. Come on in. You want some wine or a beer?”

  Gen claimed her to bring her forward as Sasha answered, “Totes beer.”

  “I’ll get it,” Gage offered readily, and then hustled off.

  “My God, this place is like…it’s like…rad,” Sasha declared, looking around as she moved. “I mean, this might be the coolest pad I’ve ever been in. Seriously.”

  “This is saying something, Bowie, since she’s dined with several maharishis and the Dalai Lama in their I’m sure not-so-humble abodes,” Gen called.

  “I have not, Mom, stop being a goof,” Sasha chastised. “I mean, not the Dalai Lama.”

  “I’ll stop being a goof when you stop doing my head in by not letting me know where you are ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent of the time,” Genny retorted.

  “Whatever,” Sasha muttered, then asked. “Bowie?”

  “If you are very lucky and win the heart of Bowie like Chloe did, you might learn the story.”

  “It’s totally spiritual,” Sully said.

  And he meant that.

  Gage handed her an opened beer.

  “Thanks so much!” Sasha cried in delight.

  “Don’t mention it,” Gage muttered, instead of saying, “I live to serve you.”

  “Sul, get Sasha a plate,” Duncan ordered, heading to check the food on the stove. “Gage, look in on the bread.”

  Both boys moved.

  “Chloe’s won his heart?” Sasha asked her mother.

  “Yes,” Genny answered.

  “Chloe?” Sasha didn’t hide her shock.