“Do you think they know about us?” Spencer asks.
“I’m not sure. There’s only one way to find out, though.”
With a nod, Spencer finally unclasps his seatbelt and opens the driver’s side door. I open my door and catch up to him, clasping his hand as we walk toward his mother’s house.
The woman who answers the door is in her mid-fifties and absolutely beautiful, even dressed in a hideous Christmas sweater featuring reindeer with felt antlers, and with her chestnut waves piled in a haphazard mess on top of her head. She looks so much like Emily it nearly bowls me over.
When she sees Spencer, her eyes widen into saucers, her mouth opening and closing several times before she’s finally able to say, “Spencer?”
Spencer squeezes my hand, hard, but he doesn’t seem able to put any words together. As the silence stretches on, I finally decide to step in. “Um, hi…Mrs. Kincaid, is it?”
She finally turns her mesmerized gaze from her son and looks at me, blinking a few times as if she’s only just noticed I’m there. “That’s right.”
“I’m Will,” I say, sticking out my free hand.
She shakes it. “It’s nice to meet you. Would you like to come inside? Both of you?”
I squeeze Spencer’s hand in reassurance and step over the threshold.
We follow Spencer’s mom down the hallway to the back of the house, where there’s a living room and kitchen. She turns as she reaches the counter. “Can I get you boys something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Soda? I’m afraid we don’t keep alcohol in the house…”
“Soda would be great, thank you,” I say with a smile before glancing at my boyfriend. “Spence?”
He shakes his head slightly. “I’m fine, thank you.”
I see Mrs. Kincaid give a little start at the sound of her son’s voice before gathering herself and making drinks for herself and me.
She motions for us to take seats at the kitchen table, sitting down herself after setting the two glasses of soda down. “Everyone’s out,” she says. “Maxwell—that’s my husband—took the kids to the mall.” Her mouth forms into an affectionate smile. “I’m pretty sure they’re buying my Christmas gift.”
“How old are they?” I ask.
“Brianna’s fifteen and Jack’s thirteen.”
The surprise must show on my face, because she lets out a soft breath of laughter. “I know—quite a gap.” She sobers and fixes her attention on Spencer, who hasn’t seemed to have made up his mind yet whether he wants to look at her or not. “Your sister’s not here?” she asks, her voice tinged with hope.
Spencer shakes his head. “No. She doesn’t know I found you.”
Mrs. Kincaid’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “How come?”
“She likes to see the best in people, and I didn’t want her to be disappointed.”
Mrs. Kincaid lowers her eyes. “I see. I suppose I must already be a disappointment.”
“That tends to happen when you abandon your kids at the age of four,” Spencer bites back.
She flinches at his tone before turning mournful eyes on him. “Spencer, do you think I wanted to do that? That I left because I didn’t love you anymore? That I didn’t want to be your mother?”
Spencer shrugs. “Was I supposed to think anything else?”
Mrs. Kincaid lets out a sad sigh. “I suppose not. But it wasn’t like that. Not at all.” She gives a firm shake of her head. “I only left you behind because I couldn’t take you with me.”
“What do you mean?” Spencer presses.
She shakes her head sadly, lifting her glass for a sip of soda. “Your father was—is—a powerful man…”
I’m not surprised to see the tic in Spencer’s jaw at the mention of his father; things have been especially strained between the two of them over the past few months.
“When we divorced,” she continues, “I was given the option of leaving quietly and signing over my rights or fighting for custody and dragging you kids through a lengthy—and very public—legal battle.” She lets out a defeated sigh. “I knew there was no way I’d win. Not against Branson and his team of two thousand dollar an hour lawyers.”
“So you didn’t even try to fight?” Spencer asks, looking aghast.
“You’ll understand one day when you have children,” Mrs. Kincaid says simply. “You’ll do anything to protect them.”
“You make it sound very noble,” Spencer says flatly.
His mother shakes her head. “Not noble. Just necessary.”
“Did my father give you anything?”
She stiffens. “If you’re asking me whether he paid me to abandon custody, the answer is no. I didn’t take a cent from that man. My only condition was that you wouldn’t receive any of your inheritance until you turned twenty-eight. I couldn’t stand the thought of my sweet babies turning into spoiled trust fund brats.”
A look of dawning realization crosses Spencer’s face. “That must be why he waited to give us CPG.”
His mother shrugs. “I suppose it must be.”
A silence stretches out between them again, although this one doesn’t seem as tense as the previous ones.
“I’m glad you came here today, Spencer,” Mrs. Kincaid finally says. “And I want you to know you’re welcome in this house anytime. As is your sister.” She turns and offers me a soft smile. “You too, Will.”
“Why didn’t you ever seek us out?” Spencer asks quietly. “You live so close…”
Mrs. Kincaid looks at her son, a pained expression on her face. “Probably for the same reason you didn’t tell Emily you were coming here today,” she says. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.”
Spencer
* * *
My mind is still a little jumbled from the visit to my mother today, but one thing I know for certain is that I’m glad I went. And I’m even more glad Will came with me. I doubt I’d have been able to make it to the front door without him, let alone sit with my mom and listen to her side of the story.
I’ll have to tell Emily what happened today, and then she can make up her own mind as to whether she wants to go see our mother. But that can wait. Right now I just want to enjoy Christmas Eve sitting by the fire with the man I love.
“Okay, so I know you said you wanted to do presents tomorrow morning,” Will says, approaching the sofa with a wrapped gift in his hands, “but I have a feeling if I wait to give this to you tomorrow you’re just going to be like ‘why didn’t you let me open this last night’?”
“Was that supposed to be my voice?” I ask with a wry chuckle. “I sound nothing like that.”
He tosses the gift and it lands on my lap. “Just open the present, babe.”
At his request, I rip open the wrapping to reveal a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs. I place a hand over my chest. “Ahh, nothing says ‘I love you’ like a gift from the heart.”
“I really mean it,” Will says with a wry grin.
Getting to my feet, I stalk toward Will and wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him toward me for a hungry kiss. “You know, if you get to give a present early, then so do I,” I say with a teasing grin, tugging him by the hand and leading him to my bedroom.