I stopped by the May Palace to pick up some Chinese food, which I loaded in the trunk. They were kind enough to stick it in an insulated bag I promised to return next week, so it would stay warm until I got home. I have no idea what the grocery situation is at Jay’s, but I didn’t plan on cooking anyway. Not tonight.
Letting Beau out of the car, I tuck Belle under my arm and walk up to the door, finding the key Jay gave me this morning.
He’s asleep on the couch and I do my best to keep a suddenly enthusiastic Beau from hitting him in the head with his cone.
“Why don’t you go outside for a bit,” I mutter to the dog, grabbing his collar and tugging him to the back door.
Thank God Jay’s yard is fenced, I wouldn’t want Beau running off with that cone around his neck, he could easily get hurt. I drop Belle on one of the leather club chairs and head back outside to grab the stuff for the animals, and the food from my trunk.
When I return—my arms full with a dog bed, kibble for both animals, and Chinese food for us—Jay is sitting up on the couch, rubbing his face in his hands.
“Hey. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“Don’t be. I’ve been sleeping since I got home.” He reaches for me over the back of the couch. “Come here.”
“Let me dump this first. How are you feeling?” I ask over my shoulder, as I walk toward the back door and drop the dog bed on the floor.
Outside Beau starts barking.
“I’m good. Tired, obviously.”
I hear him answer as I duck into the laundry room to hide the kibble out of sight. Beau has a tendency to help himself unless it’s behind a closed door. I found that out the hard way.
“That’s to be expected,” I tell him, setting the insulated bag on the counter.
“What’s that?”
“Picked us up some Chinese. You hungry?”
I start opening cupboards, looking for plates.
“Merry…are you gonna leave me hanging?”
Smiling, I give up on my search and return to the living room. The moment I’m within reach, his hand shoots out and he pulls me down on his lap. Before I can get my bearings, his mouth is on mine, his tongue demanding entry.
After days of no more than chaste kisses, this one cranks up the heat instantly and I moan down his throat.
“Now that’s more like it,” he mumbles, lifting his mouth from mine.
“I’ll say, but don’t get carried away.” I reluctantly get off his lap. “We’ve gotta build up your strength first, which means food and rest.”
His responding grunt puts a smile on my face as I head back to the kitchen.
“Top cabinet to the right of the sink,” he calls after me, right before the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it.”
My back is to the door when I hear Jay say, “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t I come see my own son? What the hell happened to you?”
I swing around to see a tall man, almost as tall as Jay, stand in the hallway.
Oh, shit.
Jay barks out a bitter laugh.
“For a second there I thought you found out I got shot and actually developed a care, but I should’ve known that wasn’t it. Let me guess, you’re here about Alex’s son?”
“Shut your mouth,” the older man snaps, glaring at me. “Not in front of the hired help.”
“The what?” Jay turns around and catches me with my mouth open, before swinging back to his father. “Are you talking about my woman?”
I can see this going south in a hurry if I don’t jump in now. Mostly because I haven’t even been properly introduced, and already I want to stab that pompous ass with a kitchen knife.
“Actually,” I call out, as I round the island and walk toward the men. “I’m my own woman, and my name is Meredith Carter.”
That was for Jay, next I pin his father with a long look.
“You can call me Dr. Carter. I’m your son’s physician and given his recent injuries, I’m afraid I have to insist you keep the yelling to a minimum and limit yourself to a civilized conversation.”
I fish my keys out of my pocket and squeeze past the men.
“Where are you going?” Jay wants to know.
“Home to grab a few things.” I lift my hand when he wants to object. “Trust me, it’s bad enough you have an unscrupulous family like this, you don’t want to have a homicidal girlfriend on top of that.”
I’m already walking to my car when I hear his father mutter.
“Of course you’d end up with some crazy bitch.”
I swing around and point a finger at the man.
“And you haven’t even met my dog yet.”
Jay looks like he’s about to bust out laughing and I wink at him before I get into the car.
I’m just turning up the road to my place when I’m blinded by the reflection of high beams in my rearview mirror.
Chapter 28
Jay
“Clearly you’ve lowered your standards.”
Meredith’s car disappears down the driveway as I slowly turn to my father. The lingering headache I thought I’d finally shaken is back with a vengeance, and I have to brace my hand on the wall to stay steady.
“You’re standing in my house, throwing insults, and you want to talk about standards? Why are you here?”
“To bring you to your senses.”
It’s a weird experience; as much as I favor my father in looks, I don’t even recognize the man standing in front of me.
“Go home. You’re wasting your time.”
“You just had to talk to that reporter for the Boston Herald, didn’t you? He was ready to go to print with what we told him.”
“Did you really think he wouldn’t try to get my side of it? Wouldn’t be much of a reporter then, would he?”
I’d called back Sean Nesbitt at the Herald yesterday after Meredith asked if I was going to set the story straight. In the past I might’ve let it go—having learned the outcome of going against my family was not worth the effort in the end—but not this time. I allowed myself to be defined by my family for too long. It’s high time to live up to the man Meredith sees when she looks at me.
So I answered the reporter’s questions and suggested a simple paternity test could clear this whole matter up. My guess is he contacted my brother to get his rebuttal.
“The piece won’t hit the paper until the weekend. You can still stop this.”
My father’s voice is more of a plea than an order this time and when I look at him, I see a man whose carefully constructed house of cards is about to come down around him.
I drop my head and shake it to clear the pang of guilt I feel. This is a mess of their own creation and they have to carry the consequences. I won’t be bullied or begged into backing them when not one of them ever stood up for me.
“Not gonna throw myself on the sword. Not anymore.”
“You just signed the death warrant on your brother’s political career.”
“He did that all by himself,” I counter, but my father doesn’t seem to hear.
“Destroyed the legacy of generations of VanDyken men in public office,” he rants on.