Countdown to Christmas
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Brenda Harlen
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HarlequinChapter One
His ex-wife was getting married.
Adam Morgan stared at the invitation in his hand, relieved to discover that the news of Rebecca’s impending nuptials didn’t elicit any strong feelings from him—or any feelings at all, really. Of course, almost five years had passed since she’d walked out on their marriage, leaving him and their three young sons.
Thankfully, they’d only been on their own for a few weeks before his mother took pity on them and moved in, because he honestly didn’t know what he would have done without her. The arrangement had been good for Shirley Morgan, too. Helping care for her grandkids ensured that the recent widow, struggling to adjust to life without her husband of more than thirty years, was too busy to ever feel lonely.
And she was undoubtedly busy. In addition to taking over the grocery shopping, meal preparations and most other household chores, she also chauffeured the boys to various extracurricular activities, baked cupcakes for school events, supervised homework and played referee. She didn’t hesitate to give any of the boys—including Adam—a stern talking-to if she felt it was needed, but her admonishments were always followed by hugs. And sometimes cookies.
A thought that had Adam eyeing the cookie jar hopefully, though he knew better than to look for a treat before he’d eaten his lunch. He tucked the invitation back into the envelope addressed to Adam Morgan & Guest, Easton, Hudson & Colton.
“When did you say Rebecca stopped by?” he asked his mom.
She turned the grilled cheese in the pan. “It was around two o’clock.”
“Yesterday?”
“No. Today.”
The clock on the stove read 12:58.
“How could she stop by around two when it’s not yet one o’clock?” he asked.
His mother’s cheeks were flushed—maybe from the heat of the stove or maybe from embarrassment. “I meant ten o’clock,” she said now. “Rebecca was here at ten o’clock.”
Which would explain why he hadn’t seen her vehicle parked by the house, as he’d spent most of the morning at the far boundary of the property, checking the fence.
“If she’d waited until this afternoon to visit, she could have seen the boys,” he remarked.
“You can’t honestly be surprised that she didn’t consider their schedule when she decided to drop by,” Shirley chided, as she turned the sandwich onto a plate.
He wasn’t surprised, but he was disappointed for his sons, who didn’t see their mom nearly as often as they should.
“And yet she apparently expects them to be at her wedding,” he noted.
“She does,” Shirley confirmed, handing him the plated sandwich, neatly cut into two triangles, and began filling a bowl with soup.
“You do know I’m capable of making my own lunch, don’t you?” he said. “There’s no reason for you to cook for me every day.”
“I like to keep busy,” Shirley said. “And I don’t like you making a mess of my kitchen.”
“That’s fair,” he acknowledged, as he carried his grilled cheese to the table.
She set the bowl beside his plate.
“Aren’t you eating?”
“I had a big breakfast.”
“Five hours ago,” he noted, lifting his sandwich to his mouth.
She took a seat across from him. “I haven’t done much of anything in those five hours to work up an appetite.”
“You should eat, anyway.” He put the spoon in the bowl of soup and slid it toward her, then rose from the table to refill a second bowl.
“The ATV sounded a little rough this morning,” Shirley noted, when he’d returned to the table.
“A cracked intake boot.”
“Are you going to replace that before or after you repair the barn roof?”
“That’s a good question,” he acknowledged.
Because it had been one of those weeks, starting with the loss of two young calves taken down by coyotes, followed by the ruin of several bags of grain as a result of the previously undetected leak, and now the ATV.
The never-ending joys of being a rancher, he mused wryly.
All of that capped off by the unexpected invitation to his ex-wife’s wedding.
“You should go,” Shirley said, interrupting his musing.
“To fix the roof?”
“To the wedding,” she clarified.
“I don’t have much of a choice,” he admitted. “Rebecca wants the boys to attend—and they should—and how else would they get there?”
“It will be good for you to get away,” his mom said, ignoring his rhetorical question. “Maybe meet some new people.”
It had become a familiar refrain in recent months, as she’d taken to reminding him that he was too young to be alone. And while it was true that he’d only turned thirty-five on his last birthday, he felt so much older than that number and too tired to engage in the usual dating games.
Sure, he missed sex. A lot. But when he considered the effort it would take to go out and meet someone that he liked well enough to get naked with, he decided it simply wasn’t worth the trouble.
But Shirley’s interest in his personal life wasn’t the only change he’d noticed in the past year—nor was it the most troubling one. Of far greater concern was her increasing forgetfulness and occasional confusion. As a result, he’d been searching for ways to ease her responsibilities, such as enlisting his sister to take the boys from school to their extracurricular activities so that their mom didn’t have to drive into town, and offering to do the grocery shopping when he was picking up an order from the feed store.
Of course, Shirley usually declined that offer, wanting to pick her own produce and instruct the butcher on her preferences. So far, he’d acquiesced to most of her wishes, though he usually made an excuse to go into town at the same time, so that he could drive her to and from the store.
“Maybe,” he finally responded to her remark.
But if he was going to take time away from the ranch, he would prefer to do so for fun. Rebecca Hollister as The Bride: Part Two was not his idea of fun.
“And it might be good for you, too,” he added.
Shirley shook her head. “Even if I wanted to go, and I don’t,” she quickly assured him, “my sister is going to be here that weekend.”
“You didn’t tell me that Aunt Mary was coming for a visit.”
“I’m sure I did.”
But she didn’t sound sure. And though Adam knew it was entirely possible that she had told him and he’d forgotten, it was more likely that she’d forgotten to tell him.
Either way, there went any hope of having his mom’s company—and an extra set of hands—on his road trip with the boys.
Unless he could sweet-talk his sister into going with them.
The usual after-dinner routine in the Morgan house involved helping to tidy up the kitchen, then completing any remaining homework, followed by bath time and story time. Tonight, thanks to his ex-wife’s impending nuptials, Adam had one more task to add to their nightly schedule.
He called Easton and Hudson into the room where his youngest son was surveying the contents of his bookcase, his blanket tucked under one arm and Bruno—a plush dinosaur toy—dangling from his hand.
“Sit down,” he instructed the older boys, gesturing to Colton’s bed. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Easton and Hudson exchanged worried glances as they perched cautiously on the edge of the mattress.
“It’s not about Lollipop’s stall door being left open,” Adam told them.
The brothers shared another look.
“You know about that?” Hudson asked.
“You think I wouldn’t notice that the horse was on the wrong side of the paddock fence?”
“So we’re not in trouble?” Easton’s tone was hopeful.
“I didn’t say you weren’t in trouble—I said this conversation isn’t about that.”
Colton, having finally selected a book, bypassed the bed to climb into his dad’s lap, holding his blanket, toy and storybook now. He snuggled into Adam’s chest and rubbed his cheek against his soft flannel shirt, just like he’d done when he was a baby.
Of course, he was still Adam’s baby, but he was growing up fast. The day would come, probably far too soon, that the little boy didn’t turn to his dad for comfort, but he was glad to know that time wasn’t now.
“What’s it about then?” Easton asked, wary again.
“Your mom’s getting married.”
The boys took a moment to consider this information.
Hudson was the first to speak, asking, “Who’s she gonna marry? You?”
Adam responded quickly. “No.”
Hell, no.
“The man’s name is Greg Burnett.”
“Oh.” Hudson’s hopeful expression faded. “I thought maybe we were gonna be a real family again.”
And didn’t those plaintive words arrow straight into his heart?
Because if there was one thing he’d always tried his damnedest to do, it was ensure that his sons didn’t ever feel as if they were missing out on anything because their mom and dad didn’t live together.
Obviously he’d failed.
Obviously an onsite grandmother and doting aunt couldn’t compensate for the fact that their mother had been mostly absent from their lives for the last four and a half years.
“We are a real family,” he said now, because he believed it was true. Maybe they weren’t a traditional family, but they were as real as the pain he felt anytime one of his children was hurting.
“Clive says our family is broken.”
“Our family is not broken,” Adam said, even as his heart was cracking.
“But it’s not fair,” Hudson grumbled. “Hanna C has two moms and we don’t even have one.”
“You do have a mom,” he reminded them.
Easton snorted. “Not a real mom.”
Adam couldn’t really dispute that point, but he felt compelled to speak up in Rebecca’s defense, albeit more for the sake of his children than his ex-wife. “Your mom might not spend a lot of time with you, but I know she loves you.”
“When she gets married, will this Greg guy be our new dad—like when Elliott’s mom married Mr. Gilmore?” Hudson asked.
Jeez, they were killing him with these questions.
“He’ll be your stepfather,” Adam managed to respond evenly.
“Do we hafta caw him dad?” Colton asked, sounding troubled.
Please, no.
“That’s entirely up to you,” he told them.
“I say no way.” Easton folded his arms over his chest. “Dad’s our dad. This guy is just someone our mom wants to marry.”
“No way,” Hudson agreed, folding his arms, too.
“No way,” Colton said, dutifully echoing his brothers’ words and posture.
Their unflinching loyalty went a long way to soothing Adam’s bruised heart.
“The wedding’s next Saturday in Las Vegas,” he told them. “And your mom wants you to be there.”
“I don’t wanna go,” Easton said.
“I understand that you might feel uncomfortable, because there will probably be a lot of people you don’t know, but I’ll be there with you.”
“You will?” His eldest son sounded skeptical.
“I will,” he promised.
“I still don’t wanna go,” Easton said.
“Sometimes in life we have to do things that we don’t think will be a lot of fun,” Adam said. “And sometimes we’re surprised to discover that they’re more fun than we anticipated.”
“What happens at a wedding?” Hudson asked.
“The bride and groom stand up in front of their families and friends and promise to love one another forever,” Adam said, grateful to finally have an easy question to answer.
“Or until they decide to get divorced,” Easton added, sounding far more cynical than any nine-year-old should.
Hudson looked troubled. “Do we hafta get dressed up for the wedding?”
Adam chuckled. “I’m sure your mom would appreciate it if you showed up looking your best.”
“That means a tie, doesn’t it?” Easton wrinkled his nose.
“It does, indeed,” he confirmed.
His eldest son sighed wearily. “I hate wearing a tie.”
“We’ll suffer together,” he promised.
He only wished that the dress code was his biggest concern.
When all the boys’ questions had been answered and they were settled in their respective beds, Adam made his way back down the stairs and settled behind his desk in the den. He had some paperwork to review and materials to order to fix the barn roof before he could call it a night, but first he called his ex-wife.
“Congratulations,” he said, when Rebecca answered the phone.
“You obviously got my invitation,” she noted.
“I did,” he confirmed.
“And you’ll all be at the wedding?” she asked hopefully.
“We will,” he promised. Because he wanted his children to have a good relationship with their mom and would do everything in his power to facilitate it.
“Great,” she said. “I’ll add four plates to our final tally for the caterer.”
“Five,” he said.
“I’m sorry?” Rebecca was obviously taken aback by his response.
“The invitation was to Mr. Adam Morgan and guest,” he reminded her.
“Well, yes,” she admitted. “But I didn’t think... I mean, I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
“A few hours ago, I didn’t know you were getting married again.”
“Fine,” she finally replied. “The tables seat eight, anyway, so I’ll make sure there’s a place for you and—” she paused then, and he could envision her tapping a painted fingernail against her chin “—should the place card read Jamie or Shirley?”
The implication, of course, being that he didn’t actually have a date but would drag his sister or his mom along to keep him company.
And dammit, that had been his intention. But no way was he going to admit that to his ex-wife now.
“It can simply read guest,” he said instead.
“Well, I’ll look forward to meeting your...guest at the rehearsal dinner.”
Which meant that Adam had eleven days to snag a date or he’d be eating crow.
