Ann Major - A Scandal So Sweet

Had anything she’d said today been real?

Whether it was or not, she’d damn sure shattered his heart and sent him to hell and back all over again.

One week later

Zach moved silently through the long shadows of the tall spreading oaks near Viola’s house, stepping past Silas, who looked like a black-and-white fur ball as he napped under the pink blossoms of his favorite crape myrtle bush.

The dazzling pink flowers blurred, and suddenly Zach saw Summer instead of the worthless feline: Summer with her heart in her eyes, Summer looking lovely and too sexy for words in that ridiculous pink confection of a dress.

Damn her. As the image dissolved, he experienced burning, agonizing loss.

Frowning, he approached Viola’s screen door warily.

Why was he even here? He had a plane to catch. It wasn’t as if he had to show up at her request. Hell, these days he ignored most invitations, and he had every reason to ignore Viola’s. Why was he putting himself through this?

Because she’d sounded so fragile when she’d summoned him. Because he genuinely liked her. Because she was family now, in spite of everything Summer had done. Viola would be his son’s great-grandmother. Because she was hurting nearly as much as he was that the dream wouldn’t come true.

Viola’s bossy cat trotted toward the screen door and rubbed his tail arrogantly against Zach’s jeans. Then he sank a claw into the screen as he waited to be let in.

Viola welcomed them both. Silas, who sprang inside first, she gave a can of tuna. Zach, she gave a plate of chocolate-chip cookies and a glass of iced tea that she’d flavored with mint from her garden.

He didn’t have time for tea or cookies, but he was loath to say so. Viola had a strange power over him.

When he saw the empty shelves and all the boxes stacked against the walls in every room, in an effort to make polite conversation, he asked when she planned to move to her new condo.

“I’m taking my time. I can only do an hour or so of packing each day before my back starts howling. Tuck’s not much help, bless his lazy soul, not even when I pay him. Slow as molasses. Drops things, he does. And Summer’s not going to rent out this old place after all. Because of the baby…” She said that last with reverence as she lifted her sharp gaze to his.

When she didn’t avert those piercing eyes that saw too much, his heart sped up to a tortured pace.

“She’s feeling quite sentimental about the old place. Said she’s going to keep it for herself and the baby, so the baby will grow up loving it as much as past generations have before her. That’s nice, don’t you think?”

Her? Funny how Zach always thought of their kid as a boy. A little boy with golden hair and bright blue eyes. But it could be girl, couldn’t it? A beautiful little girl who looked like Summer, who’d break his heart because he loved her so.

Viola noted his empty plate. Usually, she hopped up to refill such a plate. But not today.

“I’m afraid there aren’t any more cookies. You see, Summer ate practically all of them the other day…stuffed herself on them, the poor dear. Not a good thing really, in her condition. She has to get into all those costumes, too, you know. But she was so down before she left. Kept eating one after another, couldn’t stop herself. Until I took the plate away and froze the remaining cookies for future guests. And here you are.”

“Why did you ask me to come over here today, Viola? I have a plane to catch, meetings in Houston…”

“You poor dear, with your big, important life. You know, you don’t look any better than she does. I can see that, despite your tough exterior, this is just as hard on you as it is on her.”

Zach froze. “Did she put you up to this?”

“Who?” Viola’s eyes were suspiciously guileless. “Put me up to what?”

Those innocent eyes, so compelling in her wrinkled face, seemed to search his soul in the exact way that Summer’s sometimes did. But unlike Summer, Viola’s deep compassion for him was genuine.

“Zach, is this really what you want? You two are going to have a child. Summer’s brokenhearted, and I think you love her, too. I think you always have and always will.”

He felt the ice that encased his heart melting beneath the brightness of her sweet, determined gaze, but his face remained a mask.

“Zach, you have the baby to think of. When parents don’t live together, it’s the child who suffers most. The family’s broken. That’s what happened to Summer when her father walked out on Anna. Look at poor Tuck, how he’s still struggling. A baby needs to be part of a close, loving family.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t all have the ideal family,” he muttered. “I was on my own after my mother left my father, and then my father remarried a younger woman, who threw me out after he died.”

“So, then you know how it feels. Do you want your baby to suffer the way you did, when you could so easily prevent it?”

Easily?

Again, he asked himself why he’d come here. It was hard enough to let Summer go without this fragile old lady, whom he liked, trying to pry his innermost secrets from him. Summer was wrong for him. Period.

He’d believed in the dream, but it had all been a lie. Summer was the ultimate liar. And even if it weren’t for that calamity, even if she were the lovely illusion he’d believed in, he couldn’t live with the press pouncing on them every time one of them had so much as a conversation with another attractive person. He didn’t want his marriage to be a feast for public consumption. He wanted a real marriage-a private, personal bonding of two souls-not some mirage of perfect love that would heighten Summer’s popularity.

“I don’t need this,” he growled as he stood up.

“Sit back down,” Viola commanded in her bossy way.

Strange that, in his hopeless mood, he found her firm manner oddly comforting.

Slowly, he sank back into the chair, Summer’s favorite chair, which happened to be his favorite, too.

“I may be a pushy old lady, who doesn’t know half as much as she should, but I know you two belong together.”

“Not anymore. Too many things have happened. The past…our first baby…all the lies. I don’t want everything we do to be magnified by the media.”

“Summer is a wonderful girl, and you know it! Thurman was a real stinker. Hasn’t he cost us all enough? As for the press-why do you care so much about what other people think?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I say it is. I say maybe you’re too proud, too arrogant. And maybe, despite your bluster, you’re something of a coward.”

He scowled at her.

“I know this because I’ve been guilty of the same thing at times. When anything bad is written about Summer, my friends all tease me. I don’t like it. I feel put down and ashamed. But they’re jealous, you see, of her success. Not that any of them will admit it. But don’t they just love it when unkind words are written about Summer or an unflattering picture of her is taken? I fall for their bluster every time and blame Summer. Either she sets me straight or I get my bearings back on my own. All the negative stuff is backward praise in a way. People see how wonderful she is and want a part of her. It’s up to me to stay centered and put her first and everybody else last-where they belong.”

“We’ve got an ugly past to live down, as well.”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn you can live anything down.”

“Look, our lifestyles just aren’t compatible.”

“Then modify them. Maybe it won’t take as much give on your part as you think. When two people who are right for each other come together, the most insurmountable obstacles can be conquered.”