The Billionaire's Christmas Son - Leslie North Page 0,45
after all, and yet ...here she was.
“Are you okay?” Annabeth asked softly.
“Not really,” she answered.
Rachel would have to be okay by the time they got back to her apartment. Scott would need her, and her life needed her, and that was the bottom line—she didn’t have time to wallow about Jonas. They’d had an interesting week together, but that was it. It was over. All that was left was to decide what to do about Jonas having visitation with his son. Not exactly an ideal situation.
You could have talked to him.
Annabeth shifted into the other lane and back again, remaining silent.
Rachel kept her gaze fixed on the snow—white like icing on a cake. Or white, like a wedding dress. She could almost see Jonas in a tux, looking devastatingly handsome and incandescently happy. None of which would happen because she hadn’t bothered to hash things out with him. Instead, she’d run away.
Just like she’d always done in the past. Life had taught her that sometimes it was the only way to cope, like when she’d turned away from the altar and run as fast as she could from her ex—looking for a safe haven.
The Elk Lodge. It had been her place of refuge and the place she found Jonas. It had been a fun one-night stand, sure, but she’d never have slept with him if she hadn’t felt he was part of the safe harbor.
Rachel swallowed a lump in her throat. Except this time, she’d run away from the safe harbor. Not her smartest decision.
It was too much to think about.
They listened to music and talked about nothing the rest of the way back to Denver. Annabeth carried her things inside the apartment. She’d only been gone a brief time, but it felt empty and dark. Rachel moved through, turning on lights, and Annabeth played with Scott on the living room carpet.
“I don’t have anywhere to be,” Annabeth said. “I can stay awhile. Want some mac and cheese, Scott?”
“Mac cheese,” he cried, and Rachel didn’t have the energy to protest. Annabeth went into the kitchen, Scott hot on her heels.
Rachel sat on the sofa. A chance to breathe. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but all too soon, the two of them were ready to eat.
Annabeth put Scott in the highchair attached to the table. She put his bowl in front of him, a spoon in his small fist, and dropped into the next seat.
“Is it good?” Annabeth asked Scott.
“Good,” he repeated, then turned in his seat and pointed his spoon at Rachel. “Mama, sit.” She smiled at her son, loving each new word he learned to say.
“She’s resting a minute,” Annabeth told him gently. “You know, Rachel...don’t overthink this. If he’s not able to give you what you want, he’s not the right man for you. That’s all I want to say about it. I’m the last person who would think you needed to stay with him just because he’s Scott’s dad.”
“I know,” Rachel said. But her friend’s words didn’t help. No weight lifted from her tired shoulders. Nothing helped. All she could think about was what it would feel like if she were settling into Jonas’s tonight—wanting him close. Not that she wanted to admit that to Annabeth. “Thank you for sticking around,” Rachel added.
“You want me to stay the night?”
No. That was the right answer. Rachel was a single mom, and Scott was her responsibility, and no one else’s. And yet...help sounded nice. More than nice. “Yeah. The spare bedroom is already made up.”
“Okay.” Annabeth tickled Scott’s arm. “Hear that, buddy? I’m staying the night.”
“Stay,” Scott repeated, shoving another bite of food into his mouth. Most of it anyway.
The three of them whiled away the afternoon, not discussing the elephant in the room. It was easier to pretend nothing was wrong. Annabeth took Scott for a walk on the paths through the apartment complex, both coming in with pink cheeks and red noses from the cold. But it had been a wonderful respite for Rachel as she tried to sort out her life.
Annabeth ordered Indian food for dinner, and Rachel joined them at the table. The pain in her shoulder seemed to be letting up, at least a little—every time the pain medication wore off, it hurt a little less. She picked her way through a plateful of butter chicken and naan. By the time they were finished eating, Scott was yawning, and starting to fuss.
“I got this,” Annabeth offered. “Let me get him in his