Don't Break My Heart (Return to Redemption, Book 6) Read online

  “I don’t mean to be nosey, but when’s the last time you had sex?” Frankie asked.

  Trisha laughed. “With a guy or myself?”

  “With a man, naturally.”

  “Would you believe five years ago?”

  “You’ve gone five straight years without any nookie! What are you—a born-again virgin?”

  “Practically.” Unlike a lot of women in this day and age, she didn’t take sex lightly. Although, it wasn’t exactly hard to abstain when only one man had ever taken her over the top. Incredibly enough, he’d been her first and the only man she’d ever loved. “To be honest, I didn’t feel enough emotional connection with the three guys I had relationships with since college, so in the end they just left me frustrated and feeling empty.”

  “Ben is sweet, and from the locker room talk I’ve overheard about him, I doubt you’ll end up frustrated with him.”

  “Uhhh, Frankie.” Trisha stole a glance at her friend whose attention remained fixed on the traffic. “There’s something I should probably mention before you take me along as a potential conquest for this billionaire.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  She winced slightly and blurted, “I’m a little bit pregnant.”

  “What!” Frankie jerked her gaze away from the road to look at her. “No one can be just a little pregnant.”

  “What I meant is I’m only in my first trimester. A little over eleven weeks to be exact.”

  “Wait a minute. You just said you haven’t had sex in five years. So who’s the father?”

  “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome 2613. He’s six-one, 190 pounds, and has dark hair and brown eyes. He has a college degree and an excellent family health history.”

  Frankie’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying you went to a sperm bank? And if so, why? That’s kind of drastic.”

  Trisha shrugged one shoulder. “I’m thirty-four and time’s running out.”

  “But women have babies into their forties these days.”

  “Yeah, but I only have one ovary and, therefore, less eggs.” She took another swallow of her tepid coffee.

  “Don’t most women with only one still ovulate every month? I thought the other ovary compensates.”

  “Exactly. So those women run out of eggs sooner. I lost my right ovary when I was only eighteen, so my left one has been working overtime for a lot of years. I figured if I’m ever gonna become a mother, I’d better not waste any more time.”

  “Wow, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve been trying for six months and finally hit the jackpot the middle of October. I’m due July twelfth, seven weeks before I have to go back to work. It would’ve been nice if I’d gotten pregnant in September so I’d have the whole summer with the baby, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Frankie heaved a sigh. “I guess I might’ve done the same thing in your position. So why are you suddenly telling me this now?”

  “I’d planned to wait another month, until after I start to show, to tell anyone. But I want you to understand why I can’t get involved with anyone right now.” Not even a billionaire. “No guy wants to be saddled with some test tube’s baby.”

  “Who says you have to get involved?” Frankie chuckled. “You could simply console Ben and have a little fun while you’re at it.” She wiggled her finely arched eyebrows. “You’re the perfect fling for each other. You’re temporarily off the market, and I’m sure he’s not emotionally ready to get serious again, yet. You can use each other for a little bedroom quid pro quo. I mean, unlike other women, it’s not like he has to worry he’ll knock you up and be on the hook for child support, right?”

  “True.” Trisha shrugged. “I’ll just have to wait and see if he gives me goose bumps.”

  Frankie grinned sideways at her. “You do know it’s Christmas Eve and below freezing, right?”

  “Touché.”

  “I really do understand why you did it. Andy and I tried to get pregnant for two years without success—and I have two ovaries. Our failure to conceive is partly why we split up. He’s also one of the reasons I asked you to come to the wedding.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s one of Luke’s groomsmen. In fact, I think Sabrina has him escorting me in the ceremony.”

  “Ahhh.” Trisha nodded slowly. “So she’s playing matchmaker, hoping to get the two of you back together?”

  “Exactly. I’m counting on you to run interference. If Andy corners me, interrupt and make some excuse to drag me away. I don’t want to be alone with him.”

  “Okee-dokey.”

  The Toyota’s right wheel hit a huge pothole, making Trisha cringe from the sudden blow to her bladder. She crossed her legs and asked, “How long did you say this trip to the Poconos would take?

  “The resort’s pretty far north, so it’s a little over two hours. Why do you ask?”

  “Because, due to you generously providing coffee this morning and the fact I’m pregnant, we should probably stop before we get there—unless you don’t mind having a wet seat.”

  “Right. I suppose you’ll want the bed closest to the bathroom tonight, too.”

  “Definitely.”

  Frankie flipped on her directional to exit the highway. “Then again, that may become a moot point if your girl parts tingle when you meet Ben.”

  “In that case, you can take any bed you like.”

  ~*~

  “Oh, my gosh, Frankie, you only told me she was pretty!” a golden-haired woman shrieked that afternoon as Trisha followed her friend into the resort’s wreath and twinkle light spangled salon. “I never expected gorgeous.”

  “Sabrina, I’d like you to meet Trisha Mason. Trish, this is the bride and my oldest friend, Sabrina Fitzpatrick.”

  “Oldest, meaning we’ve known each other forever, not that I’m ancient,” Sabrina told her.

  “It’s so nice to meet you.” Trisha smiled at the bubbly woman. “Thanks for asking Frankie to bring a female friend to your wedding.”

  “More like ordered,” Frankie muttered.

  “I take it she told you my nefarious plan to try to distract Ben this evening?”

  “Actually, Frankie used the word console.”

  Sabrina chuckled. “She would. Seriously, I know tonight will be painful for him, particularly since he’s Luke’s best man. I’d really appreciate it if you would help keep him from brooding for the next few days.”

  “I’ll do my best—assuming he likes me.”

  “Well, let’s get her in one of the chairs and make sure she’s irresistible,” a tiny woman with a dark cap of curls suggested behind Sabrina.

  “This is Annie Fitzpatrick,”—Frankie waved toward the woman—“the maid of honor.”

  “Fitzpatrick? Are you and Sabrina related?”

  “I’m married to her brother, Tyler.”

  “Ty is Luke’s oldest friend.” Sabrina explained. “The two of them roomed with BJ in college.” She stepped back and studied Trisha’s shoulder-length hair. She glanced at Frankie and Annie. “What do you girls think she should have done?”

  “I’ve always thought some blond highlights would look great on you,” Frankie suggested.

  “Definitely,” Annie agreed, “and maybe a trim and some shaping.”

  Even though the salon overflowed with other guests having their hair and nails done for the wedding, they seated Trisha in front of a mirror in only minutes. “Is the salon always this busy?” she asked Clarence, her hairdresser, whose bleached, spiked hair didn’t inspire a lot of confidence.

  “The resort wishes that were so. Mr. Elliott hired me and four other stylists to drive out from Manhattan to handle the wedding overflow.”

  “Okay, I’m putting my head in your hands, Clarence. If I look hideous when you’re through, you’re gonna have to answer to the bride.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have any complaints.” In record time, he washed, highlighted, and whacked off a lot more hair tha
n Trisha had anticipated losing. But as he styled her locks with the blow dryer, the man’s talent soon became clear.

  Clarence clearly wasn’t just an ordinary hairdresser from some walk-in budget salon like she usually patronized. She would bet a month’s salary this guy styled the hair of the rich and famous on Park Avenue.

  The collar length style he’d chosen flattered her face, emphasizing its heart shape. And the layers he’d cut gave her baby-fine hair a fullness she’d never had before. However, the highlights made the biggest transformation.

  “Holy-moley,” Frankie said, walking around the chair as Clarence whipped off the protective cape. “Talk about a blonde bombshell.”

  “You don’t look half bad yourself,” Trisha said, admiring the up-do Frankie’s stylist had given her.

  Frankie pointed to the back of the salon. “Time for a mani-pedi.”

  “Okay, but would you pinch me first? I never expected I’d get pampered like this.”

  “No pinching. It’s all courtesy of Ben.”

  Trisha continued staring at the mirror and laughed. “Great. After all of this, I’m gonna have to sleep with him—whether my girl parts tingle or not.”

  “If that’s the case,”—Frankie swept her hand around the room filled with women—“Ben’s gonna have a crowded bed tonight.”

  As they walked to the back of the salon, a young voice called, “Ms. Mason, Ms. Conner, what are you two doing here?”

  Trisha turned and discovered Dani Riverá, one of the students from her school, sitting at a manicurist’s station having her fingernails painted a dark purple.

  “Hi, Dani. We’re here for the wedding. Ms. Conner’s brother is the groom, and she invited me as her plus-one. What are you doing here?”

  “The bride was one of my nurses back when I got sick. She and my mom became good friends.”

  When the school hired her, a little over a year ago, to counsel Sue Carlson’s students during her maternity leave, Trisha had gotten to know Dani and her best friend, Haley.

  After learning who Dani’s uncle and Haley’s father were, Trisha had been relieved to transfer the R through Z files back to Sue in September and be reassigned to counsel the M through P students previously overseen by the recently retired Mr. Barton.

  “How’s school going this year? Are you and Haley attending all your classes?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Well, at least I am.”

  Not surprisingly Haley was still having problems. Trisha had heard Marc had passed away during the summer. She knew what it felt like to lose a parent. She’d been only twelve when her own mom died from a brain aneurysm. Losing both parents had to be twice as devastating for Haley.

  Speak of the devil, the dark-haired teen bounded up to the table a second later, out of breath. “The beautician told me, since I’m a minor, I need my mother with me if I want hot pink highlights. You should’a seen the witch’s face when I told her that would be tough since my mom’s been dead for two years.” Haley suddenly noticed Trisha and Frankie standing there and frowned. “Ms. Mason, Ms. Conner. What’re you doin’ here?”

  “We just went through all that,” Dani told her, explaining Frankie’s relationship to the groom and that Trisha was her plus-one.

  “I like the highlights, Ms. Mason,” Haley gave her a thumbs up. “You look hot.”

  “Thanks.” She waved toward Haley’s long tresses. “I would kill for hair as thick and shiny as yours. Why do you want to mess it up with bright pink streaks?”

  “I dunno.” Haley shrugged. “Just to do somethin’ different, I guess.”

  “I’m sure if you ask Dani’s mom, she’ll come with you and give her permission.”

  “Or you could pretend to be my mom.”

  Trisha raised her hands and backed up. “No way. I’m not your guardian.”

  Haley gathered a hank of her dark locks in her hand and studied the ends. “You really think my hair’s beautiful?”

  “You bet. I’d love to have shiny dark waves like the two of you. Blond hair looks so dull.” Combined with her fair complexion, she’d always felt drab and colorless.

  “But blondes are supposed to have more fun, aren’t they?” Haley asked.

  “They’re also supposed to be D-U-M-B,” Dani reminded her friend. “But Ms. Mason doesn’t qualify.”

  “Thanks. As for the fun part, you can’t prove it by me. I lead a pretty boring life.”

  “Not tonight.” Frankie nudged her in the ribs and grinned. “There’ll be nothing boring about your evening. Come on, let’s have our nails done. I’m getting a gel manicure so I don’t ruin it when I have to stuff my ample butt into my Spanx tonight.”

  Trisha gestured toward the five occupied manicurist stations. “We’d better start with our feet. We’ll see you at the wedding, girls. Have fun.”

  “You, too,” Dani called back to her.

  “Oh-my-gosh,” Haley giggled, whispering loud enough for Trisha to still hear. “She actually came as Ms. Conner’s plus-one? Do you think they’re, you know.... lesbians?”

  Trisha froze in her tracks and grabbed Frankie’s arm.

  “Maybe,” Dani responded. “They do eat lunch together a lot. Now aren’t you glad you came with us and didn’t miss this?”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “Ryan and his friends are gonna be so bummed when they hear hottie, Ms. Mason, bats for the other team.”

  “Nah, they’re guys. They’ll just fantasize about watchin’ her instead of doin’ her,” Haley predicted.

  Trisha turned to Frankie and whispered, “Did you hear what they just said?”

  “Yup. Just keep walkin’, girlfriend. The truth will become clear when they see you cozying up to BJ on the dance floor tonight.”

  True. Either then, or when her belly swelled in another month. Although, the girls just might realize she could’ve used a sperm donor and wonder if Frankie and she were planning to raise her baby together.

  CHAPTER 2

  Breaking with tradition, the cocktail hour had been held at BJ Elliott’s mansion before the wedding, during which time the guests had enjoyed a lavish assortment of hot and cold hors d’oeuvres with their drinks.

  Justin rolled his eyes at his brother, Nick, and Dani’s boyfriend, Ryan, while they waited in the reception line after the wedding, listening to the girls rhapsodize about how beautiful the candlelit ceremony had been against the backdrop of an immense Christmas tree and dozens of poinsettias.

  All he’d thought about during the service was how the local fire marshal would feel about hundreds of candles burning all around the ballroom.

  “Wasn’t it adorable when Annie and Tyler’s kids walked Luke and Sabrina’s puppies down the aisle,” Dani gushed to Ryan.

  “I know.” Haley laughed, hugging herself. “I love the little tuxedo and red velvet bridesmaid’s gown Dusty and Mopsy are wearing”

  “This afternoon, Annie mentioned her son complained about being the ring bearer,” Justin’s sister-in-law, Samantha, told them. “Noah thought he was too old, so that’s why they strapped the ring pillow on Dusty’s back.”

  Justin heaved a sigh. Thank God, Haley finally seemed to be having some fun. He pulled his brother aside and asked, “So how’d Sam convince you to leave the baby home with Ryan’s sister for three days and nights?”

  “What makes you think she convinced me?”

  He glanced at his worry-wart brother and pandered to his ego by reversing the question. “Okay, how’d you convince her?”

  “I didn’t have to. David Lambert, our pediatrician, talked her into it.”

  “How’d he do that?”

  “Dave told her that, at less than six months old, Christopher doesn’t even know what Christmas is, and he’ll be happier and healthier sleeping in his own warm bed with babysitters spoiling him than he would being dragged to the frosty Pocono Mountains and exposed to two hundred people’s germs. He also told her that, as a new mother, she needs a little break from him before he’s old enoug
h to really miss her.”

  “Whoa, and you swallowed that—I mean, she swallowed that hook, line, and sinker?”

  “Not at first. The clincher came when Dave told us he and his wife, Casey, were coming to the wedding, too, and leaving their three month old daughter home with her sister, Brianna. After Sammy repeated his advice to her friends who have infants, they all decided to leave their rugrats home, too.”

  “I guess the men of Redemption are gettin’ some this week.” All except him. Haley had been right. It had been too damn long since he’d dated anyone.

  “I don’t know about that.” Nick chuckled. “But we will enjoy a few nights of uninterrupted sleep.” He jerked his head toward Dani and Haley. “Of course, that’s assuming those two don’t keep us up all night with their giggling. I should’ve given you the room that connects to theirs.”

  “Who’s Ryan staying with?”

  “A lot of Luke’s Police Explorer’s club kids are here. They’re the ushers. Ryan’s bunking with them in the mansion’s basement rec room.”

  The teenage boy who’d smiled at Haley when he seated their family must be one of them. He’d stared at her during the entire ceremony. It shouldn’t matter that the kid was obviously biracial. Hell, the boy’s skin was lighter than Justin’s after he spent a summer in the sun. Still, it did disturb him a bit. But his knee-jerk reaction wasn’t due to disapproval of Haley getting involved with a racially-mixed guy.

  No. His hackles had risen simply because he didn’t want her facing the social prejudice he had. For the first time, he had a better understanding of why his first girlfriend’s WASP daddy, who lived in one of the mansions on Philadelphia’s Mainline, had objected so vehemently when she began dating him—a poor second-generation Mexican-American from South Philly.

  Unfortunately, understanding didn’t make her desertion sting any less, even now, years later.

  “Thanks so much for coming,” the groom, Luke, said when Justin and Haley reached the front of the receiving line.

  “Thanks for including me so our family could be together for Christmas.” Justin shook his hand.

  “You’re Nick’s brother, right?” At his nod, Luke continued, “I understand you’re an architect and the owner of R&S Construction.”