Page 53 of The Devil's Spawn

Way beyond awkward.

I had one arm in my jacket sleeve before Ian placed his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t go. You’re always welcome.” He glanced at Simone, including her in the conversation. “Right, babe?”

So they were at the “babe” stage. I wondered how much time they’d spent together. Had Simone visited him at the treatment center, wherever that had been? Just how long had he been back?

And that’s when I realized there were things I’d probably never know, and for a good reason too, because our histories were cocooned in hurt, and crisscrossed in a web of wrong. We only had two options at this point; remain hung up on the past, or salvage what little friendship we had left.

The third choice—walk away for good—was unfathomable.

Simone gave me a reassuring smile, so I assumed she voted for the second option. “Of course she’s welcome. We’re all adults, but more importantly, we’re friends.”

My husband excluded, for obvious reasons.

Ian removed his jacket, and we settled in to watch parts of theMacy’s Thanksgiving Day Paradewhile the food cooked and boiled. When it came time to carve the turkey, Ian took on that task as I set the table for three. With each minute that passed, the nagging awkwardness subsided. We settled around a table crammed full of turkey and all the trimmings. I loaded up my plate, overjoyed that my morning sickness was mostly a thing of the past since I’d entered the second trimester.

“How about we say what we’re thankful for?” Simone arched a brow at me. “Would you like to go first?”

I set down my eggnog with a slight gulp. “Um, sure. I’m grateful for…”

The baby.

But thinking about my unborn child brought tears to my eyes, and I didn’t know if Ian was aware of my pregnancy. The last thing I wanted was to rub it in his face.

“I’m grateful for your unconditional friendship.” My gaze swerved between the two of them. “Both of you. You’ve been there for me, each in different ways, for such a long time. So that’s what I’m thankful for.”

Simone took Ian’s hand. “You’re next.”

“I’m gonna have to cheat and mention two things. I’m grateful to be alive.” He brought her hand to his lips. “And I’m grateful for you.”

Silence fell over the table, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It just was.

Simone cleared her throat. “I’m grateful for the three kids whose cancer went into remission this week. By the grace of God, they got to go home and spend the holiday with their families.”

I raised my glass. “That takes the cake, Simone. It deserves a toast.” Our glasses clinked together—three glasses representing three lives that had come together through trial and tribulation, yet here we were, sitting around the same table and thankful to do so.

But God, how I missed Gage just then. And Eve. Frigid air whistled through the holes in my heart where they should have been. With a little distance, I saw things more clearly, and Gage’s past with Katherine didn’t lance my heart as badly as it had yesterday. But not being with him did.

A bang on the door went off like an omen as if the universe heard my pain and wanted to reply. Even so, dread formed in my gut. I didn’t know how I knew, but that angry fist pounding on Simone’s door belonged to Gage.

She scooted back, the legs of her chair scraping loudly across her floor. “I’ll deal with it, Kayla.”

Except that I beat her to the door. She tried stopping me from opening it, but nothing and no one would keep me from seeing him. The instant I laid eyes on his disheveled appearance—his uncombed hair and the redness that rimmed his eyes—I fought against myself to fall at his feet.

He barreled into Simone’s apartment, letting the door slam behind him. Everyone seemed to hold their breath for a few heavy seconds as Gage and Ian exchanged a look. But it wasn’t a look I could put a name to.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“It’s Thanksgiving, and my wife isn’t at home. What do you think I’m doing here?”

Simone tried wedging between us—always the protector—but Ian gently held her back. He pulled her to his side, one hand curving around her shoulder, and Gage didn’t miss the obvious bond they’d come to know in such a short time.

“I think you should leave,” she said, though her tone was far from harsh. She might not like Gage, but she managed to rein in her temper for my sake because that’s the type of friend she was—the type of friend who invited the ex-girlfriend of her new boyfriend to Thanksgiving.

“I’m not leaving without my wife.”

“Gage, please don’t do—”

“I mean it,” he interrupted. “What do I need to do to get you to come home?” To my utter astonishment, he dropped to his knees and nuzzled my belly. “You want me to beg? Well here I am, baby. For you and our children, I’ll do anything, even if it means getting on my knees, and I don’t give a fuck who’s around to see it.”

---