Page 82 of First Love

She considered calling Hayden, but didn’t. Nothing had really changed. Though Hayden had mellowed a little on his stance about children, he still didn’t want to be tied down. Never had, never would. He’d said as much.

Nadine slept restlessly, thinking of Hayden, and Ben left early the next morning to spend the day looking for an apartment he could rent, as well as visit their father.

Nadine kept herself busy cooking and cleaning, wrapping a few presents and putting the finishing touches on the house. By the time the boys arrived home, she wanted everything to be perfect. She glanced across the lake more times than she could count and found herself listening for the whine of Hayden’s Jeep’s engine.

The phone rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She answered with a breathless hello and was disappointed when Sam told her he was running a little late; he and the kids were at a Christmas party and he’d bring the boys home a little later.

“When?” Nadine asked.

“Does it matter? There’s no school tomorrow.”

“I know, but—”

“Don’t worry, Nadine. They’ll be home in a little while.”

A few hours later, Sam was true to his word. He brought the boys into the house and dropped their overnight bags in the middle of the living room. His face was red and his eyes a little glazed from too much partying. Snow melted off his boots and clung to his collar.

“Hey, Mom, there’s already presents under the tree!” Bobby said, his eyes as round as saucers.

“A few from me.”

“Any from Monroe?” Sam asked, his eyes as cold as the December storm.

Bobby was already checking the brightly colored packages. “Santa’s still gonna come, isn’t he?”

“You bet. I baked some cookies today and you and I will make a special batch tomorrow.”

“Aw, Mom, there’s no such thing as—” John started to protest, but Nadine cast him a sharp look that shut him up.

Sam lingered, taking in the cozy room and frowning. “The boys say you’re pretty thick with Monroe.”

“We’ve seen a little of each other.”

He lifted his hat and rubbed his head. “You might as well know that I don’t approve.”

“I figured that,” she said, bristling.

“And don’t tell me it’s none of my business.”

“What I do with my life—”

“I’m talkin’ about the kids, damn it. They’re seeing entirely too much of the guy.” Sam was getting angry, and the drinks he’d obviously consumed had begun to affect his speech. He waved one arm wildly to make his point. “That son of a bitch is gonna close the mills—”

“He wouldn’t do that, Dad,” John said.

“What would you know about it?”

“I like him. He’s a good guy.”

“What he is,” Sam said, weaving a little, “is a no-good, pampered rich bastard, and I don’t like him buying fancy things for my boys.”

“It’s not like that, Dad,” John argued.

“You back-talkin’ me?” Sam asked, lunging a little as he caught John by the collar.

“Let go of h

im!” Nadine stepped in front of her son as if to use her body as a barrier. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on him,” she warned.