Chapter 2 - THE QUESTION HE COULDN’T WAIT TO ASK
“Are clouds nice?”
Cassandra forced herself to smile.
“The nicest.”
Violet studied the darkness beyond the airplane window as if deciding whether her mother could be trusted on something this important.
Luke pressed his nose against the glass.
“I see Christmas lights!”
“They’re airport lights,” Violet corrected.
“They’re Christmas airport lights.”
For one precious minute, Cassandra almost forgot Damon Prescott was sitting twenty rows ahead.
Then the first-class curtain moved.
Her stomach tightened.
Damon stepped into the aisle.
He had removed his suit jacket. His white shirt sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and his expression had changed since boarding. He no longer looked shocked.
He looked controlled.
That was worse.
Cassandra knew that expression.
It was the face Damon wore when he had decided emotion would not be permitted to interfere with whatever came next.
A flight attendant followed him.
“Ms. Hayes?”
Cassandra glanced at her children.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Prescott asked if you would be willing to speak with him near the forward galley.”
“No.”
Damon heard.
His jaw tightened.
The flight attendant looked uncomfortable.
“Of course.”
Damon did not leave.
“Cassie.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Luke turned around.
“The angry man knows your name.”
Several passengers looked over.
Damon closed his eyes briefly.
Violet whispered, “He’s not angry now.”
Cassandra wished children were less observant.
“Go back to your seat, Damon.”
“I need one answer.”
“You need nothing from me.”
His gaze shifted toward the twins.
That softened something in him.
Not much.
Enough.
“How old are they?”
Cassandra’s pulse began hammering.
“You don’t get to do this here.”
“How old?”
“Two.”
His throat moved.
“When is their birthday?”
She said nothing.
He looked at Luke.
Then Violet.
Then back at Cassandra.
“March fourth?”
Cassandra went cold.
That had been her due date.
She had told him once, years ago, that if they ever had children, she wanted spring babies.
“February twenty-second,” she said.
Damon gripped the seat beside him.
He calculated immediately.
She saw it happen.
Pregnancy.
Their separation.
His departure.
The divorce.
Everything rearranged itself across his face.
“They’re mine.”
It was not a question.
Cassandra looked around at the watching passengers.
“Go back to first class.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Damon.”
“Tell me.”
Luke’s expression had become worried.
Cassandra lowered her voice.
“Not in front of them.”
That was answer enough.
Damon’s face emptied.
For three years she had imagined this moment differently.
Sometimes he apologized.
Sometimes he admitted receiving the letter.
Sometimes he said he had been scared.
Sometimes she screamed.
Never had she imagined him looking as if someone had just told him his life had been stolen.
He returned to first class without another word.
Cassandra’s hands shook for the next hour.
The plane climbed over Washington while Christmas Eve disappeared beneath the clouds.
The twins ate crackers.
Luke colored a reindeer purple.
Violet fell asleep with her stuffed elephant beneath her chin.
Cassandra tried to convince herself she could survive landing.
Then turbulence hit.
The first drop was sudden enough to send gasps through the cabin.
Seat belt lights illuminated.
The pilot announced that a winter storm over Colorado had intensified and they were entering rough air.
Luke’s lower lip trembled.
“I don’t like dancing clouds.”
Cassandra pulled him closer.
“It’s okay.”
Another jolt shook the aircraft.
Violet woke crying.
Cassandra leaned across both children, whispering reassurance while the plane bounced through darkness.
Then Luke vomited.
All over himself.
All over Cassandra.
All over the blanket.
“Oh, honey.”
He immediately began sobbing.
“I’m sorry, Mama.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Cassandra reached for wipes.
Her bag slipped beneath the seat.
The turbulence made it nearly impossible to clean him.
A flight attendant crouched nearby.
“Ma’am, I need you seated.”
“I know. He’s sick.”
“I’ll bring towels as soon as it’s safe.”
Then someone appeared beside them.
Damon.
“Sit down,” Cassandra snapped.
He ignored her.
The flight attendant objected.
“Sir—”
“I’m sitting here.”
The elderly woman across the aisle had already unbuckled.
“You can have my seat, sweetheart.”
Damon sat beside Luke.
For the first time in his life, the billionaire who had negotiated hostile acquisitions and faced federal regulators looked terrified by a two-year-old covered in apple juice and crackers.
Luke stared at him.
“You’re the angry man.”
Damon swallowed.
“I’m working on that.”
Another jolt hit.
Luke grabbed Damon’s hand.
Instinctively.
Damon stopped breathing.
Cassandra saw everything change in his face.
Luke’s fingers were tiny around his.
Damon stared down at their joined hands as if they were proof more powerful than DNA.
“You have green eyes,” Luke said.
“So do you.”
“Mine are Mama’s.”
Cassandra looked away.
Damon didn’t correct him.
When the turbulence eased, Damon helped clean Luke without being asked.
His expensive shirt was ruined within minutes.
He didn’t seem to notice.
Violet watched suspiciously.
“What’s your name?”
“Damon.”
“That’s a weird name.”
Cassandra almost laughed.
Damon looked offended.
“It’s been my name for thirty-six years.”
Violet hugged her elephant.
“My elephant is Walter.”
“That’s a strong name.”
She seemed to approve.
Then she looked at Cassandra.
“Mommy, how do you know Damon?”
Cassandra’s heart stopped.
Damon went perfectly still.
“We used to be friends,” she said.
Damon looked at her.
Friends.
The word hurt him.
Good, some bitter part of her thought.
Violet accepted the explanation.
Luke did not.
“Did you kiss?”
“Luke.”
“What? Uncle Jamie kisses Aunt Melissa.”
Damon coughed.
The elderly woman across the aisle hid a smile.
The pilot announced they were diverting to Boise because Denver had temporarily closed several runways.
A collective groan moved through the cabin.
Cassandra’s stomach dropped.
An unscheduled diversion.
Christmas Eve.
A snowstorm.
And hours trapped near Damon.
Perfect.
The flight landed in Boise shortly before nine.
Passengers applauded when the wheels touched down.
The gate agent announced that the continuation to Denver would be delayed indefinitely.
Hotels were filling rapidly.
Cassandra checked her banking app.
Forty-eight dollars available after the rental car deposit.
Her chest tightened.
She could sleep at the airport.
She had done harder things.
Damon appeared beside her while she struggled to put Luke’s coat on.
“I have rooms.”
“No.”
“Cassandra.”
“We’re staying here.”
“You have two toddlers.”
“I’m aware.”
“There’s a winter storm.”
“I’m also aware.”
“Stop fighting me for five minutes.”
She stood.
“Three years, Damon.”
His voice dropped.
“What?”
“I spent three years not fighting you because you never bothered answering.”
His face changed.
“I never got anything.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“I’m serious.”
“I mailed a certified letter to Prescott Systems.”
Damon stared.
“What letter?”
“The letter telling you I was pregnant.”
Silence.
Real silence.
Not argument silence.
Not wounded pride.
Something colder.
“I never received a letter.”
Cassandra looked into his face.
And for the first time, she believed him.
That frightened her more than anger ever had.
Damon slowly took out his phone.
“Who signed for it?”
“What?”
“The certified delivery.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Think.”
“It was three years ago.”
“Cassandra.”
She closed her eyes.
Then remembered the receipt she had kept in the back of a file folder because she had once thought she might need proof that she tried.
“One of your assistants.”
“Name?”
“I think…”
She searched the memory.
“Julian.”
Every trace of warmth disappeared from Damon’s face.
“Julian Cross?”
“Yes.”
Damon stepped away.
For years Julian Cross had been described in business magazines as the man who discovered Damon Prescott.
His mentor.
His first investor.
The chairman who had turned Damon’s talent into a multibillion-dollar empire.
Damon stared at his phone.
Then at Cassandra.
“Julian told me you refused every attempt I made to contact you.”
Cassandra felt the airport tilt.
“I never received one.”
His eyes darkened.
“He handled my divorce attorney.”
Her breath caught.
“My attorney said you wanted everything handled through counsel.”
Neither of them moved.
Two children played at their feet while three years of bitterness cracked open between their parents.
Damon’s voice became quiet.
“Someone lied to both of us.”
May you like
And suddenly Christmas Eve was no longer about whether Damon had abandoned his children.
It was about who had made sure he never knew they existed.
