Free Gwynneth Ever After by Linda Poitevin

her head.
    “They’re for playing dot-to-dot.” He leaned in closer and added in a whisper, “On you!”
    In a quick aside to Gwyn, he said, “A co-worker had a son with chicken pox once – I thought her idea very creative.”
    Maggie’s eyes widened. Nicholas bounced off the stair and into the hall, tugging at Gareth’s pant leg.
    “Can I play too?” he demanded.
    “Maggie?” Gareth asked.
    After a small hesitation, Maggie nodded her blonde curls. She held her arms out to Gareth. “We can all play,” she said. “Me first, then Nich’las. You have to be last ‘cause you’re bigger.”
    Gareth settled Maggie on his hip, then handed the markers to Nicholas to carry. “There,” he said to Gwyn. “You’re free. Now go fetch your eldest.”
    She would have objected again, but a sudden shrill intruded. Gareth reached for the cell phone in the holder clipped to his belt. He glanced at the display, then flipped the mouthpiece open, shrugging an apology in her direction and effectively ending her argument.
    “Hey, Sean.”
    His cousin’s name. With a shake of her head, Gwyn reached into the closet for her coat. In the three brief days she’d known Gareth Connor, she had yet to win so much as the smallest victory in a discussion. Stubborn, he’d said his mother called him. She was beginning to think the woman was a master of understatement. She slid her arms into her coat and reached for her scarf.
    She tried not to eavesdrop, but even with Gareth carrying Maggie into the living room and pitching his voice low, his words still reached her. So did his anger.
    “I don’t give a – ” he paused, then finished coldly, “I don’t care what her message said. And I don’t care how many times she’s called. I’ve said everything I intend to for the moment, and she can go hang if she thinks she can sweet talk her way out of this one. What? No, I don’t want you to give her my cell phone number, just don’t answer. Let your machine screen the calls.”
    Gwyn glanced from the front entry into the living room. In stark contrast to the chill in his voice, Gareth grinned and reached out to lightly tap Maggie’s nose as he set her on the sofa. He patted the cushion beside Maggie in silent invitation, and Nicholas clambered up as well.
    “Your concern is touching,” he informed his cousin, “but it’s none of your business.”
    Gwyn left, the word she still ringing in her ears.

Chapter 11
    Peering over the wire rim of her glasses, Gwyn looked out through the French doors of her office into the kitchen. Maggie and Nicholas both sat on the counter before Gareth, and the three of them appeared to be consulting over something. Nicholas nodded. Maggie shook her head. Gareth looked thoughtful. He spoke again and both blonde heads nodded vigorously.
    All three turned to Katie, who also nodded, looking pleased. Muffled giggles reached Gwyn through the French doors. Curiosity got the better of her. She pushed away from her desk and crossed her office to open the door.
    “Am I allowed in on the fun?” she asked.
    Gareth glanced at her, his grin filled with mischief. “We were just deciding on dinner,” he said.
    “French fries!” Nicholas shouted.
    Gwyn pursed her lips, trying to look severe. “You’re spoiling them. Fast food is for weekends.”
    “And for chicken pops?” Maggie asked hopefully.
    Gwyn caved with a laugh. “All right,” she said. “For chicken pops, too. But only on the first day. You need good food in your tummy to help you get better.”
    “Wanna see the effelant on my tummy?” Maggie held up her pajama top proudly. Gwyn walked over to the island and admired the colorful creation on her daughter’s spotted, round little belly.
    “It’s beautiful, sweetie. Very elephantish.” She looked up to find Gareth regarding her strangely.
    “What?” she asked.
    “I’m not sure – yes, I am. The glasses. I knew there was something different. I didn’t know you wore them.”
    “Only for