Molly brushed Weaver’s hand away from her mouth and swallowed around the lump of emotion in her throat. “Now wait a minute-”
The phone on the bedside table started ringing. Weaver picked up the receiver, listened, then hung up almost immediately. He ran a hand through his hair. “Well,” he said slowly, “there’s some good news.”
Everything she knew about Weaver made her suspicious about how “good” the news would seem to her. “What?”
“That was the realtor. Someone’s interested in the house. Very interested.” He rolled away as if he was planning on leaving the bed.
Molly panicked. “Hold it a minute. I want to talk—”
“Buyers for the house, Molly. No time for us to talk now.” His face was tense, set.
She grabbed his arm as he kicked at the tangled sheets. “Come on, Weaver. Listen to me—”
“Honey, nothing you’ve got to say can change me,” he said, the sad smile on his face making her want to kick him. “You know that. You’ve told me before you can’t change a man.”
Now she wanted to kick herself. “Weaver…”
“Thirty minutes, Molly. The potential buyers are going to be here in thirty minutes. They’ve been here before and want to see the house again.”
“Thirty minutes?” Molly remembered her clothes strewn over the kitchen floor, looked down at her nakedness, then the destroyed bed. Thought about her destroyed hopes and dreams.
“This is all happening too fast,” she said.
His feet hit the carpet. “Too fast?” He sent her another sad smile. “I’ve been waiting for this day for weeks. These people love the neighborhood. They want a house this size. It might be a sure thing.”
“Might be a sure thing?” Molly murmured wryly. “There’s a certainty for you.”
He didn’t appear to hear her as he gathered his clothes and headed toward the shower. “I gotta call Gabe and put him out of his misery. A quick sale and I’ll be in Maryland and then we’ll be back out in the field.”
“What about Daisy?” What about me?
Pausing at the bathroom door, he shot her a wary look. “Like I told you, we’ll get married before I leave. And then, the fax machine.”
“Sounds like you’re getting close to wrapping it all up.” A numbness was settling over her. She couldn’t quite believe how quickly her chance for love was heading out of her life.
“I am, Molly,” he said quietly. “It’s almost over.”
The potential buyers really did appear interested. They’d arrived after Molly had hastily tidied up the kitchen and herself. They toured the house for more than an hour, had gone away to have lunch, and now they were back.
Molly sat unobtrusively in a corner of the living room sofa, Daisy Ann napping in her arms, Patch at her feet, while the couple inspected the house again. The wife was tall and slender, the husband bald and portly, and both so genial that Molly had to work hard to dredge up a dislike.
But they were taking away what kept Weaver close to her.
He was already slipping through her fingers. Excited by the couple’s obvious enthusiasm, he’d placed a call to his attorney’s home number and convinced the woman to go over some papers with him. It helped that the lawyer had been a good friend of Daisy’s parents.
A wave of hopeless frustration crashed over Molly. With quick fingers, she dialed Dana’s number on the portable phone.
“I must have some sort of heartache wish,” Molly told her friend. “I just discovered I’m in love with a man who is currently checking airline schedules for a one-way ticket out. What’s wrong with me?”
“That’s a loaded question.”
“Seriously. First Jonathon, and now Weaver.”
“How can you compare the two?” Dana scolded.
Molly stared down at Daisy Ann’s sleeping face. “The fact that they both walked out on me comes to mind.”
Dana’s gusty sigh whooshed loudly over the line. “Weaver hasn’t walked out yet, silly.”
“Dana—”
“And you’re getting married, and he’s leaving his child with you. Even if he does get away, it won’t be far or for long.”
“Are you kidding? This guy thinks we can have a marriage by fax.”
“Ew.”
“Yes. But I need to stop whining and do something.”
“There’s a plan,” Dana said.
“Yes, but what is the plan? Maybe this couple will hate the house.” But in the distance she could hear them praising it to each other. She lowered her voice, though the words continued tumbling out. “I should never have cleaned the laundry room. Did I tell you Weaver’s a slob? Do you know that I fell in love with a man who can’t sort laundry?”
“Calm down,” Dana said.
“Calm down? Oh God, I’m not getting anywhere here. Maybe I should just give up on him.”
“You’ll think of something,” Dana said confidently. “And you know I’ll always be here for you.”
Molly groaned. “Terrific. I guess only friendships last forever.”
“And true love.” Dana’s voice was fervent. “Alan proves that. With a little determination, true love lasts, Molly. It’s worth fighting for.”
Chock-full of that determination, Molly cornered Weaver when he returned from the attorney’s home late that afternoon. Daisy was cooing in her playpen, the potential buyers were gone—after ominous rumblings of an imminent offer—and Weaver was in the laundry room, of all places.
With the vague plan of confessing her love to him, Molly stood in the threshold of the small, white-tiled room and watched Weaver dump the contents of the dryer into an oversize laundry basket on the floor.
He gave her a quick glance. “If all goes well, this might be one of my last loads of laundry in San Diego.”
Scrap the confession. An annoying heat blossomed on Molly’s neck. I’m not baring my heart in a room with big appliances to a man who’s counting down laundry loads.
She took a breath, watching him toss a handful of dark-colored T-shirts into the plastic mesh basket. “Your meeting with the attorney went well, then?”
His arm disappeared into the dryer and he triumphantly pulled out a pair of green-colored jeans. “Great.” He laid the jeans on top of the dryer. “She even wants to buy the two cars off me. She has a couple of teenagers.”
A spurt of panic rushed through her. “But there are still so many other things around here that need to be cleared out. Furniture, the lawn mower, all the stuff in the garage.” Her voice sounded normal, believe it or not.
He tossed another shirt onto the pile in the basket. “You have a lawn at your new house?”
“Well…yes.”
“A backyard, right. Empty bedrooms?”
“Yes.”
“Then all the stuff can go with you and Daisy.” Now he pulled out a black T-shirt, held it against the jeans. With a frown, he let it join the other mishmash of items in the basket. “Anything you don’t want you can donate to the Salvation Army or something. Perfect solution.”
Panic flared again. “You really are in a hurry.”
He didn’t look up from the laundry pile. A blue T-shirt and a pair of shorts went into the pile of rejects. “This was all just temporary.”
She wanted to scream. She wanted to stamp her feet. Most of all she wanted him. “It doesn’t have to be temporary.”
He pulled a polo-style shirt, red, from the dryer and laid it on the green jeans. A pat signified approval of the Christmas combination. “What are you talking about?”
Emotion cracked her voice. “Decide you want to stay. Decide you want to be Daisy Ann’s father forever.”
He looked over at her, his eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Forever instead of temporary.”
He froze. Long seconds passed, the silence sounding louder than Daisy Ann at her hungriest. Weaver didn’t move, then finally he broke their joined gazes, slammed shut the dryer and grabbed up the garish out
fit. He still said nothing.
Molly’s nerves snapped. “Why do you do that?”
His head came around, and he stared at her.
“Why do you wear red and green at the same time? It makes me nuts. You had Daisy dressed for the Christmas parade the other day. Just avoid putting those colors together.”
He laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. “I would if I could.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m color-blind, Molly.”
“Oh.” Her face heated. “Sorry. Guess you can’t change that.”
“Right. Just like you can’t change me.”
Molly swallowed, hard. Was that what she’d been trying to do? Oh, God. She closed her eyes. “Now I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She tried that, for the sake of her pride.
“I know.” Apparently he was going to let her get away with it. “One of the first things I found out about you was that you’d learned that lesson already.”
Oh, God. “That’s right,” she said, turning away from him. “I did.”
After a strained dinner, Weaver volunteered to put Daisy Ann to bed, and Molly did the dishes then sat down in the living room to lose herself in the newspaper.
She heard him come into the room but didn’t look up. He stood silently for several minutes. Finally, he spoke. “They are silver, aren’t they?”
She looked up. “What?”
“Your eyes. I can’t distinguish many colors-I’m worst with red and green—but I’m pretty good with shades of gray.”
“Yes, they’re gray.” She looked back at the newspaper.
“Silver.” He crossed to the couch. Patch shifted in his spot on the floor to make room for Weaver’s legs. “I thought maybe we could finalize some of our plans. About the wedding.”
She froze. Wedding plans. She should be flying high, dancing the touchdown boogie when making wedding plans with the man she loved. Instead, her heart felt painfully heavy.
Don’t give up. One last spark of hope fueled the thought. Molly took a breath and looked at Weaver. She slowly folded the newspaper. “All right.”
He rubbed his chin with one hand. “Yeah, this is going to be good. I’m sure marriage will be the down and dirtiest way to push the adoption through.”
“Down and dirty?” The spark sputtered out.
“Yeah. A quickie marriage, a quickie adoption, a quickie divorce. Then I’ll give you full custody of Daisy Ann.” He leaned back and blew out a sigh. “It may take a trip or two back to California, but I don’t imagine you’ll even have to visit Maryland.”
The casual words pierced, then tore Molly’s heart. Quickie marriage? She wouldn’t even have to visit Maryland? Suddenly, the half dream he offered tasted sour in her mouth. “No.”
His frown cut a V in his forehead. “No what?”
Her voice evaporated in the cottony desert of her mouth. She stood up and started backing out of the room.
“I can’t do this.” She choked out the words. She couldn’t do a “quickie” marriage to Weaver. Not even for Daisy. Maybe especially not for Daisy.
“What are you talking about?”
“I want something real, Weaver.” She backed into an overstuffed chair and held on to it for support. “I’m sorry, but I’ve just realized that.” Trying to pull the ragged edges of her heart together, she paused.
He stilled, a wary expression frozen on his face.
He didn’t want her. And she realized that she wanted a child and a husband.
No. Be honest with yourself, Molly. She wanted Daisy Ann and she wanted Weaver. The whole package or nothing. Because she and Daisy deserved nothing less.
She dug her fingers into the soft upholstery of the chair. “Daisy Ann needs a family. A mother and a father. Not some quickie. Not something down and dirty. She deserves clean and bright and lasting.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and Molly rushed on. It was easier somehow with the blue gaze shuttered.
“You were right before. I was trying to change you.” She swallowed to ease the huskiness in her voice. “But I just realized I won’t get anywhere.”
As if sensing her mood, Patch rose from his spot and came to her. She buried her other hand in the soft fur of his neck. “Just like I can’t make you see colors, there isn’t a word I can say that will make you see that you could be a father to Daisy and…something to me. Like I told you before, it’s a feeling thing.”
His eyes narrowed and his voice was hard. “You’re leaving us, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Despite her best effort, her heart started shredding again. “But please, Weaver…”
“What?” The word came out angry and harsh.
Molly took a step toward the front door, imagining the cool calm of the air outside this room. “Find Daisy Ann her forever.”
11
Weaver stared at the bedroom ceiling and, instead of sheep, counted the ways Molly had done him wrong.
No more child care.
No more sharing of household tasks.
No more bright smile, dark braid, long runner’s legs.
And the quiet. He blamed the quiet on her, too. When she’d taken herself and Patch out of the house two nights ago, she’d taken with her noises he would never have imagined he’d miss, like the sound of someone else showering while he made morning coffee, or feminine voices calling and cooing in a game of peekaboo.
“Hell.” He flopped over on the mattress and slammed his head into the pillow. What he needed was a good dose of reality. His reality.
The bedside clock blinked over to 3:02 a.m. After 6:00 a.m. on the East Coast. He grabbed up the receiver and punched in the numbers for Gabe at the XNS offices. It was too early for his partner to be at his desk, but he could leave voice mail begging for a return phone call at the first opportunity.
“Yeah,” said Gabe’s real live voice.
Weaver held the receiver away from his ear and stared at it in consternation for a moment.
“Hello? Hello?” Gabe sounded tinny from this distance.
Weaver put the receiver back to his ear. “What the hell are you doing working at this hour?”
Gabe laughed shortly. “What the hell are you doing awake at this hour?”
“Looking for company, and I guess I found it. What’s going on?”
“Looking for company?” Gabe echoed. “What happened to Molly?”
Weaver didn’t want to talk about that, mainly because he didn’t know how to answer the question. “Here one moment, gone the next,” he said.
Their entire last conversation was like a puzzle to him. Her every word, her every look a piece that he had sorted and matched then rematched. No matter how he placed and replaced them, something was missing. The piece that explained everything.
“Dammit, Gabe, I might as well be nineteen again.” Like the time when Terry wouldn’t marry him. He felt just that confused.
And in ten times more pain, for some weird reason.
“You’re an idiot, do you know that?” Gabe’s voice was weary.
Weaver sat up in bed. “Why do you automatically think this mess is my fault?”
“Believe me, I know it is, just like I know you’re going to go ballistic when I tell you why I’m at the office this early.”
Weaver froze. “Yeah. Get to that.”
“The Czech job. We’ve lost contact with Sonia and Harry.”
Weaver slammed his fist into the mattress. “Dammit, Gabe. I knew they weren’t right.”
“Hold on, hold on. We don’t know—”
“I know.” He raked his hair off his forehead.
“What’s the colonel’s plan?”
“I’m not sure yet. We have a meeting scheduled for 6:00 p.m.”
“I’ll be there.” Weaver threw back the covers.
“We could use you, but if—”
“If you know me so well, Gabe, you know I’ll be there.”
“See you at six.”
P
ounding on her front door woke Molly. She sat up in bed, disoriented, still in a dream that included Weaver and Daisy Ann. Her heart frayed a little. Just a dream.
Another round of pounding. Who on earth…? It was four o’clock in the morning. Collar jingling, Patch rushed into her room and let out an urgent yip.
Molly belted her robe and jogged down the hallway, Patch at her heels. At the front door, she flipped on the porch light and fingered the curtain aside.
Weaver and Daisy Ann.
Molly’s heart jumped to her throat, its beat pounding loudly in her ears. She pulled open the door. Had he…had he possibly come for her? Did he think now the three of them should be together forever?
He didn’t waste time on niceties. “I need a favor,” he said. “I need you to take care of Daisy for a couple of days.”
Molly took in the overstuffed diaper bag at his feet and the house keys he held out to her. “What?”
“There’s an emergency at work.” Daisy Ann fretted, and he shifted her to a higher position against his shoulder. “Look, I wouldn’t bother you, but I couldn’t think of anyone else on such short notice.”
She clutched two handfuls of robe to keep from snatching the baby into her arms. How she’d missed the little sweetie. She looked adorable, even with her pink jammies on inside out and a forest green cap atop her head. “So you just assumed I’d drop any plans I might have?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Yeah, I guess I did.” His expression turned from surprised to bemused. “I just knew I could count on you.”
Well, that did it. Molly mutely held out her arms. And felt pleasure-pain as Weaver gently settled the baby into them. Lightning heat shot up her arm as he folded the keys into her fingers.
“I owe you one,” he said, turning to leave.
You owe me my heart A sudden thought dried her mouth. “Wait, wait!”
He stepped back to her, his eyes trained on her face. The gaze brushed softly over her, starting a round of shivers rolling over her skin.
Have Baby, Will Marry Page 12
