Latham choked on his coffee. “I had no part in that!”
“Me, either.” She crossed her heart in the air and took a tentative sip of coffee. “We had some fun times, though.”
“We really did.”
“I had such an awful crush on you that I could barely stammer. It made me so mad because when have I ever not been able to speak my mind?”
He was quiet, spinning the mug in slow circles. “Why’d you come back, Wynn? Ever since high school, all you could talk about was leaving. Why come home now?”
The coffee burned in her throat, the question she’d been dreading hanging in the air. Latham’s house was cozy, the fire burning low in the family room, the lights glowing warm against the gray winter afternoon sky. She longed to stay right here in this moment, before she answered the question he asked.
“It’s okay, Wynn,” he said, gently. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine.”
She looked up from the black coffee and into his face. His eyes on hers were warm and safe, like his home, like him... They lingered on hers with a hint of curiosity but mostly understanding. The thing she hated the most was to see that look fade from his eyes.
Unblinking, she blurted. “I’m pregnant.”
A horn honked outside. Levi woke up with a start, wailing in Pop’s arms. Wynn hurried into the family room to pick up the little boy.
Jordan blew into the house like a whirlwind, Levi diving into her arms. They were gone almost as quickly as she came, Wynn swept along with them, stopping only long enough to grab her keys from the counter and send Latham an apologetic look.
Following Jordan’s dust trail down the long driveway, Wynn took in a deep breath, her window down, letting in the bracing January-cold air.
A person who wasn’t a coward would’ve stayed for the conversation. But Wynn had seen the shocked expression on Latham’s face when she told him she was pregnant.
She didn’t need to hear the disappointment in his voice.
Chapter Five
Wynn perched on a stool in the kitchen at Take the Cake, with a cup of herbal tea cooling on the table. Her sister, Jules, was using a tool to core the cupcakes for filling. “What kind are those?”
“Caramel apple. Apple filling, caramel frosting.” Jules had her hair, a slightly darker version of Wynn’s, tucked into a tidy bun. Everything about Jules was tidy. She picked up a piping bag and filled the cupcakes with quick efficient motions. When she had them all filled and frosted, she slid one over to Wynn.
“I was hoping you would let me taste test.” Wynn took a bite. “Jules, this is incredible. Like seriously.”
“I’ve been working on the combo for a while.” Jules slid the tray of cupcakes into the cooler and pulled out another tray, this one full of red velvet cupcakes, which she began frosting with a different piping bag. “So what did Latham say when you told him you’re expecting?”
“I left before he could say anything at all. I just didn’t want to deal, and yes, I know—I’m a coward.”
Jules’s eyes softened. “It’s okay. Anyone would feel the same way.”
Wynn choked on her tea. “Um, how would you know? You never got in trouble, even when we were kids.”
Jules threw a kitchen towel at Wynn, who snatched it with a laugh.
“Mom isn’t super happy with me right now. With Claire getting so close to her due date, Mom is helping her with the other kids more and more. She asked me to keep an eye on the Hilltop and I am, but I can’t keep up with both businesses forever, and I told her that yesterday.”
Wynn frowned. “No wonder you have circles under your eyes.”
“Thanks a lot.” Jules didn’t look up from the cupcakes, but continued piping a steady swirl of cream cheese frosting on each one.
“I’m kidding. Kind of. What’s your plan?”
“Since I don’t have one, let’s talk about you some more. It makes me feel better.” The bell on the front door jingled, and Jules grimaced. “My front counter person isn’t coming in until ten.”
“I’ll get this one. Finish those up so I can buy a few to take home.” Wynn pushed open the door from the kitchen to the front room, a smile on her face for the customer. Latham stood in the small room, larger than life, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.
Her stomach flipped.
And then he turned, and she knew the second he saw her.
“Wynn.” His voice was thick with emotion.
She fought back a feeling of panic. She needed things to be okay with him. She didn’t know why it was so important. It shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t want to run to him. Deliberately she kept the bakery counter between them.
“Latham, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I just didn’t want to—”
He took three steps forward and stopped her words with a hand over hers. “Can we go for a walk?”
She nodded and called through the door to the kitchen. “Jules, I’m leaving. It’s all clear out here.”
“Thanks—I’ll bring you any leftover cupcakes.” Jules appeared in the door, sending Wynn a wide-eyed look when she caught sight of Latham standing in the entrance.
Latham held the front door open for Wynn, and she walked through it. Her mind was racing, in circles, because she didn’t know what he was going to say, if he would be accusing or accepting.
Angry or kind.
The sun was shining, but the cold was biting. She shivered, and he took his scarf off and wrapped it around her neck, leaving her enveloped in the scent of pine and coffee and, well, man.
They walked slowly down the sidewalk, under the awnings of the Main Street stores. He was quiet, and she searched her mind for something—anything—to say. “Don’t you have to work today?”
“Not this morning. One of Pop’s buddies came by for coffee and dominoes, so I took the opportunity to come and find you.”
She glanced over at him. His cheeks were ruddy in the cold wind. “Because you want an explanation?”
“No, Wynn. I want to be your friend.” His voice held the tiniest edge of exasperation. He turned into the courtyard in the church, and she saw a wooden bench tucked into an alcove, out of the wind. “I repaired this for the church a couple of years ago. It’s a nice spot.”
She sat down on one edge of the bench as far as she could possibly get from him. He stretched out his long denim-clad legs and sat in stillness. The laughter and squeals of the children at the elementary school carried to her on the wind and birds chattered in the courtyard, but Latham didn’t speak.
She stared into the distance until she couldn’t stand his patient silence any longer. “All of my life I wanted to work to make other people’s lives better. I wanted to break molds and shatter glass ceilings.” She blew out a breath. “Instead I’ve become the worst kind of cliché.”
He leaned back and stretched his arm along the back of the seat. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“I had an affair with my boss. I thought he loved me. I promise you, I couldn’t have been more wrong.” Her voice still shook when she talked about it, and she despised the weakness it showed.
In contrast, Latham’s voice was even and calm. “Does he know about the baby?”
“Yes.”
His next words were slow and measured. “Does he want to be involved?”
When she’d told Preston that she was pregnant, he’d gone ice cold, stalking to his desk to write her a check to “take care of it.”
She shook her head. “No. I think it’s safe to say that he wants nothing to do with the baby. Or me.”
“So you’re home and you’re staying.” His expression was carefully neutral, and she ached that he felt the need to be so cautious, but she understood it. She hadn’t seen anyone in Red Hill Springs in years, except her family when she’d flown in for a couple of days at Christmas
or sometimes Thanksgiving.
She looked at him, allowing him to see the regret. “Honestly, I don’t have any idea what my long-term plan is. This situation—” she waved a hand in the general area of her stomach “—is just so complicated.”
Latham kind of half laughed and pressed his fingers into his temples. “Well, at least I know what to expect this time.”
“I guess I deserved that.” The number one person she hadn’t wanted to see when she came home for visits—because of how she’d treated him when she left—was sitting right next to her. She’d dreamed for years of getting out of Red Hill Springs, Alabama. No one could’ve changed her mind about leaving—except for maybe Latham. And she hadn’t been willing to take that chance. Instead she’d packed her bags, kissed her mom and dad and left on graduation night without saying goodbye.
Their fledgling romance hadn’t had a chance because she hadn’t given it one. She had no idea how to apologize after so many years.
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. I have an appointment in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll go out to your place to be with Pop.” She pulled the scarf from her neck and held it out to him.
He shook his head, his eyes dark on hers, a wry smile on his lips. “Keep it. It looks better on you, anyway.”
When he walked out of the courtyard, she couldn’t help but feel he was walking away from her. There was too much in the past to be overcome, too much difference in what they wanted out of life.
* * *
Saturday morning, Latham moved his checker and drained the last bit of coffee from his mug. It was his and Pop’s habit to play a game of checkers when they got home from breakfast at the Hilltop. Today he’d made Pop breakfast at home. He just hadn’t wanted to risk running into Wynn. It seemed like there was so much they weren’t saying, so much subtext.
Pop shot him a sly look from under bushy eyebrows and picked up his piece. He jumped Latham twice and ended up on the last row on Latham’s side with a handful of Latham’s checkers. His grandpa smiled contentedly, leaned back in his chair and said, “King me.”
Groaning, Latham took one of his checkers and stacked it on his grandpa’s. “How do you do that? You can’t remember what you had for breakfast yesterday and you kill me in checkers every single day.”
“Maybe you just stink at checkers.”
Latham choked on his coffee. “Could be.”
“Or maybe your mind is on Wynn. I may be old and half-crazy, but I remember how you moped around when Wynn Sheehan left town.”
Latham scowled and looked away from Pop’s shrewd speculation. “Just play checkers, Pop, and leave the analyzing to the professionals.”
“I don’t see any professionals around here.” Pop quickly won the game and lifted his coffee mug with a satisfied smile. “So, when’s her baby due?”
Sucking in a breath, Latham considered that he should probably stop being surprised by Pop’s instincts about people. Maybe it was his shopkeeper background. He’d had to know his customers, and he had, for more than forty years. “So when did you figure it out?”
“I don’t remember.” For a second, Pop looked confused. “What were we talking about?”
“Wynn.”
“Right.” Pop stared into his coffee, and when he looked up, his eyes were steady on Latham’s. “So there’s no father?”
Latham raised an eyebrow. “Well, there is a father.”
“You know what I mean. No father stepping up to take responsibility.”
“No.”
Pop picked a piece of bacon off the table and took a bite. “A real man would. It’s good she has you.”
“Pop, I don’t think she wants me or anyone.” A fact that Latham had come to terms with years ago, or at least he thought he had.
“Why isn’t this bacon crisp? Margenia never makes my bacon floppy.” Pop’s eyes clouded as he disappeared into the haze of confusion that had characterized the last few years. Latham sighed and slid the plate of leftover bacon off the table so it wouldn’t upset Pop further.
Sometimes he imagined that things were getting better. Doctors had told them there had been no changes to Pop’s brain. There was no medical explanation. After more than two years, Latham was used to these slip-backs into the past, but the truth was, he missed the relationship he’d had with his grandpa.
His grandpa who thought Latham should step forward and be a man for Wynn. He would. He wanted to be there for her as much as she would allow. Maybe the only thing he could do was be the friend that he knew she needed—if she would let him. She was so darn skittish around him, he didn’t know if she’d let him get close.
A knock on the door surprised him. He looked at his watch. He wasn’t expecting anyone.
He certainly wasn’t expecting it to be Wynn on the other side of the door on a Saturday. She looked chic, even in jeans and a shirt with a vest, pulling a treat out of her large leather bag for the dogs who were bumping her relentlessly.
“Ah, now I see why you’re their favorite visitor. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
She squared her shoulders. “You didn’t get to spend the morning in your workshop yesterday because you were looking for me. So, I came to stay with Pop this morning so you can make up the time.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
Wynn hitched her bag farther onto her shoulder. “I don’t mind. I have a doctor’s appointment in Mobile on Monday, so I won’t be able to be here then.”
He pushed the door open to let her in. “Well, in that case, please come in. Is anyone going with you to the appointment?”
“No.” She followed him into the kitchen and set her bag down, paints and brushes spilling out onto the counter. She shrugged slightly. “I thought Pop might enjoy a diversion. It’s not as cold today, but we can paint at the kitchen table if we need to.”
“He had a good morning. We played checkers and he was with me, and then like a switch was flipped, he was gone.” He’d never felt as powerless in his life as he did dealing with Pop’s illness. All he could do, absolutely the only thing he could do, was be present for the conversations and the moments when they came.
Wynn’s hand on his arm interrupted the self-recrimination. “He has a good life, Latham. He has you.”
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “If you’re sure this is what you want to do, I do have some things I need to catch up on in my workshop.”
“We’ll be fine.”
Latham watched as she walked into the living room where Pop stared at the game shows on TV. She touched his shoulder. “Hey, Pop, I’m going to hang out with you for a while. Do you need anything? Latham has a pot of coffee on in the kitchen.”
He slipped out of the back door, his dogs at his heels. For the first time, maybe ever, he wanted to stay inside instead of being in his workshop buried to his elbows in sawdust.
Wynn was such an enigma to him. Maybe that’s why he’d always been so fascinated with her. He’d been convinced after the conversation yesterday that he’d blown it with her again. And here she was this morning, looking so perfect and—what was the word?—cosmopolitan, that was it.
She was going to the doctor alone. Maybe that’s the way she wanted it, but could be Pop was right. Maybe she did need someone just to stand beside her.
She had family here. A handful of sisters and sisters-in-law. She had no reason to need him.
But maybe she did.
He lifted a huge wide plank that used to be the floor in a two-hundred-year-old church and began to sand. Soon it would be a table for a family in Atmore.
As always, working with his hands soothed his ragged edges. He couldn’t do anything about Pop except just be there for the moments that counted.
* * *
Wynn ran through her mental checklist as she was walking out the door. She had her ins
urance card and driver’s license, a book loaded on her phone to read if she had to wait, and a bottle of water in her bag. She locked the door, turned around and stopped cold.
Latham stood on the front walk. He was wearing his typical jeans and work boots, flannel shirt and down vest for warmth, and he just looked so good. She walked closer. “What are you doing here?”
“Just hear me out. I know we’re not a thing, and that’s fine with me. But I also know you won’t ask anyone to go with you today, even though you have like seventeen sisters.”
She tried—and failed—to keep a straight face. “That’s exaggerating a little.”
He pulled the ball cap off his head and stabbed his fingers through his hair. “I’m going. If you won’t let me into the building, I’ll wait in the car, but I’m not letting you go by yourself.”
“Okay.” She surprised even herself, but she wasn’t as surprised as he was.
“What? Okay? Okay. The truck’s running. Heater’s on.”
She followed him down the drive, and when he opened the door for her, she slid into the seat. And realized he not only had the heater on, but the seat warmers, too. He’d gone to all this trouble, even to the point of taking a day off of work so that she wouldn’t be alone.
Tears gathered in her eyes. She sniffed.
Latham jumped into his seat, took one look at her and freaked. “What’s wrong? Did I say something? Are you upset?”
She laughed through the tears and sniffed again. “No, I’m fine. It was just a really nice thing for you to do, and I’m so hormonal. I cry at the drop of a hat.”
Hormones were awful, that part was true, but the real answer to his question was she wasn’t used to having someone to depend on. Even when she and Preston were at the height of their relationship, he wasn’t dependable. She was.
It was her fault for letting him get away with it. Now she didn’t care, she just didn’t realize how much she missed having someone—anyone—who just cared about her. She’d been on her own a long time.
She sent a sidelong glance at Latham as he put the truck into gear and backed out of her drive. So it seemed she wasn’t on her own anymore.
Their Secret Baby Bond Page 5
