She swayed a little as music filled her studio. She loved the way the paper felt under the brush, how the paint spread in a loose flow of color. She even loved how she had just a moment to influence the paint on the page before it set. She could paint over it, but that color, that layer, remained.
Kind of like life. The present was a layer of color that could still be manipulated and changed. The past was set. It could be painted over, but it would always be a part of the painting. If the artist was skillful, though, even the past layers gave a beautiful, complicated depth to the finished product.
Stepping back, she looked at the painting from a distance before adding a little more color. Drama was fine in a painting, but in her life she could’ve done with a little less depth and a little more tranquility, to be honest.
Hearing something, she picked up the remote for her speaker and muted the music.
Definitely a knock at the door. It wouldn’t be one of the kids at this hour. Maybe Claire and the baby?
She ran down the stairs in her bare feet, brushes still in hand, and pulled open the door with a smile.
When she saw Preston standing on her doorstep, the smile faded. She tried to look at him with cold detachment, but her heart was slamming in her chest. She’d be a stuck pig before she’d let him see it. “What are you doing here, Preston?”
He straightened the sleeves on his pristine suit coat and adjusted the cuffs, something she’d thought was an adorable quirk when she was dating him. Now she recognized it was a nervous habit. “Aren’t you going to invite me in, Wynn?”
When she turned to pull the door open farther, she caught the sound of his indrawn breath as he saw her stomach from the side. She closed the door, and when she turned around, his face was red. “I thought we agreed that having a child together wasn’t a good idea.”
She walked to the kitchen sink and turned the water on, taking her time to rinse her brushes one by one. “We’re not doing anything together. A baby isn’t something you can legislate away, Preston. It’s a baby.”
He shrugged. “You have no proof it’s even mine.”
That statement was so ridiculous Wynn didn’t even bother to reply.
Preston walked closer to the granite island standing between him and where she was standing at the sink. “You made the decision to keep it, so that’s on you. I’m not imploding my career because you didn’t have the guts to do what needed to be done.”
“Wow, you really are a piece of work, aren’t you?”
“That’s what I’ve been told.” He grinned, a powerful, feral smile that she’d once found tantalizing. Now she recognized it as an attempt to exert his control over her.
“What are you doing here, Preston? How did you even know where to find me?”
He leaned an elbow on the counter, noticed a little construction dust and straightened, brushing invisible dirt off his sleeve. “Your mother told me. I think she likes me.”
“Trust me, she doesn’t.”
Walking into the living room, he slid his left hand, the one with the gleaming gold watch on the wrist, into one pants pocket. She was blown away as she realized how much of what he did was for effect.
He turned back, an earnest look in his eyes. “I think you left DC because you were angry, and I get that. But I want to give you a chance to think it over. If you want to come back, we can make it happen.”
“I don’t think so. Anything else?”
He held his hands out, palms up. “Wynn, I know the engagement announcement threw you, but you have to understand that’s all politics. We can still keep seeing each other in private, if that’s what you want.”
She stared at him, the absolute gall of what he was saying leaving her speechless.
Deliberately, she dried her hands and folded the kitchen towel into precise fourths before walking into the living area. “I’m not coming back. Not for any reason, and definitely not to have an affair with you.”
She saw the facade crack just a little, but he said, “I don’t need you.”
The desire to throw him out of her house and out of her life was so strong. But she had more than herself to think about. She gestured at the blue velvet sofa. “Would you like to sit? I don’t have coffee, but I can fix you an herbal tea.”
He glanced at her sharply as he sat. “No. Thanks.”
She sat in the chair at a ninety-degree angle to the sofa, avoiding cradling her belly, even though she felt a desperate need to protect Ada Jane. “I’m having a baby, Preston.”
“I can see that,” he snapped.
“I’m willing to stay away from national politics completely.” She waited a minute for him to catch up.
He raised one eyebrow. “Oh, I get it. This is a negotiation. I should’ve known.”
“Yes, you should have.” She folded her hands in her lap.
“It will never have my name and I will never acknowledge it as a Schofield.”
“All right.”
“I’m serious, Wynn. If you try to get a penny out of me or my family, I will destroy you.” The expression on his face didn’t change as he threatened her, and that was perhaps the scariest thing of all about him. His political aspirations eclipsed anything in his life, even a person he’d claimed to care about. Even his own child.
She rose, and as confidently as she could in bare feet, walked to the desk, removing a sheaf of papers in a plain manila envelope, thanking God that Claire encouraged her to have a plan. When she put them on the coffee table in front of him, she said, “These papers release you from any and all parental rights. They stipulate that you relinquish those rights willingly and without coercion of any kind.”
He held out his hand, and she laid a pen in his palm. “We could put all this behind us and go back to the way things were. I know you miss me,” he said.
She didn’t. She really, really didn’t. And that was the thing that allowed her to be calm in the face of his narcissistic onslaught. “Sign the papers, Preston. This all goes away—me, the baby, the potential harm to your political aspirations.”
Preston glanced over the paperwork, and like he had the entire time she’d worked for him, trusted that what she said was true. He scrawled his name across the bottom of the page. What he didn’t realize was that by signing away his rights, he was acknowledging the paternity of the child. The assertion wouldn’t hold up in court, but it would likely be enough to request DNA testing if Ada Jane ever desired it.
Wynn took the signed papers and returned them to her desk drawer. “It’s time for you to go.”
He stood, straightening his suit coat and buttoning the top button before he walked to the door, shaking his head. “I think you’re making a big mistake, Wynn. You could’ve been somebody in Washington.”
So many things ran through her mind right then that she could’ve said in retort, but nothing she said would change his opinion, and he’d only cemented her opinion of him. So instead, she held the door open for him and watched him pick his way around the path back to the driveway, trying not to get his expensive shoes muddy.
It was a little humiliating that she’d been so taken in by him, to the point that she’d lost herself. She walked over to the desk, pulled out the papers she’d prepared and looked at the scrawled signature. He’d just given her the best gift he could possibly give her—the chance to raise her daughter free of his influence. There would be questions and there would be a time to answer them, but that would be on Ada Jane’s terms.
She drew in a breath and blew it out, a long stream of pent-up anxiety gone. Now it was time to move on.
* * *
Latham dipped his paintbrush into the paint and cut around the edge of one wall with pale blue paint. His hands were busy here, but his mind was with Wynn, wondering what happened when her former boss found her.
“So I want to know who decided we would paint inst
ead of play soccer,” Ash grumbled as he unscrewed the blinds from the window casing.
Joe was following behind Latham with the roller. “It’s too cold for soccer.”
“So we’re painting instead?” Ash scowled.
“No, Joe and I are painting. You’re complaining,” Latham said, then felt guilty for snapping at Ash. It wasn’t his fault that his sister’s ex was in town, or that Latham had a diamond ring burning a hole in his pocket. “Sorry.”
“What are you fixing this room up for?” Joe pushed the roller into the tray of paint.
“Aunt Mae is moving here to live with me and Pop. I talked to her last night. She said to tell the kids she misses them.” Latham dripped blue paint onto the glossy white trim and growled.
Ash, on a stepladder at the window, swiveled his head to look at Latham. “What is wrong with you? You’ve been in a horrible mood ever since...”
Latham didn’t turn around.
“Ever since Wynn got back into town.” Joe finished the sentence for him.
Latham ignored him, too.
Ash stepped down and sat on the top step of the ladder. “I don’t blame you for being annoyed. She had you renovating that whole house.”
Joe grinned at his brother while he loaded more paint onto the roller. “And she’s always at his house. I bet she bosses him around. She loved to boss us around when we were kids.”
“She probably eats a lot, too,” Ash said.
“That’s all you can think of? She eats a lot?” Latham asked, without turning around.
“Okay, that was a stretch. But something’s got you stirred up. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s just that congressman being in town today. He looks like a fancy, phony jerk. I don’t know what she saw in him.” Latham kept his eyes on the line he was painting, but inside he was stirred up and he didn’t like the feeling.
Joe put the roller slowly down in the tray and leaned on it. “What congressman?”
His voice was low and deadly, more cop than friend, and Latham looked up, surprised. “The one she used to work for. I’ve seen his picture, and he was at the Hilltop this morning.”
“I’ll kill him if he hurt her.” Ash’s mouth was a firm, flat line. “Or, you know, have a serious talk with him.”
Latham winced slightly. He’d stirred up the brotherly wrath of the Sheehan boys, but it would serve that idiot right if they descended on him like ugly on an ape.
“He was all slick, like Ash when he gets all dressed up.” Latham kept painting, the simple motion somehow holding him together.
“Hey!” Ash looked incensed. “Seriously, I’m right here.”
“Did he talk to Mom?” Joe’s arms were crossed.
Latham shrugged, a jerky frustrated movement. “I guess. He came out of the Hilltop.”
“What do you think he wants?” Ash scooted the stepladder to the other window and picked up the screwdriver.
“Maybe he wants her to come back to work for him. He’s engaged to someone else, right?” Joe was still glowering.
“Surely he’s not dumb enough to think he can get her back.” Ash contributed this from the window.
“You don’t think she’ll want to go back to DC?” Latham sat back on his heels and tossed the brush he was using onto the plastic. He wished he could be as certain as Ash. He wanted to believe she wouldn’t leave, but she’d said herself when she first came home that she had no idea how long she would stay.
He’d thought things had shifted the night of the storm, but with Wynn, who knew?
“Of course she’s not gonna go with him.” Ash dropped the blinds onto the bed in the center of the room.
“I’m going to talk to her.” Joe looked around. “Do you want me to wrap that roller before I go?”
“I’m going, too.” Ash laid the screwdriver onto the dresser. “Latham?”
“No.” He wanted to go, wanted to look her in the eyes and see how she was, see if she’d been hurt again by that guy. See if her feelings for him had changed. But it wasn’t his place.
If she wanted to talk to him about it, she knew where to find him.
* * *
Wynn had stayed to herself in the cottage all afternoon. Penny came by after school and had a chocolate chip cookie with her in front of the fire, but didn’t stay long.
Regaining the peace she’d felt before Preston invaded her space had been impossible, but she wasn’t upset, just a little sad. She wasn’t even sure why, except that she hadn’t heard from Latham at all. She’d thought for sure after the snow and ice melted that he would show up to make sure her roof hadn’t leaked, at least, but her phone had been silent.
A soft knock at the door sounded, and her heartbeat picked up. Maybe she’d been worried for nothing. But when she pulled the door open, it was her mom. Bertie had a take-out sack in one hand and a cake carrier balanced on the other one.
Wynn’s lip trembled, and for a second she wasn’t sure if she was going to smile or cry. “Chocolate cake?”
“And a cheeseburger, double bacon and Cajun fries. Mickey made it special for you. I figured you wouldn’t feel much like getting out today.”
“You figured right.” She took the cake from her mom, put it on the bar and got a drink out of the fridge, meeting her mom at the coffee table.
She pulled the cheeseburger out of the bag and rolled back the paper so she could take a bite. Her mom put the fries on a napkin, helping herself to a few.
Wynn hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She hadn’t really had food in the house, so she’d just nibbled on some popcorn and an apple and cheese. Now that she’d had the first bite of the familiar comfort food, she was suddenly ravenous. She polished off the cheeseburger in about two seconds and licked the ketchup off her fingers.
Her mom handed her a napkin, and she wiped her mouth. “That was perfect, thanks.”
“Would you like to talk about today?”
“You mean about what happened with Preston? Yeah, thanks for telling him where I live now.”
“I figured you needed some closure.” Bertie picked up a fry and bit the end off.
“Well, I got closure, all right.” Wynn stuffed the wrapper down in the bag. “I think it’s safe to say that he won’t be back.”
“What did he want?”
Wynn rolled her eyes. “He actually thought I’d want to go back to DC with him and pick up where we left off.”
Someone pounded on her door. She sent her mom a concerned look, but then her brother Ash shouted through the door. “Come on, Wynn, open up.”
“What in the world?” She awkwardly got to her feet—her growing belly making it a little hard to do anything gracefully these days—walked to the door and pulled it open.
Both of her brothers were standing on the front porch, their arms crossed. She stepped out of the doorway and gestured into the room. “Boys—”
Ash came in first and gave a low whistle. “This place looks great. I love the loft.”
“Thanks. Me, too.”
“Wow, it actually looks kind of classy now.” Joe crossed the living room and kissed their mom. “What are you doing here?”
Bertie shoved the fries toward him. “The same thing you are, most likely.”
“Is this chocolate cake?” Ash tapped the cake carrier.
“Yes,” Wynn said. “It’s mine, but I’ll share if you’ll get out of my kitchen.” She pushed him away, but he didn’t go far, waiting until she sliced four big pieces of cake onto her pale blue dessert plates before helping her carry them into the living room.
Joe started the inquisition. “So where were you in the story when we came in?”
“I was just getting started.”
“Okay, start over.” Joe sat back, making his cake disappear at an alarming rate.
“The short version
is that he thought I would come back to DC and pick up where we left off. I disagreed.”
Ash smiled. “I said that’s what you would do.”
Her mother was being quiet, and no one in their family was ever quiet. “Mom?”
“What did he say about the baby?”
Wynn sighed. “He was surprised that I was actually pregnant. He doesn’t want anything to do with a baby, or any strings attached to that baby. And since he was so clear about it, I had him sign papers relinquishing his parental rights.”
“Oh, honey.” Her mom’s eyes were on hers, and for once, her brothers were silent.
Tears puddled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “There’s no reason to pretend that he would ever want to be involved. This way, I don’t have to worry about him showing up someday and trying to get custody of her.”
“Brilliant.” Joe stuffed the last bite of cake into his mouth. “I’m proud of you, sis.”
“Me, too,” Ash said. He sat down on the couch next to her and knuckle-rubbed her head. “He’s a real jerk and you deserve better.”
“I know. But thanks for saying it.”
Joe looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get home. I’ll be back for another piece of cake tomorrow.”
She grinned as he kissed her on the head. “Okay, if there’s any left by then, you’ve got dibs.”
“I’m going, too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Ash followed Joe out the door, the two of them much more subdued than when they arrived.
Her mom laid her fork down on the plate. “Latham was outside the diner today when Preston was there. He didn’t say anything to me, but I’m pretty sure he recognized him. He’s got to be wondering what happened.”
Latham saw Preston? Her stomach sank. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. He deserves to hear about it from me.”
“Wynn, I don’t know what’s going on with you and Latham now, or really even what happened in the past. I do know if you love him, you shouldn’t deprive him of that love because you think you might not be right for him.”
Their Secret Baby Bond Page 14
