Never Enough

by Lauren Dane

  “That’s Miles on his first day of kindergarten. Right out front, as a matter of fact. Would you like to come in and sit down? I can make tea. I’ve got something stronger if you’ve a need.”

  She walked ahead of him, into her house, and let that get her balance back. The kiss, the way she’d totally come undone the moment he’d touched her, had sent her reeling. Gillian was not a kiss-a-total-stranger type of woman. It was the opposite usually. It took her a long time to trust someone enough to get sexual in any way. But when his hands were on her, his mouth, she lost all her rules and fell into their insane chemistry. This bore a great deal of thinking and care. Too bad her hormones were far more interested in jumping on him than thinking.

  He’d be reeling too, she knew, for entirely different reasons.

  She put a kettle on and moved to the bookcases at the other end of the room. Selecting some photo albums, she brought them back to him. “Would you like to see some pictures? I’m not saying you have to meet him before the test comes back. But I thought . . .” She shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

  “I’d love that. Thank you.” He patted the couch next to where he sat. “Please, I’ll need you to narrate.”

  She sat, trying to keep her thigh from touching his.

  “I would like to meet him as soon as possible. I understand this might be a surprise for him and I want to do this right. But I want to start getting to know him. Being his dad. At this point, the test seems, well, a foregone conclusion.”

  Fear nibbled at her insides as she held on to the knowledge that she had control here. She was Miles’s mom and nothing was going to change that.

  It still scared her. The thought of losing him, even if it wouldn’t happen in reality, made her sort of woozy.

  “All right.”

  “I appreciate this. The way, well, you brought him to me and you didn’t have to. And then I treated you badly. You invited me into your home today. I’m grateful.” His lips curved upward just slightly and she repressed a shiver. Oh yes, they had high-octane sexual heat. Which was stupid because this thing between them was foolhardy. He would need to focus on Miles and she’d help him because it was the thing to do. And it would make Miles happy.

  “These are organized by year. Yes, I know it’s sort of obsessive of me, but for a time when Miles was an infant I made scrapbooks for people to pay my bills.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but the truth was, she was proud of those scrapbooks. Had spent a great deal of time and creative energy on them. But suddenly it seemed intimate to share that. So she didn’t.

  “These are amazing. I can’t believe anyone could make something so beautiful. All this detail. He’ll have this forever.”

  She ducked her head a moment. “Thank you. Obviously this is his first year.” She touched the first picture of him. A blurry shot she’d taken in the hospital. The card had read, “Baby Boy Forrester,” and she had it there, tucked into the page, along with his identification bracelet.

  “He was little.”

  Gillian laughed. “He was premature. But you know he was only in the hospital for a few extra days. We were lucky.” Lucky he hadn’t had to go through drug withdrawal or suffered any long-term effects from the life Tina had led while pregnant.

  Adrian turned the page, amazed at the scrapbook he held. Amazed by her generosity in sharing it with him.

  She moved quickly to get the tea and bring it back. She smiled, tapping her finger on a picture of a baby about Marti’s age sitting on an elderly woman’s lap.

  “That’s my gran. She lived here with us for a few years until Miles got a little older and I had a steady income. They were inseparable. I don’t know what I would have done without her. Especially at the beginning.”

  On it went, she showed him picture after picture in the first several albums. It was surreal, watching his son grow and change. Knowing other people got to watch him—love him—and all the while Adrian was less than thirty miles away.

  “Miles is going to be home in about two hours. Would you like to have some lunch and perhaps talk about how we’ll move this forward?”

  His stomach growled. “I haven’t had much of an appetite, but apparently that’s back now. I’d like that. I’m a pretty good helper.”

  She looked him up and down and seemed to doubt that, but he left it alone. She’d just opened herself up to him and he appreciated it more than he could say.

  “You’re in luck. My friend runs a food truck and she took pity on me and Miles and brought by a huge amount of food last night.” She put several containers out on the counter. “Plates are just behind you, in the cabinet.”

  He got them out and moved to the island where she poked open containers and hummed her delight.

  “Lucky you to have such friends.”

  She shrugged. “I’m very lucky indeed. Miles too.”

  He bit into a piece of spanakopita. “Damn, this is good.” He sighed. “Why didn’t she tell you, Gillian?” He hadn’t meant to sound angry, but there it was anyway.

  “I don’t know. Tina was impulsive, flighty and pretty self-centered most of the time. But I do believe she didn’t say anything out of some sort of misplaced duty to Miles.”

  “How could she look at him and think it was all right for that boy to grow up without a father? That wasn’t her choice to make.”

  “She didn’t look at him. She never held him, not a single time. She signed him over to me immediately and then the adoption went forward very quickly. She never named the father on the birth certificate, and to be totally honest with you, I figured she just didn’t know. She was a girl who loved a good time with a lot of people. She was reckless and thoughtless a lot of her life, but I never knew her to be malicious.”

  She poured them some juice and returned to the island. “And no, it wasn’t her choice to make and I’m sorry she robbed you of your son and Miles of his dad. All I can do is try to make it right from now on.”

  His anger ebbed a little. “Thank you. I can’t understand it, why she’d have the baby and then give him up without even contacting me.”

  She looked him dead on. “My sister is dead. Her reasons were her own. She never shared them with me, though I did ask. She liked . . . attention. Whatever those reasons were, there is nothing to be gained in your going over it again and again. I’m not trying to rob you of your anger; you have every right to be mad. Talk to a professional if you need to, and heaven knows you might. But she’s not here. Miles is.”

  “Last night my sister told me bitterness was useless in this situation.”

  Gillian shrugged. “You said you wanted to move quickly and start being a dad. Would you like to come for dinner tomorrow night? It’ll give me a chance to talk to Miles first. Prepare him. I need to be there for this first meeting and it should be small and on familiar turf.”

  “Did you talk to someone about this?” His emotions ran riot, but he continued to be impressed with how she put Miles first over and over.

  “I did, yes. Cal, that’s my attorney”—she paused to send him a look—“he hooked me up with a counselor he’s worked with before. She gave me some handouts.” She left the room and came back shortly. “Here. This is what she gave me. It might help.” She thrust an envelope into his grateful hands.

  “I’d love to come to dinner. I appreciate how supportive of all this you’re being. I don’t know what I’d do in your place.”

  “Parenting is hard work. The hardest job I’ve ever had. What else can I be? Even if you don’t like me, I’m Miles’s mum and I hope we can work through this mess if for no other reason than to make things better for him.”

  “I’m surrounded by parents and I guess I assumed it would just come naturally.”

  She laughed and his desire roared back to life. They’d both played it cool since the kiss, but neither of them had forgotten it. She’d looked at his mouth enough that he was sure of that fact.

  “Miles is a good kid, but he’d try a saint sometimes. Naturally? I d
on’t know about that. Maybe it’s just me, but I wouldn’t say it was natural as much as trying, but alleviated by the fact that you love this person so much you’ll endure attitude and having to harp on silly stuff to train them to be good adults. Though I’m not really surrounded by parents. Miles has a lot of aunts and uncles, but I’m the only one in the group who has kids. I could be mucking it all up but not know it.”

  He doubted it. She seemed eminently capable.

  “Anyway. Why don’t you show up around six? Would you like to help make pizza? The papers said that an activity might be good, to keep the nervousness at bay but also start building a relationship.”

  “Hell, I’m the one who’s nervous,” he mumbled, not used to the feeling at all.

  “Come tomorrow night. I’m biased, but Miles is a fabulous person. He’s smart and fun and he’s going to love you. He nearly passed out after meeting Erin yesterday.”

  As it was designed to, it made him feel better. “I’ll be here at six.”

  “It’s a Friday night so you might have plans, but if you don’t, and if you wanted to . . . we have a guest room and you’re welcome to it. The ferry is great and there’s always the bridge and driving around, but when it’s late, it’s late.” She shrugged and he caught her blush.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow with my pajamas packed. We’ll play it by ear, as they say. But I’m . . . well, I’m grateful to you for sticking this out even when I was a total dick.”

  “Try not to be one tomorrow and I might forgive you.”

  He didn’t wipe that stupid grin off his face for hours.

  Gillian looked at her son across the table. “So, I need to talk to you about something important.”

  He paused momentarily in between giant shoveling bites to give her his attention.

  She hoped she managed to do this with a minimum of scarring.

  “I turned in all my homework, I swear. I did get a C minus on my math test.”

  She made a mental note to scare him into confessing things more often. “No, not that. Though I’m glad to hear about the homework, not so much about the math test.” She took a deep breath and forged ahead. “You remember the test you had to take? The DNA test?”

  He put his fork down and wiped his mouth, all his attention on her.

  “We found your father, Miles. I’ve met him and he’d like to meet you. Would you like that?”

  The line between his eyes deepened as he thought. “Well . . . what do you think? What’s he like? Will I have to go live with him?”

  She got up and moved to sit next to him, hugging him tight. “Miles, I am your mother. Period. You live here with me. This is our house. I never would have sought him out if I wasn’t totally sure my rights as your mum were protected.”

  He swallowed hard and nodded, brightening enough to shove half a dinner roll into his face. “ ’Kay then. So what’s he like?”

  “He’s a musician.” She snorted a laugh.

  “Oh my . . . dude! It’s Adrian Brown. That’s why Erin was here.” He jumped up. “Are you kidding me? Mum!”

  She laughed and took his hand. “How’d you know?”

  “Isabel, you remember her? She said I looked like him and then all the other girls, they said it too.”

  A year ago, he’d have said it with mild disinterest. Now, well, now he thought it was pretty cool, she could tell.

  “It’s not every day awesome rock-star bass players just come over for tea and biscuits. I can put it together. Anyway, why’d he bail for so long?”

  “He didn’t know. I told you, Tina only finally admitted who the dad was in the hospital. I had to track him down. I don’t know him that well, but I do know he’s really excited about you.”

  “Yeah? I guess that’d be all right. Here, right? With you around?”

  He looked very young just then, vulnerable, and she vowed that should Adrian Brown ever harm her baby, she would cut his bollocks off with a rusty fork.

  “I thought it would be fun, and sort of you know, low key, if we made pizza. He could come over and make them with us. Would that work for you? I’ll be here the whole time,” she added at his questioning look.

  Admittedly, she felt a little better. She didn’t know what she thought. That’d he’d see the shiny daddy who is a rich rock star and perhaps forget about her? Petty and silly, but it had been a worry, albeit a very small one.

  “You’ll stay? For the whole time?”

  “Of course. Look, if you don’t feel ready, that’s okay too. We can start out with a phone call or two, or even some letters and e-mails. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

  “I think pizza could be all right. As long as you’re here.”

  “Definitely.”

  7

  Adrian juggled the photo album, a bottle of wine and the box of cupcakes to raise his hand enough to ring the bell. A bicycle was parked against the side of the house.

  His son’s bicycle.

  Before he could have a panic attack over it, Gillian opened the door and took his breath away. Her hair was in a high ponytail. She wore an argyle sweater of all things, but holy shit she filled it out. Couldn’t see any skin other than at her wrists and yet she looked ridiculously sexy anyway. Black pants hugged her legs and led to bare feet with deep red toenails.

  She wore glasses and absolutely no makeup. And she was hotter than the sun.

  “Hi, Adrian. Come in. We’re in the kitchen.” She took the bakery box and he followed her through the house and found himself in the kitchen, face-to-face with his son.

  “Adrian, this is Miles. Miles, this is Adrian Brown.”

  Miles looked as nervous as Adrian felt. He’d asked Brody’s opinion as to whether he should hug the boy. Elise had urged him to just let Miles lead. To be open and affectionate, but to respect the boy’s space and also his nervousness.

  “Hey.” Miles tipped his chin and Adrian tipped his back, only with a grin. One the boy mimicked and sent a shock of recognition through him.

  “Hey yourself. Big week, huh?”

  Gillian laughed, taking the wine and the photo album, making sure he saw where she’d placed it on a nearby table.

  “Okay, Adrian, we’re rolling out dough and cutting up toppings. Do you have a preference?” The take-charge way Gillian spoke seemed to calm Miles down as it did Adrian.

  “I’ll wash up.” He pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and caught Gillian looking. She blushed and turned her attention back to the island where Miles was shredding cheese.

  Well now.

  Forearms? Guitar playing had given him decent ones, he supposed, looking at them as he scrubbed his hands.

  He turned and took the towel she held out.

  “I’m a good hand with dough rolling. I worked at an Italian restaurant for two years back in the day.”

  “Nice!” She pointed at the balls of dough covered with a cloth. “There they are. Pans are oiled and there’s a dusting of cornmeal on them.”

  He began to work, letting the simplicity of the moment and what they were doing roll over him. “So, Miles, I just wanted to tell you how proud I am to be your father. I apologize for not being in your life before this. But I hope you’ll let me make it up to you.”

  Miles looked up from the cheese and then over to his mother before nodding. “Okay.”

  “What’s your favorite subject in school?” He had to get to know his kid sometime; it seemed good to start with the easy stuff.

  “Science.”

  Gillian moved around with quiet efficiency, slicing onions and mushrooms. She poured a glass of juice and put it at Miles’s side. Miles leaned his head over toward her, touching her just briefly. She smiled, closing her eyes for a moment and while that easy intimacy reminded him of how he had lost out on thirteen years of Miles’s life, he also found himself comforted by it.

  “Adrian, would you like juice? Water? Beer? Wine?”

  He paused, not knowing. He’d brought wine, but he didn’t want his so
n to think he was some drunken rock star.

  “Why don’t you start with some juice and we can have wine with dinner? Does that work?” She poured herself a glass and he nodded, grateful.

  “Thanks.”

  “What was your favorite subject in school?” Miles surprised him by asking.

  “History. I still love it.”

  “What period?”

  “All of it really, but I have a soft spot for American history. Especially’round the end of the nineteenth, beginning of the twentieth century.”

  “Industrial revolution.”

  Adrian let his breath out and grinned. “Yeah. What about you? You like history?”

  Their conversation wasn’t deeply emotional. It was, well, rather like the conversations he had with Rennie, only thirteen-year-old boys were definitely not as chatty as a ten-year-old girl.

  They ate pizza and salad and devoured a few cupcakes.

  “I just remembered I need to call a client to check on something. I’ll be right back. Adrian, that photo album you brought is on the table there.”

  She ducked from the room and Miles eyed him warily.

  “I thought you’d maybe like to see your family. The other side of it, I mean. Your aunts and uncles and cousins. They’re all very excited to meet you.” Adrian opened the first page to pictures of the Brown kids and smiled.

  “Is that you?” Miles scooted closer to peer at the page.

  “Yeah. Me, my sister Erin and our older brother Brody.” Adrian brushed a fingertip over the three of them, frozen forever, mid-cheese for the camera. Erin had a big smile, her mouth full of perfect teeth. Adrian’s grin had plenty of missing teeth, though. “It was a summer trip to . . . your grandpa’s hometown. Cleveland, Ohio.”

  Miles raised one brow. “I went to Cleveland two years ago. Youth jazz band competition. It was all right. Hot though.”

  “Jazz band, huh?” Adrian turned the page. “Me too.” He pointed at a picture of him in black slacks with a white dress shirt. Hair too long. Holding the guitar Brody had bribed him with. “Never went out of state though. I hear from your aunt that you play bass. Sheesh, boy, she’s already insufferable about her bass thing. You couldn’t play guitar instead?”