Their skin tone was the same shade of tawny brown, but Caleb had their mom’s amber-colored eyes. His hair was a just a touch coarser than Bailey’s, and he wore it in a messy, curly fro when it wasn’t tied back in a ponytail beneath a bandana.
She didn’t sense any condemnation in his tone, but his eyes showed concern for her.
“I just took the test.” Her tears fell. “Caleb, I don’t know what to do.”
He extended his arms, and she walked into his embrace. “It’ll be all right.”
“I have to tell the father, but he ... he ...” she sobbed.
“Relax.” He stroked her back. “It’s not the end of the world. You’re grown, and as for the baby daddy, I can be with you if you need me when you talk to him. I haven’t met the dude, but I don’t like that he’s got you in here crying over him every night.”
“What?” Bailey drew back and looked up at him. “I’m not.” Her brother’s lips twisted in a smirk. Geez. And here she thought she’d been discreet in her misery.
“I messed things up so bad with him, Caleb, that this would only add to the problem.”
“Well, he had better readjust real quick or his ass is mine. I don’t like seeing you cry, not over a dude.”
“He’s a good man, Caleb, really. I’m the one that needed readjusting.” She wiped her eyes on the end of her T-shirt. “I intend to call him.”
“You do that.” Taking her hand, he walked her to the bed. She got in, and he pulled the covers up over her, tucking in at the shoulders. “Let me know how it goes. I’m here if you need me, always.” He kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep.”
“I’ll try.” Her brother always knew what to say to make her feel better. “Caleb, thanks.”
“Not a problem, baby girl. Sleep tight.”
• • •
Lucas lay in bed with the television remote in hand, mechanically flipping through the channels. His eyes were on the large screen, but he really wasn’t paying attention. His mind was cluttered with images of Bailey and his parting words to her.
He’d told himself after he hung up on her, essentially ending their brief relationship, that he was better off—she wasn’t worth the frustration. By day three, the piercing ache in his chest, the emptiness he felt there made a mockery of his iron pride.
Giving a look at the clock on the nightstand, it was 2:20 A.M. Another sleepless night. His body was exhausted, but his mind was on overdrive.
He’d nixed coffee, switching to an assortment of spirits in the evenings, worked out twice a day, read contracts well into the night, did anything and everything he could think of to wear himself out. It worked. The moment he hit his bed, he was out. Then about an hour later, he was awake. Some nights, he managed to get in a few hours, but inevitably, Bailey entered his dreams.
It always started out the same, a blurred image that turned into full-on vivid color of her, of them together. Him between her thighs staring down at the gleam of her sex, wet and swollen from his tongue’s abuse, her pretty pussy ripe and ready for his taking. He kissed his way up her velvety skin and entered her smoothly, fitting snug within her warm tunnel. Their bodies surged rhythmically in sync, their limbs tightly entwined, skin scorching hot and slick with the sweat from their efforts. The image then quickly switched to her on top with him lifting her up and down on his cock. Kissing her throat, his tongue followed the delicate curve of her shoulder, trailing down to suckle one luscious breast and then the other as he rocked his hips, twisting as he did, and hearing her gasp in awe at the feel of him thrusting inside her at different angles.
Just as his lips formed words to speak to her, he was pulled out of the dream awake. That’s how it played night after night.
With a heavy sigh, he tossed the remote on the bed, got up, and headed downstairs. Entering the kitchen, the low ambient sensor lighting along the floor boards—an ingenious idea of hers—guided his path to the refrigerator.
Looking around his kitchen, stainless steel appliances—handcrafted cabinetry—glass backsplash—Egyptian marble counters. There was even a coffee station nestled within a small alcove. He was quite impressed by Bailey’s interior design skills. Her exceptional talent was displayed throughout his home. He could see her someday very successfully running her own company.
Lucas peered through the glass door of the refrigerator at the assortment of juice bottles and opted for a bottle of water, then moved to a swivel barstool at the island. As he drank, he thought about what it was he’d wanted to say to Bailey in his dream before prematurely being pulled out of it. Was it an apology for the mistakes he’d made? It sure as hell should be.
Like Gavin pointed out, his pride was massive. At the faintest hint that she was calling it quits, he dropped her before she could do it to him. Had he not accused her of that very behavior?
What has my pride awarded me? He shook his head on a dry chuckle. I love her. Gavin was spot on about that as well.
He tossed the empty bottle in the recycle bin, went back to his bedroom, got in bed, turned off the flat screen, and closed his eyes where immediately the image of Bailey sprung forth. He knew what he wanted to say to her in and out of his dreams. The words had been lodged in the back of his throat from the moment they first made love.
Alone in his darkened room, he mentally worked on the words to say to her: Bailey, I’m in love with you. It doesn’t change what I did. I’m sorry that I hurt you, and I hope you will give us another chance.
Lucas grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand. For the one hundredth time, he brought up the picture Bailey had taken of them on their date. His discomfort was visible in his expression. She’d smiled bright, and those brilliant, green eyes that first captured his attention sparkled, lighting up her beautiful face. I miss you. I love you. He quickly pulled up her number and was ready to hit send, but remembered the time. He also realized that what he wanted to say to her should be voiced in person. Instead, a quick e-mail was sent to both Gavin and Kara to let them know that he would be away for a couple of days on personal business. Within a minute, his phone chimed a text from Gavin, which read:
About damn time.
A couple of minutes later, Kara’s text came in:
Give Bailey my best.
Had he really been that bad off?
Chapter Thirty-One
Lucas put the Mercedes in park and verified Bailey’s home address on the mailbox at the curb. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find when he set out from the airstrip in Florence, which was about a half an hour’s drive to Darlington. The quaint, single story, white-brick house with black shutters sat back a good distance from the street and was quite picturesque.
A dark green Subaru and a blue racing bike with its front tire missing were parked beneath the attached carport on the left side of the house. Thick, healthy hanging ferns adorned the stately wide front porch. A swing hung from the rafters at the far right, and twin white rockers were stationed on the left.
Someone spent a lot of time tending to the grounds. The flowerbeds as well as the lawn were meticulously groomed. A smile came to his face picturing Bailey as a young girl playing in the yard while her mother worked in the garden.
He thought he could simply walk away from Bailey, consider her and their very brief relationship an afterthought, but that proved to be excruciatingly difficult for him. He couldn’t function without her. After how he ended things, he hoped that she could find it within her to forgive him.
His night in bed was spent working on his apology. That, and the right words to convey his feelings in a way she would accept as sincere and that would convince her to join him on his plane back home.
Lucas exited the car and headed up the walk that split the front yard. Climbing the six red-brick steps to the door, he realized then that there was a glass storm door where he could see inside. The television was on, but the room was empty. Beyond the living area, he could see straight through to an eat-in kitchen and onward to a bright sunroom. The air around h
im was saturated with the rich aroma of something sweet baking, causing his stomach to rumble.
Bracing himself, he rang the doorbell. As he waited, he wondered what Bailey’s reaction would be when she saw him standing at her door. No sooner had the thought flashed in his head, entering from a side hallway, what he got was an older, yet very well-preserved version of her.
With the exception of her amber eyes, it was as if he was looking at Bailey twenty years in the future. Her hair was a wavy dark brown with sparse strands of gray throughout, which she had twisted and pinned at the nape. Her honey-brown complexion was smooth with only subtle laugh lines, he noticed, as she smiled warmly at him on her way to the door.
The woman looked rather fit in her navy-blue T-shirt, khaki capri pants, and white canvas sneakers.
He took a step back when she unlocked the storm door and opened it a crack. “Good evening, I’m Lucas Marx, a friend of Bailey’s from D.C.” She returned a kind smile and shook his extended hand.
“Hello, I’m her mother, Nena.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Walters.”
“You as well, Lucas. I’m afraid Bailey isn’t here right now.”
“She wasn’t expecting me.” Lucas blanked his expression to mask his disappointment. Did he expect that Bailey would be sitting around pining for him as he’d been for her? Pretty much.
He pulled from his pocket his card. “May I trouble you for a pen?”
“Of course.” She left the door and grabbed the pen she had tucked inside her People magazine, returned, and handed it to him.
He wrote the hotel information where he was staying on the back of his card, and then handed it to her with her pen. “Please give it to Bailey.” She nodded while slipping the card into her pocket. He took another step back. “It’s been a pleasure, Mrs. Walters.”
“Would you like some lemonade? It’s fresh-squeezed. My husband doesn’t like the store-bought kind.”
No doubt, she expected a yes with her widening the door open for him to walk through. “Thank you.” He stepped inside.
She closed the storm door while commenting, “I prefer coffee. I know that it’s near ninety degrees outside, but it’s not as if I’m having it under the sun, so what’s the big deal, right?”
Lucas chuckled lightly. “I actually would prefer coffee myself, if you don’t mind.”
She turned around wearing a smirk and placed a hand on her hip. “You’re not just saying that to get on my good side, are you?”
“I assure you, I often drink coffee in the middle of the day regardless of the weather.”
“Lucas, we’ve become fast friends.” A wink with a cheerful smile. “Please call me Nena and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
“I’d be happy to help,” he offered. She was so warm and kind; he felt a sense of calm just being in her presence. He’d had some anxieties over seeing Bailey and meeting her parents, but just like that, Nena put him at ease.
“It’s not necessary. Sit. Relax.” She went off to the kitchen.
Looking around the space, it was a comfortable size, not overly spacious, but very inviting.
Moving over to an array of portraits set out on a credenza and those on the wall above it, there were several of Bailey and her brother at different ages. He picked up a baby picture of Bailey wearing a dress that just about smothered her in pale yellow lace. Like the woman she was now, she was a beautiful baby. He set the picture down and picked up one with her dressed in a track uniform and holding a trophy. There were several pictures of her proudly holding trophies.
“She came in second there.” Nena placed the tray down on the center coffee table. “I have milk and cream. This one’s cream.” She lifted the yellow serving cup. “Have you ever had sweet potato cobbler, Lucas? It is minutes out of the oven.”
Sitting the picture back in place, he walked over and took a seat at the left end of the sofa closest to where she sat in the armchair. “I tried it for the first time the day I met Bailey. She suggested it.” He took the cup Nena held out to him. “I take my coffee black. Thank you.”
Lucas noticed that Nena was looking at his feet. Her gaze met his, and she smiled. It brought to mind Bailey’s fixation with shoes.
He took a bite of the sweet potato cobbler and groaned out loud. It tasted better than Nuagé’s, and he hadn’t thought that was possible.
“You like it, I see. Bailey makes hers with extra cinnamon. I prefer nutmeg. Have you tried hers?”
“No, I haven’t.” How much had Bailey told her mother about their relationship? His sister, Chelsea, always discussed her man woes with their mother. Given his offenses, Lucas hoped Bailey was a bit more selective.
“Tell her to make it for you. When you see that mine is better, be sure to tell her so.” Nena chortled.
He laughed lightly with her, unable to help it. Her affable smile was contagious. He took a sip of his coffee and set the cup on the tray. “I should tell you, I care for your daughter very much, but we’re not on the best of terms right now.” Curious of her reaction, he studied her face while taking another bite, followed by another sip from his cup.
She rested her plate on her lap, reached over, and gave his forearm a tender squeeze. “You came to her. That’s a start in the right direction. I know my Bailey can be quite stubborn, a handful at times. Whatever it is, try to maintain patience with her.”
Lucas nodded. She definitely knows her daughter.
They ate, and Nena chatted about Bailey in between them watching two segments of Judge Judy. About an hour and a half and their second helping of cobbler later, the storm door opened, and in walked a man, presumably Bailey’s father—he made up the family portrait hanging on the wall above the credenza.
Lucas stood up as the man approached Nena and kissed her cheek. He was somewhat tall with a slender build, his complexion a medium brown, and he wore his salt and pepper hair neatly tapered close.
“I saw the swanky car out front and wondered if my wife was entertaining a dignitary in here,” he quipped. “She always has something or another going on. I never know what I’ll find when I come home. If it’s not her book club, it’s her charities.”
Nena smirked and sucked her teeth. “Oh, Charlie, stop.” She set her plate and cup on the tray and then rose from her chair.
“It’s true,” Charles said. “One time I came home to a yard full of dogs and cats. Nena was hosting a spay and neuter fundraising drive for the pet shelter. It was bathe your pet day right there on the lawn. You should’ve seen her running around after those dogs, soaked to the bone. The animals gave her a bath instead of the other way around.” Charles chuckled and shook his head. “She should know better than to try to bathe a cat.” He laughed heartily. “It was a sight, I tell you.”
Picturing it, Lucas held back a laugh to try to be respectful.
Nena smirked. “Lucas, ignore him. Charlie, this is Lucas Marx.”
“Hello, Lucas Marx,” Charles voiced cheerfully and shook his hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“What brings you to the Walters’ domicile? Please don’t say it’s another animal drive,” Charles teased. “Ahwow!” he sang out at Nena’s pinch of his arm. Laughing, he took a step back. “I better stand over here.”
“You better if you know what’s good for you.” Nena chuckled, and so did Lucas, unable to contain it. He enjoyed watching Bailey’s parents’ playful repartee.
“Charlie, Lucas is Bailey’s boyfriend from D.C.,” Nena said.
Charles’s eyes jumped from Nena to Lucas then back to Nena. “Boyfriend?”
Lucas read the disapproval on the man’s pinched face. He’d been a bit apprehensive about how they would react to him being white. Nena was kind and accepting from the start. In contrast, the tendon now throbbing on the side of Charles’s neck said he was definitely not on board. And all things considered, Lucas felt he no longer held the title of boyfriend.
“Bailey and I�
�”
“They had a spat,” Nena hastily interjected. “That’s why Bailey came home. Lucas is here to try to mend things.” She nodded at him.
“A spat?” Charles didn’t bother masking his irritation as he tossed a scowl between him and his wife, with Lucas catching the brunt of it. “Bailey’s been here over a month and has never mentioned anything to me about a boyfriend or a spat,” he bit out.
“She needed her mother, Charlie. She and I talked.” Nena smiled warmly at Lucas as she reiterated, “He’s here so that they can work on their relationship.”
Shaking his head, Charles shoved his hands in his pockets in obvious displeasure. “I’m sure you’re a decent fellow, Lucas, but Bailey evidently has decided what’s best for her. If she felt that there was something to work out between you two, it would have happened a month ago. Even as we speak, she’s out on a date with—”
“Charlie, enough! You weren’t even speaking to Bailey for half of the time she’s been home. It’s no wonder she didn’t tell you about Lucas.” Nena’s head turned to him, and her eyes widened at seeing that all the color had drained from his face. He could feel the lack of oxygen beneath his skin. “I didn’t say where she was because I wanted to get to know you,” she said softly.
Bailey’s on a date. Lucas felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to his gut. The cobbler he’d eaten was slowly rising. Quickly composing himself as best he could, he extended his hand to Nena. “I should go. It’s been a pleasure. Thank you for the coffee and cobbler.” He turned to Charles. “Mr. Walters, it was nice meeting you.” They shook hands, and then he moved to the door.
“Lucas, please stay,” Nena beseeched, trailing behind him. “I really think it’s important that you do what you came here to do.” She followed him outside and called to him as he headed down the walk.
Lucas turned around. “Thank you again for your hospitality.” Literally feeling sick, he wanted desperately to be gone from there. As he got into the car, he heard Nena say, “If only—those are the two loneliest words in the world. Remember that.”
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