by Lara Lacombe
“On a happier note, when do you want to get started?” Mac asked. He crumpled the sandwich wrapper and tossed it back into the bag, then reached for his chips.
“Right away,” Maggie replied. “But first, I need to ask you a favor...”
* * *
Thorne opened the door and was hit by the delicious scent of hot food. His mouth watered and his stomach began to rumble as he sniffed appreciatively at the air. Was that...oh, yes, it was. Roast. His favorite.
A note of concern rang in his mind even as he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes in pleasure. Maggie was supposed to be on bed rest—she shouldn’t be cooking. But how could he tell her that without sounding like a controlling ass?
He paused for a second to shrug out of his work shirt and hang it on the hook by the door. Then he headed for the kitchen, the source of the wonderful aroma that had made his apartment smell like a home.
Maggie sat at the round table, sipping a glass of water and leafing through a magazine. He relaxed a bit at the sight—at least she was off her feet.
It was strange to see her there. Even though she’d been living with him for the past few days, he still hadn’t gotten used to her presence in his apartment. He didn’t mind, though. On the contrary, it was nice to have her there. She softened the place, made it feel more welcoming rather than simply the space he used to sleep and shower. It was definitely something he could get used to, if he wasn’t careful.
He stepped into the kitchen, his boot heels clopping on the tile floor. Maggie looked up, clearly startled by his appearance. “Oh! I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Must be a good story.” He nodded at her magazine, the glossy pages shining in the gleam of the overhead lights.
“I don’t know about good, but it’s entertaining at least. Now I know that the ‘it’ colors this spring are buttercup, fiesta and limpet shell.”
Thorne frowned. The words sounded like English, but she might as well be speaking a foreign language. “If you say so,” he said doubtfully.
Maggie giggled at his confusion. “Yellow, red and blue,” she clarified.
“Okay. Why not just say that?”
She flipped the magazine closed and picked up her glass. “Someone probably got paid a lot of money to come up with such poetic descriptions. Which is proof that I went into the wrong business.” She stood, and Thorne reflexively reached out to steady her. “I’m fine,” she said, waving him off. “I just need to check on dinner.”
“It smells amazing,” he said. “But why don’t you relax and let me finish up? You’re supposed to be resting.” He was trying to sound concerned, but instead it came out as mildly scolding. He mentally winced—he wasn’t trying to pick a fight with her, but he really didn’t want her to overdo it.
Fortunately, Maggie didn’t seem to take offense. “I know. And I have been. Mac is the one who went to the store for me and unloaded all the groceries. I simply put the ingredients together and popped it into the oven.” She leaned down and pressed a button, turning on the oven light. Apparently satisfied by what she saw, she nodded and reached for the pot holders lying on the counter next to the stove.
Thorne intercepted them and shooed her out of the way. “Let me.” He opened the oven and pulled out a gleaming roast surrounded by potatoes and carrots that looked almost as good as it smelled. “I’m glad you had Mac go to the store for you,” he said, placing the pan on the counter. “You could have asked me to do it—I would have been happy to get you what you need.” A small part of him was stung at the fact she’d gone to his father and not him for help. But he quickly dismissed the feeling. The important thing was that she had stayed home and rested.
Maggie shrugged and retrieved two plates from the cupboard. “He came by for lunch, so I figured I’d just ask him. Thank you for that, by the way. It was sweet of you to send him to check on me.”
He nodded, the acknowledgment making him feel warm inside. “I thought you might like the company. I know it must be hard for you to be cooped up in here all day.” He glanced around the room, trying to imagine how he would feel if his world suddenly shrank to the size of his apartment. Restless didn’t even begin to describe it. But Maggie had handled it well, which was a testament to her inner strength. She hadn’t complained once, at least not to him.
She finished setting the table, and he carried the roast over and carved it into slices. “I hope it turned out okay,” she said, sounding a little worried. “I haven’t fixed a roast in a while. I’m a little out of practice.”
Thorne took a bite and nearly groaned. “It’s perfect,” he assured her. “But you don’t have to cook for me.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I wanted to. It’s the least I can do to thank you for letting me stay here.”
He speared a carrot with his fork. It was tender and sweet, a perfect complement to the savory meat. “You’re not beholden to me, Maggie. I brought you here so you could rest and recover.” And to keep you safe, he added silently. Knox hadn’t called with any updates on the investigation, but Thorne hoped it was just a matter of time before the police discovered who had planted the explosives in Maggie’s trunk.
“And because of the baby. I know.” She let out a soft sigh, and a flicker of what might have been sadness passed across her face. Thorne leaned forward, concern making his heart beat a little faster.
“Is everything okay?” In all the turmoil of the past few days, he hadn’t thought to ask her how she felt about the baby. She’d seemed excited in the hospital, but now that she’d had a little time to process the news, maybe she was having second thoughts about becoming a mother.
A cold spike of fear drove into his chest, and in that moment he realized just how much of his heart was already involved. There were months to go before he would get to meet this baby, but just seeing him or her on that computer screen in the hospital had filled him with a sense of wonder and awe unlike anything he’d ever felt before.
He didn’t know what kind of father he was going to be, but he wanted the chance to find out.
But how did Maggie feel? She was the one who had to carry the baby for all those months and then undergo labor. And that was just in the short-term. What if she didn’t want the lifelong commitment of a child?
Thorne bit his lip and pushed the food around on his plate with his fork. “Can I ask you a personal question?” For better or worse, he had to know what Maggie planned to do about the baby.
She took a sip of water and met his eyes, her expression a little guarded. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”
He hesitated a second, but there was really no good way to ask the question. If she didn’t want the child, maybe she’d sign over custody to him. Being a single father would be tough, but based on his experiences growing up he wagered it was a damn sight better than having a disinterested mother.
“Are you going to keep the baby?”
Chapter 9
Maggie leaned back in her chair, feeling a little blindsided by Thorne’s question. He seemed to mistake her silence for uncertainty, because he forged ahead before she had a chance to gather her thoughts.
“If you don’t want the baby, I’ll understand. I’m willing to raise it by myself. If you can just give me these next few months, you can walk away after the little one is born and I won’t ask anything of you ever again. Just please, don’t do anything...permanent.”
Her temper flared in her chest, making her face heat and her blood boil. How dare he try to dictate what she did with her own body? Even though she hadn’t considered an abortion, she didn’t appreciate Thorne’s presumptuous declaration, like she was some kind of impulsive woman whose actions needed to be policed. Furthermore, did he really think she was just going to hand him the baby and walk away without a second look?
She opened her mouth, ready to tear into him for his offensive a
ssumptions. But just as she was about to give voice to her anger, Thorne met her eyes and she saw a glimmer of fear in his light brown gaze.
In that instant, she realized he wasn’t trying to control her or dictate her actions. He was asking her about her plans because he was afraid of losing the baby. A rush of relief quenched the fires of her anger. He might be a man of few words, but Thorne’s questions revealed he wanted this child just as much as she did.
“I’m going to keep the baby,” she said. He nodded, as if he’d expected that answer. But she saw the way his shoulders relaxed and knew he hadn’t been certain of her intentions.
“What makes you ask?” she said, curious why he was just now wondering about their child’s future.
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “A minute ago, when you mentioned the baby, you looked a little sad. It got me thinking about how you’re feeling. I know the pregnancy came as a shock to you, and now that you’ve had time to process everything, I didn’t know where you stood.”
Fair enough. It was a legitimate question. But she didn’t want to talk about the flash of dismay she’d felt at hearing Thorne’s confirmation he was only worried about the baby, not her. So she changed the subject. “I was definitely surprised,” she admitted. “But I’m also excited. For years, I didn’t think I’d be able to have children.”
“Because of your condition?” he interrupted, frowning slightly.
“Yes. My doctor had told me I probably wouldn’t be able to get pregnant. So I had kind of resigned myself to that reality. But now that I am pregnant...” She trailed off and placed a hand over her lower belly, unable to contain her smile. “Well, I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”
Thorne was quiet for a moment, studying her carefully. Then he nodded thoughtfully. “I’m glad to hear you say that.” His voice was quiet in the otherwise still room. “A baby needs its mother.”
Maggie’s heart leaped into her throat at the echo of Mac’s earlier words. Would Thorne tell her about his childhood? In that moment she felt she was close to gaining his trust, but one false move and he’d bolt.
“Mac said that same thing earlier today,” she said, careful to keep her voice soft. If she pressed him or sounded too eager to pry he’d likely shut down. And while she wanted to know about his past for the sake of their baby, she couldn’t deny her curiosity had roots in her attraction to Thorne. Despite her aching heart, she still felt drawn to him and wanted to be close to him.
Even though he didn’t feel the same way about her.
“Did he?” Thorne sounded slightly amused, an impression that was confirmed by his wry smile. “Well, he would know. He had a front-row seat for Livia’s antics.”
“I take it she wasn’t terribly maternal?”
Thorne laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Hardly. Except for Leonor, she treated us like accessories, to be trotted out on social occasions, or whenever she had to give the appearance of being a model mother. The rest of the time she barely spoke to us.”
“That must have been hard.” Maggie tried to imagine her own mother acting that way, and couldn’t. Brenda Lowell wasn’t a perfect woman, but she took her job as “Mom” seriously and would never ignore her children.
“The silent treatment wasn’t so bad,” Thorne said. “The worst was when she would drag me into the fights she had with her husband, Wes. My brother, River, is Wes’s child. But it’s pretty obvious I’m not.”
“And he held that against you?”
“Oh, yes. I was a constant reminder of Livia’s infidelity. He would get so angry whenever he saw me—there was always such hatred in his eyes when he looked at me. I knew he wanted to hurt me, but he was afraid of what Livia might do in response if he did. Even so, I tried to stay out of his way and spent a lot of time at the stables with Mac. But there were times when Livia would force me to join them, and I knew she was doing it to deliberately provoke Wes. She enjoyed his anger, and she didn’t care how I felt about the situation.”
“That’s terrible,” Maggie murmured. “What about your brother? Did River take after his father?”
Thorne shook his head. “No. None of my siblings have ever treated me badly. If anything, I think they might have been a little jealous of me sometimes.”
“Why’s that?” It didn’t sound like Thorne had had a happy childhood. Why would anyone be jealous of his situation?
“We all loved Mac,” he said simply. “Mac has been there for every one of us, oftentimes acting as a surrogate father while Livia hopped from bed to bed without a second thought. He was the one stable presence in our lives, and he treated us all the same. Not like Livia, who often played favorites depending on her mood.” He shrugged and popped the last bite of roast into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “The one thing I had going for me was that Mac was my actual father. I got to see him all the time, whereas my other siblings didn’t have the advantage of seeing their fathers very often, either because they had died or Livia had divorced them and cut off all contact.”
“I don’t understand how she could do that to her kids,” Maggie said. She pushed her plate away, no longer hungry. The thought of Livia’s actions was enough to spoil her already fragile appetite. At least Thorne had had Mac. How much worse would his life have been without the older man’s presence?
“Don’t waste your time thinking about her,” Thorne advised. “I certainly don’t.”
His voice was flat and emotionless, but Maggie’s heart clenched with sadness for him. “She doesn’t deserve you. Or any of your siblings, for that matter.”
“We don’t send her any Mother’s Day cards, trust me.” He pushed his plate aside and leaned forward, a sudden glint of determination in his eyes. “Listen to me,” he said, the words underlined by a note of urgency in his voice. “It’s important you know that I’m not my mother. I’m not going to treat this baby the way she treated me. I want to be a father to my child, the same way Mac was and still is a father to me.”
Maggie nodded in agreement. “I’d like that. I want the baby to know you. I grew up with both parents in my life, and it’s important to me that my child experience the same thing, if possible.”
He stared at her for a moment, a growing sense of disbelief stealing over his features. “You are too good,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly.
She tilted her head to the side, trying to make sense of his words. “What does that mean?”
“I’m amazed that you’re so willing to let me be a part of all this after the way I treated you.”
“Oh.” Maggie sat back, a little surprised at the shift in conversation. She hadn’t expected Thorne to acknowledge the awkwardness between them, but it was nice to know he recognized his actions had hurt her.
“I owe you an apology, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say this.” He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself. “I’m sorry for the way I acted toward you after we...” He trailed off, twin spots of pink appearing on his cheeks. “After our night together,” he finished. “I was worried that with Livia back in the news and the whole town talking about her, people would shun you if they knew you were with me. So I pulled away, thinking it was the best way to protect you.”
Maggie didn’t say anything at first. She was too busy digesting his words, trying to figure out the best way to respond. It was nice to finally have an explanation for his sudden change of personality. But part of her was angry that he had unilaterally decided what was best for her, without stopping to ask her opinion on the matter. She wasn’t some shrinking violet who was afraid of what people said behind her back. And even if the town had talked about her, that was the kind of thing she and Thorne could have faced together.
But they hadn’t had that chance. And perhaps now they wouldn’t.
Thorne sat across from her, patiently waiting for her to react. There was no sense of expecta
tion about him, no indication of what he was hoping she might say. He was still and quiet, and she got the sense that he would take whatever abuse she wanted to dish out, if that was what she needed to do to feel better.
But it wasn’t.
Yelling at Thorne would give her a moment’s satisfaction, but after the moment passed she would be left feeling hollow and sad. So she settled for a sigh. “I wish you had said something to me before.”
He looked down, his lips pressed together in what might have been regret. “I know,” he said softly. “I should have. But I was scared.”
It was such an honest admission that for a second, she felt bad for him. She couldn’t be angry with him anymore—she simply didn’t have the energy for it. He’d made a mistake, but he’d done it with good intentions. It was time for her to let go of the hurt he’d caused. Besides, if she held on to her sense of being wronged, she’d never be able to forge a working friendship with him, which was something they needed in order to coparent their child.
“I understand why you acted the way you did,” she said finally. “And in a way, I appreciate that you were trying to protect me. I want us to put this behind us so we can move forward.”
Thorne’s eyes shone with gratitude and he let out his breath in a gust. “I’d like that, too,” he said. “I want us to be friends.”
Friends. Nothing more. Her heart thumped painfully at the confirmation that Thorne was only interested in the baby, but she ignored the sting. “I have a condition.” Maggie leaned forward, one eyebrow arched as she met Thorne’s gaze. “If we’re going to be friends, you have to talk to me. You can’t just decide what you think is best and act accordingly. I deserve a say in anything that affects my life or the baby. Deal?”
“Yes.” He responded without hesitation. “I can do that.”
Maggie nodded and leaned back in her chair. For a moment, they were quiet as they stared at each other across the table, the remains of their dinner growing cold in the silence. Finally, she offered him a small smile. “I’m glad we got that straightened out.”
