When You Knew

by Jamie Beck

  Having grown up in the shadow of highly successful parents, she could imagine how Ian struggled to live up to his father’s example. From the sound of things, his mother hadn’t exactly overcompensated for his father’s absence, either.

  Gentry pictured Ian, young and wide-eyed, working his butt off to be like his parents instead of bucking them at every turn, as she’d done. They’d handled life differently, but she had no doubt that both she and Ian had never felt unconditional love. He could deny it all he wanted; she knew better. He needed love. And he needed it from someone like her, who understood why he pushed it all away.

  The front door opened, rousing her from her thoughts. Ian stepped inside and closed the door. He stared at her, sighed, and shrugged. “I’m sorry I was such an ass.”

  Gentry set down her glass and strode toward him, arms open wide, and embraced him without a word, once again defying his expectations.

  He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I didn’t expect forgiveness.”

  “Someday you’ll stop trying to predict my next move,” she mumbled against his chest before easing far enough away to look up at him. “Oddly, the fact that you suck at intimacy makes me feel better . . . less alone in my fuckedupness.”

  If only that solved anything. “Glad to be of service.”

  “A role I know you enjoy,” she quipped. “Please tell me you deposited my check.”

  “I didn’t.” He removed it from his pocket.

  She scowled, stepping back. “Okay, now I’m getting mad again.”

  “Hold up.” He stuffed the check in her pocket. “Archer said to wait. The family is making a counteroffer while the police are working with an informant who might lead them to the boy.”

  “You said the cops don’t usually get involved. Are you lying to me now because you don’t want to take my money?”

  “Seems things have gotten a little better recently since some New York cop came and instituted some training to turn the system around.” And if that cop could work miracles, maybe Ian could, too. Training locals. Empowering them, and making a difference that strengthened an entire nation. He had to believe the sacrifices he’d make would be worthwhile.

  “I wonder how long that’ll last?” Her cynical sigh followed.

  “It’ll last. Most people there want a better life. The Haitians are, by and large, determined, resilient people, and surprisingly hopeful despite the constant setbacks.”

  Gentry clasped his hand and led him to the sofa, then sat beside him, cross-legged. “I don’t want to talk about Haiti. Let’s talk about today.”

  “About Smith?” He’d been heartless to walk out on her after she’d been handed life-changing information.

  “About everything. We can’t pretend like nothing has changed. I know you have your mission, but isn’t there any way this might work?”

  “I think my failed engagement proves it can’t.” Ian quirked a brow. “And in case you missed the clues today, I’m not exactly good at relationships.”

  “Neither am I. I can’t tell you how many guys I’ve cycled through.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t, actually.”

  She poked him, smiling. “Look at you, McJ, making jokes.”

  Had he been joking? He wasn’t sure.

  She leaned against him like a puppy, tucking her head against his shoulder. “I’m good for you. Stick with me and you’ll laugh more before you die.”

  “That’s some sales pitch.” He allowed himself a minute to enjoy the weight of her body resting against his.

  He sensed danger when she fell silent, because no one could predict the direction of Gentry’s thoughts, least of all him. She kept her head on his shoulder, avoiding eye contact. “Neither of us got much attention from our parents. Neither of us has had a healthy love life. Neither of us likes being vulnerable.”

  “None of those similarities are arguments in favor of this working, you know.”

  He felt her shrug. “I’ve got a thing for underdogs.”

  “Not a surprise.” He held himself still, unable to give over to her will and throw caution to the wind. “But you’re forgetting something important. Smith.”

  “Peter,” she corrected.

  “Peter shares a child with you.”

  “We accidentally made a baby. That’s it.”

  “It’s a big thing, Gentry.” He set his index finger against her lips to force her to think before she spoke. After a second or two, he removed his hand.

  “Maybe not,” she said. “Maybe he’ll want nothing to do with us.”

  “That’s not what you want for Colt.”

  “No,” she admitted quietly. “But coparenting isn’t dating.”

  True enough. People coparented all the time without dating. Divorced parents managed it, too. Biology alone wasn’t a good enough reason for Ian to run away from his feelings. “Did you contact him?”

  She nodded.

  “What did he say?” Ian simultaneously hoped Peter Smith had been eloquent and idiotic, because the best and worst thing that could happen would be for Gentry to actually like Smith.

  “I don’t know. I sent an e-mail a while ago and am too afraid to look for his reply.” She grimaced.

  Reluctantly, Ian asked for a summary of Peter Smith from San Francisco. After she finished reciting the mostly impersonal data, he said, “He sounds like a pretty good fit for your life.”

  She slapped his thigh. “More snap judgments.”

  “He’s affluent. Likes to travel. Enjoys wine.” Ian nodded toward her empty wineglass. “And you did find him attractive.”

  “You just described a helluva lot of men I’ve known, Ian. None of them fit so far.” She pulled away and twisted to face him. “You know, I thought you were cute when I went into labor, but the timing wasn’t right. Then you showed up here, all patient and kind, without expecting anything in return. You’ve helped me with Colt, Ty, work . . . even with my own doubts about whether or not I can do this whole motherhood thing. I’ve never had someone believe in me like that. Everything feels different, and now I don’t know what to do with all of this.” She motioned with her hands like she was trying to grab on to clouds. “Honestly, life was easier when I cared less.”

  He couldn’t help but smile, because she’d been right about one thing. They were the same when it came to incompetence in the tricky world of romance. He cupped her face and kissed her. “I get it, but there’s a lot at stake, mostly for you and Colt. You should see what Smith has to say before we consider possibilities.”

  She wrinkled her nose and stared at her laptop. Her in-box was like the wardrobe in that Narnia book. Once she’d opened it, life as she knew it could change forever.

  Gentry shot him a “Here goes nothing” look and opened her e-mail account. Biting her thumbnail, she stared at the screen. Ian’s heart thumped when he saw Peter’s reply in the in-box. “I’ll let you read it in private.”

  When he moved to leave, her hand landed on his thigh. “Please stay.”

  It seemed wrong to read a private note from a man who’d just learned, out of the blue, about his son. But Ian couldn’t turn down Gentry’s pleading gaze. “Okay.”

  “Thanks.” After a deep inhalation, she muttered, “Okay, Smith, what have you got to say?”

  Gentry,

  Of course I remember you, Artemis . . . rather fondly. However, I didn’t expect your email and am now sitting here in a state of shock.

  Please don’t take this the wrong way but, although Colt resembles my baby photos, I’d be foolish not to confirm his paternity. My quick research says we can get DNA results in 1–2 days.

  That’s not to say that I think you’re lying. I don’t . . . at least, I believe you believe he is mine.

  The possibility that I’m a new father is equally terrifying and exciting. I adore my two nieces and have envied my sister for a few years. Unlike her family, though, our situation is not ideal. And while you’ve had time to get
to adjust and adapt, I’ve got lots of catching up to do. Frankly, it may take a few days to catch my breath.

  I won’t share this news with my family until I confirm Colt’s paternity and we have a chance to talk. However, I have a feeling my father will be thrilled to finally have a grandson despite the unusual circumstances.

  Let’s coordinate the test and, once we have the results, I will arrange to visit. I think the sooner, the better.

  Smith

  Ian didn’t ask about the Artemis reference. He didn’t ask if Gentry was insulted by the DNA-test request. He didn’t even ask her to wait until he left to invite Smith to visit, although the selfish part of him wished she would. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, her eyes glued to the screen, apparently rereading the short note several times. “He seems rational, right? I mean, this is a pretty open, calm response. Almost friendly, even.”

  “Yes.” In contrast, Ian was finding it difficult to remain rational and open to discussing this, which suggested that Smith must be a damn confident man.

  “He’s not angry or jerky, like he could’ve been.” Her eyes were wide and still focused on the screen, teeth feverishly chewing her thumbnail.

  Ian scratched the back of his neck, but it did little to help the itchiness taking over his body. “Nope. Not angry.”

  “This part about his sister and dad means he must be close to his family. That’s a good sign, right?” She’d begun rocking herself, although he doubted she noticed. “If I have to share Colt, I want it to be with someone who loves his family.”

  Those last words came out with a choked sob, and then Gentry hunched forward in a mess of tears right there in front of him.

  He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Sh, sh. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

  She sniffled and wiped her face with her hands, body trembling from the ebb and flow of adrenaline this e-mail exchange had wrought.

  When she looked up, her brows were furrowed in a tight knot, worry lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to share my son. I mean, I want Colt to have a father and more people who love him, but I don’t want to send him away for long visits. I can’t stand the idea of being away from him. I can’t.” Hysteria tinged those last words.

  Ian wiped new tears away and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to hold his gaze. “Don’t jump ahead. Take things one step at a time. First, meet Peter. Then, if he wants to take Colt to meet his family, you go with them. You don’t have to hand Colt over until you’re comfortable, okay? This guy doesn’t sound like the type who plans to bully you or take you to court. Remind him that you two need to put Colt’s interests first, and it will all be okay.”

  She wiped her nose with her shirt while mumbling, “This is the right thing to do. I’m doing the right thing.”

  He nodded, praying he hadn’t inadvertently pushed her into a choice that might hurt her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Catch-22

  According to Merriam-Webster: a problematic situation for which the only solution is denied by a circumstance inherent in the problem or by a rule

  According to me: building family ties for my son

  Gentry wove through CTC’s hallways in a daze, thanks to a whopping two hours’ sleep last night. If the time she’d spent awake in bed had been with Ian, she’d be skipping through the office. To her chagrin, once he’d held her long enough to calm her down, he’d sent her to bed alone. Smith’s reply had given Ian pause, and he insisted they take time to think. So she’d alternated between staring at the ceiling and then gazing at her son, praying for the strength to be stronger than her mom had been when it came to blending families.

  “Gentry, where are the latest updates to the social media strategy and new graphics?” Her mom stood in her office doorway, having clearly been on the lookout for her arrival.

  Gentry stopped, too tired to think of a snappy comeback. “I’ll copy you when I send them.”

  Her mother shook her head. “They’re not completed?”

  “I got a little sidetracked this weekend.” Gentry eyed her distant workstation-turned-prison, wishing she’d made it there before getting stopped by her mother.

  “Sidetracked? The launch is less than two months away. Now isn’t the time to get distracted by some new hobby, or the nanny.”

  “Mom, stop. I’d planned to finish it last night, but—” She glanced over her shoulder before muttering, “We found Smith.”

  Gentry watched the ice queen lean against the doorjamb, speechless. They stared at each other, neither moving. A silly fantasy, one involving her mom’s open arms and supportive hug, drifted through Gentry’s sleep-deprived brain. It died when her mom said, “Come into my office and close the door.”

  Becky passed by in time to catch that ominous command, so now everyone would know Gentry had messed up again. This time they weren’t entirely wrong, though. She should’ve been working on Sunday instead of running around Portland with Ian.

  Then again, she didn’t regret that afternoon. Not even a little.

  Ian, flawed man that he was, made her think. He made her want to be a better person. And he might not see it yet, but he needed her, because she had a lot to teach him about joy. Until last night, she’d never considered that she might’ve inherited a little of Grandpa John’s gambler gene. But at three a.m., when she’d considered racing upstairs and going all in on a long-shot gamble with Ian, she understood more about the pull of addiction. Wisely, she’d folded and stayed in her room.

  “Sit.” Her mom pointed to the empty chair before taking her seat behind her beloved desk. The one Gentry had never been allowed to use for coloring or eating lunch or anything else that other kids got to do at their parents’ offices. “Why didn’t you call your father and me yesterday?”

  “I didn’t want everyone’s opinions. Ultimately, this is about my son and, to a lesser extent, me. I e-mailed Peter—that’s his real name—and he replied late last night.”

  “So it’s done. You’ve opened your son’s life up to a stranger.” Her mother tapped her hands on her desktop. “What if he’s a terrible influence? What if he wants joint custody?”

  “And you wonder why I didn’t turn to you for support.” Gentry let her head fall back. Eyes closed, she prayed for patience . . . although she could’ve easily fallen asleep, too.

  “I am supportive. I’ve picked you up after every mistake, Gentry. Don’t pretend there haven’t been many along the way.”

  Gentry counted to five in her head. Yes, she’d made mistakes. Maybe even some big ones, but nothing that’d ever ruined her life, or anyone else’s.

  “Do me the courtesy of looking at me,” came her mother’s exasperated voice.

  Gentry complied. “Are you finished, or are there other criticisms you’d like to pile on before you ask me to go be creative?”

  “As if you don’t criticize me at every turn.” Her mom rubbed her temples. “Despite your perspective, I’ve killed myself to give you every advantage and opportunity, including giving you a good man as a father. And when it comes time to battle with ‘Peter’ over Colt, who will be fighting for you each step of the way? Me, that’s who.”

  “Please stop acting like you worked so hard to give me things. This fiefdom is about your ego, your needs. You never once asked what I wanted. But let me tell you, all I ever wanted was to matter to someone. How many Sundays did I wish Colby and Hunter would take me to Leslie’s so I could be part of a real family . . .”

  “What a rotten, ungrateful thing to say.” Her mother’s eyes glistened. “I gave you the kind of life I only dreamed of as a child.”

  Gentry hadn’t seen her mom teary very often, so it threw her. She shifted in her chair, softening her tone. “Your dreams, Mom. Not mine. Now I’m asking you to back off a little. I’m sure I’ll make mistakes with my son, but I don’t need your parenting advice. Whatever resentments Colt might have one day, they won’t be because I kept him from his fa
ther and a family that might love him. No matter how tough it is on me, Colt deserves to know his father.”

  Her mother flattened her palms on her desk. “And who, exactly, is Peter? Am I allowed to know that much?”

  Gentry’s head pounded. She craved sleep. Barring that, an escape from her mother’s office would be nice, too. Robotically, she recited Peter’s résumé and summarized their e-mails.

  “When’s he coming?”

  “On Friday.”

  Her mother tapped her fingernails on her desk. “Will your father and I get to meet him?”

  “I’d like to spend the first day alone with him and Colt. On Saturday, you and Dad can come over for dinner.” Her home. Her rules. “Maybe Hunter and Sara can join us, too. Colby and Alec will have to work, I guess.”

  “Will Peter be staying with you?”

  “No.”

  “So you’re not interested in a romantic relationship?” The wheels of Jenna Cabot’s mind had started to turn, judging by the twitching of her eyes.

  “No.”

  “Why not? Obviously, you found him attractive. If he’s a decent man and there’s chemistry, why not get together so you don’t have to worry about sharing custody? If creating a family for Colt is your goal, then dating Peter should be no-brainer. A priority, actually.”

  Gentry couldn’t argue with the main thrust of that logic. It, however, didn’t consider two important variables. First, Peter Smith’s feelings and personal life might preclude romantic entanglements. Second, and more important, her feelings for Ian.

  Gentry had never believed she’d fall in love—much less instalove. But something about Ian had her by the throat, even if she didn’t tell him so. He was the first man she’d ever been open with. Surely that meant something. Maybe Ian would come to that conclusion, too. Maybe, like her, he’d believe he’d come into her life for a reason.

  “How about we get to know Peter before you marry me off?”

  “If you’d taken the time to know him before you got pregnant, you wouldn’t be a single mother juggling work and childcare.” Her mother sighed, while Gentry imagined a cartoon version of her mom’s head exploding. “What’s your plan for Colt after Ian leaves?”