“How do you feel about it?” he asked slowly.
Her steps slowed. “I’m not sure yet.”
“But?”
“I think it’s a good idea.”
Okay, now he was freaking. “I thought there was no way you were keeping this baby.”
“I wouldn’t be keeping it. Mom said if we do it, we should make it official. You and me both give up our rights, the way we would if an adoption agency took the baby away. And Mom would adopt it.”
“But it would still be right there.”
She whirled. “I know!” she yelled, face red. “What do you think, I’m stupid?”
If the label fit.
She growled and stalked away again.
“Talk to me,” Trevor said, trailing her.
“I’m trying.” She said it so softly, he barely heard her.
Now he broke into a jog so that he could catch up and get in front of her. Then he walked backward so he could see her. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… The baby would still be here.”
“That’s the point,” Cait said huffily.
He couldn’t get past the basic concept. He’d been counting on the baby vanishing from their lives. Not that he’d forget he had a kid out there somewhere, but that wouldn’t be the same. “But it…”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you talking about the baby?”
“What?”
“When you say it.”
“What am I supposed to call it?” He was yelling now. Losing it. It.
“Our baby,” she informed him, all pissy, “is a little girl or boy. Not an it.” She flounced up the steps to the dance school, although he hadn’t even realized they’d arrived. “Goodbye,” she said, yanking open the big door, and left him.
Stuck on the idea that his baby—a little girl or boy, oh, God—might stay in his life. Forever.
He stood where he was for a long time, freezing but unable to move.
* * *
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” In the act of opening containers from the local Thai restaurant, Richard gaped at his son.
“Ms. Callahan is going to adopt the baby.” Trevor looked dazed.
“Who told you that?”
“Cait. Who else?”
Shock, incredulity, anger, disbelief… Let me count the ways. “And this was Molly’s idea? Or was it Cait’s?”
He had to nail it down. Not get sucked in by some dumb teenage scheme.
“Molly’s. I mean, Ms. Callahan’s. Cait told me her mom said that’s what she wants. She asked if she could keep the baby.”
In that moment, Richard figured out what emotion was paramount. Hurt. He’d talked to Molly the day before yesterday, and she hadn’t said a word about this. Hadn’t even hinted she was thinking it. Never mind asking. “What do you think?”
Well, this was one way for her to make it plain she wasn’t envisioning a future with him. Apparently for her, “I love you” meant hot sex when their respective kids weren’t around.
Which would be pretty much never once she started all over with a baby.
He shoved back his chair and stood. “You eat. I’ll be back later.”
Trev jumped up, too, looking alarmed. “You’re going over there to see her?”
“To see her? Hell, no. I need to hear this from her. Not thirdhand.”
“Are you mad?” Trevor’s voice probably hadn’t cracked like that since he was about thirteen.
Good going. Scare your kid, why don’t you? Richard didn’t care. He grabbed his car keys and wallet from the kitchen counter and kept going into the garage.
Ten minutes later—maybe less, he’d violated some speed limits on the way here—he was ringing Molly Callahan’s doorbell.
Cait opened the door, her expression an echo of Trevor’s. “Wait,” she said urgently. “He wasn’t supposed to tell you. It’s not like we’ve made up our minds. I was just…”
Richard pushed right past her. He pitched his voice to be heard as far as her bedroom upstairs. “Molly?” Call it a bellow.
She appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a hand towel. “Richard?” she said in surprise.
“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me you aren’t planning to torture us for the rest of our natural lives.”
She went so still, she might have been turned into a statue. Only her eyes were alive, shimmering with emotion, taking in the fury that seemed to be consuming him.
And then even her eyes were shielded. She resumed drying her hands and looked at him with calm professionalism. Ms. Callahan, although barefoot and having shed her jacket. “I take it you’re not a fan of the idea,” she said coolly.
A part of him was aware that Cait hadn’t moved. Cold air was coming in the open door. He advanced on Molly, the muscles in his jaw painfully flexed.
“You couldn’t talk to me about this?”
“I thought I should be clear in my own mind whether I wanted to do it.” She raised her eyebrows, managing icy disdain. “Perhaps mistakenly I believed Cait and I were most impacted by this decision.”
The blow was deadly. It was all he could do not to hunch forward in a much-too-late attempt to protect his vulnerable midsection. His belly. His heart.
“That tells me where I rated in your planning, doesn’t it?” He said that quietly, so quietly he hoped Cait didn’t hear. But then he made sure his voice hardened. “Even if you don’t give a damn about me, make some effort to think about your daughter and my son, will you? And a little less about yourself?”
Her face had bleached pale. That was her main reaction, along with the fact that she’d gone back to being a statue.
He gave her a last, scathing look, turned and walked out.
If he had to stop a block from her house to pull himself together…well, it was dark, and no one would know.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“THERE’S NOTHING TO SAY,” Molly insisted, and tried to escape into her bedroom.
She hadn’t wanted to talk to Cait about Richard last night, and she wasn’t going to tonight, either. There wasn’t anything to say. He’d made his opinion really clear. And he’d done it in a way that left her quite certain there was no going back, even if she’d been willing to give up the idea of raising Cait’s baby in favor of a future with him. A future they hadn’t even discussed, that might or might not have been a possibility.
Her daughter had been trailing her through the house like a yapping dog going for the mailman’s leg. “Mom, you should talk to him, even if you won’t to me.”
Molly finally stopped at the bathroom door and turned, feeling almost frozen inside. “You saw him. You heard what he said. If you were me, would you call him? And what would you say?”
“Well…I don’t know.” Cait faltered. “But I think you hurt his feelings.”
“I hurt his feelings?” Oh, that was funny, considering what he’d done to her. She felt as if he’d stuck several particularly well-aimed skewers in her.
Tell me you aren’t planning to torture us for the rest of our natural lives.
Dear God, was that really how it seemed to him? That she wanted to keep the baby even though its very presence would forever be a torment to Cait, Trevor and Richard?
She hadn’t slept last night. She didn’t know how she’d be able to tonight, either, but she was desperate to be alone.
“He was wrong,” Cait said urgently. “Trevor and I talked about it today. We both like the idea of you keeping the baby.”
That made Molly blink, not a pleasant sensation when she felt as if she had sand on her eyeballs. “Trevor likes the idea,” she repeated slowly. Carefully.
Cait’s flush was a giveaway. “Maybe not like. But he’s getting used to it, Mom. He is.”
Her thoughts had slowed down, too. Her brain felt grainy and thick. “You weren’t so sure you liked the idea.”
“But I do.” Cait nibbled on her lower lip before going on in a burst. “I hated the idea of giving the baby away. This is, well, it’s scary, too, but in a
different way. But once I thought about it, I knew it was right. You’ll love the baby, and I always wanted a sister or brother. Plus, I never knew how much you wanted another baby. I can tell you really do want her, and it makes me feel…I don’t know, like I’m giving you a gift. And that feels good.”
A sob escaped Molly. It came from nowhere. She hadn’t even felt it rising to her throat. She covered her mouth with her hand and stared over it with blurry vision.
“Oh, Mom!” Cait flung herself at her mother.
Molly gave in to the tears and wrapped her arms around her daughter, who held her as tightly. She became aware that Cait was swaying on her feet, instinctively rocking her mother. That made Molly cry harder, and laugh, too. My fifteen-year-old daughter is comforting me as if I were a distraught child. The realization of the astonishing role reversal blazed through her.
“I love you,” Molly blubbered, laughed again, then cried some more. Cait had begun to giggle, too, although Molly caught a glimpse of her wet face and knew she was also crying.
It was a completely ridiculous scene, and wonderful, too. It had to be five minutes before Molly pulled herself together enough to straighten.
“I have to blow my nose.” More like, I ab doo bo by dose.
They both went into the bathroom, both blew, both mopped and washed their faces and giggled a little more at the absurdity and the marvel of sharing so completely.
And finally they sat on Molly’s bed, limber Cait cross-legged at the foot and Molly leaning back against a heap of pillows at the head. They looked at each other.
“What did Trevor really say?” Molly asked.
Cait’s face was blotchy and Molly suspected hers was worse. She had a redhead’s skin. Plus her eyes were way puffier than her daughter’s.
“When I first told him yesterday, he was freaked. That’s when he told his dad. But I guess he thought about it, and he’s really okay with the idea. If…well, we were both thinking maybe you and his dad might get married, and if you did Trevor would have to get used to thinking about the baby as, like, a sister or brother. But if you don’t, he won’t see the baby any more than if she was adopted by someone else. Unless, well, we stay, um, friends. You know.”
Molly wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She’d been trying not to think about Cait and Trevor’s relationship. They’d obviously grown close. But were they sleeping together again? She’d decided not to ask. It was a little late to worry about an unwanted pregnancy, wasn’t it? Not to mention a little late to worry about any impact on her own relationship with Trevor’s father.
She made a noise that could be taken as vague agreement.
“The thing is…Mr. Ward said he was in love with you.” Cait looked strangely stern. “Are you in love with him?”
Molly couldn’t do anything but nod. She hurt too much.
“Then…you should have talked to him. Why didn’t you?”
Why hadn’t she? These past weeks, they’d talked about everything else under the sun. What if he had made the same decision? Asked Cait and Trevor if he could keep the baby and raise it, without once having mentioned to her that the possibility had even crossed his mind?
Her heart cramped. I would have been hurt, of course. Worse than that—I’d have felt rejected. Ignored. As if I was inconsequential to him.
Which, she realized, was exactly what he’d felt.
Cait was watching her. “So?”
“So what?”
“Are you going to go see him and explain?”
Those knife blades were still embedded in her. She needed to pull them out, but was afraid of how much she’d bleed.
“No.” Her voice was dull. “I’m not.”
“Why?”
“You heard him.”
“He was mad.” Cait frowned. “I’ve said really awful things to you when I was mad, and you forgive me. Because you love me no matter what. That’s what you always say. Don’t you love him enough to forgive him?”
“This is different.”
“Because you think he doesn’t want the baby?”
Molly laughed, and it wasn’t a nice sound. “Think?”
“Because you might have to choose between him and the baby,” Cait said slowly.
The words stole Molly’s breath. Was that why she hadn’t talked to Richard about what she was thinking? Because she’d known he wouldn’t want to keep this baby? Because…she’d been afraid that, if he forced the choice, she would choose him?
Oh, God, she thought—I would have. I would have chosen him.
So…why hadn’t she?
Because…I never let myself acknowledge that the choice might have to be made. No, she’d told herself that he was an uncertain factor in her planning. After all, he hadn’t asked her to marry him, had he? Now, feeling as if she’d been stabbed again, and this time she’d rammed the blade into her own belly, Molly faced a truth. Of course he was going to ask her to marry him. He wasn’t a man to say “I love you” and not mean it wholeheartedly, with all that followed. She was the one who’d put off having that conversation. Because… She wasn’t absolutely sure. Maybe because she’d wanted to present him with a fait accompli. Had she thought once it was done, he’d hide his reluctance and accept her decision, because he loved her?
Yes. Dear God, yes, she thought, misery gripping her. That’s exactly what she hoped.
“Mom?
“He shut the door, Cait.”
“Mom, talk to him!”
She heard his voice. His cruelty. Even if you don’t give a damn about me, make some effort to think about your daughter and my son, will you? And a little less about yourself?
“No,” she said. “No.”
* * *
“SO, WHAT’D YOU SAY TO HER?” Trevor leaned against the doorjamb, blocking the exit from the kitchen.
Hateful things. Richard’s gut knotted when he remembered. The look on Molly’s face… A look he’d put there. Eyes closed, he squeezed the bridge of his nose until the cartilage creaked. “I was angry.”
“Why?” Trev sounded genuinely puzzled. “I mean, I wasn’t sure I liked the idea, but now that I’ve thought about it I think it might be good. Instead of always wondering, you know, Cait and I won’t have to. Because he’ll be part of our family.” He hesitated. “I guess you didn’t want another kid.”
Richard was ashamed that he hadn’t even thought it out that thoroughly. It had honestly never occurred to him that keeping the baby, for either him or Molly, was an option. No, in general he wouldn’t have said he wanted to start a new family. But if he’d married Molly, in the normal course of events, and she’d desperately wanted a baby—would he have been willing?
Maybe, he thought, then had to suppress a groan. Yeah, probably. He guessed there’d been a fear factor for him. He’d loved his kids desperately, and had lost them. He wasn’t sure he could survive a loss like that again.
But he’d just suffered one, anyway, and it was his own fault. He hadn’t known he could love a woman as much as he did Molly. He didn’t even know why her, why now. It was, that’s all. And he’d gone over to her house and told her she was so selfish, to get what she wanted she was willing to hurt everyone else, including her own daughter.
His stomach heaved and he turned away from Trevor to face the kitchen sink. In case.
“I said unforgivable things,” he said dully.
“Cait said maybe she could talk her mom into getting another job and moving away, so you don’t have to see the baby.”
Bracing his hands on the counter, Richard swallowed back another surge of nausea. “No,” he managed to say. “I don’t want that.”
“But you hate the idea. And…you might run into her sometimes. Wow. What if I want to spend time with my kid?”
My kid. Trevor had moved from terror and rebellion to a full sense of responsibility and even emotional acceptance, while his father… God. While I told Molly—in Cait’s hearing—that keeping our grandchild would torture all of us.
Ho
w could I say that? Mean it, even for one, enraged minute?
Richard didn’t know.
“This really sucks!” Trevor paced across the kitchen and back, his steps agitated. “Things were good. It’s me that messed them up. Again.”
“No.” God help me. “I did that all by myself.”
“If I hadn’t told you. If Ms. Callahan had come to you herself.”
“If she’d come to me and said, ‘I’ve decided to keep the baby, and Cait and Trevor have agreed’?” Richard shook his head. “It wouldn’t have made any difference, Trevor. I thought…” Damn, this was hard to say. His throat and tongue weren’t cooperating. “I thought we had an understanding. We weren’t engaged yet…”
“Because of me,” his son said desperately.
“Partly,” he conceded. “Partly we just hadn’t gotten there yet. But we had gotten far enough that, if she felt the same about me as I do about her, she should have talked to me. And that’s the bottom line. She wouldn’t have cut me out like this if she had been thinking marriage. Seems I was kidding myself.”
Trev stared at him with wide, shocked eyes. “But…shouldn’t you talk to her?”
Richard grunted and ran a hand over his face. “I think I’ve done enough talking,” he said, and held up a hand when Trevor’s mouth opened. “Then and now.”
He stepped into the utility room, started the washing machine and began dumping dirty clothes in heedlessly.
Irritatingly enough, the door opened behind him. “Uh, Dad?”
His shoulders tensed. Teeth gritted, he stuffed a pair of jeans in. Shit, he’d forgotten to put the laundry soap in first.
“I was wondering.”
“What?” Richard snapped.
“Well, I know I took off not that long ago. So maybe I haven’t earned driving privileges again.”
If he’d been capable of humor, this would be funny. “But you want your car back.”
“Well…yeah.”
He closed his eyes again. The washer began churning. Still no soap. White briefs spun by, tangled in a denim pant leg. Richard sighed. “All right. Fine.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to his kid. “You know which one it is. Screw up again and I’ll be taking it back.”
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