The Diaper Diaries

by Abby Gaines

  They shouldn’t have come; she wasn’t ready to expose her relationship to scrutiny.

  They sat at the oak dining table to eat. Susan, at the head of the table, directed Olivia and Bethany to sit on either side of her. Silas and Tyler were opposite each other farther down.

  The two men were engrossed in a discussion of how the foundation worked, when Susan leaned close to Olivia. “Silas is unusual, isn’t he?”

  Olivia nodded, though she knew Susan used the word as a euphemism. She meant odd.

  “He’s wearing sneakers,” Susan said. “I’m not even sure they match.”

  Olivia was certain they didn’t. “There are worse things than wearing sneakers to dinner.”

  Susan put down her silverware and hissed, “You’re making a mistake, Olivia.”

  “Just because Silas doesn’t dress well,” Olivia began defensively.

  “It’s not just the clothes. Nothing about this makes sense.”

  “I like him.” Though that didn’t make much sense, either.

  “He’s the wrong man for you,” Susan said. “And you know I’m always right about you and men.”

  It was true. Olivia normally welcomed Susan’s opinions of the men she dated—her friend had excellent instincts.

  “Maybe you’re wrong this time.”

  Susan had always been the bossy one in their friendship, and she didn’t like being contradicted. “Listen to me, Olivia, or you’ll end up making a fool of yourself.”

  Too late, both women realized the men had stopped talking, and everyone had heard Susan.

  Silas put his hand over Olivia’s on the tabletop.

  Susan blushed slightly. “I’m sorry, it was rude of me to let you hear that.”

  “Whereas saying it behind my back wouldn’t have been?” Silas asked mildly.

  Susan’s color deepened. “I’m not saying you’re not a nice man, Silas. I just don’t think you’re right for Olivia. And—” she drew a sharp breath “—I can’t help wondering if you’re using her to get to Tyler.”

  Strangely, the thought had never once occurred to Olivia. But now Susan said it, doubt pierced her on all sides. It was entirely possible that Silas was exploiting her attraction to him. She swallowed, looked at him, waited for him to say in that deep voice that he found her a “very interesting woman.”

  If she could just hear that sturdy, Silas-style endorsement, she would be fine.

  He was staring at her. She read his mind as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud. Take a risk. He wanted her to trust him—he deserved to have her trust him. But he’d never said he loved her….

  “Olivia,” Tyler said from across the table, and she tore her gaze from Silas, “remember those instincts we were talking about?”

  It was all very well for Tyler to tell her to trust herself—he wasn’t the one who stood to lose…everything.

  Olivia shut her eyes, aware she was at a crossroads. She knew Susan’s intentions were pure. Others would say far worse. If she thought they had no future, now was the time to end it.

  Silas still cupped her hand. Olivia turned hers over, so their palms met. “Silas,” she said, “will you come to the Biedermeyers’ ball with me next week?”

  Susan looked shocked. Stu and Margie Biedermeyer were staunchly correct. Tyler gave Olivia a thumbs-up.

  “Yes,” Silas said.

  Usually Olivia loved that he either said yes or no, no conditions, no questions, no procrastination. But her invitation was a significant milestone, and she’d have liked him to acknowledge that. But this was Silas, the man she’d decided to take on trust.

  SILAS DIDN’T SAY anything about her decision on the drive home. But he did tell her he had met the Biedermeyers. In fact, as they talked about Atlanta society, the kind of thing they never talked about, she learned that Silas knew many of her friends. She’d been aware his family had had plenty of money—which was how he lived in this beautiful home on an academic salary—but she hadn’t realized how far their circles overlapped with hers.

  Olivia felt as if she was being rewarded for her brave decision. All she had to do now was make sure Silas was presentable on the big night.“Silas…sweetheart,” she said, as she drove through his automatic gates, “would you mind if I choose something for you to wear to the ball?”

  “Sure. Do you want to take a look at what I’ve got?” He gestured toward the house.

  She’d only been in his bedroom once, when he’d given her a tour of the place. She’d admired the cherrywood four-poster, the beautiful silk taffeta drapes. She had a feeling she wouldn’t admire the contents of his closet.

  “If you don’t mind,” she said, “I might find something…somewhere else.”

  The look he gave her was long, harder than she expected, and Olivia felt her face grow warm. But his kiss good-night was as thrilling, as powerful, as demanding, as always.

  TWO DAYS LATER, Tyler and the rest of the Warrington Foundation’s Philanthropic Strategy committee heard this month’s six shortlisted applications for funding.

  Silas turned up in an impeccably cut navy suit, pale blue lawn shirt and a red striped tie. Tyler had to admit that his case for the preservation of the red-spotted tree frog hit all the right buttons and was as professionally prepared as any pitch could be.Next up came the team from Toronto’s Hospital for Sick Children. It would have been hard to find a bunch of more dedicated and able medics. Their presentation was fluent, comprehensive, compelling.

  “Those guys are good,” Jake, who’d sat in as Warrington Construction’s observer on the committee, said afterward. He slid a glance at Tyler. “How’s the cute kidney doctor going to stack up?”

  “She’ll be fine,” Tyler said shortly, and prayed it was true.

  Bethany had refused to let him hear her presentation ahead of time, even though he’d offered to coach her. He’d had to be content with asking Olivia to schedule Bethany’s pitch for two o’clock, right after lunch. The team would be fresh, and if she arrived early, she could chat to the committee less formally before she began her presentation. He figured it might relax her. Bethany had been wary of being too relaxed, so he wasn’t sure if she would get there ahead of time or not.

  By ten to two, he’d given up on her early arrival.

  At five to two, she stepped into the foundation’s boardroom. She bore no resemblance to the woman in the ill-fitting suit who’d pitched a year ago.

  She wore a dress Tyler had never seen—copper-colored wool crepe, high waisted to emphasize her bust, then slim fitting to her knees. Her heels were higher than normal, making her calves look even more slender. Bronze lipstick made her mouth shimmer beneath that pert nose, and those blue eyes were mesmerizing beneath lashes that had been lengthened by mascara.

  She looked calm and confident, except for her white-knuckled grip on the folder tucked under her arm.

  Tyler had planned to treat her like any other candidate. But he couldn’t keep away from her.

  He reached her almost before she made it over the threshold. He stood close so no one would overhear, and said, “You look incredible.”

  Her cheeks colored prettily. “I asked Sabrina to help me choose a new outfit when we had lunch yesterday.”

  New perfume, too, he guessed. She smelled of peaches and honeysuckle; instinctively he moved closer. “You should have told me you could look like this,” he murmured.

  “Because looks are so important?” Humor lit her eyes. “I was afraid you might not be able to control yourself.”

  His body tightened. “You’re probably right.”

  Behind them, people were starting to sit down, and Tyler heard water glasses being topped up, the shuffle of papers. It was time to start.

  Certain no one could see, he touched a hand to her cheek. “Good luck, Peaches.”

  She didn’t need luck. Tyler silently cheered her as she smiled a greeting at the committee, introduced herself and her work, and launched into a polished presentation.

  Tyler tossed in in
sightful and intelligent questions that allowed her to show off her knowledge. He could see her confidence grow by the minute as his colleagues took their lead from him and gave her their full attention. She didn’t stumble once, and her presentation hit every one of the foundation’s criteria.

  It was hard to believe this was the same Bethany Hart he’d listened to a year ago.

  When she left the meeting, Tyler could tell she was walking on air. He watched her go, the swing of her behind in her new dress. And knew he had to make one of the toughest decisions of his life.

  BETHANY KEPT the promise she’d made her brother. She told Tyler she needed a day off on Saturday to visit her parents.

  “What am I supposed to do with Ben for a whole day?” he demanded.“The same as you do for two hours, only more.”

  He frowned at her as she folded Ben’s clean laundry. “Ben and I will come with you.”

  “No, you won’t.” She started in on her own laundry. “Find your own family freak show. I need to talk to Mom and Dad about Ryan.”

  “I assume you’ll be driving there in the car I bought you?”

  He’d bought her a Honda Accord to take Ben around town. “Are you saying because you bought the car you get to go everywhere with me?” she said. “Because I need to make a trip to the store to buy diapers.”

  “I’m merely suggesting I might be able to help.” Tyler eyed the panties she was folding with interest.

  “You can’t,” she said with absolute certainty as she stuffed the panties beneath Ben’s rompers. “Besides, you don’t know how to help if it doesn’t involve signing a check.” Not that she actually believed that these days, but it wouldn’t pay to let him see that.

  “I’m coming with you,” he said stubbornly.

  It occurred to her he might be planning an extravagant gesture—announcing in front of her parents that the foundation would renew her funding. But that was the stuff of dreams. More likely, he didn’t want to change diapers for a whole day.

  Of course, there was a faint chance Mom and Dad might be more reasonable with a stranger present.

  “Okay,” she said, “you can come.”

  “PRETTY PLACE,” Tyler said as they drove past the antebellum houses that made Madison one of the state’s tourist attractions.

  “Yep,” Bethany said glumly.“Wasn’t it the only town around here that Sherman didn’t burn down in the Civil War?”

  “Yep.” Her gloom seemed to deepen.

  Where was the intrepid battler who never hesitated to come out fighting? “Your parents can’t be that bad,” he told her. “You just need to stand up to them.”

  Her lips flattened. “Thanks for that useful tip.”

  That’s what a guy got for trying to help.

  Bethany’s parents lived in a quiet cul-de-sac. From the way Bethany dragged her feet up the cobbled path to the front door of the Arts and Crafts–style home, you’d think she was on her way to an execution. Her own.

  She pushed open the door, called out a greeting. After a moment’s stifling silence, her parents came into the hallway.

  Mrs. Hart had the same coloring as Bethany and her brother, but unlike her daughter she enhanced it with well-chosen clothes. She was still pretty, with big, tragic eyes. Her husband was tall and spare, and one long arm curled protectively around his wife’s shoulders.

  Bethany kissed her parents. “Mom, Dad, meet Tyler Warrington. Tyler, these are my parents, Joanne and David Hart. And this is Ben.” Her parents made a perfunctory fuss over the baby.

  Tyler shook hands with her parents, while Bethany carried Ben, asleep in his car seat, to a bedroom.

  They sat down to coffee in a living room dominated by photos of a girl who looked like Bethany but wasn’t. She was pretty; Bethany was prettier. Melanie Hart had had serious eyes, a thin frame and a mouth that looked as if it might quiver. There was a lot of her mother in her.

  The conversation focused on incidentals for all of fifteen minutes. Then Bethany put her mug down on the coffee table and said, “Mom, Dad, I’m here about Ryan.”

  “What’s wrong?” Her mother started to flap and flutter. “Did something happen? Why didn’t the school call me?”

  “It’s nothing,” Bethany soothed her. Then she said firmly, “No, it’s not nothing, it’s important. Ryan’s being bullied.”

  David tsked. “Not this again.” He took his wife’s hand in his. “Your mother and I have spoken to Ryan. We concluded he doesn’t like being away from home, and that’s led him to exaggerate a couple of minor incidents in his own mind.”

  “He’s upset,” Bethany countered. “I think you should talk to the principal.”

  “It’s not true,” her father insisted.

  “Maybe he needs to come home and go to a local school. He’s not as independent as I was,” Bethany said. “I think he’s lonely.”

  Joanne’s hands tightened on the arm of her chair. “You know I’m not strong enough to have him here, Bethany.” Her reproachful look suggested Bethany was unspeakably cruel to even suggest it.

  “Your mother hasn’t been well lately,” David said.

  From what Tyler remembered Ryan saying, Joanne hadn’t been well for some time. He wondered exactly what the matter was.

  “How about we talk about something else,” David said to Tyler. “I saw in the paper the other day that the Warrington Foundation is committed to supporting kidney patients—that’s great news.”

  Tyler made a noncommittal reply. He couldn’t see anywhere this conversation could head that wouldn’t be a problem for Bethany.

  “Does that mean you’ll renew Bethany’s funding?”

  Bingo.

  “Dad, I pitched to the foundation yesterday, but I won’t know the outcome for a while.” Bethany slid an apologetic glance at Tyler. “And it’s not just Tyler’s decision.”

  Both her parents looked suspicious, and rightly so, Tyler thought.

  “Dear,” her mom said, “did you make sure these people know exactly what you can achieve with that money?”

  There followed an interrogation and an impromptu—and totally useless—coaching session, that had Bethany tying herself in knots.

  When Tyler couldn’t stand it any longer, he said, “Ryan seems a nice kid.” Why not exchange one touchy subject for another?

  There was a brief pause while the combatants adjusted.

  “You’ve obviously done a great job bringing him up,” Tyler said to fill the silence. “But I think Bethany’s right. He’s lonely.”

  One good thing about speaking so plainly, he wore out his welcome fast. Bethany’s parents were stiff and suspicious, no matter how deeply he drew on his reserves of charm. When Tyler told Bethany it was time they headed home, her folks didn’t argue.

  Back in the BMW, Bethany sat hugging herself, despite the car’s excellent heating system.

  “Thanks for your support back there,” she said as they hit the freeway.

  “I did more harm than good,” he said ruefully.

  “It was nice to have someone on my side.” She sounded almost shy.

  “Did your mom ever take you shopping for clothes?” he asked.

  She blinked at the change of direction. “Not after Mel died.”

  “You need to dress a lot better than you do.”

  She bristled. “My clothes are none of your business.”

  “You looked fantastic at yesterday’s pitch. I realized the crap you normally wear is a sign of a lack of self-respect.”

  “That’s idiotic.” Her eyes flashed. “My work is very important.”

  “I know you respect your work,” he said. “But you’re more than your research, Bethany. Having met your parents, I can see why maybe you don’t know that, but trust me, it’s true. You’re smart, kind, determined—you’re as persistent as a damn leech.” She started, and he said, “That’s a compliment, by the way. If you don’t know where to find that self-respect inside yourself, then start building it on the outside. Dress properly,
show everyone how beautiful you are, and then you might start to realize you’re just as incredible on the inside.”

  No one had ever said anything so blunt, so personal, so insightful to her before.

  Bethany dropped her chin to her chest before Tyler could see the shock in her face. Her hair swung forward, concealing the unexpected, illogical tears that scored hot, salty trails down her cheeks.

  “Bethany?” A hand touched her hair, and she shied away. “Peaches, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Sorry she was so pathetic? Sorry to have held up a reality check that threatened to unbalance her? Or sorry because he’d already figured out what Bethany had only just realized: that sometime in the last few weeks she’d added Tyler to the list of people she loved and who didn’t love her back.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  BY THE TIME they got back to Atlanta, Ben was grumpy, Bethany subdued and Tyler edgy in a way he didn’t recognize, but it felt vaguely like a storm was brewing.

  “What exactly is the problem with your mom’s health?” he asked Bethany as he dished up the Chinese takeout they’d bought on the way home. Thankfully, she’d recovered from that little upset in the car before he’d even figured out what he’d said to cause it.Kneeling on the rug, she buttoned Ben’s rocket-and-teddy pajamas. “In my professional opinion, she’s suffered severe depression since Melanie died. In fact, since Melanie first got ill.”

  “Have you told her that?”

  “I have, but she’s of a generation that sees depression as weakness.”

  “So instead she wallows in it, and drives her other children away because she can’t cope.”

  Bethany tsked. “If you knew how long, how hard, Mom and Dad fought for Melanie’s survival you might be more sympathetic. Mom had Melanie when she was thirty-two. She and Dad had been trying for a baby for ten years. Mel was their miracle.”

  “So your mom was…how old when she had Ryan?”

  “Forty-five. Another miracle, though I’m not sure they saw it that way. By the time Melanie died, I think Mom and Dad had exhausted their stock of parental emotions.”