A Second Chance at Forever

by Stewart, JM

  Out on the porch, however, she once again came face to face with Alex’s glare.

  He looked angry, disappointed. Her stomach twisted with nervousness. She remembered too well the exact look on David’s face the one time she’d had to tell him she thought she might be pregnant. Birth control sometimes failed. It wasn’t a hundred percent effective. She’d taken her pills religiously. The one month she’d had to take antibiotics for a strep infection, they’d used backup. Luckily her scare had been a false alarm. Still, he’d gone ballistic.

  Part of her refused to back down again, to be that weak person who’d been married to David.

  Her stomach twisting itself into knots, she forced herself to hold his gaze. “When did you talk to Brock?”

  Alex opened his mouth, but immediately shut it again and pivoted away from her. He paced to the end of the porch, dragging both hands through his hair as he went. Meeting the railing, he dropped his hands to his sides. As abruptly as he’d turned away from her, he faced her again. “A week ago.” He leaned back against the railing and gripped it in his hands, those dark eyes narrowed in accusation. “He called me on a lunch break. It’s been a week since Brock dropped that tidbit into my lap. You haven’t been answering my calls.”

  Brock. She turned her gaze to the weathered boards beneath her feet and glared at the picture of her brother that popped into her mind. She should have figured once her brother had discovered her secret that he might decide to share it with Alex. The two had been glued at the hip since Alex and his parents moved in down the street all those years ago.

  “Brock needs to remember to mind his own business,” she mumbled half to herself.

  “Would you ever have told me?”

  She jerked her gaze up, met his glare with one of her own. “Seven days isn’t exactly waiting a long time, Alex. I work two jobs.”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s a fair question, Ang,” he said, a hard edge to his voice. “We weren’t exactly careless. You weren’t even going to tell me who you were that night.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Was I alone in that shower, Alex?”

  A flush rose in her cheeks, but Angela clenched her jaw. Angry at him for all but accusing her of trying to trick him. And at herself for the predicament she found herself in. She wasn’t a hormonal teenager anymore. She knew better. The pull-out method was a ticking time bomb. The man seemed to make her lose her mind. She would never have even considered spending the night with a stranger let alone “riding bareback” in the shower. Yet somehow she’d lost her head all the same. She’d gotten too caught up in him.

  “And did it ever occur to you that this was a surprise to me too and maybe I just needed time to figure out how to tell you?”

  He dropped his gaze to the ground and stood for a moment, staring at the floor beneath him. Several heartbeats of silence passed between them, loud and unbearable, before he finally raised his gaze to hers again.

  He arched a brow. “Is the baby mine?”

  On some logical plane, she knew his question likely came from the confusion of finding out the way he had. Considering she hadn’t even planned to tell him who she was that night, she couldn’t blame him for asking this question.

  But the force of his accusation still hit her like a slap in the face. She stared at him, for a moment, unable to think beyond the simple act of drawing air into her lungs. She was a lot of things, not a single one of them perfect, but dammit, she didn’t sleep around. It hurt, in ways that astounded her that he would accuse her of such.

  Then something shifted within her. Anger rose up from the pit of her stomach, infusing her every cell. As her fists clenched at her sides, she knew if he were close enough, she would have slapped him.

  She drew her brows together and clenched her jaw, her fists now beginning to tremble with the rising emotion. “Who else’s would it be, Alex?”

  Uncertain whether she wanted to cry or scream, she pivoted on her heel. She couldn’t form a more coherent thought than that. The tears welled up fast and damned if she’d let another man know he’d hurt her. Wrenching the knob, she stormed into the house, remembering a moment too late that her mother was upstairs napping. Damn. She shouldn’t have slammed the door.

  She got as far as the kitchen sink before the tears refused to be held back any longer.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It should be her and her husband bringing a bundle of joy into the world, something to be celebrated. Instead she would be a single mother. On top of it, Alex didn’t look the least bit happy to hear the news.

  The front door creaked open, closing a moment later with a quiet snap. Every inch of her buzzed on high alert as Alex’s footsteps crossed the old weathered floorboards. Dread settled heavy in her stomach. She didn’t want to know what he had to say.

  When the footsteps stopped, she didn’t need to turn to know he was there. His presence filled the surrounding air until all she could think or breathe was the feel of him behind her. To make matters worse, every time she inhaled, his warm, masculine scent drifted to her on the breeze blowing in through the open windows. It tormented her senses, brought memories of being curled up along his naked body. When she’d left him it had permanently imbedded itself in her skin. She’d smelled him for days afterward.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and etched with regret. “I shouldn’t have said that. That wasn’t fair.” He paused, drew in a long breath and released it. “It just…caught me by surprise. You’re kind of throwing me for a loop here, Ang.”

  “You’re not the only one, Alex.” She yearned to turn, to see him, but she couldn’t make herself move. She couldn’t bear to look at him, knowing she’d find contempt on his face when what she longed to see was the spark they’d had their night together. Instead, she gripped the counter’s edge until her fingertips turned white and began one of the hardest explanations of her life.

  The weight of her memories pressed down on her. “Do you know what David said to me when he left that morning?”

  She’d never forget it, could still hear the condescending tone of his voice. Not two seconds prior, he’d told her he’d been made full partner at the law firm he worked at. She’d been so excited. Then he’d dropped the news in her lap.

  “He’d said, ‘I’m in a new phase in my life, Ang.’” She mocked his tone of voice, hearing it echo in her head. “I need someone who can change with me, who can keep up with me. Let’s face it, you can’t.’”

  He’d said other, crueler things to her that day, had told her she was too inhibited, too plain Jane. He’d actually called her dowdy, leaving her full of doubts about herself as a woman. David hadn’t been happy with her for years. How many times had he told her how to dress? Or that she needed to wear more makeup? “You need to look like a woman, Angie,” he’d told her once.

  She couldn’t bear to repeat the words out loud, didn’t want to see the pity she knew would light in Alex’s eyes when she said them.

  When no sound came from behind her, she forced herself to face Alex. He leaned a shoulder against the kitchen doorframe, arms folded across his chest, his gaze on the floor. He looked so right standing there. It gave her the oddest sense, like he belonged in this kitchen, in this house, with her. How many times growing up had he run through the front door and stood in the very same spot?

  He looked up when she turned. The very same pull she’d felt then filled the space between them, whether either one of them wanted it there or not. Apparently he didn’t, for he turned to frown at the floor again.

  “I was a virgin when I met David, did you know that? Gave my virginity to a man who left me for a younger woman. He was my first. My only. That night we spent together, Alex…” She shook her head. “First, last and only time I’ve ever had a one night stand, and it was with a man I’ve known since I was eight.”

  If that didn’t tell him how pathetic she was, she didn’t know what would.

  He released a heavy breath. The stiff set of his sho
ulders softened as he looked up at her. “You should have told me, Ang.”

  She turned to the window, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The sky was lit with orange and pink hues. On any other day the sight would have taken her breath away. “I was going to. I just hadn’t figured out how yet.”

  “It starts with dialing my number,” he said, his voice more gentle.

  She sighed. “I tried. A million times, I tried.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  “Because…because I was afraid.” The words left her mouth on a bare whisper. Angela shook her head with all the misery rising within her.

  A million different things had gone through her mind. That he’d be there for her when his heart wasn’t truly in it, on some misguided sense of chivalry. Afraid he’d changed his mind about their time together and now regretted it, which would do nothing but destroy what the night had been for her. Or worse…

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t want the baby.”

  She wanted this baby. More than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. Once the news had settled into her bones, she knew what she wanted. She’d yearned to be a mother from the day she’d married David. He hadn’t wanted children. It had caused many arguments between them over the years. He’d been adamant about it, had insisted on birth control or he wouldn’t make love to her. Oh, they’d discussed it before getting married, but back then, she’d been sure he would change his mind.

  She’d all but given up on ever being a mother. At thirty-five and divorced, her time was ticking out. But now? Now it was like God handed her a gift. Except it was the wrong time, the wrong situation.

  Tears burned behind her eyelids. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  She turned to face him and lifted her chin, prepared herself for the denial she was sure was coming. “I’m keeping this baby, Alex.”

  Chapter Seven

  One look at Angela, and Alex felt as if he’d been sucker punched. Across the kitchen, she stood with her back ramrod straight, a stubborn lift to her chin as she stared at him. Clearly she waited for his rebuttal and was prepared to fight back. The vulnerability screaming at him from the depths of her searching eyes had the breath halting in his lungs.

  The entire flight out to Vegas he’d wanted to throttle her. How could he not be the first person she told about the pregnancy? This was twice now she’d kept an important detail from him. Standing on the porch, waiting for her to answer the door, he wanted to hold on to that anger. He needed it to keep him sane, to keep the demons at bay. The ones that reminded him how wrong it felt to be a having another baby without Karen.

  Or how much guilt still filled his chest at wanting another woman.

  One look at Angela when she’d opened the door ten minutes ago and everything he’d planned to say flew right out the window.

  The woman had haunted him. He’d dreamt about her. About her soft curves against him at night. The creaminess of her skin. The sheer power of her passion. How many nights had he woken in a sweat with the sound of her soft cry still ringing in his ears? The yearning ache he felt for her hadn’t dissipated no matter how deeply he buried himself in his casework in an effort to think about anything but her.

  Yet here she was, in the flesh. The way she stared at him now, like he was the enemy, felt wrong. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. The sight wrenched his gut into a tangled knot, knowing he’d been the one to put them there.

  Giving in to the urge to somehow reassure her, he pushed away from the doorway and crossed the kitchen to her. “You obviously expect me to tell you I don’t want this baby. I can’t say I blame you, but you’re forgetting one thing, Ang.” He turned to look at her as he leaned back against the counter beside her. “I’m here. I came to you.”

  She didn’t say anything, merely stared at him. The woman pulled all sanity from his mind. Her scent assaulted him. Soft, fruity and feminine, it swirled around his head, filled his nostrils with every breath he took. The warmth of her body beside him called to him like a beacon in the dark. Alex gripped the counter’s edge in an effort not to tug her into his arms.

  She turned to look out the window, her back stiffening. “But why are you here, Alex? I don’t need a white knight. So if that’s the only reason, you may as well go home. I can take care of this baby on my own.”

  The gruff tone of her voice, the stiff set of her shoulders, made him cringe. There was a wound in there somewhere. Her ex-husband had hurt her deeply. Something in Alex rebelled against the thought of it. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to nail the bastard who’d brought her such pain.

  The moment also filled him with an irresistible need to take her in his arms and somehow convince her everything would be all right.

  The feeling left him conflicted, the wounded place inside of him reminding him he shouldn’t want any of this at all. It was only supposed to be a weekend fling. One night he could walk away from. It was supposed to be the bridge between a painful past and finally getting on with his life.

  Except that night had become so much more, and he was drowning in the complications.

  He opened his mouth to answer, but the words never left his tongue, for a soft, familiar voice called to him. “Alex McKinley.”

  He turned toward the sound in time to watch Angela’s mother step off the last stair into the kitchen. He had barely enough time to register her presence before she hurried across the room. She came to a stop in front of him and reached up to take his face in her hands, pulling him down for a kiss on the cheek. Tiny as she was, barely coming up to the center of his chest, he had to bend to receive her embrace.

  “First a phone call, now you’ve come to see me. Life doesn’t get much better.” She released him, delight in her eyes as she peered up at him. “How long has it been since I’ve seen you?”

  Alex forced a smile, his stomach twisting.

  “Way too long.” How much did her mother know about the pregnancy? Had Angela told her yet? Did she have any idea the baby was his?

  He glanced at Angela, cocked a brow in silent question. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

  He nodded. Stepping into his role, he looked down at her mother and gave the woman an obvious once over. “You’re looking pretty good, Mrs. L.”

  It had been twenty years since he’d seen her as well. She was thinner than he remembered. She’d always been a heavier set woman. Her skin had a healthy glow to it. Her bright blue eyes—eyes that reminded him too much of her daughter’s—sparkled. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, given her long fight with cancer, but she did look good.

  A flush tingeing her cheeks, she pursed her lips and waved a hand in dismissal. “How are your parents doing, honey? I haven’t spoken to your mother in a while. She missed our last Bridge game. I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance to call her. I trust she’s well?”

  He nodded. “They’re fine. In Cancun, actually. A second honeymoon.”

  His parents were old fashioned people. They still owned the same house he’d grown up in, three doors down and around the corner from the one he stood in. They had the kind of marriage he’d wanted with Karen. The kind dreams were built on and that rarely existed in today’s society anymore. Despite being an only child, though, they hadn’t spoiled him. His father had instilled a strict work ethic. “If you want anything in this life, you have to work for it,” was his motto. “Nothing in this life is free.” The same had applied to their marriage. They worked at it. Or so his father had told him the day Alex married Karen.

  Mrs. Lewis’ face lit up. “Well isn’t that sweet. Good for them.” Her brows rose in silent question. “You’ll stay for dinner then? Angela’s put together a pot roast. Plenty to go around.”

  He patted his stomach. “Haven’t had a home cooked meal in way too long, Mrs. L. I’d love to stay.”

  The idea had been that he’d stay so he and Angela could talk, but the instant the words left his mouth he regretted them. Mrs. Lewis’ jovial expression fell. The look
in her eyes as she stared up at him made his gut wrench. He’d seen too much of that look over the last year. It only served to remind him of everything he wanted to forget.

  “How are you, honey?” she said, motherly concern in her tone. “Been a tough year for you.”

  “I’m fine, Mrs. L. Really.”

  “Well, you ever need anything, don’t hesitate, all right?” She clucked her tongue and shook her head as she reached up to touch his cheek.

  “I’m fine. Really.” He touched the woman’s hand in return, prayed it would be enough to deter her worrying. He appreciated the sentiment behind it, but he was tired of being fussed over. He’d gotten enough of it from his own mother and most of the women he worked with. It always niggled at the pain, reminded him too much of the loneliness he couldn’t escape. Reminded him he was ready to move on with his life but had trouble actually accomplishing it.

  Luckily for him, his comment seemed to satisfy Angela’s mother. She patted his hand and turned to Angela. “Sweetheart, your brother’s coming over to fix the leak in the bathroom sink upstairs. I’m heading over to Mrs. Dodson’s. She’s finally out of the hospital, and I’d like to see her.”

  Angela turned to her mother and nodded. “Give her my love. Tell her I’ll bring her over some of the roast later when it’s done.”

  Her mother smiled. “She’ll like that.”

  Then she quietly left the room, but no sooner had the front door closed behind her then it opened again.

  “Hello, hello, hello.”

  The familiar sound of Brock’s voice proceeded him into the kitchen. Two steps into the room, he froze. “Alex. What in the world brings you all the way out here? Weren’t you just here a month ago?”

  Alex’s gut knotted as he watched Brock’s shocked expression. He had to admit he hadn’t thought the trip out very well. He’d had a week to stew on the fact that Angela was pregnant and the child was likely his. A week to wait for her to call him back. For his emotions to wind themselves into a knot. Anger, frustration, awe, and fear all fought for supremacy inside of him, none of which he knew what to do with.