He shot a quick glance at Connor, who’d reclaimed the airplane and sat nearby, sucking on the wing. “I need to let you know that Ryan’s parents responded to my message. They’d like to visit as soon as possible.”
Her porcelain skin went white and her chin dropped.
So maybe he could’ve eased into that announcement. “They live in Illinois, and as soon as I give them the go-ahead, they’ll buy plane tickets.”
Skye’s Adam’s apple bobbed as she swallowed hard. “H-how... I mean— When do you— How soon will they be here?”
His gut twisted. This hurt her more than he expected. “I imagine it depends on the price of tickets and if there are seats available. They have friends in Denver they can stay with, or I can offer to let them stay in my extra bedroom. You won’t have to worry about hosting them or anything.”
As if that somehow made the whole situation easier. The sheen of moisture in her eyes instantly made him regret he hadn’t handled this differently.
“I’m not his legal guardian, so I can’t stop them from seeing Connor, but... What does this mean?”
“It means they want to meet their only grandson.” He palmed the back of his neck. “That’s really all I know.”
She glanced down and picked at her thumbnail. “Let me know when they’re coming.”
“Of course.” His gaze traveled to Connor again, and a sickening sensation lodged in his core. What would happen when Gerald and Irene saw Connor? It wasn’t like he and Skye had a future together. She’d made that abundantly clear just now. He wasn’t prepared to take care of Connor by himself, not when he’d spend forty or more hours a week on a demanding, often-dangerous wind farm. Not that Skye would ever allow him to have custody anyway. So wasn’t he doing the right thing by connecting Connor with his grandparents?
He had to get out of there. It hurt too much to think about where all this might lead. He pushed to his feet. “I’ll keep you posted. See you tomorrow.”
* * *
Cold air swirled around Skye as Gage closed the door, sending a shiver down her spine. Connor burst into tears and, honestly, she wanted to cry right along with him.
She turned around in time to see him crawl after Gage, then slap his palm against the closed door, sobbing.
Her vision blurred with fresh tears. Not only for Connor, but for the frigid conversation that created a seismic shift in her relationship with Gage. When she’d walked in a few minutes ago and saw Connor nestled in Gage’s lap, reading a book, some rogue wave of domestic longing had crashed over her. With Gage in his faded jeans and gray sweatshirt that read Navy, a very attractive hint of stubble clinging to his jaw—it was a powerful image that offered a glimpse of a future she’d never imagined. Suddenly she was questioning her decision to never be a mom, and everything she’d rehearsed and planned to say about their kiss felt...wrong.
But she’d said it all anyway. Telling him the kiss was a mistake and holding fast to her boundaries didn’t offer the satisfaction she’d hoped for. Instead she felt empty. Alone. This was what she wanted, right? Her independence, the career opportunities she deserved, freedom from a man who tried to diminish her dreams with his harsh words? Then why did she long to fling herself on the floor and mimic one of Connor’s epic tantrums? She touched her fingers to her lips. Maybe because she couldn’t forget how Gage’s kiss made her feel. Safe. Cherished. Respected.
She stood and crossed to the foyer, then gently pulled Connor into her arms. “It’s okay, buddy. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
Connor arched his back, resisting her attempts to comfort him. She carried him into the kitchen, hoping the suggestion of a snack might help, but he only wailed and pushed against her, trying to get free.
“Everything okay?”
Skye turned away from the pantry. Mom walked slowly toward them and stopped next to the dining room table, bracing her hands on the back of the chair. “He’s mad because Gage left.”
“I guess it’s good he cries when the babysitter leaves.” Mom smiled. “That’s how you know you’ve got a good one.”
Skye ignored the comment and set Connor at her feet, then pulled out the bottom cabinet drawer. “Look. Lots of containers. Want to play?”
He shook his head and screamed until his face was dark red and tears tracked down his cheeks. Oh brother. Skye dragged the cuff of her sweater across her cheeks to staunch her own tears. Anxiety and frustration churned inside as she tried to think of a way to get Connor to stop crying.
“Are you all right, sweetheart?” Mom gingerly pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Let me help him first.” Skye couldn’t think straight, or tell her mom what was going on, when he was so upset. She poured Cheerios into a plastic bowl with a handle and slotted lid. “Connor, look.” She knelt beside him and gently shook it to get his attention. “Would you like Cheerios?”
He drew a ragged breath, then cautiously stuck his chubby hand inside the container. It took him a minute to figure it out, but he eventually managed to get some cereal into his mouth.
“Very good.” Skye praised him, and his toothy grin made her heart ache. Once his grandparents saw him, they wouldn’t want to let him out of their sight.
What was she going to do?
Relieved he was occupied and mostly quiet, she joined her mother at the table.
“Tell me what happened.” Mom’s hand clasped hers.
“Gage says Ryan’s parents want to see Connor. They’re making arrangements to come from Illinois.”
“Oh dear.”
“I—I’m afraid they’ll want to take him.” Skye barely choked out the words. “We aren’t his legal guardians. If McKenna’s not here, how will we stop them?”
“Let’s not jump ahead.” Mom’s eyes glistened with tears. “This is all quite a shock, and I don’t blame you for being upset.”
Skye pulled her hand free and reached for a box of tissues. “There’s more.”
Mom’s brow arched. “Go on.”
“Gage and I, we, um, we kissed the other night. After Bethany and Allen’s party.”
“And that makes you cry?”
“I told him it shouldn’t have happened.” Shame crept over her. “I think that hurt his feelings.”
Mom nodded. “I’m sure it did. Do you feel kissing him was a mistake?”
“The timing is all wrong. This—” She swept her hand in a circle. “What we’re all doing for Connor feels temporary. What’s going to happen when McKenna finally comes back, Gage gets a job offer and I go back to Denver?”
Her mother flinched.
Oh no. Skye’s stomach plummeted. Mom thought she’d planned to stay? “Mom. You knew I was going back to Denver, right? That was our plan all along. I mean, I’ve already talked to my boss about this new promotion, and he says I’m one of the top candidates, so—”
“That was your plan,” Mom interrupted, avoiding Skye’s gaze as she picked at a loose thread in the quilted lavender place mat. “I guess I thought things were going so well you might change your mind.”
“Going well?” Skye stared in disbelief. “Connor was kicked out of day care, we’re relying on Aunt Linda and a stranger to help babysit, McKenna hasn’t been heard from in weeks and the store—”
Whoa. Too much information. She clamped her mouth closed.
Mom’s chin shot up, eyes wide. “What about the store?”
Skye’s heart pounded.
“Skye.” Mom’s tone grew stern. “What’s wrong with the store?”
Connor screeched, and Skye heard his palms slapping the linoleum as he crawled closer.
“I was going to wait until the end of the month to tell you.” Skye’s voice trembled.
“Tell me what?”
Connor grabbed Skye’s leg and tried to stand, his little brow furrowed.
She couldn’t move—para
lyzed by the fear in Mom’s eyes. “There isn’t much money in your account, Mom. I—I don’t know what Dad led you to believe, but you’re not making enough to cover the utility bills.”
Mom buried her face in her hands and started to sob. Connor grunted and pulled to a stand for the first time ever. Skye tried to smile at him through her blurred vision, and he began to cry, too.
They were a mess. A brokenhearted hot mess. She had no idea what to do about it, either.
Chapter Ten
Gage paced his apartment like a caged animal on Friday afternoon, anxiously awaiting Gerald and Irene’s arrival. While he’d anticipated at least a week before their visit, they’d purchased tickets for the first available flight. He and Skye and her family had all of forty-eight hours to adjust to the announcement that they were coming for a weekend visit and expected to spend quality time with Connor.
Gage’s stomach clenched. What if he couldn’t meet their expectations? What if Connor refused to pay any attention to them? What if they announced more surprises, like further plans to be involved in Connor’s life? The what-ifs were eating him alive.
It might’ve helped to talk with Skye about his concerns, but after his painful conversation with her about their never-should-have-happened kiss, he’d kept their interactions perfunctory. Polite. Respecting her boundaries was all he could do, because dwelling on their fleeting moment of happiness hurt too much. He wasn’t the man for her, he reminded himself. It was best if he focused on keeping his word to Ryan and making sure Connor’s needs were met.
He blew out a long breath and made a quick pass through the kitchen, stopping to move the vase of fresh flowers from the counter to the center of the table. Stepping back, he admired its new location. There. Irene seemed like a lady who’d appreciate a nice touch, and the woman who owned the new flower shop in town convinced him to go with the pink tulips.
Why are you trying so hard?
Regret. Fear. An intimidating mix of both. While the goal of the weekend focused on introducing them to Connor, he also anticipated a difficult conversation about Ryan’s death. A shiver coursed down his spine. He didn’t want to go there, either.
He continued down the hall for one last quick sweep of the guest room he’d hastily pulled together. Clearing out the last of the moving boxes, buying new sheets and a comforter, and making sure there were clean towels in the bathroom had kept him occupied the last two nights. Now the reality of hosting Ryan’s parents for the weekend hit hard and part of him yearned to find an escape route. He’d mentioned a few motels and a historic bed-and-breakfast in the next town, but they’d declined. Spending time with Connor was their priority and they didn’t want to waste time driving back and forth from a motel or their friends’ house in Denver.
Lord, please don’t let this be a huge mistake.
He breathed the earnest plea, knowing full well he’d let his guilt keep him from much more than superficial prayers lately. It was a heavy burden, yet he’d grown used to the weight of it. Would he ever break free? Was this weekend the first step toward freedom, or the makings of a more complicated scenario involving sweet, innocent Connor?
A firm knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts. With his heart kicking against his ribs, he strode across his apartment and braced for seeing Gerald and Irene again.
“Hey.” He offered what he hoped was a welcoming smile as he greeted them. “Come on in.”
“Thank you.” Gerald Simmons extended his hand. “Nice to see you again, Gage.”
“You as well, sir.” Gage shook his hand, noting the older man’s firm grasp and immaculate purple cashmere sweater layered over a crisp purple checked button-down and wool slacks.
“Once a navy man, always a navy man, huh?” Mr. Simmons chuckled. “No need to call me sir.”
“Hello, Mrs. Simmons.” Gage stepped back to allow Ryan’s parents in. “How was your flight?”
“Not too bad, I suppose. We don’t typically fly coach, but on short notice, we had to make do.” She patted her carefully styled short blond hair, even though it didn’t look like a single strand would have the audacity to rebel. Her pearl earrings and leather handbag hinted at her taste for the finer things in life.
As she followed her husband into the apartment, Gage swallowed hard and closed the door. Ryan had rarely mentioned his parents’ affluence—he wasn’t one to boast about stuff like that. Their backgrounds hadn’t really mattered as enlisted men anyway. Now, though, standing there with Mr. and Mrs. Simmons and without Ryan serving as a buffer, their differences stretched out like a canyon between them.
“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water? Iced tea?” He smoothed his own hair self-consciously, grateful he’d taken the time to get it cut recently.
Mrs. Simmons’s heels clicked on the laminate floor in the entryway, and her fingers fluttered to the buttons on her knee-length beige overcoat as her blue eyes surveyed his sparsely decorated living room. Suddenly he regretted inviting them to stay. This wasn’t exactly the Ritz-Carlton. What would she think when she saw the guest room with no pictures on the walls and nothing but a single lamp on the nightstand?
“Nothing for me, thank you.” Her smile was tight. “We’d prefer to see Connor as soon as possible.”
Gage hesitated. Everything about her tone indicated she expected him to comply with her preferences. He glanced at the digital clock plugged in below his television.
“Connor’s probably still napping, and they aren’t expecting us until three thirty. Why don’t I bring your bags in and give you a few minutes to get settled?”
An awkward silence filled the space between them.
“That sounds like a fantastic idea.” Gerald’s booming voice echoed off the walls and he clapped Gage’s shoulder. “Irene, we’ll be right back.”
Her pencil-thin brows tented. “I suppose babies do nap, don’t they? I’ll wait here while you get the bags.”
“We’ll just be a minute.” Gage stepped past her and grabbed his jacket and gloves from his closet. This weekend might be a challenge—for everyone. While he understood grief changed people, especially parents who’d lost their only child, Mrs. Simmons seemed noticeably uncomfortable and out of her element.
As he followed Gerald outside to their luxury rental car, Gage made a mental note to text Skye before he took Ryan’s parents to the Tomlinsons’ for the first time. If he had any hope of redeeming this situation, he had to drop a few hints. Mrs. Simmons’s high expectations and abrasiveness required advance warning.
* * *
This was such a bad idea.
Skye trailed behind Connor as he crawled around the living room, casting toys aside and babbling to himself. She gathered the ones he discarded and tucked them back in the wicker basket beside the fireplace. It was a losing battle, trying to keep the house presentable for their guests. Why had she agreed to this meeting with Ryan’s parents? Her empathy for their situation had morphed into dread once she found out they were coming. Gage’s brief text message a few minutes ago had ratcheted her anxiety to a whole new level.
FYI... Our guests are a bit high-strung.
What did that even mean? The sound of a car pulling into the driveway sent her racing into the powder room in the hallway to check her reflection.
“Mom,” she called out, “they’re here.”
Skye smoothed her hand down the front of her denim dress and quickly touched up her lipstick. Of all the things she’d done concerning Connor’s care, she should’ve refused this request. McKenna wasn’t even here—another major milestone and significant responsibility in the life of her son that she’d managed to avoid. It wasn’t fair.
After their emergency family meeting last night, Drew had warned her this might lead to a custody battle. She didn’t want to believe him but couldn’t shake the ominous feeling looming over her like a storm rolling in off the Front Range. If ther
e was a silver lining to these clouds, since she’d delivered the news that the store was in danger of going under, both her brothers had agreed to take shifts there, so she and Mom could visit with Ryan’s parents.
Mom’s deliberate footsteps in the hallway indicated she was making her way toward the living room.
“You look nice, sweetheart.” Mom smiled from the bathroom doorway. “That dress with those short boots is so flattering.”
“Thank you.”
The doorbell rang, and Skye gently scooted past her mom. “I’ll get it.”
Thankfully, Mom had graduated from her walker to using a cane, and her pain had lessened. Skye was pleased to see she’d put on a new floral blouse, khaki pants and her nicest beige flats.
Her stomach churned as she picked Connor up and strode quickly to the door. She hesitated and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. He squealed and grabbed a fistful of her hair.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise,” she whispered, more for her benefit than for his.
She opened the door and found Gage on the other side, standing beside an impeccably dressed older couple. Something indecipherable flashed in his eyes—regret? Empathy? It was gone before she could give it a second thought, replaced by a cautious smile.
“Hey.” He reached out and gave Connor’s leg a gentle squeeze. “How’s it going?”
Connor immediately flung out his arms toward Gage and greeted him with an enthusiastic squeal.
“Hello.” Skye strained to keep him from twisting out of her grasp, while forcing herself to welcome her guests. Not that it mattered, as they stood, transfixed, their eyes glued to the baby in her arms. “I’m Skye Tomlinson. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Simmons.”
Mr. Simmons recovered his composure and cleared his throat. “Yes, yes. Hello, I’m Gerald. This is my wife, Irene.”
Moisture glistened in Mrs. Simmons’s eyes and her hand trembled as she grasped her husband’s elbow.
“Please, come in.” Skye moved back so they could all come inside. Connor’s face puckered, and his mood threatened to shift. The longer she withheld him from Gage, the greater the risk of an epic meltdown. “Here.” Panicked, she thrust him into Gage’s arms. “Maybe it’s better if you hold him.”
Their Baby Blessing Page 11
