THE BIG ITALIAN DINNER IN Dane’s stomach roiled. Just hearing his little brother’s voice made him want to punch a wall. So cavalier. Just shooting the breeze. Acting as if this was any ordinary call on any ordinary day. Forget the fact that the woman he’d knocked up and then abandoned was in the same room. Forget that Ben had not only put Gabrielle through hell, but their parents, as well.
“Why, yes,” Mama said into the phone, “she is here. Want to talk with her?”
Gabrielle wildly waved her arms in the universal symbol for no!
“Thank you, son. I’d like to see you, too….”
Still waving, Gabrielle was now also shaking her head.
“Yes, well,” Mama droned on, “here she is…” Covering the phone’s mouthpiece, she whispered to Gabrielle, “He says he misses you, and hopes you’ll give him a second chance. Talk to him, sweetheart. All he wants to do is talk.”
Dane said, “Mama, can’t you see she plainly doesn’t want to speak to Ben? For God’s sake, she’s trembling.” He sat on the armrest of Gabrielle’s recliner, slipping his arm around her shoulders.
“With excitement,” Mama said. “Go ahead, sweetie. Talk to him. I told you Ben would come around.”
“Mom,” Dane ground out, teeth clenched, “stay out of this.”
Forcing a deep breath, Gabrielle reached for the phone. “Ben?”
Not wanting to hear Gabrielle talking to his brother, Dane stood and left not only the room, but the house, which all of a sudden seemed far too small.
Out on the front porch, he took a seat on the top step. The air was nippy. Monday’s storm had brought much cooler temperatures. The kids playing night tag across the street were wearing sweatshirts and jeans instead of their usual shorts and T-shirts.
The week had been idyllic. He’d for once let down his guard and allowed himself to fantasize about a life with Gabrielle and her son.
“Don’t tell me you’re just giving up?”
Great. Nana had burst out the screen door. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Dane, and clearly you’re the winner.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a contest,” he said.
“Bull.” She smacked the back of his head. “I thought you knew better than to lie to your elders.”
“Who says I’m lying?”
Sitting beside him, she said, “You are the most competitive person I know. You got that from me.” Winking, she patted his knee. “Which is why you’re marching right back into that house to rip the phone out of her hand.”
“Nana…” He sighed. “It’s hardly that simple.”
“Damn straight. So what are you still doing out here?”
Laughing, Dane said, “You are something else. I really need to ask you for advice more often.”
“I know.” She flashed him a big smile. “But if it got to be a habit, I’d have to charge you.”
“WELL?” GABBY ASKED DANE. The trip home had already seemed long and they’d only been in the car for three minutes. The dark cocooned them, lending a cozy feel that was false considering the night’s big event. “Aren’t you going to ask what he said?”
“Didn’t figure it was any of my business.” Dane tightened his grip on the wheel.
“For the record,” she said, adjusting the heat to blast on her frigid feet, “it’s very much your business. We’re a team, you and I, and the last thing I want you thinking is that I wanted to talk to him.”
“If you didn’t, why did you even take the phone? Why not tell my mother to shove it where—”
“Okay, whoa,” she said, resting her hands on her stomach, “I would never dream of telling your mother any such thing. Especially on her birthday. It obviously meant a lot to her that I talk to Ben, so I did. End of story.”
Pulling the car to a stop at a red light, Dane glanced over at her. “Just tell me already. Is he coming back? Did he pour out some mushy, gushy apology that made you instantly forgive him, and—”
Unfastening her seat belt, Gabby leaned across the center console to kiss the man quiet.
The driver of the car behind them honked.
“Fasten your seat belt,” he grumbled.
“Yes, sir.” After giving him a sharp salute, she turned the heater to a higher setting.
“Knock off the sarcasm. This is serious, Gabrielle.”
“Okay, here’s how it went down. Yes, he apologized. No, I didn’t accept it. Yes, he poured out a ton of stereotypical Ben-isms, no doubt carefully planned to tug at my heartstrings. Only they didn’t. Want to know why?”
He stayed silent.
“Dane?” she verbally nudged. “Don’t you want to know?”
“Does it matter?” He steered the car onto the still-busy expressway.
“Heck, yeah, it matters because the whole time I was listening to him, I was thinking about you.” She took a deep breath. “I think I may be falling for you, Dane.”
“What?” Glaring at her, he swerved onto the shoulder but quickly corrected his mistake. “Do we have to discuss this now?”
“I guess not,” she said, digging through her purse for gum. She hoped if she struck a cavalier attitude about having just dropped the emotional time bomb that’d been ticking inside her that Dane might think her speech a joke. “Actually, forget it. We never have to discuss it again.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I want to be able to look at you, and in this traffic, I can’t.”
“Fine. We’ll talk when we get home.”
“Great.”
Ten minutes later, Dane pulled his car into her drive. He helped her out of her seat, across the yard and up the front porch steps. He unlocked the door, ushered her inside. All without saying a word.
Which was just as well, considering that Gabby didn’t even want to look at Dane, let alone launch a heavy talk. Her back hurt, and she longed to lie down.
After a quick stop in the bathroom, Gabby struggled with changing into pink-and-white polka-dot pj’s and then waddled to her bed.
“Why didn’t you wait for me to help?” Dane asked, standing at her open bedroom door.
“I managed just fine on my own.”
Sighing, he said, “The last thing I want to do is fight.”
“Then don’t.” Gesturing toward her bedside lamp, she asked, “Would you mind turning that off?”
“Yes, actually, I would mind.” He made himself at home in his usual armchair. “Now, where were we?”
“I was about to go to sleep.”
“Not just yet. Now, back to what you were saying in the car. Your admission that you might be falling for me? Is that really how you feel?”
“No.” Folding her arms across her chest, she said, “I don’t know what made me say that. I must have still been on a high from too much birthday-cake frosting.”
“Don’t do this,” he asked, leaning forward to take her hand. “If that’s the way you feel, I’m okay with it.”
“You’re okay?” she shrieked. “Get out!”
“Calm down,” he said, squeezing her hand, which she promptly jerked free.
“I will not. I essentially told you you’ve become—I don’t know—an integral part of my life. And you had no response other than to nearly run us off the road.”
“I’m sorry.” He took her hand back and, no matter how hard she tugged, refused to let go. “You surprised me. That was the last thing I expected you to say.”
“You think I planned to say it?” Let alone feel it? With her free hand, she swiped away hot, messy tears.
“Then what do you want to do?” Stroking the top of her hand with the pad of his thumb, he said, “I’m in uncharted waters here. I’ve never been any good at this sort of thing, so you’re going to have to show me the way.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, refusing to even meet his gaze. “You’re either attracted to me, or you’re not. There’s nothing mystical about it.” Reaching for a tissue, she added, “Get it over with. Tell me you don’t feel a thing for me
other than pity.”
Chapter Eleven
“Nothing could be further from the truth,” Dane said, fury streaking through him. “How could I pity you when I admire the hell out of you? A lot of women faced with your situation would’ve crumbled, but here you are, still going strong.”
Struggling to reach for the bedside lamp, she said, “Please just leave. My back really hurts, and—”
“Are you mental?” He thumped the heel of his hand to his forehead.
“Now you’re calling me stupid?” She sat up, only to wince with pain that made her lie back down.
“Woman, can’t you tell you’re in labor?”
“No, I’m not. My back hurts. No doubt because of your mother and her stupid recline—Ooooooh!” Sweat beading her forehead, she rode out the pain before saying, “M-maybe you’re right.”
“Let’s not panic,” he said. “Let me grab my watch, a pen and some paper, and then I’ll time you.” In his room, he struggled to follow his own advice. Though her baby would most likely be all right if born this early, he didn’t see the point in tempting fate. Armed with all of his contraction-timing supplies, he headed back to her room, mumbling, “I knew we shouldn’t have gone to my mother’s birthday.”
“You think that’s what started this?” she wailed. “I’ll t-tell you why—ouch—I’m hurting, Dane. Because of you.” You know I’m not supposed to have any stress, so you could’ve just told me you like me, too. But nooo, you had to be stubborn, even though I know you feel something more for me than nice, safe, platonic friendship.”
“What if I do? It doesn’t change anything,” he argued right back, making note of her latest contraction. “Especially now that Ben’s back in the picture.”
“Back?” Laughing, she said, “I don’t even know what state he’s in. How is that the same as him being here, with me, taking care of me—like you?”
Sighing, he said, “This conversation is going in circles. Of course I have feelings for you. Affection. Something appropriate for a sister-in-law.”
Looking away from him with an expression of disgust, she said, “Dane Bocelli, you’re a lot of things, but I never took you for a liar.”
“Whatever,” he said, taking the remote from her nightstand and turning on CNN. “Believe what you want. I’m done with this argument. You know where I stand.”
The question was, did he? Because the kisses they’d shared had felt anything but sisterly.
Gabrielle gave him the silent treatment until she fell asleep. Her contractions had no discernible pattern, making him think they’d been the harmless Braxton Hicks variety they’d learned about during Lamaze.
He turned off the lamp, trying to make himself comfortable in his chair. If this were his house, he’d buy himself a nice, roomy leather recliner. Redo this pink palace in a nice, manly navy and brown. Alas, it wasn’t his house, and judging by Ben’s call, it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
SATURDAY MORNING, GABRIELLE woke to sun streaming through the openings in her filmy curtains. After wiping sleep from her eyes, she looked to her right to find Dane squashed into an uncomfortable position in his usual chair.
She needed a trip to the bathroom, so she tossed back her covers and went to him, giving him a gentle shake. “Wake up, or you’ll need a chiropractor.”
He was slow to open his eyes, and once he did and realized she was standing over him, he said in a groggy voice, “Why are you out of bed?”
“On my way to the ladies’ room, warden.”
He straightened, wincing while rubbing his neck. “Carry on, and then get back to your cell.”
Once she’d returned, he was still in his chair, cradling his forehead in his hands.
“Thank you,” she said, crawling into bed.
He looked up. “For what?”
“For keeping watch over me.” Head bowed, she added, “I’m sorry. Our argument last night was silly. I know you care for me. Your actions tell me every day.”
He replied with a shrug.
Eyes bloodshot with dark circles underneath, he looked exhausted, and she was the cause. If she were healthy, she’d urge him into her bed. Nap with him until he was well rested. She’d make him a breakfast. Waffles and bacon and fresh-squeezed juice.
“Can we please return to the way we used to be?”
With a sarcastic chuckle, he said, “Haven’t you already asked me that once before?”
“Yes, but…” What could she say? That maybe this time would be different even though she knew it wouldn’t? At the heart of their every argument was the fact that Dane would never betray his brother. It didn’t matter that with each passing day she spent with Dane, Ben was driven further from her memory. Dane’s pride would never allow him to give in to their mutual attraction. And no matter how vehemently he protested, judging by his kisses, it was mutual.
ANOTHER WEEK PASSED AND then another. Gabby wished for the same easy camaraderie she and Dane had once shared, but it truly seemed there was no going back. Oh, he was achingly polite, but distant. No more hugs or kisses. Precious few shared laughs.
When he came home Wednesday night of her thirty-fifth week of pregnancy, it destroyed her when he wouldn’t even look at her while asking if she was all right.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Bored. Sit with me?”
He tossed the mail onto her belly. “I would, but it looks like you have some reading to catch up on.”
She picked up the first envelope in the stack. The return address simply read Ben. It had been postmarked in Los Angeles.
Dane’s expression was thunderous. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“You don’t think I wanted this, do you?”
“It’s none of my business,” he said, leaving the room.
“Dane!” she hollered. “Please come back.”
He didn’t.
Hearing him rummaging in the kitchen, banging pots and pans and cabinets and the fridge door, she opened Ben’s letter. Withdrawing a sheet of yellow, lined legal paper, her hands shook. Quickly skimming, finding herself not even caring what he’d written, she saw the usual apologies. He said he would try making it home for their child’s delivery, but he couldn’t make any promises. Wasn’t that just like him? Sitting out in L.A., thinking she was back home wringing her hands while waiting for his return?
She called out again for Dane.
“What?” he asked from the threshold to her room.
“Remember how I used to talk about Ben in the present tense? As if any second he’d walk through the door?”
Arms folded, he gave her a barely perceptible nod.
“Well, after reading this, I’m angry enough to firmly put your little brother in my past.” Holding out the letter to him, she said, “Take a look.”
He took the letter, sitting in his armchair to read it. From time to time, he’d raise his eyebrows, as if surprised by his brother’s words. Finished, he set the offensive piece of paper on her nightstand. “Classic. I especially enjoyed the part where he says he can’t promise he’ll make it back in time for his son’s arrival into the world.”
“Me, too,” she said, liking the fact that for once they shared something in common. “What’s for dinner?”
“Velveeta Shells & Cheese, a roasted chicken I picked up at the deli and green beans. I wasn’t feeling very inspired.”
“It sounds delicious,” she said, hating the exhaustion still marring his handsome features.
Shrugging, he said, “It is what it is.”
“Dane?” she asked, voice soft. “Please tell me what’s going through your head.”
“Truth?” he said with a sad laugh. “I’m just wondering—if Ben does manage to make it back in time, who gets to be your coach? Him or me?”
“After all we’ve shared, how could you even ask such a thing?” Sitting up in the bed, she added, “Ben doesn’t know the first thing about Lamaze. You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” he asked. “You wanted to know what was on my mind,
so I told you. It’s a logical-enough question.”
“Not for me.” Swallowing the knot aching at the back of her throat, she said, “I choose you.”
Out of his chair, he went to her, resting his head on her belly. The baby kicked, and he laughed through tears. “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his cheeks, looking away as if he was embarrassed. He had no need to be, his genuine show of emotion only endeared him to her all the more. “This is way more than I signed on for. I never expected to care—you know, like your baby was mine, too. I can’t stop thinking about both of you.”
“And this is a bad thing, why?” she asked with a wavering smile.
He laughed, only this time, fully and freely, tossing back his head. “You are something else.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
ONE MORE WEEK PASSED, bringing Gabrielle’s baby that much closer to safety. Dane had done his reading, and knew that every day Baby Günter stayed in the womb meant one less possible complication for him at birth.
On an ordinary Thursday night, having had no further communication from Ben, Dane found his mood better than it had been in a while. The closer he got to Gabrielle’s house, the higher his spirits. He’d planned a special dinner for her. A meat loaf recipe given to him by his secretary. She’d promised it was impossible to mess up. A good thing, seeing how just the other morning, Gabrielle had shared one of her happiest childhood memories that’d involved sitting around her family dinner table eating meat loaf, sharing conversation and laughter with the parents she’d so loved.
During the meal’s prep time, Dane had hefted Gabrielle into his arms, carrying her toward the living room so that they could talk while he cooked. His precious time with her was ticking away, and he didn’t want to waste a minute.
Once he’d placed the meat in the oven and his lumpy mashed potatoes were done, Dane stuck a bowl of frozen peas in the microwave, and then had a seat on the sofa.
Lifting Gabrielle’s sock-covered feet onto his lap for a massage, he said, “All jokes aside, what are you leaning toward naming your little guy?”
A Wedding For Baby (Baby Boom) Page 11
