by Tracy Wolff
“Can’t you trust me at all?” he asked. “I know I screwed up—badly. But I want to make that up to you. And to my daughter.”
Sarah closed her eyes as pain flooded her, so sharp that she almost glanced down to see if she was bleeding. Why had she ever wanted Reece to be a part of Rose’s life? Why had she ever thought she could give her beautiful baby up?
But she wasn’t giving Rose up. Sarah was only sharing Rose…with her father. Still, it was so much harder than Sarah had expected it to be, this having to share the responsibility for someone she’d come to think of as exclusively hers.
With a sigh, she sank onto the sofa that had seen better days. The boys had jumped on it so much that the springs had broken, leaving the middle sagging badly. When she’d been pregnant with Rose, she had had to actually roll off the couch if she was unfortunate enough to sit on it before remembering to pick an end.
Keep an open mind, she reminded herself, as she stared at her best friend’s husband. For the first time, she noted the lines of strain around his eyes, the dark circles that—while nowhere near as dark as her own—heralded more than a few sleepless nights. They didn’t make him any less attractive, but they did lessen her anger.
Sympathy welled before she could stop it. Everything was changing, yes, but she wasn’t the only one in a state of flux. Reece had lost his wife and gained a baby that came with a different mother already attached. Was it any wonder he appeared stressed?
And Sarah was only making it more difficult for him.
With a sigh, she counted backward from twenty. Then aimed for a calm, rational, grown-up voice and said, “Why don’t you tell me why moving in here is the perfect solution?”
He didn’t respond immediately. And just when she thought he wouldn’t, he said, “First, why don’t you tell me what you object to?”
What did she object to? Was he kidding? Where did he want her to start? With the fact that she’d been getting along fine without a man for years now?
“What will people think?”
It was lowest on her list of objections, but seemed the easiest to discuss without digging through her baggage. Besides, it was true. She’d put up with more than enough talk when she’d shown up pregnant without a man around. She could only imagine what the neighbors would say about her shacking up with her best friend’s husband.
“That’s it?” he asked incredulously. “That’s your big objection?”
“No!” She jumped up and started to pace. “But it’s one of them. Right next to my worry about what this will do to the boys.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked so clueless. How could he talk about disrupting her whole life—the boys’ whole lives—and not even think about the consequences.
“Johnny and Justin are old enough to figure things out, Reece.” She closed her eyes, prayed that he would understand what she was saying without her actually having to form the words. “They’re old enough to want things that other kids have.”
“Like what?”
“They want a father, Reece. Mike cut out before they were born, and they don’t understand why they don’t have a dad when other kids do. They ask about him and though I do my best to be both mom and dad, it’s not enough. If you move in here, it’s only a matter of time before they get attached to you. Too attached.”
She saw the awareness dawn in his eyes, the realization that when he’d come up with this ridiculous scheme, he had only taken into account his and Rose’s best interests. Wasn’t that typical?
“If we talk to them, explain—”
“They turned five two weeks ago, Reece. How on earth can I explain this to them when I don’t even understand it myself? Oh, by the way, boys, Uncle Reece is going to be living here. But don’t get too attached—it’s only short-term.”
She laughed, to hide the sobs that threatened to escape. “They don’t even know what short-term is.”
“I didn’t say anything about it being short-term, Sarah.” Reece stood, crossed the room until he was right in front of her. Tension vibrated between them, sharp and real. “If we do this, it’s for the long haul.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s the best solution for everyone. Rose and Justin and Johnny need a male influence around the house. You need someone to help shoulder the responsibility—and the bills.”
Her spine straightened so quickly that it was actually painful. But she fought the affront. “And what do you need, Reece? What do you get out of this?”
* * *
WHAT DID HE GET OUT OF THIS? Where did he start? A chance to be near his daughter, a chance to watch her grow. The opportunity to be a part of a real family so he wouldn’t be so alone.
But how did he say that to this woman, for whom his feelings had exceeded the bonds of friendship for more years than he ever let himself acknowledge? This woman who had worked so hard to include him? How did he admit to the days and weeks and months of self-imposed loneliness without sounding like a total loser? Or a total user?
He considered dodging the question. But Sarah was staring at him. And suddenly it wasn’t so hard to tell the truth—or at least part of the truth.
“I get a chance to be with my daughter. To be with you and the boys. To have someone to take care of for a change.”
“I don’t need a white knight. I can take care of myself—and my children—on my own.”
He wanted to protest, to look around at the total disaster that was her house. To put her in front of a mirror and force her to see what he saw—a woman on the brink of sheer and total exhaustion.
But that was the quickest way to get himself kicked out. Oh, Sarah wouldn’t stop him from seeing the baby, but visits would be restricted to an hour here or there. An afternoon. Maybe one night a week. And that wasn’t what he wanted—not now that he’d held his daughter in his arms. He wanted everything. And his proposal, unorthodox as it was, really was the best solution.
He wanted to say all that to Sarah. To tell her to trust him. To promise that he wouldn’t let her down. But hell, he had no right to make those promises—and she wouldn’t believe them anyway. Not with his track record.
But that would stop here, stop now, if she let it. If she would give him a chance—
“What other objections do you have?” His voice was harsher, more abrupt, than he would have liked. He could feel everything—Rose, Sarah, his entire family—slipping away from him and it made him harsh. Desperate.
“How would it work?” She waved a hand around the room. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re pretty much at capacity around here as it is. Where would you put your stuff? Where would you stay?”
“You have a guest room, right?”
“Yeah.” Her doubtful look spoke volumes about what she thought of his ability to fit everything he’d need into that one small room.
“For now, I don’t need much. Just a bed and a place to put my desk and drafting table.”
“Drafting table? You want to work here, too?”
He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at her absolute incredulity. “Well, of course. I won’t be much help if I’m always at the office.”
For long moments, she didn’t say anything. Just watched him with those blue eyes that seemed to see all the way to his soul.
Finally, when his nerves were stretched to the breaking point and nausea churned in his stomach, she spoke. “I already work here. We can’t both be in the house all the time. We’d kill each other.”
He couldn’t help the smile that sprang to his lips. “Somehow, I doubt that. But I’m not talking all the time. I figured I’d work part-time here and part-time at the office.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. That’s something we’ll have to work out. I can be here during your busiest times, helping out with the kids, and—”
“No offense, Reece, but I don’t need someone else to take care of.”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I’ve been managing for most of my adult life. It’s not like Vanessa was the homemaking type.”
They both froze at the mention of his dead wife, and he cursed himself. Things hadn’t exactly been going swimmingly, but at least he and Sarah had been conversing. Now, the mere mention of Vanessa seemed to have shattered whatever accord they’d achieved.
Exasperated, he walked to stand near the window. The boys scampered around the backyard with bug nets and jars. Watching them, the frozen mass inside of Reece began to soften. It wasn’t a full-out thaw, but there was a definite melt in the region of his heart. It was all he could do to keep from laughing as Justin tripped over Johnny’s net and sprawled in the grass, his own net landing, incongruously, over his face.
“They need a male influence, Sarah.” He nodded toward the boys, who tumbled over each other.
“I know that.” Her voice was sharper and more abrupt than it had been.
“I’m not criticizing you.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the window. “You’ve done a fabulous job. But you’ve done it alone and that’s not fair—to you or them.
“Look at them. They’re fabulous boys. Smart and curious and complete troublemakers. Don’t you think it’s time you let someone help you with them?”
“I’ve survived this long.”
“Surviving isn’t living, you know.”
“Said the kettle to the pot.”
“Exactly. I’ve spent the past seven months hiding from reality, pretending my wife isn’t dead and my life isn’t shattered. It’s gotten me nowhere.”
“It’s not the same thing—”
“I’m not saying it is. But, Sarah—” He held her ice-cold hand in his warm one, tried desperately to think of what he could say to change her mind. “I need to do this. I need to be here—for Rose and for you. And for those boys.”
Her eyes searched his and he wished he knew what she was looking for. He’d give it to her in a heartbeat. Less. Because he was smart enough to know that, right now, neither one of them could make it on their own.
“I guess we could give it a trial run,” she said, her voice sounding reluctant. “A couple of weeks to see how things are working—”
“Two months. We need at least two months to be able to make any real decisions.”
“That’s way too long. We might kill each other in that time.”
“I don’t think so. Besides, how will we be able to tell if it’s going to work if we don’t give it our best shot?”
“One month,” she countered firmly. “And that’s my best offer. If, after four weeks, things aren’t going like we hoped, you move out. No harm, no foul.”
He fought the urge to shout and thrust a fist into the air in victory. “One month sounds perfect.”
“And we need some rules.”
“Of course we do.” His mind raced ahead to what he’d need to pack to make the move.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“No, you’re not. You’re not even listening to me.”
“Of course I am. We need to make—um.” His mind went blank.
“Rules, Reece. We need to make rules.”
“All right, if you say so. What kind of rules are we talking about?”
“Everybody is responsible for him or herself.”
“Everybody?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Except the children, obviously. I don’t want to have to clean up after you, do your laundry, that kind of thing.”
“I’m not a child,” he reminded her. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now.”
“And no women.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t care what you do when you’re not in this house, but you can’t bring overnight guests home.”
His stomach churned and for the first time since he’d come up with this plan, he had serious doubts. Did Sarah not know him at all? “Sarah, my wife just died. I’m not out searching for female companionship.”
Her color rose, but she refused to back down. “Not now, no. But suppose this thing works out? Suppose you don’t move out after a month? Eventually you’ll want to date again—and that’s completely your business. But I don’t want you to bring your dates here to—”
“That won’t be a problem.” She winced at his tone, but shit, what was he supposed to say? He hadn’t looked at another woman since Vanessa had died, and he resented, like hell, Sarah’s implication that he couldn’t keep it zipped.
But was it fair to resent her? Maybe he hadn’t been as good at hiding his response to her as he’d thought. Maybe, despite his best intentions, she’d noticed the attraction he secretly felt for her.
Finally, she nodded. “Okay, then.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, when can you move in?”
He grinned, elation sweeping away all irritation like it had never been. “I thought you’d never ask.”
CHAPTER FIVE
SARAH WATCHED in horror as Reece made yet another trip to the big maroon truck he’d pulled into her driveway an hour before. All I need is a bed and room for my desk and drafting table.
She’d been a fool to believe him. He’d already made six trips upstairs—and she had made four. She’d probably still be carrying boxes if Rose hadn’t woken up and demanded her afternoon snack.
The bottle shifted in the baby’s mouth and Rose let out a startled cry. “Shh, my darling,” Sarah murmured as she repositioned the baby. “Mama’s got you. Mama’s got you.”
The words no longer felt foreign and the guilt had receded, even if it hadn’t disappeared completely. While she still lay awake some nights, staring at the ceiling and wondering at the quirks of fate that had brought her to this place, she was coming to understand that she couldn’t spend her life feeling guilty that she had lived and Vanessa had died. That she could have children and her best friend couldn’t.
Nor could Sarah change the fact that Rose needed a mother to take care of her—and that she, Sarah, was that mother.
“This is the last trip,” Reece called on his way out the door.
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Sarah muttered.
“I heard that.” His voice echoed through the open door.
“Good.” She tried her best not to notice how good he looked in his jeans and T-shirt, his muscles taut and hard as he carried in another box. He was Vanessa’s husband and it was wrong—so wrong—for Sarah to notice how attractive he was.
“Mommy?”
Sarah turned to find Johnny staring at her with wide, serious eyes. The expression was so out of place on his face that it took her a minute to realize that he was worried. “What’s the matter, precious?” She balanced Rose’s bottle between her chest and chin for a moment, using her free hand to pat the couch next to her. “And where’s your brother?”
“Justin is looking at Uncle Reece’s truck. He likes trucks.”
Justin liking trucks was an understatement if she’d ever heard one. “I thought you liked trucks, too.”
“I do. It’s just—”
“Just what?”
“Is Uncle Reece going to stay with us? Forever?”
Her heart dropped to her toes. This was what she’d been worried about—Justin and Johnny not adjusting to Reece being here. Or adjusting too well. Both situations were fraught with pitfalls and the capacity for her boys to be hurt.
She cuddled Johnny against her. “I don’t know about forever, sweetheart. But he’ll be with us for a while.”
“Oh.” The monosyllabic reply didn’t tell her much in terms of what he was thinking or feeling so she waited for him to say more.
When he didn’t, she smoothed a hand over his still-soft, baby-fine hair and asked, “Is that okay with you?”
“I guess.”
“You guess? That’s not a very good answer, you know.”
“I know. But Todd’s dad stays with them all the time. I just thought maybe Un
cle Reece could be like that.”
“Yes, honey, but Uncle Reece isn’t your father. You know that.”
“He’s Rose’s father.” Johnny’s face scrunched up, as if he was deep in thought. “Right?”
“Right,” she answered cautiously.
“So why can’t he be our father, too? Justin and I talked it over and we think he’d be a great dad.”
She actually felt the explosion from that bomb in every cell of her being. Why had Mike walked away before the boys had ever gotten the chance to know him?
Because she’d picked a total loser for a husband, that was why.
Why had she ever agreed to this ridiculous setup? Why had Vanessa died and put her in this position? And what on earth was she supposed to tell the boys—now and later?
Her mind searched for an answer, but she didn’t know what to say. How could she hope to explain something to his five-year-old satisfaction that she really didn’t understand herself?
But how could she not?
“I can’t be your dad, Johnny, because I’m your uncle.” Reece stood nearby, his hand on Justin’s shoulder. Her second son was listening just as hard as his brother, trying to make sense of the bizarre situation.
“And because you already have a dad.” Reece reached a hand out and Johnny put his in it without hesitation. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t do a lot of the things with you that a dad might.”
“Like what?” Justin asked, a trace of suspicion in his voice.
“Like push you on the swings at the park or play hide-and-seek or build your train set.”
“Mom already does all that.” Justin’s voice went from suspicious to scornful in the blink of an eye.
“Well, that’s true.” Crouching, Reece took his time looking both of her sons in the eye. “So what is it you want me to do with you?”
“Take us to McDonald’s!” Johnny shouted, as if the answer was the most obvious one in the world.
“And teach us to play baseball. Mom can’t hit the ball no matter what she does.”
Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat as she was reminded yet again, how lucky she was to have the boys—despite their proclivity for trouble. “Well, maybe if you threw the ball at me instead of the ground, I wouldn’t have such a hard time hitting it.”