Betrayal shone in her eyes. “Trust you to think of him. Like I can’t have a life without a man in it. I’m an independent woman, Sean, and the sooner you realize that the better.”
“So…” he ventured, tentatively, feeling mighty confused, “is he still in the picture?”
“For fucks’ sake.” Snapping her bra on, she pulled her top over her head. “No, I dumped him when he started sleeping with someone else while I was giving birth. There, you’re fully up to speed now, happy?”
His gut tightened. What an absolute shit Declan was, to leave her at a time like that, to double time her that way. Why had no one told him any of this? Surely Rory might have given him a hint to prepare him, to stop him wading in blindly like an idiot. “No. I’m not happy.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She gave a wry laugh and pushed her hair behind her ears. She turned toward the door. Glancing back, she pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you pity me, don’t you dare! I’ve had to put up with that kind of nonsense ever since I got pregnant.”
He tried to reason with himself, thinking it through while he quickly hunted down his pants. “Life changes,” he said, trying to be reasonable and say something appropriate, even though he felt far from ready for it. He’d been kept in the dark about the woman he loved. That fact alone annoyed him, never mind the rest.
“We’ve been away from each other. I can accept that you’ve other relationships…” Even as he said it a crazed territorial possessiveness reared inside him. Why hadn’t he come back sooner, when he could have seen that gutless wonder Declan off?
Finding the right thing to say to her was difficult though. She was prickly as hell, and he was unprepared. He sat down on the edge of the bad, thwarted. Rubbing both hands over his head, he rued the passing of time more than he ever had on all his days banged up in prison.
He looked up and saw her reach for the door handle.
“Get out of my life, once and for all,” she declared, loudly, her eyes filled with fury. “I want you to go, you would’ve gone soon anyway.”
That wasn’t true. He stood, striding to the door, trying to bar her exit, desperate to make her understand. “No, we need to talk, so…you’ve got a kid…” He shrugged.
Her eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I’ve got kid, which is clearly an issue for you.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not an issue, I just didn’t know you and Declan had—”
“Get the fuck out of here and leave me alone!” She darted at him, pushing him sideways.
Unprepared for her sudden movement he was stunned. Either she’d gathered some superhuman strength overnight, or she caught him off guard, because she’d managed to shove him away from the exit. She was through the door and gone, leaving him standing there, naked, with his pants hanging from one hand.
The door slammed in his face.
Standing there with a fist full of clothing, wondering what the hell had happened, he stared at the door. A sound from outside made him draw closer. Was Rowan outside, crying?
He went for the handle then heard footsteps thundering up the stairs to the attic room, and thought twice about it. As he did, he heard a door slam shut in the distance.
Maybe she needed time to cool off. Maybe he need time to figure out the right thing to say, because he’d done his best but she’d taken offence to every word that came out of his mouth. Why? Was there even a right thing to say, he wondered.
From downstairs, he caught the sound of someone singing. Nan, most likely.
Nan would know everything.
Yup, go down, not up, to get to the bottom of this. He nodded, pleased he’d thought of it. The elder ladies of the house were probably dying to fill him in on every little detail.
“Better get dressed first,” he reluctantly muttered to himself. Looking down at his hand, he found he’d only managed to grab underwear anyway. Across the hallway, the door to the bathroom stood open. He took his chance and headed for a quick shower.
While he doused himself, his mind flickered through what little had been said.
Why hadn’t she mentioned it the night before, when he thought they were coming clean with each other. It was then he realized she’d said very little—next to nothing, in fact. She hadn’t even verbally accepted his declarations of love. Was this why? He could understand that, now, but he was annoyed because she hadn’t explained it to him when she had the chance. How did she expect him to react, seeing as he hadn’t a clue?
Within minutes he was clean and dressed and darting down the staircase, determined to get to the bottom of it. If they were going to fight about it—and that seemed to be her plan, damn her—he wanted to be appropriately armed for the battle ahead.
Chapter Eight
Sean made it as far as the kitchen doorway.
The sight that met him transfixed him—a small upturned face looking in his direction expectantly. The little girl wore a purple dress, with black and purple striped socks and black patent shoes. There was no doubt who she was, and that Rowan had chosen the outfit for her. Nan stood behind the child in faded jeans and a baggy pink sweatshirt emblazoned with a smiling kitten.
Frozen to the spot, Sean watched as Nan brushed the little girl’s hair.
“Good Morning, Sean.” Nan continued with her task while she looked at him standing there in the doorway. There was a knowing smile on her face. “Did you sleep well?”
Sean nodded vaguely at Nan, unable to drag his eyes off the baby-doll girl she was tending. His stomach flipped. Big green eyes held his, blatant curiosity filling them. The feeling was mutual.
An undeniable fact was staring him in the face, and it hit him hard, tolling through his thoughts with deliberation, the manifold implications squeezing the breath from his lungs. He swallowed, hard. “She’s mine, isn’t she?”
Forcing his gaze up, he sought the confirmation.
Nan continued to smile, taking her time.
Had it been the wrong thing to say? Muddled thoughts swamped him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said it outright, not in front of the little girl, but the need for confirmation hit him hard. The emotional punch to his guts demanded a fast intake of breath, and a qualification of the facts.
Nan didn’t reply immediately, her expression thoughtful.
Had he been wrong to assume he might be the father, to even think of it? No, because if he was, he had a lot of making up to do, and there wasn’t a minute to waste. It would also explain why Rowan had been so upset by his initial response, because it hadn’t even occurred to him he might have left her pregnant. Until he saw the toddler. He wasn’t good at estimating kids’ ages, having never had cause, but this one looked to around two.
“I’m saying nothing,” Nan eventually replied, “except I always knew you were a bright lad.” She was smiling a lot, as if delighted by his sudden question.
So she was his. If only he’d thought of the possibility earlier, asked Rowan if she was his when they woke to her chattering. Maybe that would have been the right thing to say to Rowan. He pictured her face. Then again, maybe not.
He stepped into the room, staring at the little girl. She stared back. “Hello,” he offered.
The child giggled and pointed.
“She’s shy around people who are new to her.” Nan pulled the girl’s brown hair high and tied it with a ribbon, then set her free. “Go finish your breakfast.”
Nan continued their conversation, watching over as the little girl clambered onto a kitchen chair and reached for her cereal bowl. “Rowan didn’t tell you did she?”
Sean shook his head.
“How did you know?”
He shrugged. “I just knew. Maybe…maybe the way Rowan reacted when I asked clued me in a bit, subconsciously. I guess something gave it away.” Why hadn’t he known? Why hadn’t he thought of it? The question hammered inside of his head. Too busy getting jealous about the possibility of other guys. Guilt weighed heavily when he thought about all this time gone by.
It wa
s obvious now. A gnawing ache had taken residence in his chest, like a weight that wasn’t shifting fast.
He had to remind himself to smile at the poor kid, aware he might be scaring her. He was a complete stranger to her. She was an absolute poppet. Of course she was, she was Rowan’s. Approaching, he dropped to his knees before the little girl and picked up a cuddly toy she seemed to be reaching for.
“Is this what you want?” He waved the floppy bunny.
Two hands reached out and grasped for it.
“What’s your name?”
“Pixie.”
“She has another name,” Nan said. “That’s a nickname, just what Rowan calls her. But wait until she tells you herself, and don’t ever let Rowan know I told you there’s another name.”
He didn’t fully understand what he was agreeing to, but he nodded.
“Hello Pixie. That’s a pretty name. My name is Sean.”
The little girl laughed in delight.
A sense of loss overwhelmed him. He’d been kept out of the loop about a precious child who he should have known about. It hurt. He knew why, it was because he left here without saying goodbye. No messages. No forwarding address. Of course she’d kept it secret from him. It was Rowan, after all. A tougher, more stubborn woman he’d never met. And yet she was the woman he loved, the one he would stand by to the end, if she let him.
He lifted his head and looked at Nan, who was observing him with interest. “If I’d have known…”
Nan nodded. “Rowan was completely adamant. She didn’t want you to know. She kept it secret from everyone for the best part of five months. Even went out with a boy who was keen on her, for a while. The problem was she couldn’t bring herself to love him.”
“And then she did it alone.”
“Outside of us, yes.”
He could have kicked himself. Was there any hope of getting through this without rubbing everyone up the wrong way?
“Thank you,” he whispered, knowing it would never be enough just to say it. “I don’t know what to say, how to feel...”
“Give it time lad, it’ll show itself.”
It tore him apart to think of Rowan managing the situation on her own, when he would happily have been by her side. Wake up buddy, he told himself, could you really have handled it? Rowan was super strong though, of course she handled it. Pride filled him.
Whether he would have wanted to be part of it at the time was another issue, and if he was honest with himself he probably would have stayed by her side for the wrong reasons at first, remembering what his mother drummed into them before she passed on with cancer. Always step up to the plate for responsibilities, she’d said, look after your own. They were the last words he remembered his mother saying to him and Rory before the tumor and morphine filled her days and stole her away from them.
He was staring at a spot on the floor, his thoughts all over the place, when Pixie toddled into his line of vision. She’d made her way over and was now face-to-face with him, staring into his face—probably hideously frowning face. He lifted his head out of his hands and smiled.
She offered him her floppy bunny.
“Why thank you.” He took the offering and wiggled his ears, mimicking the bunny’s somewhat crazed expression. Pixie chuckled then ran off.
He glanced at Nan, who was resting up against the sink. “You never used to approve, I mean you and our parents.”
“Of course not. You were young and weren’t supposed to fall in love, that wasn’t the set up.” She gave a wry smile. “Your dad was very much the law maker, and he had a strict upbringing. To him it was black and white, no grey areas. You were siblings, it was wrong. Rowan’s mum is more mellow but she toed the line.”
“So, is it only because of Pixie you’re letting me spend time with Rowan now?” It was something that bothered him since he turned up. Gladys was sticking to her guns but Nan was obviously happy he’d turned up. With Rowan it was hard to tell, even though she’d let him get close the night before.
“It’s easier to look at things with a cool head in retrospect. You were too young to be in relationships, all of you, but being thrown together like that was bound to put temptation in your path. If your parents had met when you were little kiddies, it would have been a more natural merger.”
Pixie returned with a new toy and presented it to him. This one was a puzzle. He shifted the colorful shapes around and shrugged. Pixie moved the shapes while he held the object in one hand. “Too young for responsibilities, not too young to fall in love.”
“It’s obvious that you still do love her. We wondered.”
“She never left me in here.” He thumped his chest with his free hand, but couldn’t say more. Looking at the little girl made him feel strangely adrift.
“When we found out Rowan was pregnant we wondered if that was the reason you’d left.”
Shocked, Sean stared at her. “I hadn’t a clue. I didn’t even know she’d had a child till this morning.”
Nan seemed to accept it, but there was something else on her mind. “Why did you leave?”
“My dad, after they got married, he wanted us all to be respectable. He thought the way to make us do that was to rule us with his fists. We had to take Rory to the hospital, broken ribs.”
Nan sighed deeply and put her hand to her forehead. “If only you’d confided in us, maybe we’d have been able to talk to your dad, sort his head.”
“He was never violent like that with my mum,” Sean said, reflecting on it. “It was in him to believe we should be brought up with an iron rule, but I think her death changed him. I often wonder about Shelley. Is Rowan’s mum happy with him?” It often niggled at him. Shelley and Patrick had taken off for the Far East, leaving the girls with Nan.
“As far as we know they’re good for each other, and I truly believe it.”
“That’s good.” It was heartfelt for Sean, a relief. But the past was still there, and it hung over him and Rory like a cloud, like a dubious possible inheritance. He had to use his fists in jail, but he believed he knew where the boundaries lay. Even so, it scared him he might end up like his dad.
Pixie had completed her puzzle and pointed at it.
“Very good!”
He kept staring at the little girl, mesmerized by her, while his mind worked overtime, questions piling up on him—things he needed to know, things he needed to consider. But he was brought up short by the sound of clumping heels descending the staircase. Rowan was on her way.
She arrived in the doorway, took one look, and folder her arms tightly across her chest, glaring at him. She was dressed, but her mass of black hair was as he’d last seen it, bed-tussled as it had been when she left the guest room. Mascara smudges indicated she hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror. Nevertheless, she looked gorgeous. Sean smiled.
Her frosty expression intensified.
“I need coffee,” she declared, and made her way into the kitchen. As she passed Pixie, she reached out and stroked her head, but didn’t acknowledge Sean.
While she fiddled with the kettle by the sink he took his chance to check her out properly. She’d pulled on a black dress printed here and there with red roses. It fitted closely to her body at the top and flared out around her shins. Over it she wore a flowing black cardigan. Her strappy high heels were more feminine footwear than she used to wear, which was mostly Doc Marten boots. Feminine and grown up, yet still with that alternative edge he loved, she was a real treat for his eyes. He couldn’t stop staring, longing to get close to her again.
Maybe if he’d known when she first fell pregnant, his sense of duty would have been at the forefront, because of what his mother had instilled in him. Maybe he would have run away as he had, taken off for Rory’s sake and the built-in promise of adventure. Whatever, now was the right time, and as he looked her way he felt he was even more bonded to her than he could have possibly imagined, because of Pixie. There was a deep down satisfaction about that. The only challenge was getting Rowa
n to accept him and realize that. If her attitude didn’t alter, it was doomed.
He couldn’t let that happen.
When he looked back at Nan, she nodded at him, pointed at Rowan’s back and then reached over to take Pixie’s hand. “Story time,” she announced, and led Pixie out.
Rowan muttered something incoherent in response.
As they passed Sean raised his hand in agreement and mouthed “thank you.”
He made his way across the kitchen, pondering the best way to handle the situation.
Rowan continued to mutter under her breath as she banged the kettle about under the tap. Slamming it down on the work surface, she flicked the switch on and tossed a withering look in his direction.
“Ouch,” he said, and put his hand to his heart. “If looks could kill.”
She turned her back to the sink, staring at him with narrowed eyes and lips tightly pursed.
Joking around was clearly not going to help the situation.
“Toast?”
Before he had a chance to answer she grabbed a loaf of bread from the bread bin, slammed it onto the breadboard and quickly began carving doorsteps out of it with a lethal looking knife. The tension in her body had not reduced at all. It had magnified.
He closed the gap between them in a heartbeat, took the knife from her hand and put it down on the work surface. Grasping her around the shoulders, he drew her tense form away from the kitchen work top and looked down into her eyes. “If you could give me just a second. It was a lot to take in and a very short space of time. I don’t want to say the wrong thing again, so all I am asking is you give me a moment to say the right thing.”
She gave a wry laugh, a grumpy huff of a sound. “Here it comes, the clichés. Of course you’re the same, having a kid doesn’t change you. I’ve heard it all before. And I can tell you one thing for sure, having a kid does change you.”
“Hey, hey. back up a bit. Of course you’ve changed, we both have. But from where I’m standing it’s all change for the better.”
Sean: A Stepbrother Romance (Coded for Love Book 3) Page 6