“She’s smart, resourceful, and she would do something that would be best for her in the long run. She isn’t going to do anything stupid. I bet she also wanted to get as far away from us—from me—as she could.” Blake got up and began to walk around the room, forgetting his cane as he did.
Unbeknownst to him, his brothers exchanged approving glances behind his back. The physical therapist had recently suggested he try walking without it at least a few hours a day, and so far, Blake had been recalcitrant. It hurt, obviously. Finally, though it looked like their brother was in a mental state where things were falling into place.
“There’s no way, with the bills she was paying,” Blake went on, “that she had enough money to get really far, especially if she moved that quickly and she was looking for something that would last her for the long term.”
He walked idly around, picking up random office objects left over from meetings—staplers, napkins, a pen that he twirled as he paced, only slightly favoring his right leg as he did.
“Where’s somewhere that has cheap rents and some kind of built-in art community?”
“Uh … Greenwich?” Cole ventured uncertainly.
Hawk laughed derisively. “Last time I checked, Greenwich was on the opposite spectrum from cheap. What about Chelsea? Plenty of cheap fleabag places—”
“Kelly wouldn’t choose a fleabag place for our baby,” Blake said sharply. “No matter how cheap. No. We’re looking at outer boroughs. I’m sure of it.”
“Artsy borough with cheap rents in at least some neighborhoods, but maybe not necessarily fleabag cheap?” Cole and Hawk looked at each other once more and then all three brothers spoke as one.
“Brooklyn.”
“Her former gallery was curating an exhibit for the Brooklyn Waterfront Artists Coalition,” Hawk said in realization. “That must have given her the idea.”
Blake was already dialing the PI. Thankfully, the guy answered. “Nicholas, I have a new lead for you, and there’s a hefty bonus attached if you can track it down within 24 hours.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kelly
Kelly put the dish down in the drying rack and then leaned way back, trying to stretch out the kink in her back. She dodged one of the spiders that was infesting the place and hoped the bug guy would show up shortly, like he’d promised. She might not have any phobias, but she didn’t know if they were poisonous, and she was taking no chance with her baby.
Of course, if the bug guy said he needed to fumigate, then she’d have to leave the apartment she’d only just moved into and money in a hotel …
“God, I’m tired,” she groaned, looking at the very basic, very functional, very old place she now called home. The exposed bricks were trendy and all, as were the industrial-type fittings jutting out of one of the walls, but Kelly honestly didn’t care much about the looks of the place. She’d made sure it checked out asbestos, lead paint, and mold-free. Even if it smelled a little of mildew and there were cracks running along the ceiling, not to mention the endless tide of arachnids underfoot, it was a roof over her head. One she could just about pay for.
Kelly put her hand on her stomach and her other hand to her mouth, doing her best to fight the nausea that had crept up on her once more. It left her so damn weak every time she vomited. She prayed this would pass soon, so she could get on with some marginal semblance of a life. At the very least, maybe get back to painting.
Her canvases looked off on the brick walls, somehow. Not all art worked on all surfaces, and unfortunately her home didn’t apparently lend itself to her abstract art. Not even the abstract painting of Blake, the one she couldn’t throw away or bring herself to sell, no matter how angry and hurt she was, looked like it fit here.
Sighing, Kelly headed toward the bedroom and looked at herself in the large mirror when she passed, stopping as she often did and pulling her shirt tightly against herself. “You’re still just a bitty bean,” she said affectionately to the very slightest hint of a stomach.
Stretching out on the bed, Kelly yawned and fought to stay awake until the exterminator could arrive to do the assessment. Her job at the library was probably safe for the baby in terms of exertion levels, but it still left her exhausted at the end of each day. She’d started taking part-time classes to teach art, and since she was working toward her teaching license, a local homeschool coop had agreed that she could work their kids, on a probationary basis. She was still surprised that they’d hired without any references beyond Jamal—and no Blake this time.
Her phone rang and she yawned again and answered. “Hey.”
Anna’s cheerful voice filtered down the line. “How were you so sure it was me?”
“I changed my number so he couldn’t find,” she reminded her friend. She preempted the inevitable protest with her usual explanation. “After the baby is born, I’ll get in touch with him and give him another chance. But I can’t deal with more of his stupidity, Anna. Not with as sick as I am. I just can’t.”
Hearing the sound of a car pulling up outside, Kelly sat up. “Hey, the bug guy’s here.”
“Be careful,” Anna warned, ever cautious. “Leave the door open and don’t let him get between you and it. Pretend like your husband is out and will be home every minute, so he doesn’t know you live alone.”
“Yes, Mother,” Kelly teased, hanging up and rolling off the bed. “Well, Bean, he’s over an hour late. You figure we’ll get free bug spray, like we get free pizza if it’s over a certain number of minutes late?”
She walked over to the door and pulled it open. She should’ve checked first. Anna had drilled that into her. And for once, Kelly realized she really should have listened. Because instead of the exterminator standing on the steps, there stood Blake Parker.
***
She hadn’t seen him since that day in the hospital months ago and it was such a relief to see him standing on two feet, looking none the worse for the wear, still so handsome she was surprised the industrial fittings in her home didn’t melt, that for one second, Kelly forgot why she’d tried to hide from him.
Then it came rushing back as he took a step forward.
No, no, no, no, noooooo. No way.
“Not interested. I’ll call you when the baby’s born,” Kelly informed him, taking a step back into the house and trying to close the door, only to find one of Blake’s feet was suddenly jammed into it.
“Wait.” As always, his low, husky voice touched her deep inside, but Kelly managed to ignore the immediate arousal—her hormones were off the charts in that respect as well—and shook her head.
“I mean it, Blake. Go away. You blew it. Bigtime.”
His response shocked her.
“I know.” Through the crack in the door, she could see his full lips moving as he repeated, “I know. I fucked up in every possible way. I don’t deserve a second chance.”
“This isn’t a second chance!” she exclaimed in amazement, anger dislodging desire. “You had ten, fifteen, fifty chances, every time I called or left a message, trying to tell you about your unborn child.”
“So I don’t deserve a fiftieth or hundredth chance,” Blake agreed. “But I’m asking for it anyway.”
“Blake, I’m exhausted. Please.” She hated that her voice cracked as she forced herself to say the words. “Go away.”
“I’m sorry you’re so worn out. I swear I won’t take more than a few minutes. Please, Kelly. I’m begging you to hear me out. Nothing more.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kelly
Shaking her head angrily, Kelly nevertheless kicked open the door to let him in and frowned when the door glanced off his right leg and Blake groaned.
“Wait. Is that the leg—”
“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, rubbing his thigh and brushing past her into the apartment. Even that slight touch was enough to leave Kelly on the verge of throwing her arms around him and pleading with him to make things right between them. For once, the nausea wa
s a positive. A powerful wave killed all her desire and she started toward the kitchen.
“I need something to settle my stomach,” she informed him, putting on the tea kettle and reaching for a box of peppermint tea. As she’d done once before, she held up a teabag in case he wanted any.
He shook his head. “So you’re still nauseous? I’ve been reading—I thought it kind of got better by now.”
The fact that he’d been reading up on pregnancy might have won her over, had she not been so tired, so weary, and so heartsick and utterly done with trusting him.
“I have a condition where it may not get better,” she informed him. “Start talking, Blake. The clock’s ticking.”
She watched him ease his long, lean frame into a chair, noting that he was again favoring his right leg.
Once he was settled, she let him have it in, in mild fashion, because she was too tired to really yell.
“You’ve had weeks to get in touch. Why are you suddenly here, showing up without warning? It can’t possibly be because you’ve decided that you’re ready for some kind of responsibility. Or, God forbid, commitment. Why are you here, Blake? Why?” Her anger leached through, even through her weariness.
“I had to tell you that I’m sorry,” Blake said quietly. “More sorry than I can begin to express.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “What, exactly, are you sorry for?”
“For everything, starting with the way I treated you on the island, and then not answering your calls, and then—”
“Waiting six freaking weeks after I told you about the baby before you tried to call me!” she snapped.
He nodded. “I’m sorry for that more than anything else. No excuses at all. After I pulled my head out, I started trying to reach you, but I haven’t had any luck.”
“Welcome to the club, except that I don’t believe you,” she said frankly. “Why would I? Right?”
“You can ask my secretary,” he offered. “She’s been dialing your number nonstop throughout the workday.
Of course.
Kelly turned away, walking over to the small, dingy window in the front room of her apartment and looking out on the street. “That’s not the same thing, Blake. I didn’t want to answer some call from an unknown number on my phone or talk to your representative. I wanted you to call me, personally, and show me that you’re interested in the fact that you’ve created a life. Your child deserves that.”
“Kelly, you’re being unreasonable,” Blake said from behind her. Realizing how close he suddenly was, Kelly shied away. If he touched her again, she was in serious trouble. Better to focus on the anger.
“Unreasonable?” she echoed flatly. “Tell me how. I’m all ears.
“I messed up, badly. I know that. But how do you expect to support our child here in Brooklyn, in this tiny little apartment?”
She saw him glance around at her small, neat new home, and her anger grew as the expression on his face changed from concern to dismay to outright disgust.
“I thought you said you were going to apologize, but all I hear is accusation.”
“I am sorry,” he said, getting up and walking toward her. “I’m sorry that this happened. I really am.”
Kelly’s eyebrows shot up so far, they almost disappeared into her hairline. “This happened,” she repeated, a little unsteadily, hands moving to her stomach. “You mean this, this?”
Blake stopped a few feet away. “Well, uh, yeah. I mean, kind of—it really complicates—”
Just like that, her barely healing heart shattered all over again.
“You’re sorry about our baby?”
He blanched. “Wait. Whoa. That’s really not what I meant. I mean, it complicates things and all, but—”
“My baby isn’t a complication,” she said very quietly, walking to the door and opening it. “It’s not a mistake. And it’s not something I will ever be sorry about. Ever.”
He looked so guilt-stricken that she would have felt bad if she wasn’t so heart-sick.
“Kelly, I swear, I—”
She held up a hand, cutting him off. “Too little and much too late, Blake. I have a conscience, so I will consider involving you in my child’s life when he or she is born.” Tears filled her eyes and she turned away again. “But until then, I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear from you. I want nothing to do with you. If you badger me in spite of my explicit request to be left alone, I will move again. And this time I’ll make sure you can’t find me.”
His voice sounded broken. “Kelly …”
“Go,” she whispered, motioning toward the door as she hid her face. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of him.
A small, worn-out part of her wanted him to come to her, take her in his arms, and comfort her. Give her a real apology, not about her being pregnant but about not being there for her. Maybe, just maybe, he might actually choose to stay and fight for her.
But instead, she heard his footsteps moving toward the door. It creaked open and then it creaked closed, leaving her alone in her apartment once again—alone with her unborn child.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Blake
“It’s too late,” Blake told Cole, sitting on his brother’s couch, his head in his hands. He had driven straight to Cole’s house after leaving Kelly, his heart breaking in ways he hadn’t known were possible. “She’s so angry, she wants nothing to do with me.”
Cole sat down beside him, handing him a drink that Blake really wasn’t that interested in. “Give her time.”
“Apparently I’ve given her too much time.”
“She’s hurt, but she’ll come around,” Cole promised. “She knows that it’s best for the child to have both parents involved, and when she sees that baby, she’ll do whatever is in his or her best interest, regardless of how she feels.”
Blake stared down into the amber liquid in his glass. “And what if she thinks I’m not in the baby’s best interest?”
“Then she’s wrong,” Cole said firmly.
“Maybe.” Blake set the drink down and leaned back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling. “Maybe she’s right about me. I keep letting my fear get in the way of everything. I miss her so much when she’s not around, but when I’m with her all I do is trip over my own tongue.”
Getting up, Cole fixed a drink for himself, though he was clearly set to drink alone. “Do you want my advice?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“At this point, words are not going to convince her. You need actions. You need to show her every day that you’re committed and that you’re not going anywhere.” Cole turned to look at him. “Are you willing to do that?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” Blake said dragging a hand over his hair. “I was trying to do that with my visit. Clearly, things didn’t work out that way. But how?”
“Little things,” Cole told him, waving a hand. “Send her flowers. Pick her up and take her to a doctor’s appointment. Read a book on pregnancy and then talk to her about what you learned. Sign up for a birthing class with her. Spend time in her apartment, doing things she likes to do. Rub her feet. Suggest baby names.”
It was a long list of things that Blake had absolutely no familiarity with, yet he suddenly found that he was willing to try all of them if it would bring Kelly back to him. Kelly and their baby. “How, though?” he asked again. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Work your way up,” Cole suggested. “Start by sending her a letter every day. Write to her about the ways you’ve messed up. Write to her about what you’re nervous about when it comes to being a father. Write to her about dates you want to take her on. Send her flowers. Have a book she likes delivered to her. I promise you she’ll come around.”
Blake nodded slowly. “I could do that. I think. I want to try anyway. Nothing has ever felt so bad as her sending me away from her apartment. Nothing.”
“Then man up,” Cole suggested, walking back over and cli
nking his glass against Blake’s before taking a slow swallow and savoring the rich alcohol. “You can do it, bro. It’s not that different than wooing a client, right?” He chuckled at his own joke.
Blake’s mind, however, was on anything but business, for once in his life.
***
Dear Kelly,
I hope you read this. You have every reason not to, but I really, truly hope you do. I read the letter you wrote me. I was an ass not to answer it, or your calls, or your emails, or your texts.
Kelly, there’s no excusing my behavior, so I’m not going to try. I was cruel. Rude. Shallow. Juvenile. Irresponsible. Did I mention cruel? And the reason I did those things was even worse. I was afraid. So, cruel and cowardly. It’s a great look, I know.
But here’s the deal. However badly I screwed up, there’s more on the line than just my own ego and heart now. You’re involved. And so is our baby. Our baby, Kelly. We’re having a child.
I can’t thank you enough for being willing to force me to listen to you, so you could deliver the news that I’m going to have a son or daughter one day. And you were right. She or he isn’t a mistake or a complication. In fact, she or he may be the second-best thing to happen in my life, after you.
Yes, you. You come first, Kelly, from here on out. My dad was a pretty crappy old man, but one thing he and Mom did right was make their relationship a priority. He might have missed all our major life events, but he was there for Mom’s. Mom used to say that a couple has to come first, in order for kids to thrive. I think she was probably right. I aim to find out.
So I’m not giving up. Not on you. Not on us. And definitely not on our baby. This time I’m going to fight for you, Kelly. No matter how hard you push me away, I’m going to fight to make you give me one last chance, and that one last chance will make all the other ones worth your while, I swear.
Dared to Love (The Billionaire Parker Brothers Book 3) Page 11