"Where's Carly?" Colin asked.
"She's spending the day with Arden."
His cool gaze narrowed on her. "I want to see my daughter."
"I wanted to be able to discuss the … situation without being overheard."
Her explanation didn't seem to placate him.
Nikki didn't care. She was only worried about how Colin's sudden appearance would impact Carly's life. And concerned about the void that would be left after his inevitable disappearance again. Because as much as she wanted Colin to have a relationship with Carly, she knew he wouldn't stay in Fairweather. He'd never wanted to before; there was no reason to suspect he would now.
"Do you want some coffee?" The offer was made in an attempt to buy time rather than because she had any real desire to pump more caffeine into her system.
"Fine."
She could tell by the clipped tone that he was still angry. Furious, in fact, and she knew she couldn't blame him for that.
She led the way into the kitchen, then busied herself pouring coffee into two mugs while she sought the words that would explain her actions. She added a splash of cream to his, cream and sugar to her own. The task gave her another precious moment to compose herself, organize her thoughts.
She turned back to the table and handed him the mug. His fingers brushed against hers and her tenuous composition dissolved, her supposedly organized thoughts fled. She chanced a quick glance at Colin, found his eyes locked on hers, felt the heated awareness that simmered between them.
Despite the enormity of the issues unresolved, the basic attraction was still there. Like the glowing embers of a fire, stoked by that simple, accidental contact of their fingers. It was just another distraction she didn't need right now, a complication she couldn't afford.
"I'm still trying to understand what happened, Nicole, why—in all this time—you didn't tell me we had a ' child."
Whatever excuses she'd used to justify the deception initially, the more time that passed, the harder it became to even consider telling him about their child. And the older Carly got, the more unreal the whole situation seemed. Maybe it would have been easier when Carly was a baby, or even a toddler. But how could she track him down to tell him that he was a father—to a four-and-a-half-year-old child?
She'd always fallen back on the excuse that if Colin had cared about her at all, he would have come back. She'd clung to that justification, reveled in it. After all, he'd been the one to walk out on her. But now he was back, and she'd run out of excuses.
"I wanted to tell you," she admitted.
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because the day I found out that I was pregnant was the day I got served with divorce papers." The memory of that day—both the overwhelming joy and the devastating pain—was still vivid in her mind.
"This was payback? Your way of punishing me for ending our marriage?"
She sighed wearily. "I didn't think of it as punishment, but maybe it was. At first, anyway. I was hurt and angry, and I didn't want to have any contact with you."
"You couldn't have got past your hurt and anger for two minutes at any time in five years to tell me I had a child?" he demanded.
"I tried to call you."
"When?"
"The first time I held our baby in my arms." Even now, thinking about that moment made her smile. "I wanted you to know about her—our beautiful, perfect little girl."
"And?" he prompted impatiently.
"The number was no longer in service."
Her response didn't even slow down his attack. "Did you call directory assistance? Did you ask my brother? Did you make any effort other than that one phone call?"
"No," she admitted.
"Why, Nic?"
"I thought I was protecting Carly."
"How could you possibly use our child to justify your actions?"
Our child.
The words leaped at her, angry, accusing. Reminding Nikki that he had a valid and legitimate claim to the little girl that she'd kept to herself for so many years. It didn't matter that her actions had been well-intentioned, that she'd given Carly all the love and attention and affection any child could need or want. Carly was his child, too, and she'd hurt all of them by denying it.
"What did you think you were protecting her from?" Colin demanded.
Nikki shifted her gaze, tried to keep her own temper in check. But it was hard not to respond in kind to his anger. "From being rejected by her father."
He scowled. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about your damn obsession with hockey." She practically shouted the words at him, relieved to finally speak them aloud. To finally admit the feelings she'd kept bottled up inside her for so long.
"Obsession?" Colin echoed.
"It was all you ever talked about, all you thought about. And I didn't think a child would fit into your plans. A wife certainly hadn't."
"Hockey wasn't an obsession—it was my life."
"I know," she admitted, helpless to prevent the bitterness from entering her voice. "And more important to you than anything else."
"That isn't true."
"Isn't it?"
"Of course not. And we weren't talking about my career, anyway. We were talking about why you kept my daughter from me."
Nikki sighed. "When I first suspected that I was pregnant, I hoped that having a baby would bring us closer again. Then you decided that being married wasn't what you wanted, and the last thing I wanted was for you to come back to me just because I was pregnant.
"I loved you too much to use our baby to hold on to you. I didn't want you to resent me, and our child, for keeping you here when it wasn't where you wanted to be."
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "And there was a part of me that was afraid it wouldn't be enough to hold you, anyway. That you would still choose your career over your family."
"Did you ever consider a third option—that I might have wanted to be a father to our child?"
Of course she'd considered it. When the doctor had confirmed her pregnancy, she'd fantasized about telling him. In that fantasy, Colin had been ecstatic to learn she was carrying his child. He'd shouted with joy and kissed her breathless. Then he'd taken her away and they'd lived happily ever after in a house full of children.
But the reality was that they'd married without ever talking about children. At the time, she'd been so thrilled to be Colin's wife she hadn't worried about anything else. She'd known she wanted to have his child some day, and she'd taken it for granted that he wanted the same thing.
When she'd finally broached the subject a couple of months later, she'd been both shocked and hurt to hear him say he didn't want a family. But she hadn't pursued the topic, certain he'd change his mind over time.
Being served with a petition for divorce had effectively annihilated that fantasy. Still, she knew now that she'd been wrong to blame him for destroying a dream he couldn't have known about. And after a long minute of agonizing silence, she finally whispered, "I'm sorry."
"Sorry that I found out?"
She shook her head, blinked back tears. "Sorry that I didn't try to tell you sooner. Regardless of what happened between us, you are her father and you had a right to know."
Colin remained silent.
"I am sorry," she said, surprised at how good it felt to say those words. "I never meant to hurt you or Carly by keeping my pregnancy a secret. And I'm sorry that's what happened."
"So am I."
"What do you want me to do now?" she asked helplessly. "I've apologized. I've tried to make you understand why I made the decisions I did. Okay, so maybe I screwed up. Maybe I should have done things differently. But it's too late to change that now."
When he finally spoke, his tone was ripe with bitterness and accusation. "I don't know if I can ever forgive you for this."
"We both made mistakes," she reminded him. "Can't we just admit that and move on?"
"I don't know how to get past your lies, your deception."
>
Nikki again felt the sting of tears behind her eyes.
"Does Carly know anything about me?"
"She's only started to ask questions about her dad," Nikki admitted. "I've told her as much as I can without lying to her."
His eyes narrowed. "What have you told her?"
"That he didn't live with us because he worked in Texas."
He seemed to consider her explanation for a long moment.
"It's not a big deal to her," Nikki explained. "A lot of her friends live in single-parent families."
"It's a big deal to me," he said.
"That's not what I meant. I was only trying to explain that she hasn't missed not having a father."
"Does that help you sleep at night—believing she doesn't need a father?"
"I didn't say she didn't need a father," she said wearily. "In a perfect world, every child would have two parents who love her. But this isn't a perfect world, and I've done the best that I can for Carly."
"Then where do I fit in?"
Nikki hesitated, knowing that her response was only going to infuriate him even more. But she'd thought about that question all night, and she was determined to put her daughter's interests first. "I don't want you forcing your way into her life if you don't plan on staying. It would be worse for Carly to find her father and lose him, than never to have a father at all."
"Why is that your decision to make?" Colin challenged.
"Because she's my daughter and I don't want her to be hurt." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she recognized her mistake. Of course, it was already too late.
"She's my daughter, too," he shot back. "And I want to be part of her life. I want her to know who I am."
"You want her to call you 'Daddy'?"
"I am her father," he reminded her.
"You can't expect to show up, after five years, and—"
"I might have shown up sooner," he pointed out coldly, "if I'd known about my child."
"Might being the operative word," Nikki shot back.
"In any event," Colin continued, his tone icy, "I don't think you're in any position to put conditions on my relationship with Carly."
"I'm the one who will have to deal with the fallout when you're not around anymore."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"What happens if your contract is renewed in Texas?"
"I'm not going to debate with you about something that might or might not happen," he said.
"She's the one who'll be hurt when you leave town again."
"Why are you so quick to assume that I'd abandon her?"
Nikki looked away. She was afraid for Carly, but she was also afraid for herself. Colin affected her as no other man ever had, and she couldn't bear to see him walk out on her again. And she knew that he would leave. Sooner or later, Colin always left.
"Because you're always looking for something better. And when a situation becomes a little too difficult, you walk away rather than trying to make it work."
"Are you still talking about Carly?" he asked. "Or us?"
Nikki flushed. "Obviously our history has colored my perceptions, but you can't blame me for wanting to protect Carly."
"I would never hurt her, Nikki."
I would never hurt you, Nikki. Yes, she'd heard those words before. She'd even believed them at one time. Not anymore.
"If you really want to be her father, you have to start thinking about what's best for Carly. You need to consider how it will affect her when you walk out of her life as abruptly as you've walked into it."
"Dammit, Nicole. What do you want from me? What am I supposed to do to prove that I'm committed?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But you don't get to call yourself her father until you're ready to take the responsibility of being a father."
"Maybe we should see what a family-court judge says about it."
The words, once they'd been spoken, surprised Colin as much as they surprised Nikki. He certainly hadn't come over here this morning with the intention of threatening to take her to court. But he should have expected the unexpected—nothing had gone according to plan since he'd walked back into this town.
And although he was tempted to follow through on the threat, to force Nikki to accept him as part of Carly's life, he knew he couldn't. Court documents were a matter of public record, accessible to anyone who cared to look. Filing a legal claim to his daughter would not only announce his location to the world but potentially endanger Carly as well.
Despite Detective Brock's phone call last night advising of Duncan Parnell's arrest, Colin remained wary. Unless and until Parnell signed a confession, he couldn't let himself believe the threat had passed. He couldn't let his guard down for a minute, which meant he couldn't sue for custody of his child.
But Nikki didn't know this, and her face drained of all color in response to his impulsive statement. "You wouldn't dare."
"Don't tempt me," he warned.
She blinked back the tears that shimmered in her eyes. "I'm only trying to do what's best for Carly. Why can't you see that?"
"How can not knowing her father be best?"
"It has to be better than knowing he didn't care enough to stick around."
He raked his fingers through his hair. "Dammit, Nikki. I didn't know you were pregnant."
"And I didn't think you'd care!"
Her outburst, and the depth of her anger, stunned him into silence for a moment.
"How could you think that?" he asked at last. "How could you think I'd walk away from my child?"
"I didn't know what to think," Nikki said bluntly.
"But I didn't think the man who'd told me he'd love me forever would serve me with divorce papers ten months after our wedding, either."
"You know why I ended our marriage," Colin said.
"No, I don't. I've listened to all the reasons you've given to justify your decision, but I still don't understand how you could walk out when you supposedly loved me. How could I be sure that you wouldn't walk out on your child, too?"
"Because I wouldn't," he said simply.
He might be a lot of things, but irresponsible wasn't one of them. Having a baby wasn't something they'd planned, but if he'd known she was carrying his child, he would have done everything in his power to make their marriage work.
"You told me you didn't want kids."
He frowned, having only a vague recollection of a conversation in which she'd asked him about children. It had been shortly after their wedding, and he'd been too preoccupied with his new wife and his lost career to think about anything else. He probably had said he didn't want them, certainly not at the time.
"Maybe I did," he agreed. "But there's a huge difference between the theory of a child and the reality of a little girl who is my own flesh and blood."
Which reminded him of another issue that had nagged at the back of his mind since he'd first set eyes on Carly. He'd been stunned, not just by the fact that Nikki had had a child, but by the realization that he'd fathered the child. Because if there was one thing in his life that Colin had always been circumspect about, it was birth control.
He always used protection. Even after he and Nikki had been married, he'd kept a supply of condoms in the bedside table. He'd never made love to her without one.
Except…
"When is Carly's birthday?" he asked abruptly.
She showed no hint of surprise at the question. "October sixth."
He did a quick mental calculation, confirmed from her response what he'd only just begun to suspect: their child had been conceived the very last weekend they'd been together. The weekend he'd come home to bury his father.
Nikki nodded, somehow following his thoughts, confirming his conclusion.
That weekend had been hell for Colin. He'd been overwhelmed with grief and guilt, and he'd willingly lost himself in the comfort she'd offered without thought of the consequences—without thought of anything but how much he needed her. He'd taken advantage of her
warmth and her compassion and her love, and then he'd walked out on her.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. The separation necessitated by his job had been difficult for both of them, and that weekend he'd finally acknowledged the truth of what his father had been saying—Nikki deserved more than a husband who was gone most of the time. She deserved so much more than he could give her.
He'd ended their marriage not because he didn't want to be with her, but because he wanted her to have the life she deserved. A husband who could be with her, the family she'd always wanted. It had almost killed him to think of her with someone else, but he'd forced himself to walk away, to give her that chance.
At the time, he'd honestly believed he was doing what was best for Nikki. As she'd done what she had for their daughter.
So how could he blame her for keeping her pregnancy a secret when her reasons so closely paralleled his own?
Nikki finally sank down into one of the vacant kitchen chairs, obviously drained by their argument. "I think what's more important than what either one of us did five years ago is what you want to do now."
"I want to be a father to my daughter."
Her hesitation spoke volumes, and had his anger rising again.
"For how long?" she finally asked. "How long are you going to stick around and actually be part of her life?"
He was so damned tired of rehashing the same argument, of feeling guilty for the decisions he'd made. Mostly he hated that he couldn't give her a definitive answer. Because until he knew for certain that the threats against his life were past, he couldn't promise her anything.
"I'm here now," was all he said.
Colin left Nikki's house with a lot of issues still unresolved but with a firm date set for him to see Carly: tomorrow.
Nikki and Carly had plans to go to the botanical gardens for a picnic in the afternoon, and Nikki had reluctantly agreed to let him tag along. They were still at odds about the "daddy" versus "uncle" matter, but Colin was so excited about actually spending some time with his daughter, he almost didn't care what she called him.
By the time he got back to his hotel, apprehension was warring with anticipation. He knew nothing about children, less than nothing about his own child. Had he pushed the issue too soon? Had he forced all of them into a situation that none of them was prepared for?
Extreme Measures Page 4