by Kim Law
“I’ll start a fire,” Cord mumbled, tugging off his gloves.
He left her standing just inside the door, and as she watched him stomp over to the fireplace, she had the thought that she liked him much better when he was in charmer mode. He’d been a charmer back in April.
He’d been a charmer all his life, from what she’d been told.
Tonight he was sour and snarly.
Keeping her coat on, she tugged her own gloves off, as well as her hat and scarf, and shook out her hair. And she ignored the man currently squatting in front of a waiting pile of stacked wood. She moved farther into the room. This was one of the one-bedroom cabins and had been decorated mostly in shades of browns and greens, as well as the theme of elks. Each cabin had a focus on a different animal. Megan had decorated the spaces, and Erica and Arsula had gushed about them to her many times.
Turning slowly, she took in the small L-shaped kitchen tucked into the back corner, as well as the open bedroom door just to its right. A blue, brown, and green plaid bedspread covered a king-sized mattress framed by a rustic log bedframe. Everything about this cabin exuded masculinity. It fit Cord.
Chunky, wood frames held artwork throughout the living space, and heavy pottery mugs and bowls lined open shelving in the kitchen. The place had a cozy, yet solid feel. Hard, like the man currently building a fire.
Like the man she’d had a crush on long before she’d ever met him in person.
She frowned again. That crush had certainly been snubbed out.
“I guess we should talk.” Cord spoke from behind her, and when she turned, she found that though he’d stepped to the side of the fireplace, he hadn’t moved away from it. He’d pulled his coat and hat off, and while flames flickered at his side, casting shadows across the distressed pine flooring, tiny sparks released the scent of burning wood into the room. She drew in a deep breath. The smell reminded her of winter evenings from before her grandmother had passed.
“I guess we should,” she agreed. Nervousness had her clasping her hands together on the top of her belly.
“Please.” He motioned to the sofa. “Have a seat. You’ll be more comfortable.”
Could he tell how miserable she was? “Thanks,” she murmured.
She settled on the end of the oversized couch, not bothering to take her coat off, and as she sank into the cushy brown leather, a small sigh slipped past her lips. She then eyed the square-topped trunk that was being used as a coffee table. She’d love to put her feet up. Let some of the extra fluid drain somewhere besides into her ankles. But the trunk was too tall to be comfortable.
A high-pitched whine came from outside as a gust of wind whipped against the cabin walls, and the fire sputtered in the fireplace. Flames licked upward toward the open damper.
She drew in another deep breath. She didn’t know where to begin.
Cord held his phone up. “I have a signal. I’ll send you money for the bills you’ve already had to cover.” He named a banking app that would allow him to make the transfer electronically. “Is five thousand okay to start?”
She stared at him. “Five thousand?”
“Yes.” He tapped on his phone as he spoke. “We can work out details with a lawyer later, but I want to make sure you’re covered for anything you’ve needed so far.” He looked up from what he was doing. “Are you still working? Do I need to add more for that?”
“I’m still working,” she mumbled, but her mind couldn’t catch up. He seemed so calm. So . . . disassociated.
He was just going to stand there and transfer her some money and be calm?
After finding out that he was going to be a father . . . and then accusing her of lying about whose it was?
The one-eighty was mind-boggling.
She finally made herself focus. She cleared her throat. “I’m not looking for money, Cord.”
“Use it for the baby.” He didn’t look up again until he’d tapped one last time, and within seconds of finishing, her cell phone chirped in her coat pocket. Apparently, she had a signal again, too.
She dug out her phone. A message announced that five thousand dollars would be transferred to her as soon as she entered her banking info.
“Cord,” she started again, but that time when he looked at her, there was a questioning look on his face. Did he really not have a clue?
“What?” he asked.
“You’re going to be a father.”
He never batted an eye. “No. I got you pregnant. The two aren’t the same at all.”
Shock rippled through her, and her hand went back to her belly. “You don’t want to have anything to do with your child?”
“I told you back in April that I don’t do relationships.”
Anger once again arrived, quickly edging out the shock. “I’m not asking you for a relationship.” What an ego. “Geez. That ship has clearly sailed.”
He tucked in his chin and lifted his brows at her. “That ship never existed, Maggie.”
A slap across the face wouldn’t have stung any worse. She’d known his stance on the subject, of course. And she’d believed him when he’d announced before they’d ever gotten together that he didn’t get seriously involved. But still . . . his delivery was harsh.
Painfully so.
“But your baby,” she began, only she couldn’t finish her thought. He continued standing, looking as unaffected as he had since he’d first spoken.
How could he be so clinical about this?
“I don’t do relationships,” he repeated firmly, and she finally got it. Her insides dropped.
She put her second hand over her first one. “You’re talking about the baby.” He saw relationships with children the same as with women? “You’re saying that you don’t want a relationship with your son? Of any kind?”
Cord’s entire body went still. “It’s a boy?” He seemed to hold his breath.
“It is.” She rubbed a hand over her son, and the baby kicked in return. “Does that matter?”
This time there was a tiny pause before Cord continued. “Of course it doesn’t.” He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, he seemed to focus on the side of her head instead of her face. “I don’t do relationships with anyone,” he repeated. “Woman or child.”
Though she wanted to remain angry, to demand he be a father to his son, it wasn’t possible at the moment. Because she was overcome with confusion. He seemed suddenly even more impenetrable than before. Like a vital piece of information that she couldn’t make out sat solidly hidden behind his giant wall of blankness. Had that sentence meant something other than that he didn’t want to have anything to do with this kid?
Had there been more kids?
She narrowed her eyes. Was she simply the next in a long string of accidental pregnancies?
The instant the idea formed, however, she rejected it. He was far too careful. It had been a miracle she’d turned up pregnant as it was, what with the number of condoms used and his absolute refusal to touch her in the most intimate of ways until there had been protection solidly in place. So, no. There was no way this situation was “normal” for him.
Plus, she knew his family. Wouldn’t they know if he were a serial sperm donor? Wouldn’t she have heard about it from at least one of her friends?
And then she got it. That stony mask . . . his refusal to look her in the eyes any longer . . .
He was scared.
Or more aptly, he was terrified.
And she totally got that. Hadn’t she just spent the last six months being terrified herself? Wasn’t she still?
She’d struggled intensely in the beginning to let the situation sink in, instead trying to reject the idea entirely. She’d wanted to pretend it all away. So yes, she could understand the fear. And she could sympathize with it.
Thinking she’d go over to stand with Cord, that her presence might offer comfort in some small way, she moved to stand. Only, it wasn’t nearly as easy to get off the couch as it had been to get onto it. S
he growled under her breath. Why did she have to look like a beached whale flopping around in front of this man?
“Let me help.” Cord suddenly appeared at her side, hand outstretched, and danged if her tears didn’t appear again.
“I’ll just stay here,” she grumbled, wiping at her eyes instead of taking Cord’s hand. But when she unbuttoned and went to shrug out of her coat—because the fire he’d built was doing a spectacular job in the small cabin—his hands fell to her shoulders before she could protest.
She let her entire body sag, exhausted from the stress of the whole day, and allowed him to help her out of the bulky material. Besides, if she didn’t let him help, she’d likely just end up flopping around in front of him some more. Only, once the coat had been removed—remaining wedged between her and the cushions since she didn’t dare try pulling it out from under her—she wished she’d left the thing on. Because Cord now stared at her stomach again. And he was staring in an even more oh-my-God fascination than he had when he’d first realized she was pregnant.
She linked her fingers together, resting her hands atop her stretchy-shirt-covered belly, and she wished she’d worn something more voluminous. “It is yours,” she argued, even though he hadn’t protested again. “I’m only seven and a half months.”
Blue eyes lifted to hers. “And you’re okay? Not just now,” he clarified, “but in general. You’re healthy?”
The sincerity in his tone broke her. Why would this man not want a relationship with his son? “My doctor assures me that everything is fine. And no, there’s not a second baby hiding in there. He’s just going to be a big boy. But also, a lot of the extra weight is water retention. Same as in my feet.” She held her feet out, her black leggings and Sherpa-lined boots hiding the issue. “She’s keeping a close eye on things. So far, there’s been nothing scary like high blood pressure due to the swelling.”
Cord’s gaze shifted to her feet, and as he remained standing in front of her, she felt ironically small. She was so swollen that she now wore shoes two full sizes larger than normal. Additionally, her pregnancy weight for sure wasn’t contained only to her stomach. It had also crept into her hips and even farther down. And hey, let’s not forget the boobs that now not only squished together where they met but seemed to spill into her underarms as well. Yet six-foot-plus, wide-shouldered, lean-hipped Cord Wilde made her feel tiny. And it was the best feeling she’d had in a long time.
She expected tears again, but they didn’t come. So, she patted the couch. “Sit down, Cord. Let’s talk about this.”
Surprisingly, he sat.
“I know it’s a lot to take in.” She started the speech she’d tweaked for the last six months. “But it’s not the end of the world. Children are miracles.” She offered a tentative smile when he remained stiff on the cushion next to her. “Your family is going to have four other kids born within the next month, and I’m sure you’re happy for them?”
She paused, but he didn’t acknowledge her question.
“So,” she pushed on, “I’m thinking, we look at this as a good thing. Our son somehow made it past the barrier of latex, so we know he’ll be strong.” She laughed lightly, just as she’d rehearsed. “Or maybe he’s going to be analytical. He’ll be able to solve puzzles. Or always find a way around anything blocking whatever path he sets out on.”
She smiled again, but Cord now wore the same aloofness he’d donned earlier.
“What better way to start a life, right?” she finished, her voice cracking at the end. The tears were back.
Cord didn’t want their baby.
He wouldn’t be around when she went into labor.
“Cord?” she whispered. “It’s your son. I know you live in Billings, but can’t we work something out?” She wouldn’t even mind going to Billings to deliver. She’d already discussed the possibility with her doctor, tossing out the idea of temporarily moving to the area after Christmas. Then, as her child grew older, she’d take him to visit on a regular basis if Cord didn’t always have time to come to her. She wanted her baby to have a father he could always rely on.
Cord reached out and took her hand, and the move startled her. Warmth from his body enveloped her fingers, and for the briefest moment she didn’t feel so alone in this. That soon ended, however, because his facial features hadn’t changed.
“It is my son. I’ll acknowledge that, and I’ll also apologize for accusing you of lying about it earlier.”
She nodded. “I appreciate the apology.”
“But, Maggie”—he shook his head, the line of his mouth flattening—“I don’t want a child in my life. And just like you have the right to want one, I have the right not to. And I’m sorry if that hurts you. I truly am. I’ll take responsibility for my part in things, and I’ll send whatever money you need. For as long as you need it. You can even quit working and stay home if you prefer to. But I . . .” He glanced away, and Maggie watched as he seemed to go through a litany of emotions. “It’s not going to happen.” He brought his gaze back to hers, his emotions once again under control. “I’m not cut out to be a father, so that’s not up for debate.”
He wasn’t cut out to be a father? That was his reasoning?
That made no sense. She’d seen him with his nieces at Erica’s wedding. She’d watched him at The Cherry Basket’s grand opening back in April with his whole family. He’d be a great dad.
“If it’s nerves bothering you,” she started, “worrying about the what-ifs and all the things you’ve never dealt with, everyone goes through that. But Cord, you’re wrong. You’d make a great—”
“I wouldn’t.” His face remained impassive. His eyes cold. “Some things a person simply knows.”
She stared at him, trying to digest his words. Trying to see beneath them. Because she didn’t buy his “knowledge” for an instant. He had to know how good he was with people. Even with her during their weekend. Though he’d made it clear they would never be a thing, at the same time, he hadn’t been able to hide the fact that he naturally watched over people.
Was it the idea of being a parent that scared him the most? Or was it something that went deeper?
And then another thought occurred. Did it have to do with his mother?
She knew from Erica that the Wilde matriarch had been a deep-seated narcissist. The woman had played the six kids off each other from day one. And she’d never been the warm, caring mother she’d always presented to the world. Was that Cord’s concern? That he’d be like her?
“You care about people.” She couldn’t imagine he’d be anything different as a parent than he was in his everyday life. “You went through years of school because you wanted to take care of people on a daily basis. You’re here in Birch Bay now because you came to check on your dad. You told me that yourself. All you have to do is care and you’ll be a good dad.”
His abrupt bark of laughter made her flinch.
“Cord?” She squeezed the hand still wrapped around hers. Caring had to be enough. “Please.”
He shook his head again, and inside, she started to shake. She needed to go.
She wouldn’t sit there and plead with him any longer.
“I should leave.” She pulled her hand free and slipped her arm into her coat. “I’ll call my brother.”
Cord stopped her by recapturing her hand. “The weather is too bad tonight. There’s already almost a foot of snow out there.”
“No. I’ll . . .” She glanced at her cell phone, where it had slipped from the couch at some point and fallen to the floor. “I have a signal again. I’ll call Mason. He’ll come get me.”
“Stay here tonight.”
“What?” Panic filled her. “No. I can’t do that.”
“It’s not safe to be out in this. For either of you. Not until it lets up.” His voice was too calm, and that calmness made her more frazzled. “Stay tonight,” he repeated. “You can have the bedroom, and I’ll take the couch. There’s a half bath out here that I can use. And tomorr
ow after the roads have been cleared, I’ll get you to your house. We’ll call a tow truck to pull your car out.”
She shook her head, the movement jerky. “I can’t go back to my house. That’s why I was headed to Mace’s tonight. My floors are being refinished. They started work on them today, and I can’t be around those fumes with the baby.” And she’d have gotten to her brother’s place hours earlier if she hadn’t changed her mind and decided to stay an extra night with her parents at their guest ranch. “My bathtub and sink are being re-glazed, too.” Her voice inched higher, and she could hear the tightness creeping into it. “I don’t even have a working bath. And I won’t for a week.”
She’d planned to come back to town and check into a hotel after the weekend. She was a third-grade teacher, and it didn’t matter how much snow they had, chances were good schools would remain open.
Cord squeezed her hand again, the pressure enough to get her attention, and she realized she’d started taking in short gasps of air.
“Breathe.” He said the word softly, following it with the action itself.
She followed suit, focusing on him, and pulled in a deep breath.
“Again,” he murmured, and once again he inhaled.
Maggie did as she was told, and as she calmed, yet more tears showed up.
“You’re going to be okay, Maggie.” Cord swiped a finger under her eyes. “You and your baby are going to be just fine, and this situation tonight is going to be fine. Call your brother. Let him know you’ll be staying here. There’s food and water in the cabin. Nate stocked it with enough for a week, so we’re all set. Then in the morning, we’ll figure out what to do next.”
She nodded. Her clothes were in the trunk of her car, but she could stay there for one night without them. She could sleep in what she was wearing. It was comfortable enough. Then tomorrow she’d leave. They’d get her car pulled out of the ditch and she would be on her way.
A final tear slipped out. She’d be on her way, and Cord Wilde would become nothing more than a distant memory in her and her son’s past.