Tempting Meredith

by Samantha Ann King

  “Odds are Cassandra isn’t mine. But if she is—well, I’d like to get to know her. Even after thinking about it these last few days, I’m having trouble wrapping my brain around the whole daddy concept. It doesn’t feel real.”

  “And Meredith?” Charlie asked. “Are you pissed she didn’t tell you earlier?”

  “I can’t blame her. She was younger than I was. It makes me sick when I think of how scared she must have been. She’s stronger than I gave her credit for.”

  “You and me both.” Charlie raked his fingers through his hair. “This is so fucked up. I don’t know what to do, how to help her.”

  “Yeah, you do,” Blaine said. “But you’re second-guessing yourself. You’re afraid of spooking her. And she’s had to deal with this for so long on her own that she doesn’t know how to ask for or even accept help.”

  Charlie lifted his head, his expression tortured, and Blaine regretted that he’d caused it. If he’d followed up with Meredith all those years ago, if he’d checked up on her, made sure she was good...

  What then? They’d have married, had a baby. Blaine would’ve had a normal life, a normal family. He would’ve been happy. He’d have never met Charlie. Couldn’t miss someone he’d never known. Couldn’t love someone he’d never met. Could he?

  No, he’d have to go back further. If he had it to do over again, that night never would have happened. He and Charlie and Meredith could’ve started from scratch.

  Would’ves, could’ves, should’ves. They were all irrelevant now. He had to deal with the decisions he’d made then and their consequences now. The rest was bullshit.

  * * *

  Meredith parked her rental car on the street in front of the white picket fence. Behind that symbol of domesticity was a narrow lawn leading to a colonial red clapboard house, which was similar in style to hers. Unlike her house, a purple bike was propped against the stairs in the shade of the porch, completing the picture of hearth and home.

  Suddenly, she wasn’t so certain this was the best plan. Didn’t matter that Larry and Chris had been thrilled when she’d called before making her flight reservations. Didn’t matter that she’d been convinced of the rightness when she’d explained it to Charlie and Blaine. She wished she’d taken Blaine up on his offer to come with her. Right about now, she needed someone to hold her hand and tell her everything was going to be okay—whether she believed it or not—because she was ready to bolt.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t leave. A seven-year-old girl was waiting on the other side of those bay windows, and she was as excited and scared and hopeful as Meredith. Probably more so. Meredith wouldn’t let her down, not again.

  She forced a smile before she stepped out of the car because Cassandra might be peering through those windows. It was what Meredith would do in Cassandra’s shoes, and she didn’t want her daughter to see how frightened she was. Her heart pounded as she fumbled with the gate’s latch. She finally got it open then shut it behind her, making certain it closed properly, stalling. She reached the front door too quickly. It opened before she pressed the doorbell. Larry stood just inside, a broad, welcoming smile on his face. He hadn’t changed since she’d last seen him. He was tall, an inch or two over six feet, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes.

  “Meredith, come in.” He stretched toward the screen door and swung it open. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

  She almost extended her hand to shake his. That had been her plan, but it didn’t seem right. Too businesslike. Too impersonal. This man was her daughter’s father. Should she hug him? Indecision kept her arms at her side. She simply said, “I’m sorry I’m late. The flight...” Nerves closed off her throat.

  Larry waved away her explanation. “Don’t worry about it. We kept up with your progress on the computer. Gotta love technology. Cassie was able to follow your plane on a map as it crossed the country. Of course, the difficult part came after you’d landed. But you made good time from the airport.”

  She followed him from the entry through a doorway to the right and into a living room. In the middle of the room, Chris waited, anticipation and worry mingling in his brown eyes. He was shorter than Larry, about Charlie’s height, but more slender than Charlie.

  Slightly behind Chris, peering shyly around his side, was a wisp of a girl with curly blond hair and big blue eyes.

  “Cassie,” Larry said gently, “this is Meredith.”

  “I know,” the girl said, the certainty in her voice at odds with the youthful airiness.

  A real smile replaced the one Meredith had forced. Of course Cassandra knew who she was. Her dads had probably shown her photos. If she was anything like Meredith at that age, Cassandra didn’t understand why her dads were introducing her to someone she was already acquainted with.

  Meredith wanted to touch her so badly, her palms tingled. For almost eight years there had been a hollow emptiness to her arms. She wanted to cradle her daughter like a newborn and hold her until that emptiness disappeared.

  She didn’t, afraid of frightening her daughter, afraid of coming on too strongly, afraid of overstepping.

  Larry got drinks for everyone, something to do with their hands and mouths as they talked in uncomfortable spits and spurts. Cassandra sat pressed close to Chris’s side on the couch, her feet nowhere near the floor, and Meredith was happy that her baby could count on him for comfort. Meredith and Larry sat in wingback chairs across from each other.

  Cassandra ignored her water and stared with wide-eyed curiosity at Meredith. She didn’t say anything, but Meredith could see her taking everything in.

  Larry told her about the move to Houston. The neighborhood, the schools. Little by little, Cassandra slipped from Chris’s side and inched closer to Meredith. When she bumped up against the end of the couch, she scooted forward on the cushion until her feet touched the floor. It wasn’t long before she slid off the couch to sit next to Meredith’s legs.

  Meredith couldn’t restrain herself any longer. Years of longing overcame her fears. She tentatively brushed the tips of her fingers against Cassandra’s hair. Cassandra leaned against Meredith’s legs. Heat radiated from her tiny body. Meredith lovingly swept the girl’s hair back from her flushed cheek.

  Cassandra stood, and Meredith jerked her hand back, afraid she’d gone too far. But Cassandra crawled into Meredith’s lap and curled up, resting her cheek against Meredith’s breast. Holding her breath, Meredith wrapped the girl in a loose hug, still uncertain of her welcome. Cassandra was warm and solid. Real. Not a photo. Not words on a page. Not the ghost of a girl Meredith had tried countless times to hold and comfort.

  When she could breathe again, she looked to Larry and Chris, hoping they were okay with Cassandra’s display of affection. Larry smiled softly. Chris wasn’t smiling, but the tension in his face and posture was gone. He seemed relieved.

  Larry continued to talk. Chris occasionally added something. Meredith couldn’t have said what the conversation was about. She was too focused on her daughter. Her sweet little-girl scent, her breath delicate on Meredith’s chest, her heartbeat, rapid at first, like a hummingbird’s wings, but then slowing. Cassandra’s eyelids fluttered, fighting sleep. Her body grew heavier and warmer as she lost that battle.

  “She hasn’t slept well the last few nights,” Larry said. “It’s been like waiting for Christmas and her birthday all in one. She was so excited.”

  “And nervous,” Chris added.

  Meredith cautiously lowered her lips to the top of Cassandra’s head. Her hair was silky, slightly damp with sweat. Meredith was vaguely aware of Chris and Larry leaving the room.

  She tightened her arms around her daughter. The ache in her heart grew as she realized she could have had this all along.

  * * *

  Meredith stood in line at the hotel’s check-in, barely holding herself together. The emptiness
in her arms was stronger than before she’d held her daughter. Would it ever go away? She’d held her for almost three hours. Her arms had gone to sleep. And it still wasn’t enough.

  A voice cut through the useless noise in her head. “I recognize that look.” It seemed directed at her, but she didn’t acknowledge it. Probably just some guy trying to pick her up.

  “Meredith, what’s wrong?”

  She froze then slowly turned. Blaine. She stared stupidly at him. He couldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be here. “What’re you doing?” She scanned the lobby. “Where’s Charlie?”

  “It’s just me.”

  Just me? He was exactly who she needed. He’d understand because he might be Cassandra’s father. But... “Who’s taking care of Charlie?”

  “He doesn’t need anyone to take care of him.”

  She stared at him, still not quite believing her eyes. He was here. With her. She wasn’t alone. Oh, God. What if he was Cassandra’s father? What if she’d kept him from his daughter because of her certainty that the child wasn’t his? She desperately wanted Cassandra to be his. He was a good man, and he would be everything Cassandra needed him to be.

  “Let’s go up to the room,” he said. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you look like you’re about to lose it.”

  She panicked. “I need to check in.” That was something she could handle. It didn’t involve emotions or children or even thinking. She’d sign the paperwork, get her key, go to her room and unpack. Travel 101. She’d done it hundreds of times.

  “You can do that later.”

  “But I have reservations.” And a plan. He couldn’t disrupt the plan.

  “They’ll still be there after you pull yourself together.”

  She was next in line. Almost there. She spoke firmly. “No. I need to do this. I need to check in.”

  Blaine was quiet for a moment. “Okay.”

  The check-in process went smoothly, and Blaine carried her suitcase to her room. She had him put it on the bed, and she began to unpack. Not thinking. Just doing. Holding back the tears that threatened. Hanging clothes. Putting stuff in the top drawer of the dresser. Toiletries in the bathroom. Back and forth, suitcase to closet, dresser, bathroom. Finally, the suitcase was empty. She zipped it up and stashed it in the corner near the window, then just stood and looked around the room, trying to figure out what she could do next.

  Blaine planted himself in front of her. “So how did it go?”

  Next thing she knew, she was enfolded in his arms, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop crying. She cried for Blaine and for all the years they’d missed with Cassandra because of her own inadequacies, her stupidity and her lame-assed excuses. She cried for the hole in her heart, the emptiness.

  Blaine spoke words she didn’t understand, but soothing nonetheless. His tranquility seeped through her skin, calming until her sobs became sniffles. Or maybe she just ran out of tears.

  He sat her on the bed and then disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the water running.

  He returned and handed her the glass.

  She sipped. The water slid coolly down her overheated throat. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  The tears had cleansed her, and she was strangely calm. “That I’d need you.”

  He sat beside her and took her hand. “Because I needed to be here with you.”

  They sat in comfortable silence until Blaine cleared his throat. “Did you ask them about the paternity test?”

  “There wasn’t a chance.” Selfishly, she’d wanted to spend every second with her daughter, and a DNA test wasn’t something she could discuss in front of her. Plus, she didn’t want to disrupt Cassandra’s life. As much as she wanted Blaine to be the father, she worried that he’d claim his parental rights.

  “I’ve thought about it—what it would mean.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly then continued, his voice quiet but certain. “I’m not her dad. If she needed something—a kidney, blood, a bone marrow transplant—I’d give it to her. But she’s got a dad. She’s got two dads. She doesn’t need another.”

  “You might change your mind when you meet her.”

  His expression was pensive. “Anything’s possible, but I can’t see taking her away from the only parents she’s ever known. I can’t see hurting her, confusing her like that.”

  It was the right answer, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. I’ll tell them. See what they say. They’ll probably want to think about it.”

  “I imagine so. I won’t press. I’d like to know, but I won’t push it.”

  She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Do you want to be her dad?” As much as she wanted it, it could be difficult for him. Knowing he had a child whose life he wasn’t sharing day-to-day. She was intimately familiar with that pain, and she wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially someone she loved as much as Blaine.

  “Yeah, I kinda do. Even though I wouldn’t get all the benefits. I think it’d be nice knowing that a part of me was in your daughter.” He paused. “Would you be okay with that?”

  “Oh, Blaine, I’d love it. I’m trying so hard not to get my hopes up.” There was only one thing left to discuss. Or one person. “How are you and Charlie?”

  “Never better.”

  He meant it. She could feel his conviction in her bones, and that last worry evaporated. “Would you like to see a picture?”

  “You’ve got one?” he asked, surprised.

  “Larry took one of the two of us with my phone before I left.” She dug it out of her purse, pulled up the photo of her kneeling beside Cassandra and passed the phone to Blaine.

  “She’s the spitting image of you.”

  Meredith spent the rest of the evening answering Blaine’s questions about Cassandra. At first it was odd and her responses were disjointed. But after a while, it felt right sharing what she knew, as if she was finally free to talk about the child she’d given birth to.

  * * *

  Charlie knocked lightly on the door and glanced up and down the hall as he waited. He hoped Meredith wasn’t pissed when she saw him. But he had to see for himself how she was doing. And he accused her of being a control freak.

  Something bumped and scraped on the other side, and he held his breath. The door opened. Blaine stood there, bare-chested, his navy sleep pants low on his hips, his feet bare.

  “How is she?” Charlie whispered.

  “Good. She’s sleeping. I didn’t tell her you were coming. I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

  “It probably would have been faster if I’d driven.”

  After Blaine silently closed the door behind them and locked them in, he wrapped his hand around Charlie’s neck and kissed him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Despite their intimacies, the gesture surprised him. It was so sweet, so domestic. And yeah, even a little sexy. Too bad he was too tired to do anything about it. “I hope she is.”

  Blaine smiled. “I’m sure you can think of a way to make her glad.”

  “I hate to resort to sex every time.”

  Blaine raised his brows. “Does that mean you’re tired of us already?”

  Charlie snorted then glanced at the bed to make sure he hadn’t disturbed Meredith. The curtains of the floor-to-ceiling window were open and artificial light from the commercial district illuminated her. Still sleeping. Her chest rising and falling evenly. Her hair glowing like the full moon on a hazy night. Her back was to him, so he couldn’t see her face.

  God, he was so fucking glad to finally be here with them. The cramped airplane seats, the long layover, the delayed flight, the pounding in his head—all worth it. He’d tried to get on the same flight as Blaine but hadn’t been able t
o leave Austin until three hours later, and then he’d gotten stuck at O’Hare because of weather.

  He quietly set his duffle bag by the door and started to undress. He stood over her and watched her for a while. One hand lay in front of her face on the pillow in a loose fist. The other was tucked under her face.

  He eased in on his side—the one that wasn’t bruised and banged up—behind her. He wanted to spoon, to wrap her up and shield her. If he hadn’t been afraid of waking her, he would have.

  She surprised him when she wiggled back until they touched. “I thought you weren’t coming,” she said sleepily.

  “It didn’t feel right.” He tucked his arm against her chest and pulled her closer, melding their skin together. “Being separated when you were doing something so important.”

  She placed her hand over his and laced their fingers together. “I love you.”

  He froze, stunned by the admission. Did she realize what she’d said? His heart swelled, forcing out the words he’d bottled up for so long. “I love you, too.”

  “Blaine, too. Love him, too,” she murmured. “Saved me.”

  Blaine slid down in front of her and lightly kissed her. “I love you, too.”

  Her breathing became soft and even as she drifted back to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  As soon as Meredith walked through the door the next day, Cassandra looked up at Larry and asked, “Can I show her my room?”

  “Sure.”

  Cassandra extended her hand to Meredith. It was so small, so soft, so tentative. Meredith followed her through the entry hall with Chris and Larry bringing up the rear. The girl stopped at the foot of the stairs and spoke to her dads. “It’s okay. You can stay here.”

  “I’ll fix a snack and bring it up. How does that sound?” Larry asked.

  “Cassie, I’ll come with you and help you give Meredith a tour,” Chris said.

  “We need to talk alone,” Cassie said firmly—adult words in a child’s voice.

  Larry placed his hand on Chris’s arm. “Why don’t you go up to the office and do some work? I’ll call you when I bring up the snacks.”