The Bad Son (Suddenly a Parent)

by Linda Warren

  He sat beside her and removed a crumb of icing from the corner of her mouth. At his touch, the warmth turned into a wildfire blazing through her veins. How many times had she fantasized about Beau looking at her like this? Too many to count.

  His hair, which was always neatly combed, was tousled across his forehead giving him a sexy, hunky look. All she wanted to do was kiss him, hold him and not worry about tomorrow. Or the future.

  As if reading her mind, his eyes on her lips, he said, “You haven’t mentioned the kiss in the hospital.”

  Her pulse raced and she twirled the remaining wine in her glass. “I was excited and very grateful.”

  “I don’t want gratitude from you.” His voice was soft, tempting like a haunting chord of music.

  She looked into the wine and wondered if she was just plain nuts. Why was she depriving herself of something she wanted so badly? Because she cared too much. That was her biggest problem.

  Her eyes caught his. “What do you want?”

  He took the glass from her and set it on the table. “This,” he said, cupping her face and touching her lips in the most gentle and explosive kiss she’d ever experienced. She felt it all the way to her soul, in those places locked in pain. He didn’t take the kiss further. He was leaving that up to her.

  Without thinking, without analyzing the moment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss.

  He groaned and pulled her to him. The kiss deepened to a level they both needed. She opened her mouth and gave herself up to Beau, tasting, feeling and discovering all those intimate treasures about him.

  His hand slipped beneath her top, caressing her skin, her breasts. At his intimate touch her nipples hardened and her senses spun, then soared. A physical need welled up in her—a need for Beau. A woman’s need. She wanted to ignore it and ask him to stop, but she wanted this as bad as he did.

  He drew back and gazed into her eyes. “Macy…” His voice was ragged.

  She placed a finger over his lips. “Let’s don’t talk. Make love to me.” She heard her words and wanted to snatch them back, but tonight the woman in her was in control.

  His laden eyes held hers. “Are you sure? Be absolutely sure.”

  She nodded and kissed his chin, his neck, and trailed lingering kisses to his mouth. He captured her lips, swung her up in his arms and carried her into his bedroom. Laying her on the bed, he quickly followed, removing his T-shirt.

  She ran her hands across his broad shoulders, then pulled his head down to hers. The room was in darkness but they didn’t notice. Sensations, beautiful, spine-tingling sensations, carried them on a journey they’d both been waiting for.

  Beau gently removed her clothes and the rest of his, then they were skin on skin, heart on heart, as their hands and lips discovered new and stimulating places. She moaned as Beau’s tongue lavished her breasts and lingered lower. She’d forgotten this. She’d forgotten what it was like to just feel—to feel like a woman.

  But she couldn’t be careless.

  “Beau, I’m not on the pill.”

  He paused for a second, his breath warm against her skin. “Don’t worry. I have condoms—somewhere.” He rolled away and she felt bereft without his body on hers.

  Rummaging through the nightstand, he found them. “Got it.”

  Through the dim light she watched as he sheathed himself then, unable to wait any longer, her hands eagerly sought his body, trailing through his chest hair to touch him completely, intimately. He groaned and rolled atop her and she spread her legs as excitement mounted in her. Taking her lips, he thrust deep inside her. She gripped his shoulders, his back, and accepted him with an urgency like she’d never felt before. Her hips moved in rhythm with his until the crescendo built to an orgasmic explosion of sheer pleasure. Her body shuttered in release and a moment later she felt Beau tremble in her arms.

  “I love you,” he breathed. “Oh, God. I love you.”

  She wanted to say the words back, but they were stuck in her throat. She clung to him that much tighter and the room became quiet with just the two of them savoring this moment. This time out of time.

  Beau gulped in air, hardly believing that after all this time Macy was finally his. Loving Macy was everything he knew it would be, electrifying, fulfilling and better than anything he’d ever imagined. She hadn’t said she loved him, but for now he wouldn’t worry about that.

  He pulled the sheet over them and she settled into his arms as if she belonged there. Kissing her forehead, he asked, “Comfy?”

  “Mmm.” She ran her toes up his shin. “You have hairy legs. Nice. Sexy.” She kissed his chest. “I like that.”

  She was half laying on him and he trailed his fingers down her smooth back. “Soft, soft skin. Kissable. Delectable.” He rested his face in the crook of her neck breathing in the scent of her. “Heavenly.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured drowsily as they drifted into sleep.

  A WAIL WOKE THEM instantly. Macy made to get up, but Beau pushed her back down. “I’ll take care of Zoë.” He grabbed his robe and headed for the living room.

  Macy could hear him clearly. “What’s the matter, little angel? Did you miss us? Oh, a wet diaper. Let’s take care of that, then I’ll give you a bottle. Will that make you happy?”

  Macy turned over, doubts and insecurities crowding back into her mind. No, don’t listen. But she did. Beau was so good with children. He was a natural father. Pleasure mingled with pain. No. She tried not to think about it, didn’t want to think about it, but the same old fear, the monster, was creeping out into the open again. Fear that she couldn’t give Beau what he wanted—children. Could she take that from him?

  Beau slipped in bed beside her and gathered her into his arms. “Miss me?”

  For the first time in her life she did something she wouldn’t normally do. She took the initiative and straddled him, sliding her body down his and instantly feeling his reaction. Tonight was hers and she loved him as if it were their last time.

  Because it was.

  Afterward, their sweat-bathed bodies lay entwined. When Beau fell asleep, Macy gently kissed his lips, watching him for a long time. She lightly ran her hands over his face, feeling his stubble, his straight nose, lean cheeks and wide forehead. Imprinting his features to memory. But she didn’t have to do that. She knew every inch of him. One last kiss and she slipped from the bed and dressed.

  In the living room she sat on the sofa, tears streaming down her face. She had to do this. There was no future for her and Beau. Lucky and Lefty crawled into her lap and she took comfort from them.

  BEAU WOKE UP to a lethargic feeling and a smile spread across his face as he remembered last night. He reached for Macy, but the bed was empty. Grabbing his robe, he headed for the living room. The lights were out and Macy was sitting on the sofa.

  He walked to her and he could see her face clearly from the light streaming through the window. She was crying. His gut tightened.

  “Macy, what’s wrong?”

  She brushed away tears. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…because I have to tell you something. Last…last night was a mistake. It should never have happened.”

  His heart slammed into his chest. “Last night was wonderful. What are you talking about?”

  She looked up at him. “My redemption, so to speak, is caring for other people’s children. I will never care for a child of my own. I’ve resigned myself to that, but you should have your own kids. I can’t give you that.”

  “I don’t need kids. I just need you.” He had to make her understand that.

  “You say that now, but years down the road you’ll feel differently. And you’ll look at me differently. You’ll grow to hate me.”

  “You can’t presume to know how I will feel later.”

  “I guess not.” She stood. “But I know how I feel now. You love kids. Look how wonderful you are with Zoë. Not to mention Ben and Katie. You d
eserve a whole woman.”

  He jammed his hands through his hair. “I don’t understand this. If we want children, we can adopt.”

  “But you don’t need to do that. You can have your own.”

  He fought back in the only way he knew how—with facts. “So can you. You can still have a healthy baby.”

  “I can also have one with a heart defect. I can’t live through that again. Not even for you.”

  “Macy…”

  “Please, Beau. It’s the way I feel and I can’t change that. I’ve tried but…”

  He took a sharp breath that burned his throat. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you—whole, complete and perfect in every way. And you don’t need a child to be whole. You just need to be a woman who can give and accept love—like you did last night.”

  Lifting Zoë out of the playpen, she grabbed the diaper bag. “I’ll pick up the playpen later.”

  She wasn’t even listening to him. Her mind was made up, but he couldn’t accept it.

  When he had sat in the emergency room with Zoë, he knew he loved Macy but couldn’t explain why. He could now. He saw all the way to her heart and knew that it tore her up that she had in some way hurt her child. And she was trying to protect him from getting hurt. Her caring, loving nature had always attracted him.

  Although he understood that, it also angered him. That was the dark side of him, the bad son part. And he gave into every emotion that drove those feelings.

  He caught her arm. “Can you forget last night? Wipe it from your mind as if it never happened?”

  “Beau, please.”

  “You say I deserve so much. Well, I deserve more than this.”

  She didn’t respond, just settled Zoë in her arms.

  “It’s not me that needs a child, Macy. It’s you. That’s why your life revolves around babies. Somehow you’ve equated femininity with motherhood. You can’t love me because you can’t have children. That’s absurd. You’re punishing yourself for the loss of your daughter. Don’t punish me, too.”

  She walked to the door just as she did before—as if she hadn’t heard a word he’d said. That fueled his anger.

  “If you walk out that door, its over for us. Don’t call me or contact me in any way.”

  She turned and looked at him and he felt her pain as if it were his own. But he was powerless to help her. Powerless to stop the emotions that were tearing them apart.

  “Goodbye, Beau,” she murmured, and disappeared into the morning light with her animals behind her.

  He fell to the sofa and buried his face in his hands. He hadn’t cried in years, but the urge to cry was strong. For a brief moment he had everything he’d ever wanted. In the blink of an eye it was gone and he never felt so alone or empty in his life.

  He went into the kitchen and found a bottle of bourbon. He filled a shot glass. “Here’s to lonely, Beau McCain. Get used to it.” He downed the drink and poured another. By the third drink he realized he’d sunk to his lowest depth—giving in to self-pity.

  Giving in to his darker side.

  Grabbing the coffeepot, he put on coffee, then went to take a shower. When he came back his head wasn’t so fuzzy, but the pain was like an open wound. Pouring a cup of coffee, he forced himself to face facts. He had to move on. He couldn’t keep doing this to himself.

  Life after Macy. Surely there was one. But for the life of him he couldn’t fathom it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BEAU DRESSED FOR WORK. That was all he could do now, throw himself back into his routine, his life. Before he left, he folded the playpen and placed it at Macy’s front door. He didn’t pause or contemplate what could have been. It was over and he didn’t have the strength or energy to keep fighting a losing battle. He finally admitted defeat. If he didn’t, it would cripple him.

  Everyone at the office was surprised to see him. He called a meeting and announced he’d returned for good. Faces stared back at him, stunned, and he knew what they were thinking—they’d been expecting a wedding announcement. He quickly doused their hopes, going over recent cases that met with his disapproval. He was now back in command and it would stay that way.

  After the meeting, he sat in his office and realized he’d been harsh with his colleagues. Not like himself at all. Maybe that was a sign of rejection and unrequited love—becoming a bitter and frustrated man. Like his father.

  Liz walked in. “You were a bit rough on Natalie,” she said.

  He didn’t look up from a file. “She should have won the Hardy case. Evidently she didn’t do her homework. The father should have won custody.”

  “Beau, you know as well as I do that a judge always tries to place the kids with the mother.”

  Beau laid down his pen. “The mother is a drug addict.”

  “She’s been clean for six months.”

  “And while she was sobering up, the father had the kids, caring for them and loving them. It’s not right that we didn’t fight hard enough to make sure it stayed that way.”

  “It was temporary and he knew it. The mother wanted the kids and she has a right to have them as long as she stays clean. The judge believed her sincerity and commitment.”

  “What gives a woman so much right?” He sprung from his chair and walked to the window, looking at the gently rolling hills of Waco, but not really seeing anything at all. Now that he and Macy were over, Zoë would no longer be in his life. She’d become a part of him and losing her, too, was a hard blow to take.

  “When did you become so judgmental and critical?”

  When he had his heart ripped out. In that moment he knew he was losing his perspective, his sense of right and wrong. That was detrimental to him as a lawyer and as a man. All his life he had a clear perception of right and wrong. It’s how he lived his life. Macy had crippled him in more ways than one and he was angry. This was a bad son’s reaction and he didn’t push it away. He needed to feel it.

  “Did the father take it hard?” His emotions were tainted by what had happened to him. He didn’t even know the man involved. He just felt his pain.

  “Not really,” Liz replied. “He’s remarried and from what Natalie said, the new wife isn’t all that thrilled about raising three kids. He has visitation and CPS is keeping a close eye on the mother.”

  “Good.”

  “Beau?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you all right?”

  He turned around. “I’m fine. I’ll apologize to Natalie.” But he knew he was far from fine. That would take time.

  Liz nodded and left.

  He needed physical exercise. With everything that had been going on with Zoë, he’d missed his running. There was a gym on the bottom floor of his building. He grabbed his bag out of a closet and headed downstairs.

  Keeping pace with the treadmill, thoughts of Macy plagued him. Tomorrow was Zoë’s appointment in Houston for a checkup. He’d planned to go with them. He turned up the speed. But outrunning thoughts of Macy was like trying to outrun the treadmill.

  MACY FORCED HERSELF not to cry. At the oddest moment, though, she’d find tears rolling down her cheeks. She’d done the right thing for Beau, but then why did she feel so bad? She had to stop thinking about it or she’d go crazy.

  The playpen was still at Beau’s and she didn’t have the strength to go and get it. If she saw him, she’d weaken. She could still feel his touch on her skin, his lips on her body. She jumped up, needing to do something.

  She slipped into running shorts and a top, and gathered Zoë and the diaper bag. It was time to check out Mrs. Pruett’s babysitting skills. Opening the door, she stopped short. The playpen leaned against the jamb. Unable to stop them, tears filled her eyes. Dear, sweet, kind Beau. With one hand she pulled it inside. Don’t think, she kept repeating to herself.

  She walked across the street, Lucky and Lefty following her, to Mrs. Pruett’s condo and rang the bell.

  “Macy,” Mrs. Pruett said as she opened the door. Her gray hair was tightl
y permed and a housedress covered her ample body. “You brought the baby.”

  “Yes. I was hoping you’d watch her for a few minutes while I take the dogs to the park for a run.”

  “Oh, I’d love to.” Macy handed Zoë to her. “She’s growing. Look at those big blue eyes.”

  “A bottle and diapers are in the bag, but I won’t be gone that long.”

  “Take your time.”

  “Come on, guys,” she said to the dogs, and started running down the sidewalk to the small park. Once they reached it, Lucky and Lefty lay down, breathing heavily. She continued to jog and the dogs barked at her every time she passed them. She ran until she couldn’t think and breathing became difficult.

  Flopping to the ground, she lay prone in the grass. The hot sun beat down on her sweat-soaked skin and still she didn’t move. There was something therapeutic about the rays of the sun seeping into her, searing all those crazy dreams in her head. She should never have let last night get out of control. It was her fault and she’d hurt Beau. The sun couldn’t scorch away that memory.

  Lucky and Lefty licked her face. She raised herself to a sitting position and started the trek home.

  She didn’t feel any better, but now she could cope. Or at least make a very good attempt at coping. But the restless frustration in her was gone. Now she had to face the rest of her life without Beau in it. Was she strong enough for that?

  THE WEEK PASSED slowly for Beau. He counted the days off in his head and he wondered how long it would take before he stopped thinking about her every waking minute. Throwing himself into his work hadn’t helped. Everyone tended to avoid him and his moodiness unless it was absolutely necessary.

  He wondered how Zoë’s appointment in Houston had gone. But he didn’t call or go over and ask. He was sure everything was fine. Being on the outside was hell.

  He was pondering going to the gym when Caleb breezed in.

  “Hey, brother, want to go out for a cup of coffee?”