Narrowing her caramel-colored eyes on me, I could almost feel Tru’s confusion transforming into anger. “Answer me, Pax,” I heard her clip out as I watched her petite frame stiffen, her small hands fisting at her sides.
“I’m not having this conversation standing in your foyer while I’m holding a baby, Truly. Let’s go sit down,” I reiterated, hardening my voice slightly, more to get her attention than because of any actual irritation I felt. I didn’t have the right to be irritated. Not when I was about to turn her life upside down.
My lips twitched as Tru glared at me and whirled on her heels to stomp toward the den. Somewhere between her car and the front door, she’d lost that ugly smock she wore for work, and now I had a perfect view of her jean clad ass as her formfitting light yellow tee shirt rode up her back. Normally it was a view that would have had my dick hardening behind my fly, but holding Liberty in my arms had killed my libido.
Almost.
I still had a chub. Sue me. I was a guy.
“Okay, Pax. We’re in the den. Start talking,” Truly demanded tightly as we reached the small room she used as a reading room. Crammed full of bookcases filled to overflowing with books of every kind and comfortable furniture that made you wanna take up residence in this room and never leave, it was clear this was Truly’s favorite room. I briefly hesitated at the doorway, hating the fact that I was about to ruin what I knew was her happy spot inside this house.
Sighing, I took my time walking to the taupe-colored loveseat where I always sat when I’d visited her and Yancy before he died. Dropping my ass onto the firm cushion as I lowered Libby’s diaper bag to rest beside my feet, I laid the baby down beside me, keeping my hand on her belly in case she decided to get wild and try rolling over. I doubted she would. Babies her age weren’t that mobile yet, were they?
“Paxton!” Truly hissed impatiently, still standing just inside the doorway with her arms wrapped tightly around her middle as if she was trying to shield herself from some unexpected blow. “Talk!”
“Sit down first,” I suggested, nodding to the dark red LazyBoy in the corner by the window where she normally sat.
“I’ll stand, thanks,” she retorted with a bite in her voice, her eyes darkening to the color of chocolate.
“You’ll sit if you wanna hear this,” I countered evenly, unwilling to bend. Instinctively, I knew the news I had was going to stun her and the last thing I wanted was for her to collapse when I yanked the rug out from under her. Especially when I couldn’t easily move to catch her. Not if I wanted to keep one hand on Liberty.
Truly’s nostrils flared as her jaw hardened. “I don’t remember you being such a bossy pain in the ass the last time you were here,” she grumbled as she stomped toward the recliner.
“You weren’t acting like a stubborn mule last time I was here either. Trust me, Bambi… I’ve always been bossy when it comes to the people I care about,” I returned easily, shooting her a grin. “You’ve just been in a funk and haven’t noticed it.”
“Lucky for you,” she murmured under her breath as Libby spit the binky out of her mouth and whimpered.
“Shit, she’s hungry again.” I frowned, reaching for the bag at my feet and locating one of her small bottles of formula. Looking at Truly hopefully, I held it toward her. “Would you mind warming this up for her? She’ll get a bellyache if she drinks it cold. I learned that lesson the hard way. There’s no way I want a repeat of that,” I offered with a wince as I recalled the night I’d been in such a hurry to quiet a hungry Liberty that I’d fed her a cold bottle. Her upset tummy had kept us both up the remainder of that night. I wouldn’t make a mistake like that again.
Rolling her eyes, Truly pushed out of the chair and snatched the bottle out of my hand. “She can’t be any more than four or five weeks old. Of course she can’t handle cold formula,” she chastised me with a hard look before heading toward the kitchen.
“She’s a little over three weeks old,” I call out, lifting my voice so that she can hear me as I picked up Libby again and patted her back consolingly. I hear the microwave door slam and the beeping sound of the machine being started. “Grub’s on, Princess. Just hold on a little longer,” I tried to soothe the squirming child.
A few minutes later, Truly carried the now warm bottle back into the room and handed it to me. “It should be good,” she informed me grudgingly as I nudged the nipple to Liberty’s lips.
Grinning as the baby attacked the bottle with the force of a lion latching onto a gazelle’s neck, I had to laugh. “Yeah, I’d say it’s good.”
Truly smiled despite herself, her eyes pained as they stared down at the infant in my arms. “She’s Yancy’s, isn’t she?” she whispered.
Looking up at her, my heart broke as I gave her the hard truth. “Yeah, Bambi. She’s his.”
Chapter Four
Truly
I knew the second the baby in Pax’s arms opened her strangely familiar baby blue eyes and focused on me a that she had to be my dead husband’s offspring. The pain of seeing his child, alive and well, nearly crippled me as I unconsciously pressed a hand to my own empty womb.
“H-how? How the hell is this possible” I questioned, internally wincing as I realized that I’d just cursed in front of an innocent kid. Sure, it wasn’t my kid, but it was… good God, this baby was Yancy’s! Fruit of his loins. A product of his seed. His sole freaking baby! How fucking surreal was that, I thought to myself, my gaze unmoving as I watched the beautiful babe greedily suckle at her bottle. Shaking my head, I closed my eyes and tried to block out the pain Pax’s confirmation caused me. It wasn’t fair. None of this was remotely fair! “Never mind. Don’t bother answering that. It was a stupid question. I know good and well how this happened! Yancy never could keep his pecker in his pants,” I stated, my voice soft, but bitter. “I guess I mean how did you end up caring for my dead husband’s baby? I know where her father’s currently located, but where’s her momma?”
Pax opened his mouth to respond, but I sliced a hand through the air and laughed hollowly. “No, wait. Let me take a wild guess,” I demanded snottily. “She dumped the kid on you and took off. Am I right?” I questioned tightly, the burning pain in my chest only intensifying as I realized Pax was holding what I’d spent years dreaming of having right there in his arms. I’d wanted to be the woman to give Yancy a child. I was his wife. It was my right, wasn’t it? At one point, I’d even believed a new baby would save our marriage. I could recognize how misguided that thought process was, but it still hurt like hell to be faced with the one thing I’d never been able to give my husband. His very own child.
Licking his lips, Pax shifted on the loveseat as he eyed me closely, his handsome face giving away nothing. “Not exactly,” he finally returned softly as my fingers balled into fists and my nails bit into the flesh of my palms. Watching him, his big body looked huge sitting against my striped sofa cushions, and yet, he managed to look oddly right, holding that infant as if he’d been born to do it.
“Then paint me a picture,” I directed him, my tone more than a little acidic as my temper simmered just below the boiling point, but damn it, I couldn’t help how I sounded. I was mad – pissed off in a way I couldn’t ever remember being before. It sucked to be faced with the one thing I’d begged God for on my knees while knowing she belonged to my husband, but not to me. Agonizing didn’t begin to describe the pain that flooded my soul.
“Her mother is dead, Bambi,” Pax informed me bluntly. “Stage four ovarian cancer that was discovered while she was pregnant,” he continued to confide quietly, his deep voice even as he looked down at the child he held with soft eyes. Lifting his head to look at me, he stared at me with zero judgment. “Listen, Tru, I know this is hard for you to wrap your mind around, but the first thing you gotta get is none of what’s happened is this little angel’s fault,” he declared calmly, nodding down at the baby for emphasis. “No matter her parents’ sins, she’s innocent. Whatever happened between Yancy and her mother i
sn’t on her tiny shoulders.”
My eyes filled with tears as my jaw dropped. Her mother was dead? Had I even heard that right? Guilt flooded me as I stared at the child in Pax’s strong arms. Okay, I wasn’t thrilled that Yancy had cheated on me. I was even less stoked that he’d gotten another woman pregnant. But I’d never have wished the mother dead. But I’d heard the unspoken warning in his words, and I felt obliged to defend myself. “I don’t blame her! I want to kick a dead man’s ass, Paxton!” I hissed at him, trying to remain calm as a plethora of emotions descended on me. Anger. Pain. Rage. Confusion. They were all there. “Oh, my God,” I whispered shakily, desperately trying to blink back emotional tears as I shoved my hands into my hair, clenching my fingers in the tangled strands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
I nearly cried as Pax offered me a compassionate look of understanding. “It took me a hot minute to get my head right with this, too, but it’s gonna be okay, Bambi,” I heard his deep, comforting voice reassure me. “We’ve got this.”
“Right,” I replied with a shuddery laugh. “It’s all gonna be just peachy. And what do you mean we’ve got this?” I asked suspiciously. “I mean, I’m sorry that this baby’s mother has passed away. Really, I am. But, I don’t understand….”
“There’s a letter from the attorney and one from Melissa,” Pax interrupted, moving the baby to his right arm so he could reach into her diaper bag with his left. “It explains…things.”
“What things?” I asked, taking a step back as I stared at the pale pink legal-sized envelope he held out to me and slowly took it in my hand with about as much excitement as if I’d been accepting a ticking time bomb. “And what kind of self-respecting attorney uses pink stationary.”
“I actually think that was probably Melissa. Liberty’s biological mom.”
I swallowed hard at that. “Her name’s Liberty?” I asked weakly, eyeing the infant as she continued nursing from the bottle. “That’s pretty. And kinda appropriate considering Yancy’s job.”
Pax smiled as proudly as if he fathered the child himself. “Yeah. Liberty Belle Evans. Someday, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to formally adopt her and add the name Graham to the end of her name, but that’s a discussion for another time.”
I blinked stupidly at him. “Huh?” I grunted dumbly, finally collapsing into the worn, but exceedingly comfortable recliner I’d claimed as mine the day Yancy and I had moved into our home.
Pax offered one of his shy half-smiles that normally would have had my lady bits dancing, but today was no normal day and all that grin managed to do was agitate me more. “Pax, you aren’t making any sense.”
“I know,” he acknowledged softly, popping the empty bottle from Liberty’s mouth as he threw a burp rag over his shoulder and lifted the infant against his chest. “Trust me when I say that it’s gonna make more sense after you read Melissa’s letter to you,” he explained as he tried to coax a burp from the baby.
“Why don’t you give me the abbreviated version? Start with how you ended up with Yancy’s kid,” I ordered, determined to get to the truth sooner rather than later.
Pax frowned, but his attention was soon diverted by Liberty’s loud belch. “Good girl,” he praised, turning his head until his lips brushed the side of the baby’s soft head. “That was a big one,” he murmured, adjusting the infant in his arms again. Looking up at me, he licked his full lips before he spoke. “Listen, Truly, I get you want some answers, but I’ve been taking care of this little princess for a couple of days now, and I can tell you if she doesn’t get her diaper changed and then get put down for some shut-eye after she eats, then she becomes a very cranky little terror. Is there a safe place I could put her?”
My mind immediately went to the Moses basket in the downstairs spare bedroom that I’d purchased for my own baby, and another piece of my heart broke when I remembered that my own child would never get to use it. I hadn’t had the heart to get rid of it, though. I’d just placed it out of sight to avoid the painful memories it stirred. “I…I think I have something in the guest room. There’s a Moses basket on the floor in the closet,” I admitted thickly, looking at the tiny babe again. God, she was Yancy’s image. From those blue eyes to that red peach fuzz topping her head. I couldn’t help wondering if my own daughter would have looked much the same as this little one did.
“I’ll get it,” Pax offered quickly. “That way I can lay her down to change her diaper on the guest bed rather than risk your loveseat’s upholstery. I’ve gotten pretty good at changing diapers, but I really don’t wanna risk somebody else’s furniture yet.”
The living room furniture was old and there wasn’t a lot more damage that could be done to it, but I nodded anyway. I needed a few moments of privacy and a diaper change was as good an excuse as any. I gestured toward the hallway that led to the downstairs bedroom. “You know the way, right?” I asked huskily as he stood, his shadow falling over me like a warm blanket that I wanted to curl into and hide.
“Yeah. I got it,” he replied with a slight nod. Pausing in the doorway, he looked at me over his shoulder. “Read the letter she wrote you, Bambi. I think you’ll find it answers some of those questions I see swirling in those pretty chocolate eyes of yours.”
God, I hated how his royal blue eyes seemed to glow with compassion as he spoke to me. When a girl imagined Pax pinning her in place with that kind of intense gaze, she wanted the source of that look to be his feelings for her, not his concern that she was about to go batshit crazy because of her late husband’s infidelities and secret love child. Waiting until I heard his footsteps fade down the hallway, I picked at the seal on the pink envelope I still held. Maybe this letter did contain some answers, but I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to know about the baby or her mother. They weren’t my problem, were they? It wasn’t my duty to look after Yancy’s illegitimate offspring, was it? Of course not. I did my duty when I buried the cheating bastard in a respectable coffin rather than having his worthless carcass thrown in a ditch somewhere for the buzzards to feast on.
I should just throw the damn letter away. Or I could burn it, I thought as I eyed the cold, empty fireplace across the room. Unfortunately for me, it was late August and the temps outside were hovering at over a hundred degrees, so setting a fire inside my house probably wasn’t one of my brighter ideas.
“Shit,” I cursed under my breath as I slid my finger underneath the seal and slit open the envelope, quickly pulling out the handwritten papers. Taking a deep breath, I unfolded the pages with shaking hands. This was it. Once I read this note, I couldn’t un-read it. At the moment, though, my curiosity over the origins of the innocent infant I could hear cooing from down the hall in my guest bedroom, was greater than my residual anger at Yancy. My late husband was an asshole; there was no changing that. But the baby… the baby deserved for me to make an informed decision about her. Forcing my eyes to lower and focus on the pretty cursive writing, I began to read.
My dearest Truly –
You don’t know me, but my name is – or rather – it was Melissa Keats, and if you’re reading this letter, you should know that I’m gone. Well, not just gone. To say I’m gone implies that I might come back. But, I won’t. Be coming back, that is. You see, I’m dead. The final GONE. Which, I imagine, is information you might be pretty happy about, considering the fact that you’ve probably learned by now that I slept with your husband while he was still married to you.
I can’t blame you if you hate me. I hate me for being stupid enough to fall into bed with a man who was already taken. In your shoes, I would have despised me, too. All I can say is that I didn’t know all the facts about your husband, Yancy. I thought he was available. He TOLD me he was available and I foolishly believed him. But, I’ve since learned that he was very much married when we had our one and only night together. For that, Truly, I am beyond sorry. There aren’t enough words in the English language to express how deeply ashamed I am of my actions. Unwittingly or not, I slept w
ith a married man, and I cannot apologize to you enough for that. You’ve no reason to believe me, but I’m not a cheater. Or at least, I’ve never cheated before this. Please, believe me, I would never have slept with Yancy if I’d been aware that he had a wife – especially one as kind and sweet as I’ve since learned you are. Hell, to be honest, I wouldn’t have slept with Yancy at ALL if I’d been sober and thinking clearly (A bad breakup with a boyfriend and being passed over for a promotion at work had taken a toll on my self-esteem – not that it’s any excuse for my actions, but I thought I’d give you some context.). You probably won’t believe this, but sleeping with ANY man outside of a committed relationship was completely out of character for me, but the stars aligned in such a way that I was sad, lonely, and halfway drunk when I met your husband. He wasn’t wearing a ring and claimed….well, it doesn’t matter what he claimed…I THOUGHT he was single. So, I did something I’d never done before and had a one night stand with him. Neither of us was interested in anything more, and if there hadn’t been a consequence to our night together, he (and by default, YOU) would have never heard from me again.
As by now you know, however, there WAS a consequence to our night together. I don’t know how it happened, Truly. I really don’t. I was on birth control that I religiously took each morning, AND we used a condom that night. When I realized I was pregnant several weeks later, I felt sure there was some mistake. Twenty-four EPT sticks and two blood tests later, I could no longer live in denial, though. I accepted that I was, in fact, pregnant. And since I hadn’t had sex since that night with Yancy, I knew that the baby had to be his.
Initially, it was my intention to have and raise my baby alone. I never intended to contact Yancy. We had both been clear from the outset on what our night together was. We had just been two single (or so I thought) people scratching a mutual itch. I had no desire to upend his life and no intention of entering into a relationship with him… even one where we simply co-parented a child. No, I decided to have and raise my baby alone. I am (or was) a successful accountant with a healthy bank account and I was more than able to support a child. There was no reason at all that I couldn’t take care of my child alone.
Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Saving Liberty (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 4