by Heidi Rice
She nodded.
‘She’s having a big wedding on the beach next Saturday. We’ll have to go to that, I’m one of the witnesses. Everyone will be there.’
He went back to sorting out the equipment.
‘Oh, okay. That’s good,’ she said, although the way he’d said they would ‘have to go’ made it sound as if he wasn’t too happy at the prospect. ‘But it might be nice to see them before that?’ she pushed. Obviously she had overreacted, but something about the whole thing still bothered her. Was he planning to keep their relationship a secret until then? ‘Because, you know, it might be a bit weird me turning up at this wedding pregnant with your child, if no one knows me.’
‘Do you think they’ll be able to tell?’ He dropped the wetsuit he’d been packing as his eyes shot down to her tummy. ‘You’re not showing too much yet.’
What?
The feeling of unease was replaced by the shock of vulnerability.
‘Well, no, maybe not, but...’ The words got caught behind the silly lump of emotion. Which had to be the pregnancy hormones, making her feel ridiculously oversensitive. But she couldn’t stop the thoughts coming, now that the dam had broken. ‘Why don’t you want them to know?’
‘Hey, what’s the matter?’ He stood up, the concern in his eyes almost making her back down again. ‘It’s not that big a deal. Believe me, it’s just easier not to tell them yet.’
She stared at him. Was he actually serious?
Yes, it might make it easier for him, but how would it be easier for her? Wouldn’t it make things awkward at this wedding if someone did notice? And asked questions about her condition? She knew they weren’t a proper couple, that she shouldn’t get too invested in their relationship. That they were just having fun with each other while sorting out what to do about their shared child. But the fact was, she’d been here for ten days, and they hadn’t actually sorted out anything yet. Not even how he was going to introduce her to his friends.
Was she his girlfriend? His wedding date? A holiday fling? Or just another of his temporary bonk buddies? Maybe being the mother of his child didn’t give her any relationship rights, but surely it ought to afford her a tiny iota of respect?
‘The thing is, Coop,’ she began, trying not to let the hurt show, ‘I can’t see how not talking about the baby is making it easier for me. I can’t stay here indefinitely, you know, and—’
‘Damn it, Ella, you’ve only been here a week. We can’t rush this stuff.’
‘Rush it? Coop, I’ve been here ten days!’ she said, exasperated now. ‘And we haven’t talked about the baby at all.’
‘Because we’ve been busy, doing...’ he paused ‘...other stuff,’ he said, so emphatically that she suddenly realised she’d been right to be suspicious of the endless round of activities. ‘Stuff that you said you enjoyed,’ he added, grudgingly, sounding a little hurt.
‘I did enjoy them. I loved every single minute of them,’ she rushed to reassure him, but then noticed he didn’t actually look that hurt. ‘But that’s not the point. We could have talked about it in the mornings before we went out. Or in the evenings when we got back.’
‘Uh-huh, well, we’ve been pretty busy then too.’ His gaze raked down her figure, making her whole body warm. And it occurred to her that the relentless schedule of daytime activities might not have been his only distraction technique. ‘And I don’t recall you complaining about that either,’ he added. ‘Especially when I had my mouth on that succulent little clit this morning.’
Hell. That did it.
She glared at him—the succulent nub in question throbbing alarmingly now in unison with her distended nipples. ‘You sod.’ He’d been playing her all along. And she’d been too dazed by her own lust to see it. ‘You’ve been seducing me deliberately, haven’t you, to stop me from discussing it? I knew it.’
‘Hey, calm down. I have not.’ His lips quirked. ‘I love sucking on your clitoris, remember?’ He reached for her arm, but she jerked it out of his grasp. Not finding the joke—or the fact that her clitoris wouldn’t stop throbbing—remotely amusing any more.
‘I suppose the next question is why? Why would you do that? Unless...’ Her temper faded, and then collapsed, at the stubborn, defensive look on his face.
Oh, no. Not that.
She heaved a heavy sigh when he didn’t say anything, scared to say it, terrified that she might be right, but knowing she had to ask. ‘If you’re having second thoughts about being involved with this baby, Coop, you need to tell me.’ She met his gaze, the flags of colour on his cheeks shining beneath his tan. ‘I want you to be part of its life, very much.’
Maybe she still didn’t know much about how he really felt about parenthood, but the things she had learned about him in the last week had convinced her of that much. His generosity, his intelligence, the quick wit that always made her laugh, the care he took with her, his need to look out for her and protect her and the capable, patient way he’d taught her how to scuba-dive, not to mention that reckless, dangerously exciting streak that made her feel bold too, made her sure he would make a wonderful father. ‘I’m not here to force a connection on you that you don’t feel.’
She couldn’t make him want to be a father, however much she might want to. That wouldn’t be fair on him, and it certainly wouldn’t be fair on her child.
‘If you’re not ready to discuss this yet, it’s probably best if I just leave.’
The calm, rhythmic sound of the ocean lapping against the side of the boat stretched across the silence. She flinched as he raked his fingers through his hair and broke the silence with a bitter curse.
* * *
What the hell did he say to that?
She was looking at him with those big round trusting eyes. And he knew he hadn’t been honest with her, or with himself.
But he didn’t want her to leave. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. And he did want to figure out what to do about the kid. But the more she’d talked about the baby, the more inadequate it had made him feel, until the problem had become so huge he’d clammed up completely. Plus, it had been so damn easy just to get lost in her and forget about all that. She was so cute and funny and engaging. Everything he showed her she loved; everything they did together she threw herself into with a complete lack of fear. She was smart and funny and resourceful and so eager and responsive. Especially in bed.
But she was right: he’d played her, even if he hadn’t really intended to. And now he owed her an explanation.
‘Come here, Ella.’ He tried to take her into his arms, the guilt tightening his throat when she grasped his forearms to hold him off.
‘Please, just give me a straight answer, Coop. Don’t try to sugar-coat it, okay. I can take it.’
He wasn’t so sure of that. ‘I swear, no more messing you about.’
He sat on the boat’s bench seat, and gently pulled her into his lap, pathetically grateful when she didn’t resist him again.
‘There’s no need to make up excuses.’ She cupped his cheek and the guilt peaked. ‘I understand if you feel overwhelmed.’
He covered her hand and dragged it away from her face. ‘Stop being so damn reasonable, Ella.’
She stiffened in his arms. ‘This isn’t about being reasonable. It’s about being fair. I don’t want to force you to shoulder a responsibility you don’t want.’
‘Damn it, Ella, who the hell ever told you life was fair?’
It scared him how easily she could be crushed, especially by a guy like him—who always looked out for himself first.
She tried to rise, but he held her tight, pressed his forehead into her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, don’t go...’ He sucked in a deep breath, prepared to admit at least some of the truth, even though the feel of her butt nestled against his groin was having a predictable effect.
What he wouldn’t give right now to strip off the light cotton dress and feast on her lush body—and get the hell out of this conversation. But he couldn’t carry on lying to her.
He rested his head back against the seat. Stared at the blue sky, the swooping seagulls, the clean bright sunlight. And felt the darkness he’d spent so long running away from descend over him like a fog.
He forced his head off the seat to look her in the face. ‘Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that I might not be cut out to be a dad? That you and the kid might be much better off without me?’
‘No, it hasn’t,’ she said and the total confidence in her voice sneaked past all the defences he’d put in place over the years. ‘I realise you’re not as ecstatic about this pregnancy as I am. But that doesn’t mean you won’t be a good father when the time comes. If you’re willing to try?’
‘I want to try, but I just don’t know if...’
‘There aren’t any guarantees, Coop, not when it comes to being a parent. You just have to do what comes naturally and hope for the best.’
‘I guess, but you’ll be a lot better at that than I am,’ he said, able to appreciate the irony.
‘Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re so insecure about this. Would that help?’
‘I doubt it.’ He definitely didn’t want to go there.
‘Is it because of your own father? And the fact that you never knew him?’ she said, going there without any help from him. ‘Is that it?’
He shook his head. Damn, he’d have to tell her the truth about that too, now. ‘I did know him. I guess I lied about that.’
‘Oh.’ She looked surprised, but not wary. Or not wary yet. ‘Why did you lie?’ she asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
‘Because I didn’t exactly know him,’ he clarified, trying to explain to her something he’d never understood. ‘I knew of him. And he knew about me.’
‘I don’t...’ she said, obviously struggling to figure it out.
‘I grew up in a small place in Indiana called Garysville,’ he said, reciting a story he’d denied for so long, he felt as if he were talking about some other kid’s life. ‘Towns like that, everyone knows everyone else’s business. My old man was the police chief. A big deal with a reputation to protect, who liked to play away from home. Everyone knew I was his kid, because I looked a lot like him. And my mom didn’t exactly keep it a secret.’
‘But surely you must have talked to him? If it was such a small town.’
And you were his son.
He could hear her thinking it. And remembered all the times he’d tortured himself with the same question as a boy.
‘Why would I?’ The old bitterness surprised him a little. ‘He was just some guy who came over to screw my mother from time to time. She told him I was his. He didn’t want to know.’
‘He never spoke to you?’ She looked horrified. ‘But that’s hideous—how could he not want to know you?’
Like father, like son, he thought grimly. Wasn’t that what he had thought about doing to his own kid? When he’d figured money would be enough to free him of any responsibility for his child.
‘Actually, that’s not true, I did speak to him once. Six words...’ He forced the humiliating memory to the surface, to punish himself. ‘You want to know what they were?’
* * *
Ella’s heart clutched as Coop’s face took on a cold, distant expression, the tight smile nothing like the warm, witty man she knew. She nodded, although she wasn’t sure she did want to know. He seemed so unhappy.
‘Do you want fries with that?’ The brittle half-laugh held no amusement. ‘Pretty tragic, isn’t it?’
Her heart ached at the flatness of his tone. ‘Oh, Coop,’ she said, the sharp pain in her chest like a punch. No wonder he was so reluctant to talk about the baby. It wasn’t fear of the responsibility; it was simply a lack of confidence.
‘I worked nights at a drive-thru in town when I was in high school,’ he continued, still talking in that flat, even tone that she was sure now was used to mask his emotions. ‘My mom was finding it hard to stay in a job, she had...’ he paused. ‘...these moods.’ He shrugged. ‘Anyhow we needed the money. He drove in one night with his family, about a month after I’d got the job. He ordered two chilli dogs, two chocolate malts and a side order of onion rings for his kids. Delia and Jack Jnr.’
She wondered if he realised how significant it was that he’d remembered the order exactly. ‘You knew them?’
‘Sure, we went to the same high school. Not that we moved in the same circles. Delia was the valedictorian, Jack Junior the star quarterback. And I hated their guts, because I was so damn jealous of the money they had, the choices.’ He huffed out a bitter laugh. ‘And the Beemer convertible Jack Jnr got for his sixteenth birthday.’
And the fact that they had a father, your father, and you didn’t, she thought, her heart aching for him.
‘He looked me right in the eye and said no, they didn’t need fries, then he paid and drove on. He never came to my window again.’
She heard the yearning in his voice and the punch of pain twisted.
No wonder he’d worked so hard to get away from there, to make something out of his life. Rejection always hurt. It had nearly destroyed her when Randall had rejected her, but at least she’d been an adult. Or adult enough. She couldn’t imagine suffering that kind of knock-back as a child. Every single day. To have it thrown in your face that you weren’t good enough, and never knowing why.
The casual cruelty of the man who had fathered him, but had never had the guts to acknowledge him, disgusted her. But his bravery in rising above it, in overcoming it—surely that was what mattered. Why couldn’t he see that?
‘But you’ve got to understand, Ella. I’m not sure I’m a good bet as a father. Because I’m a selfish bastard, just like he was.’
She wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That he wasn’t selfish, he was only self-sufficient, because he’d had to be. And that she admired him so much for having the courage to rise above the rejection. But she knew it wasn’t only admiration that was making her heart pound frantically in her chest.
She touched his cheek, felt the rasp of the five o’clock shadow already beginning to grow at two in the afternoon. ‘Do you really think you’re the only one of us who’s scared, Coop? The only one who thinks they won’t measure up?’
He stared at her. ‘Get real, Ella. You’ve loved this kid from the get-go. You’ve made it your number one priority from the start.’ His gaze roamed over her face. ‘How would you feel if I told you I’m pretty sure I only invited you here because I wanted you. Not the kid?’ The desire in his heavy-lidded eyes made the heat pulse low in her abdomen. ‘If that doesn’t tell you what kind of father I’d be, I don’t know what the hell does.’
She smiled, utterly touched by the admission. ‘Actually I’m flattered. And rather turned on.’
‘Seriously, Ella. For once, I’m not kidding around about—’
‘I know you’re not.’ She cut him off, then gripped his cheeks, pressed her forehead against his, and prepared to tell him something she had never wanted him to know. ‘How about if I told you that when I was eighteen I got pregnant and I had a termination? Would you still think I don’t have some pretty persuasive reasons to doubt my own ability as a parent?’
She forced her gaze to his, willing him not to judge her as harshly as she had always judged herself.
His eyes widened, but he looked more stunned than disgusted. ‘That’s your big revelation? Big deal. You were eighteen. Why would you want a kid at that age?’
She shook her head. ‘But you don’t understand. I did want it.’ She rested her palm on her belly, emboldened by the new life growing there to talk for the first time about the one she’d lost. ‘I wanted it very much. Which
is why this child means so much to me now.’
‘Okay, I get that.’ He threaded his fingers through hers, the acceptance in his eyes unconditional. ‘But you can’t punish yourself now for a choice you made at eighteen. Having a baby at that age would have screwed up your life.’
She wanted to take his comfort, his faith in her, but she couldn’t, not till he knew the whole truth. ‘But that’s not why I did it. I had the abortion because Randall ordered me to. He insisted. He said either I lose the baby, or I would lose him. And I chose him. Over my own child.’
A tear slipped over her lid, and he brushed his thumb across her cheek.
‘Ella, don’t cry.’ She heard the tenderness and knew she didn’t deserve it. ‘This Randall was the father?’
She nodded, tucked her head onto his shoulder. ‘Pretty pathetic, isn’t it?’
‘Not pathetic,’ he said, nudging her chin up with his forefinger. ‘You were young and scared. And given an impossible choice by that bastard. That’s his bad, not yours.’
Ruby had always said the same thing to her, when she’d tortured herself with what ifs after the procedure. But now, for the first time, she felt herself begin to accept it.
Coop rubbed the tight muscles at the base of her neck. ‘I’m guessing Randall didn’t stick around once he’d got you to do what he wanted.’
‘How did you know that?’
‘Because the guy sounds like a selfish, manipulative jerk.’ He sighed, then brushed her hair off her forehead, and his lips tilted in a wry smile. ‘It takes one to know one.’
‘You’re nothing like him.’
‘I don’t know—I freaked pretty bad when you told me about Junior. And I’ve been doing my best to avoid the subject ever since.’ He rested his hand on her belly, rubbed it gently back and forth. It was the first time he’d ever touched her there, and the flood of warmth caught her unawares.