Tag ordered Grandpa’s Special, a breakfast extravaganza featuring pancakes, two eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and gravy, hash browns and grits.
When the waitress left, Tag apologized again. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I guess I’m having a hard time thawing your frost.”
“Oh, give me a break.”
“No, you give me a break. You act as if the whole world owes you something, but, honey, I’m here to tell you—”
“Leave me alone,” Olivia whispered. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. I know your wife died, but I’ve lost someone, too. All in one night I lost my fiancé and then, while trying to get the hell away from him, I tripped on an uneven path and miscarried my unborn child, so if I come across as bitter for being on the verge of losing my son, I have a right.”
Exhaling in a whoosh, Tag sat back. “It’s official. I’m an ass.”
“No…” Though she maintained her tough exterior, inside Olivia crumpled. “I’m sorry. From the moment I saw you hold Flynn, I saw the love in your eyes, your body language, your soul. You deserve to be with him as much as I do. But don’t you see what a horrible position that puts me in? By admitting my baby is also yours, I—” Fearing she was on the verge of breaking down, Olivia hid her face against Flynn’s chubby cheek. “I—I’m so afraid you’re going to take him from me.”
Tag rose, putting the diaper bag on the floor to sit beside her. “Never going to happen. All I want is for you to understand that we’re in this together.”
Daubing silent tears with a napkin, Olivia sniffled and nodded. “I’m going to try. Watching Flynn laugh with you…It reminded me of the way I’d hoped my life would always be. You know, with a husband and sweet baby, only you’re not my husband, but—”
“I get it,” he said, his voice gentle and kind. She hardly knew him, yet something about the sincerity in his eyes told her he was a man she could trust. “I’ve already had a wife, and I don’t ever think I’ll be capable of giving that kind of love again. That said, sharing Flynn makes us special friends. He’s a bond we’ll always have in common.”
Again unable to speak from the maelstrom of emotion tightening her throat, Olivia was relieved when the waitress brought Tag’s meal. If he was eating, hopefully he wouldn’t be talking, raising issues she’d fought so hard to keep in her past. Did he think she hadn’t pondered the implications of what Flynn’s life would be like without a father? Every parenting book stressed the importance of a child having both parents. Of course, in a perfect world Phil wouldn’t have screwed her best friend. She wouldn’t have been incapable of trust, and she wouldn’t have been afraid to try for another child with a man because she was terrified of suffering that kind of loss all over again.
Her decision to be artificially inseminated hadn’t been an easy one. In the end, it had been the only route for her. After Gabby’s wedding, she’d tried dating again, but the lack of trust had always resurfaced. Bottom line, there were millions of single moms out there, and a million more well-adjusted great kids raised by them.
“HOW DO I LOOK?” Tag asked, stepping out of the small-town department-store dressing room in a comfortable pair of Levi’s. It felt damned good to be rid of his suit. After breakfast, though Olivia hadn’t looked all that happy about the prospect of sharing a car ride with him, she’d agreed to accompany him on a shopping trip.
“Better,” she said with Flynn riding her knee to the accompaniment of a canned show tune. “I’m no fashionista, but your whole vibe wasn’t working.”
“Consider yourself lucky you delivered that line with a smile.” Yet one more thing Tag hadn’t anticipated was purchasing a new wardrobe. Luckily the country store had all of the necessities. Jeans, sweaters, T-shirts, pj’s, socks, boxers, hiking boots and tennis shoes.
Next stop was a drugstore, where he picked up toiletries and a razor. And a box of Sprite—just in case.
Back out on the quiet, tree-lined street Olivia said, “I am sorry. When I took off like that, I…” She kissed Flynn’s forehead. “I hadn’t thought it even part of the way through. If you’d like, I’ll be happy to reimburse you for every dime you’ve spent.”
“Thanks,” he said, repositioning his many bags, “but it’s not about the money. I still feel sick thinking about how horrible this could’ve turned out.”
She nodded.
“Promise you won’t scare me like that again?”
“I’ve learned my lesson. From now on, I’ll behave.”
Her answer wasn’t the outpouring of remorse Tag had been hoping for. But they’d both been through a lot in the past few days, and for now, baby steps would have to do.
“Hungry?” he asked when she opened her car’s trunk to dump his bags inside. They’d taken her car, for Flynn’s safety seat and stroller. It unnerved him not being the one behind the wheel, but just as Olivia was learning to cope with the oddities of their predicament, so was he.
“Not even a little bit. After Grandpa’s Breakfast extravaganza, I wouldn’t have thought you’d need food for a week.”
“It’s not so much a matter of needing to eat,” he said, “as it is a craving for something sweet. Come on, follow me.” He commandeered the stroller and took off running down the street.
“Where are you going?” Olivia asked, jogging to keep up.
“Flynn and I need sugar.”
“That’s not on his diet!” she shouted, losing ground. Tag’s new tennis shoes fit surprisingly well. He hadn’t sprinted this fast in years.
While he’d been paying for his clothes, he’d noticed outside one of the store’s windows a combination bakery and ice cream shop. Rounding the corner, he found it, and was standing at the front counter making his selection before Olivia even walked through the door.
“It’s about time,” he said, grinning to see her winded. It served her right to be chasing him for a change.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, hunched over and grabbing her knees. “No sane person takes off like that.”
“Whoever said I’m sane?” He winked. “I do have all of that nutty circus blood in me.”
She elbowed his ribs.
Five minutes later they sat on white parlor chairs three sizes too small for his frame. “I feel like I’m in a dollhouse.”
“You were the one who said he’d die without something sweet,” she said.
“It wasn’t just me. Little Man needed ice cream, too.” Tag held his double-dip, strawberry cheesecake and chocolate cone in front of his son. At first Flynn cautiously explored, but then he stuck his entire open mouth up against it and all bets were off. “Look at him go.”
“You don’t know how badly I want to yank that cone from your hand,” she said, not at all amused.
“Lighten up. Look how happy he is.” With Flynn’s face covered in goopy, creamy, sugary goodness, his eyes had never shone so bright. While Tag hadn’t seen Flynn that often, Tag had always been a big hit around his sister’s kids. He knew a happy boy when he saw one.
Olivia already had her diaper wipes from the stroller’s back storage area. “He’s going to need a bath. Oh, Tag, now he’s got his hands in it. Really, stop. He’s going to throw up in the car.”
At the mention of barf, Tag backed off with the cone. “Sorry, buddy. Mommy says you’re done.”
“Common sense says he’s done.”
Mocking her, Tag asked, “Does it exhaust you being hyper-responsible all of the time? Have fun. You’ll live longer.”
“I DON’T KNOW ABOUT THIS,” Olivia said two hours later while hiking down a steep, woodsy trail. “You told me to have fun, but this feels more like torture. Definitely not an activity designed to extend my life expectancy.”
Tag wore Flynn on his back in a baby carrier he’d rented from Eleanor in the lodge. “What’s not to like? This is great.”
She had to admit that even though the leaves hadn’t yet budded, the forest was still beautiful in its stark contrast to the deep azure sky. Great boulders tumbled
topsy-turvy, covered in velvety green moss and lichen. “It’s pretty and all, but isn’t it dangerous? Flynn bouncing like a basketball?”
“You worry too much. And look at him. Does he look upset?”
“No, but…” Truthfully, judging by his big grin, wide eyes and the drool river running down his chin, he was having a ball.
“Relax,” Tag called over his shoulder when she paused beside a bubbling brook for a break. She was winded, yet he acted as if he hiked miles every day.
So much for her biweekly treks to the air-conditioned gym.
Something about the way slanted sunbeams caught glints of gold in Tag’s brown hair made her do a double take. In the time she’d known him, she’d focused solely on her dislike for the man. Only now did she really see something else. Like his size. Larger than life. Broad shoulders and a strong back that easily carried her twelve-pound baby boy. And then there was his profile. Squarish, with a hint of stubble. He wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous in the conventional sense—at least, not the way Phil had been. But the kindness behind his brown eyes gave him an attractive air that went beyond surface features. His easy smile and strong white teeth made him a comfortable companion. Moreover, Tag’s appearance provided clues as to what her son would grow to be.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” And surprisingly, she was. The farther they walked in companionable silence, the more she wondered about his past. He’d grilled her plenty, but she knew next to nothing about him. “Tag?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Did you and Maria go hiking a lot?”
“Not as much as we would’ve liked. She was a fourth-grade teacher and, never fail, whenever she was out of school, I was out of the country.”
“With your work, there’s a lot of travel?” Though it was hard for her to walk and talk, curiosity kept her questioning.
“Depends. Sometimes we’re exploring new territory. Other times we’re digging wells. Still other times I’m stuck behind my desk doing paperwork.”
“Hmm…sounds scintillating,” she teased.
“Oh, trust me. The rush of black gold spitting you in the face is better than hitting the lottery. You get great rewards, but making them even better is the fact that my team and I earned them.”
“Makes sense.” She admired that in him. That he wasn’t looking for a free ride.
After another twenty minutes of huffing and puffing, Tag asked, “Ready for our lunch break?”
Laughing, wiping sweat from her forehead with her shirtsleeve, she said, “I’ve been ready for the past hundred miles.”
“Just wait till this little guy is working toward his Scout badges. We’ll be in the woods for days.”
“Moms are included in that?” As much as she’d earlier wanted to experience every aspect of Flynn’s life, now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe sharing her boy with Tag wouldn’t be so bad, after all. She could handle PTA and well-child visits while he handled science-fair projects and sports.
“No moms were allowed when I was a Scout.” He helped Olivia slide free from her backpack. “But things might’ve changed. Anyway, we’ve got a few years to think about it.”
Tag unloaded Flynn, who was cranky.
Olivia took out a blanket and spread it over a rock.
Tag set the baby on the blanket, playing with him while Olivia distributed sandwiches, chips and juice boxes.
“This is really working,” he said.
“What?” She found homemade chocolate-chip cookies that Eleanor had also thrown in.
“Us. Working as a team.” After taking a bite of his sandwich, he added, “It’s nice.”
“It is.”
Flynn wailed.
“Correction.” Olivia abandoned her meal to pick up the baby. “Our lunch was nice. Looks like someone else wants to eat before me.”
“Want me to feed him?” Tag asked, putting his ham and cheese down on its foil wrap. “I don’t mind.”
“I appreciate the offer, but…” Flynn rooted at her breasts.
“Oh,” Tag said, before really taking in the scene. “Ooooh.” Reddening, he turned his back to her and stood, hopping off the rock. “I forgot. Um, you just go on about your business, and I’ll be over here. Holler when you’re done.”
“Thanks.” She, too, was embarrassed by the prospect of breast-feeding right here in front of him. When they’d set out, she’d been so preoccupied worrying about what Tag was likely to say next that she hadn’t even thought about poor Flynn needing to be fed.
After unbuttoning her shirt, she went through the familiar motions of helping Flynn find his meal. During the week she expressed her milk for him to be bottle-fed at his Montessori day care, but it wasn’t her preferred way to go. Even after pumping, her breasts ached. Almost as if her body was rebelling against being away from Flynn for too long.
The release of her milk was pleasurable, as was sharing the quiet time with her son. She used it to study him. His long lashes and deep brown eyes. The faint pink in his cheeks. The infinite shades of copper in his hair.
“I know it’s not proper for me to say this to a young man,” she whispered, stroking his chin, “but you’re very pretty.”
Ignoring her, he pressed his tiny fists into her left breast.
“How’s it going over there?” Tag called out. He sounded a polite distance away.
“Fine. Almost done.”
Once Flynn had eaten his fill and drifted off to sleep, Olivia closed her bra flaps, buttoned her shirt and set off in search of Tag. “Coast is clear!”
“Whew,” he said with a seriously cute grin. “That was a little awkward—not that I don’t wholeheartedly agree with you deciding to breast-feed our son, but—”
“I get it.” Meeting his smile, she gestured for him to rejoin her on the blanket.
“I KNOW I DIDN’T HAVE a vacation scheduled, Alice. It just came up.” Right about now Tag was wishing he’d left his cell at home. He’d been in his cabin only long enough to shower and shave, but already he was missing Flynn. And oddly enough, Flynn’s momma—who was turning out to be quite a pistol.
“That’s just fine and dandy,” Alice said in her best scolding-kindergarten-teacher tone, “but what am I supposed to tell all the folks you have meetings with?”
“Hell, I don’t know.” With his free hand he slapped on lemony aftershave. “Tell them I’m sick. No—better yet, tell them the truth.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“I can’t stand being away from my son.”
After working out the logistics, he said his goodbyes to Alice, made a few couldn’t-be-put-off calls, then headed back over to Olivia’s cabin.
On the way, he wished he had a bottle of wine or flowers. Maria would’ve had his hide for camping out at Olivia’s place and not bringing a gift, but seeing as how the resort was in the middle of nowhere, his lack of manners couldn’t be helped.
He had to knock only once before she tugged open the heavy door. She’d changed from the outfit she’d worn hiking into jeans and a lightweight yellow sweater. She usually wore her hair up—either in a complicated knot at the back of her head, or a ponytail. Tonight, however, she wore it down. Loose and wavy, draping her full breasts. He’d never thought of her in terms of being a woman. More like solely an adversary, but now that he had a second to think about it, she was really quite attractive.
“You, ah, look nice,” he said, not sure what to do with his hands. Damn, he needed that gift.
“Thanks. It feels good to be clean. I didn’t realize how dirty Flynn and I had gotten out on the dusty trail.”
“Yeah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “We could use some rain.” Why did he suddenly feel awkward around her? This afternoon they’d never run out of things to say, but now he felt as tongue-tied and nervous as a pimple-faced kid on his first date. Only, this wasn’t a date. The knowledge of which should have taken the pressure off, but oddly didn’t.
“Flynn’s conked out,” she said. �
��I washed him and fed him again.”
“I would have liked to be here for his bath.”
“Tomorrow I’ll be sure not to start until you’re here. You probably need diaper lessons, too.”
“That’d be great.”
After a lengthy silence during which neither looked at the other, she asked, “You like old movies?”
“They’re okay,” he said, thrilled for something new to talk about.
“I was exploring the cabin and found a bunch of Doris Day classics. Want to watch one until Flynn wakes up?”
“Sure. Just one question.”
“Shoot.” She was already opening the entertainment center’s doors.
“What’s for dinner? And please don’t say meat loaf.”
AFTER DECIDING the only safe dinner route was vending machine snacks, sodas and microwave popcorn, Olivia and Tag made a pact to go to a nearby town’s grocery store first thing in the morning.
“That was surprisingly good,” Tag said after they’d finished watching Pillow Talk. “Maria loved Doris and Rock. She was all the time trying to get me to watch with her, but I thought they were too girlie for my taste.”
“What was she like? Your Maria?” They’d watched the movie with Olivia stretched out beneath her bed’s quilt on the sofa. Tag lounged in an overstuffed armchair, using the coffee table as an ottoman. He’d made a fire that valiantly worked at warming the drafty cabin. Flynn was snug beneath the covers in his portable crib.
“Italian,” he said with a chuckle and reminiscent smile. “Great cook, sense of humor and a wicked temper whenever I left the toilet seat up.”
Olivia laughed. “I don’t blame her. Getting that surprise in the middle of the night is the worst.”
“Yes, well, I’ve never seen it as a hanging offense, but I guess you women need to stick together. Anyway, she had crazy silky black hair and an olive complexion so perfect she never needed makeup.”
“Mmm…I’ve always envied women like that.”
“You’re very nice-looking in your own way, but there will never be anyone else for me.”
The Baby Battle Page 7