“Don’t do this. Please.”
“I have to.”
He fired the paint rag at the deck. “This isn’t about the job. It’s about you and me. I have one question that deserves an honest answer.”
She froze as still as the piling she stood beside, her heart thumping in time with the water lapping against the Queen.
“Do you love me?”
Rachel’s eyes moved from the hair curling under his baseball cap to the paint smeared T-shirt hanging loose at his hips and back to his eyes. One word. One little word that could change the course of her life.
“I heard you tell Bret you loved me months ago.” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, not taking his eyes from her. “Well?”
Heat rushed up her neck, flooding her face. “You overheard me?”
“Is it true?”
A boat engine rumbled to life somewhere in the marina. The steady churn of water droned in the distance.
“Do we have to talk about this now?”
“We should have talked about it weeks ago. It’s a simple answer. Yes or no?”
January sun heated her scalp, shoulders, the backs of her jean-covered legs.
Rachel opened her mouth. I love you trembled on her tongue.
Footsteps sounded on the dock. She turned.
Gabrielle—with a blue blanket cradled in her arms—slowed to a stop in front of the Queen. Her eyes, narrowed with determination, clamped on Jake.
Jake’s mouth dropped open.
Oh, God. Rachel gripped her stomach.
Gabrielle smiled tentatively at Jake and swished past Rachel on the narrow pier, as though she didn’t see her. Rachel glimpsed a tiny tousle cap, pale eyelashes asleep on pink cheeks.
Peering over the baby, Gabrielle’s eyes flitted back and forth across the gangplank. She positioned the heel of her pump on the ribbing and pressed the infant against her chest as a speedboat barreled past the end of the dock. She sped across the gangplank, releasing her breath when her feet landed on the deck in front of Jake.
The speedboat’s wake smacked the Queen’s hull, and she rocked.
Gabrielle shoved the baby into Jake’s chest and grabbed the coaming with one hand. “He’s yours.”
Chapter 30
Rachel’s feet carried her away from the Queen, Jake holding his son, imprinting into her like the day Hall was born.
Jake’s eyes didn’t move from the child. He’d forgotten her presence and their interrupted conversation.
Better for her to slip away unnoticed. She didn’t belong there in the middle of Jake and Gabrielle’s drama any more than she had the day Gabrielle stormed off the Queen last Spring.
This time Rachel would leave.
She glanced back at Jake stepping over the coaming, his back to her. She watched to see if he would turn away from Gabrielle to look down the dock for her.
He didn’t.
Each step wrenched her apart, her body straining toward land, her heart lashed to the Queen’s deck. Jake.
Jake grabbed the bundled baby Gabs thrust at him, shock coursing through his body at the contact. His baby, a boy, she’d said. He numbly stepped over the coaming, his knees bending with the sway of the deck.
Gabs sunk onto a cushion.
He took in her creamy skin, soft hair, cut shorter than the last time he’d seen her, his brain misfiring like the Queen’s faulty engine injectors.
A pale stain marred the lapel of her white suit like a badge of motherhood. His gaze fell back to the boy grunting and squirming in the crook of his arm.
“He’s yours, Jake. I’ve never slept with anyone else.” She smoothed her slacks with her palms.
He perched on the coaming and ran a knuckle across the baby’s cheek.
Body heat crept through the blanket. Blue eyes peered out. The baby kicked the blanket open, and Jake stared at the small arms and legs encased in terrycloth, perfectly formed fingers. The tiny chest swelled and contracted as the baby breathed.
His son. He felt as though he’d been shot with a taser. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I would have married you with or without the baby.”
She shook her head. “I… I couldn’t… then.”
Then? He was too rocked to figure out what she meant. His gaze settled back on the baby. “What’s—my son’s—name?”
“Nathan Millhouse Murray.”
“Millhouse after your father. Murray?”
“It seemed like the right thing to do. We can change it—”
“No.”
The baby let out an angry-kitten cry and Jake tensed. He jiggled the baby while Gabrielle dug in the diaper bag, but Nathan only howled louder.
Gabs’ face went chalky, pinched. She tossed the bag aside.
“Give him to me.” She took the baby, turned her back on Jake, and faced him again, the baby’s head pressed to her breast.
Though Gabs’ jacket and blouse hid her skin, Jake heard the surreal sounds of his child’s hungry sucking. On the rare occasion he’d stumbled into a breastfeeding relative, she’d been draped in a blanket and he’d beat a hasty exit. Embarrassment, shock, and something warm he didn’t want to examine coursed through him. Why hadn’t she gone below to feed the baby?
He glanced up and saw Leaf watching with rapt attention, a half-peeled orange in his hand.
Rachel and the conversation Gabs had interrupted flopped back into his shell-shocked mind. He scanned the pier where she’d been standing. Gone. He felt like half of him had been lopped off.
If Rachel had any second thoughts about turning down his proposal or quitting, Gabs’ appearance had killed them. If Rachel loved him, she was melting down right now. If she didn’t, she was relieved to be done with him. Either way, he couldn’t do anything about Rachel until he worked things out with Gabs.
Jake turned back to Gabs. Dark half-moons hammocked her eyes, and her hair had deflated.
“When did you get in?”
“I came straight from the airport.”
She disconnected the baby, and his gaze flew to the Passtime Princess, tied up behind the Dolphin View Restaurant. When he dared a glance, she had covered herself, the baby balanced on her shoulder as she rubbed his back.
The kid let out a belch any guy would be proud of, and Gabs shifted him into the bend of her opposite arm.
Jake popped up. “Have you got luggage?”
“Oh, I forgot. I left it in the dock cart just inside the gate.” Her hand fiddled with a catch on her bra through the material of her blouse.
Feeling like a perv, wanting a glimpse and not wanting one, he stepped over the coaming. Skin baked across the top of the open paint can on deck. He strode past the can, tallying the loss of a gallon of marine paint, and double-timed off the finger pier to the dock.
Three monster suitcases and some kind of portable crib were crammed into the dock cart. How long was she planning on staying? He searched the parking lot for Rachel’s car, a fish knife clawing into his gut, but it wasn’t there. The sooner he and Gabs hashed things out, the sooner he could track Rachel down.
He wasted enough time to make sure Gabs had finished feeding… his son. Even though he’d held Nathan, the baby seemed like a Star Trek hologram. Not real.
He glanced at Gabs before he bent to hammer the lid onto the paint can with the back end of a screwdriver. Her blouse buttoned and tucked into her slacks, she leaned against the coaming with her eyes closed. The baby slept in her arms.
“Where are you staying?”
Her eyes cracked open. “Here?”
“Fine. I don’t have a booking till next week. When are you going back to Arizona?”
“I bought a one-way.” She shrugged. “My mother and I get along better when there’s plenty of space between us.”
You’re staying? “What are we going to do? You’ve obviously had more time to think about this.”
“It’s best for Nathan to grow up with both his parents.”
<
br /> Jake recognized the firm set of her lips that he’d forgotten, the look that said whatever her plan was, she’d dig in and not budge. “Of course, he needs both his parents.”
Gabs’ eyes nailed him to the cabin. “Marry me.”
Rachel stared at the magenta dregs of the day dusting the ocean. The roar of the waves chanted that Jake would never be hers. A proposal wasn’t something that came with a rain check in case you changed your mind. The finality of never seeing him again, never touching him clamped down on her chest until only shallow breaths wheezed in and out.
Jake had what she wanted most in the world—a baby. And he had what he’d wanted—Gabrielle. God’s payback for the Bret debacle turned out to be even more excruciating than she expected. Every centimeter of her body ached with it.
She should have turned Jake away after the hurricane when their relationship swerved into romance. Inhaling that breath of happiness set her up to be crushed today. Her lungs felt like they’d never fully inflate again.
She shifted on the sand, her back stiff from sitting on the beach all day. A chill crept from the sugary grains through her jeans and the soles of her feet, but her face and the backs of her hands felt like fire. Her stomach growled, and she couldn’t remember if she’d eaten today.
Her phone vibrated, and she flipped it open. A text from Hall. She clenched her arms across her waist waiting for the fear that Mama and Daddy were splitting up for good to pass.
Mama moved back in. Going to work it out. Counseling. Told you.
Jake glanced up from his just-emptied plate of macaroni and cheese, possibly the first meal he’d ever cooked Gabs.
Her lids drooped and she stifled a yawn.
“You’re dead on your feet. Go to bed. I’ll clean up, take care of Nathan.”
“You will?”
“Give me a little credit. I’ve only been a father for a few hours, but I can learn. Tell me what to do.”
She handed him the diaper bag. “You can figure diapers out, read the formula can to make a bottle if you think he’s hungry. After he eats, pat his back to make him burp. Lay him on his side to sleep.”
Gabs took Nathan into her stateroom to nurse, thank God.
Jake set up the portable crib in the middle of the cabin from the illustrated directions printed on the nylon base. Where were the directions on how to put his life back together? What had he been thinking that night? That if he stopped and went to the store for condoms, Gabs would have changed her mind. Genius. Just Genius.
As he finished the dishes, Gabs emerged and held a drunk-looking Nathan out to him. “We really need to talk.”
He took the baby from her. “I can’t make a decision on a dime. You’ve been thinking about this for the better part of a year. We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”
Eyes at half mast, the fight seemed to have gone out of her. She shut the door behind her.
Jake hoisted the baby against his chest and patted his tiny back. Heat shot against his ribs.
Great.
He fished a diaper out of the bag and laid Nathan down on the bench. The small legs kicked, and Nathan’s face screwed up as cooler air touched his skin. Jake stared at his son’s two-week-old everything. So perfect. The baby squirmed, and Jake clumsily taped the fresh diaper around the baby’s hips and pinched the micro-snaps of his sleeper.
Nathan’s face scrunched as he geared up for full howl, and Jake ducked through the engine room to the aft cabin. Gabs needed sleep. It was the least he could give her. He bounced the baby. “Come on, big guy, don’t scream for our maiden voyage. I’m your dad.” The word felt foreign in his mouth. “Someday, I’ll teach you to swim and sail. What do you think about that?”
The baby quieted as he talked.
“Yesterday I was responsible for a boat and a car. Today I’m responsible for another human being… for the rest of my life. How do you wrap your head around that?”
The baby peered at him with wizened eyes as though he understood.
“Will I have to give up sailing? Marry your ma? She thinks I should.” His gut wrenched. “I love Rachel. How could that be a good thing for your ma? Maybe it wouldn’t matter since she’s never loved me. But what kind of home would that be for you? Look at Rachel, freaking out because her parents may divorce.”
“So many decisions to make that will affect the rest of your life—and mine, Gabrielle’s and Rachel’s.”
Jake lay back on his bunk, Nathan on his chest. “I guess your arrival must be hard on your ma, too. I’ve never seen her anything less than completely put together.” His mind skittered away from what he’d done to Gabs’ life.
The baby fussed, turning his head from side to side on Jake’s chest.
Jake sat up. “What’s the matter?” He filed through his short list of baby knowledge—clean diaper, full stomach. He stood, jiggling Nathan, and paced the tiny walkway in the aft cabin—four paces toward the bow, four paces astern.
Nathan calmed a few notches, but still seemed disgruntled.
“We’re going out.” He grabbed a clean towel to wrap the baby in and slid into his sweatshirt one arm at a time, juggling Nathan.
Hanging over him like symmetrical tulips, dock lights spilled yellow light as he paced. Nathan dozed against his sweatshirt. Whenever he stopped, Nathan woke. Jake nuzzled the red fuzz on his head, inhaled baby scent, and pulled the thick towel back over him.
“I love you, Nathan.” He spoke the words as though speaking them would usher in the emotion. But he felt only responsibility, guilt, anger at himself tethering him to his son.
His eyes focused on the boards he crossed and his mind latched onto Rachel, all muscle and bone, but soft in his arms. If he’d chosen to spend that summer with Gramps, his relationship with Gabs would have short-circuited. Gramps might have lived. They would have hired Rachel, maybe even before things heated up with Bret. Gabs would be married to an Arizona blue blood and Nathan, a flash of lust never consummated. Jake would be marrying Rachel with Gramps as his best man.
Now, he understood what Rachel meant when she said guilt came in like an avalanche.
He came to the T at the end of the dock and turned back toward land. His three swings had struck out, and Rachel had quit crewing for him—evidence enough that she didn’t want him. He should accept reality, but something in him couldn’t give up hope.
Exhaustion from the shock of Rachel’s resignation, seeing Gabs again, meeting Nathan, and lapping the pier too many times to count sunk into his bones. He slowed to a stop in front of the Queen. The baby had scrunched into a ball that rose and fell with Jake’s breathing. The hope of sleep drew him below deck.
He eased Nathan into his crib, and the baby squirmed. Jake sighed and dug the formula can out of the diaper bag. He scanned the directions with an eye on Nathan. Just don’t wake your Ma. He snagged the baby as Nathan wound up for a cry, shaking the bottle in his other hand. He took Nathan aft and sunk to his bed to feed him.
The baby toyed with the nipple, but didn’t drink much. Jake’s head dipped over the baby, and he shook himself awake.
“Come on, Nate, I don’t blame you being underwhelmed with the bottle after the real thing, but cut me a break here.”
The baby sucked on the nipple, his eyes doing a slow-lidded blink, as he downed almost an ounce.
He changed Nate’s diaper and slumped back against the hull, jamming a pillow behind his neck. The baby curled on his chest and drifted to sleep.
The next thing Jake knew, Gabs was pulling the baby off him, wet circles on the front of her mint green pajamas.
Sun sliced through the porthole, piercing his aching skull. Morning breath and guilt moved in and out of his lungs, more pungent than last night. He scrubbed the grit from his eyes and headed for the john.
The flush of the head filled his ears, and he dug his phone from the jeans he’d been wearing since yesterday morning.
Tell me what to do with the guilt, he texted. If anyone had the answer, Rachel did. He pressed
send, twisted on the shower faucet, and stripped down . At seven a.m., Rachel would be in a coma, but regardless of their drama, he knew she’d respond.
One foot in the shower, his text alert pinged.
Meet u in an hour at Sugar Mill Ruins.
Ruins, like his life and their relationship. But he doubted Rachel had been coherent enough to ferret out a symbolic location.
Despair pulsed at him with the water, flickering the spark that sprung from Rachel’s quick response. At least he’d get to see her one more time.
Jake held his throbbing head, damp from the shower, and watched with bleary eyes a freshly blown dry Gabrielle reach for the Wheaties.
Her blouse strained across an enlarged bust and slipped free from her slacks.
His body responded on autopilot, and he choked on the guilt. He focused on the baby who lay in his crib. “Nathan only slept four hours.”
“Welcome to parenthood.”
He met her gaze. “I’m sorry for everything you had to go through.”
Gabrielle’s face contorted. “No one looked at your stomach, your empty ring finger, back to your stomach, writing your life in their head. You didn’t have to face your parents’ disappointment, stretch marks, back pain.”
“It was your choice not to marry me. I woke up every morning for months wishing you’d shot me.”
“I almost died in the delivery room.”
Jake’s brows shot up.
“Asthma.”
He blanched. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” He stared at her, then down at the Wheaties congealing in the bowl between them. “I thought sex was a small thing—everybody does it. But it wasn’t.” He reached for her hand. “What can I do?”
“Marry me.”
He shot back against the seat cushion, dropping her hand. “That’s what you want?”
“It’s best for Nathan.”
“This is crazy. We don’t love each other….” Nathan fussed, and Jake bent and lifted him against his chest feeling like he’d been a father for a month instead of a night. Nathan rooted for food, and he handed him to Gabs.
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