No matter how much she wished she could make those fantasies real.
* * *
In the rush to get Laurel to the hospital, they’d completely forgotten about the car seat. Didn’t remember it, either, when Tyler took her grandmother home later that morning to get her own car, when he’d transferred Boomer to Matt’s and Kelly’s. Who did everything short of congratulating him when he told them about the birth. Because, you know, it wasn’t his kid.
Except that feeling of being hit in the head when he’d held Jonny in his arms... Wow. He’d seen all of Ethan’s babies soon after they’d arrived, of course, but not right away. And as crazy as he was about his nieces and nephews, he felt very much like an uncle. A little removed, you know?
But Jonny... Holy crap. Like the kid had looked right into Tyler’s soul, hooking a line or something between his heart and Ty’s.
Now, using the key Laurel’d given him, he let himself into her slightly stuffy, silent house to get the seat, the quiet embracing him like a hug. Her scent, too. Well, not her scent, but that unique combination of smells that reminded him of her, of fabric softener and eucalyptus, a whiff of pine from the half-burned Christmas candle on her coffee table.
The car seat was still in its box in the living room, but he felt impelled to check her room, where Jonny would sleep for the first few weeks, make sure the bassinet was ready. But while the white wicker basketlike thing was set up, next to what he assumed was her side of the modest double bed—a simple wood headboard, a plain white comforter with a couple of floral pillows—the tiny mattress was bare. In a drawer in the nursery, he found a sheet that looked like it’d fit, as well as a little quilted pad he assumed went under the sheet, and quickly made it up.
He scanned the room again, spare and neat and soothing in its simplicity, the walls a light, warm beige. Clearly this was someone with no tolerance for clutter, for doodads and tchotchkes and things out of place. He smiled, thinking of Ethan’s house, with four kids’ stuff scattered all over the place. Of the Nobles’ when he lived there, his adoptive mother’s enthusiastic support for her children’s individual expression—no matter how messy—at constant odds with the Colonel’s penchant for regimen and order.
Boy, was Laurel in for a rude awakening, or what? Tyler thought with a smile as he returned to the living room for the car seat, which he quickly installed in her backseat before returning to the hospital. But he kept thinking about how the house felt like Laurel because she’d made it a home. Her home. Not simply someplace to eat and sleep and watch TV. Like, say, his place. Even after he’d spruced it up. No surprise there, right? Since how would he know what home was?
Seriously, he and his mother had lived so many places he’d eventually stopped trying to remember them all. Most of them were furnished, too, so he never really felt like they were living in their house. In contrast, the Nobles were paragons of stability—Tyler had the same room, even the same furniture, from the moment he arrived until he moved out. And yet...he’d never fully felt at home there, either. Not nearly as much as he did...
As he did at Laurel’s. What the hell?
She was ready to go by the time he got there, looking a little abashed at all the flowers and balloons and crap she’d gotten, mostly from her geriatric groupies at her grandmother’s, as well as Kelly and Matt, who’d been by earlier. But after two extra trips from room to car, they finally got all squared away, baby securely strapped into his seat with his mama beside him, and Tyler chauffeured the pair of them back to her house. Her grandmother followed at a not-so-sedate pace behind them, her hair a white cloud in a sea of brightly colored Mylar balloons.
“Seems so weird, doesn’t it?” he said. “Go to the hospital with two people, come back with three.”
Behind him, Laurel softly laughed. “Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she said dreamily. But that was it.
She hadn’t said a whole lot, actually, since the birth, and Tyler was trying like hell not to let it bug him. Especially since Marian had warned him, when he’d taken her home the day before, that Laurel would be really focused on Jonny for the next little while—that was nature’s way of making mothers bond with their babies. Which made perfect sense. To see and hold and touch something that’d been inside you for all those months... What a trip, right? He was hardly going to be jealous of an infant, for crying out loud. Only, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Laurel’s aloofness—which probably nobody but him could even see—was about more than her being a new mom.
Like her telling him he didn’t have to stay at the hospital last night...that he should go home, get some sleep. Anybody else would probably say she was only being considerate, like she always was. So why did he feel that what she was really saying was that she didn’t want him around? Or was his own exhaustion making him paranoid?
They arrived without incident, Marian pulling up in Laurel’s drive behind them. The old gal was out of her car and up to Laurel’s front door in a flash, swinging it open with a huge grin as Tyler carefully scooped a sleeping Jonny from his seat, snuggling him to his chest.
“No, you go on inside,” he said softly to Laurel when she tried to take the baby. “You can sit and stare at him the rest of the day if you want.”
But this time is mine, he nearly said, the thought going off like a land mine in his brain.
She looked like she might argue, but she didn’t. A few minutes later she was settled on the sofa with her son, a tiny frown pushing at her eyebrows. Marian had gone back out to start carting in all the gifts; Tyler squatted in front of Laurel so she’d have to meet his eyes. At least for a moment. “Hey. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
At that, a tear slipped over her lower lashes and scurried down her cheek. “It just feels...wrong, that Barry doesn’t know his son is here,” and another land mine exploded. Boom.
Behind him, he heard Marian’s gasp, a soft clunk as she set a vase of flowers on the little entryway table. But before Laurel’s grandmother could say anything—and Tyler had no doubt she was about to—Laurel looked at him with watery blue eyes and said, “I don’t expect you to understand, but...would you mind leaving us alone for a little while? I’m not really feeling much like company right now.”
This time, the bomb propelled him to his feet. “Company? Seriously?”
“You know what I mean—”
“No, actually, I don’t.”
She released a shaky sigh. “What you said, about Jonny and me not being alone...that was very sweet. And kind. But we’re not your responsibility, Tyler,” she said gently. “And I wouldn’t dream of burdening you.”
Anger surged through him. “And here’s a thought—maybe I don’t see it that way—”
“Now? No. I’m sure you don’t. But what about for the long haul? So if it’s eventually only going to be the two of us, anyway...” She pressed her lips together, then said, “I need the space now to figure out how that’s going to work. Before...before we get too used to having you around.”
He kept their gazes locked for several seconds. Then, muttering, “Got it,” he turned and walked past Marian and out the still-open front door.
“Tyler!” the older woman softly called, catching him before he got down the steps. “Hold on.”
Even though talking to Laurel’s grandmother was the last thing he wanted to do right then, out of courtesy he waited until she’d quietly closed the door behind her.
“Whatever you’re about to say, Marian—”
“You’re gonna listen to,” she said, her arms folded over her skinny chest. “So suck it up, buster. Look, I have no idea what’s going on in your head. Where you’re going with this, if anywhere. But I’ve been around my granddaughter enough to have a pretty good idea what’s going on in hers. Even if she doesn’t. Because I saw how she looked at you, when you were holding Jonny right after he was born. Saw how much
it hurt.”
Tyler’s brows crashed together. “Hurt? I don’t—”
“Because, numbskull, you’re being a big tease, dangling something in front of her she wants so badly she can’t stand it. Exactly like her father did. Like that schmuck Barry did. God knows I did my best when she was a kid to make it up to her after her father left, to let her know she was loved, really loved, that I wasn’t going to leave her because maybe things got inconvenient. But I’m eighty-five, for God’s sake, I’m not gonna be around forever. So give me one good reason why she should trust that you will be. Or what the hell, I’m not picky, give her one good reason. No, seriously, before you open your mouth and spew out what you think I want to hear, think about it. Because that kid I saved from the mouth of hell, she’s a grown-up now, and she wants grown-up things. A grown-up relationship, with another grown-up. Not some wannabe thing that’s over before it even gets started—”
“Yeah, Marian—I got it,” Tyler said, feeling like his chest was gonna cave in. “You want me to promise forever. You’re right...I can’t do that. Not like you mean it. Hell, I’m not even sure I fully understand the concept. But I can promise...” Tyler pushed out a breath. “Right now, if she needs me, I’m here. Right over there,” he said, pointing to his house. “Phone call away. So you tell her that, okay?”
Then he stormed off, madder than he’d been about anything since he was a little kid.
* * *
“I don’t even want to know what you said to Tyler,” Laurel said when Gran found her in the nursery, changing Jonny’s tiny diaper.
Gran plopped into the glider. “Sure you do. And I read him the riot act.”
Snapping up the baby’s sleeper, Laurel frowned at her grandmother. “About what?”
“About how half-assed isn’t gonna cut it.”
Laurel scooped the baby up off the changing table, carefully cradling him to her aching chest. “So you agree with me.”
“In theory? Of course. That doesn’t mean he deserved to get kicked out on his ass.”
“It’s called self-preservation, Gran.”
“No, it’s called fear.”
Laurel met her grandmother’s gaze, then shooed her out of the glider before gingerly lowering herself into it, unbuttoning her blouse to put Jonny to breast. “All my life,” she said quietly, “I’ve twisted myself inside out to be accommodating, to understand why somebody didn’t or couldn’t stick around, couldn’t be there for me.” She softly grazed the baby’s cheek with one finger as he nursed. “And that kept me sane, from getting eaten up alive with resentment. But most of all, learning I could only rely on myself— present company excepted, of course,” she said with a slight smile, lifting her eyes to her grandmother, “also kept me from being disappointed.”
“So that’s why you cut Tyler off.”
“You got it.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you also cut him off before he was finishing caring—you stop to think about that? Because I’ve been watching him all these weeks, and trust me, this is not somebody who’s gonna screw you and Jonny over. Sure, he’s got issues—”
“Ya think?”
“And so do you. So does everybody. And everything you want? You deserve? Same goes for him. But the pair of you... Oh, my God. Too scared and too stubborn to go for it, either of you. And you know something? Before you tell me to stop interfering, I’m outta here. You want so badly to prove you can do this without any help? Go for it, sweetheart.”
“Gran—!”
But by the time Laurel struggled out of the chair with the baby still attached to her breast, she heard the front door slam. And except for her own, slightly panicked heartbeat, and Jonny’s snuffling, there was absolute silence.
“Guess it’s just you and me, sweetie,” she whispered to Jonny, trying not to let her voice shake as she settled back in the chair.
Chapter Ten
Zipping up his hoodie against the damp, mid-October breeze, Tyler carted the last of three huge black garbage bags crammed with leaves from Laurel’s tree he’d spent all afternoon raking up from his backyard out to the curb...the very moment her car pulled up in her driveway. He waved, and she waved back—like they always did—but also like always, he didn’t know if it was okay to go over there and chat. He did know it was making him nuts, that he had no idea how to fix things between them. Or even what was broken, truthfully.
He’d guessed she and her grandmother had had a blowout, too, that day they brought the baby home. Because he’d heard Marion drive off, squealing her tires even more than usual. And man, it’d taken everything he had not to call Laurel right then, make sure she was okay. But since she’d made it clear she needed to deal with things on her own, he restrained himself. Especially since he got where she was coming from. Being exactly the same way and all—
“Hey,” she said, her voice barely audible over a bunch of brittle leaves skittering down the sidewalk. He took that as encouragement to come closer, only to see her disappear into the backseat.
“Hey, yourself,” he said to her denim-covered butt. “Haven’t seen you for a while.” Duh.
She hauled Jonny out of his car seat. Tyler caught a glimpse of fat, pink cheeks protruding from a light blue, pointy hood, little arms and legs like sausages in a puffy, one-piece deal, and that...that feeling pinged inside his head. His chest.
“Been a little busy,” she said with a smile that looked almost apologetic. Or at least, that’s what Tyler was going with. Expertly balancing the baby on her hip, she leaned back into the car to grab a plastic grocery bag, then another...and another...and the diaper bag...
Oh, for crying out loud.
“Here, let me—”
“No, I’ve got it—”
Ignoring her, Tyler took the bags, giving her a whatchagonnadoaboutit? smirk before heading up her stairs. Still balancing the baby—who was sacked out, Tyler noticed—she clumsily unlocked, then pushed open the door, setting Jonny down on the sofa, tummy up, while Tyler marched the groceries back to the kitchen to gently deposit them on the floor...because the counter was too littered with dishes and God knows what else to put them there. Huh.
Then he returned to the living room, which looked like a bomb’d gone off. Stacks of laundry everywhere, mail piled up on the coffee table, even a couple of cobwebs up in the corners, shuddering from the heat coming through the vents.
“Um, thanks,” Laurel said, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. Which was when Tyler also noticed the bags under her eyes, the not-so-faint lines bracketing her mouth. “Sorry about the mess. Things’ve been...well... You know. Anyway—” A smile flickered. “I can take it from here.”
“Damn, Laurel—”
“Don’t, Tyler. Just...don’t. I’m fine, really.”
“You don’t look fine.”
She laughed. “Yeah, sleep deprivation is hell on the looks. I’ll live.” She crossed her arms. “So...how are things going? Business okay?”
“Uh...yeah, actually.” Then he grinned, too proud not to share. “You know those cousins from HGTV? They were apparently working on a house not far from here, so one of their producers scouted out the shop as a potential source for one of their shows...and damned if they didn’t use it.”
Her face lit up, and Tyler’s heart knocked. “Ohmigosh, Ty—that’s wonderful! When’s it going to be on?”
“Sometime in the spring, they’ll let us know the exact date. Can’t beat free publicity, right?”
“No, you sure can’t.” Still smiling, she crossed the room to squeeze his arm. “I’m so happy for you, Ty. Really—”
From the sofa, the baby stirred; Tyler’s eyes shot to the infant, his chest doing the same thing it had after the kid’s birth. He walked over, looked down. Ached so badly to hold him he thought something would crack inside.
Almost as
badly as he ached to hold Jonny’s mother. To really share his news. Not that everybody else hadn’t been happy for him, too—Starla had let out a squeal like he’d announced he was gonna star in a movie—but what he’d seen in Laurel’s eyes a second ago...it’d made him feel like a movie star. Only better. Sucking in a deep breath, he said, “Man, that is one good-looking kid.”
“I think so,” she said softly, coming to stand beside him. “But then, I’m not exactly unprejudiced. Um...” Awkwardness settled back between them. “Would you like something to drink? Hot chocolate or tea? Or I think I’ve got some coffee in the back of the fridge. I could put that on...?”
He thought of that day in June, when they’d first met. How she’d offered him something to drink then, too, not because she really wanted to, but because that’s what people like her did. Same as she was doing now. And poof, the moment was gone.
For a second, he was tempted to plead to be let back into her life. Except when he looked over and saw that stubborn set to her chin, he thought, No damn way. Because it didn’t matter what her reasons were for distancing herself from him. If she didn’t want him around, she didn’t. And hell would freeze over before he’d beg.
“No, that’s okay, I gotta... I’ve got plans.”
And if that was disappointment he saw in her bloodshot eyes, too damn bad.
“Of course,” she said. “Well. Thanks.”
“You bet,” he said, and left.
Around two in the morning, though, Dumbbutt Mutt woke him up to go outside. Dragging his robe on over his boxers, Tyler stepped out on his deck, too, yawning as he listened to Boomer nosing around in the dead plants before deciding which one to baptize. The night was clear and cold, so still you could hear your own breathing...still enough to hear—or at least, he thought he heard—a baby wailing next door.
Tensing, he waited, assuming the cries would stop any moment. When they didn’t, fear spiked through him, that maybe something was wrong, but Laurel was too proud, or mule-headed, or whatever, to ask for help.
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