by Linda Morris
“I told you, Mom. He doesn’t want to be with me. He’s mad at me. Now there are lawyers involved. Very well-dressed, highly compensated lawyers. I can’t afford my own place yet.” She sighed and perched on the edge of the bed. “It’s complicated.”
“Between men and women, things are only as complicated as you make them, dear.”
That hardly helped. If she’d learned one thing, it was that she and Paul could make things pretty darn complicated without even trying.
*
Paul was standing in line at the Plainview IGA when he heard someone say, “Paul! How are you?” He looked up to see his old assistant, Tracy, behind him, holding a basket full of groceries.
“I’m great, thanks. How about you?” He tried not to be embarrassed about his armful of frozen dinners. The lonely bachelor subsisting on Hungry-Man dinners. Was there a bigger cliché? He’d been traveling so much he hadn’t bothered to buy real food in weeks. No point in cooking for one, anyway.
Now that sounded like self-pity. A bad habit to get into, that.
She shrugged, her smile dimming slightly. “You know. It’s tough without you there. You were the voice of reason.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“How’s your job search going?”
“Fine. I went to Florida last week, and then Virginia. Next week, the West Coast. There are a few teams I’ve gotta see out there. I may not actually start until the off-season, but it’s good to know what’s out there. I’ll be back to Florida again after that.”
They chatted as the woman in front of them checked out her groceries, minding three feisty kids while she sorted her coupons and talked to the cashier. Looked like they’d be here a while.
“Can’t you come back, Paul?” Tracy blurted suddenly. “It’s awful without you. I don’t want to badmouth your dad, but …”
“I know how he is.” He probably shouldn’t ask, but curiosity overcame him. “So, tell me how awful everything is without me. I could use some cheering up.” He flashed a grin, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.
“Our insurance has been canceled. Your dad found another carrier, for three times what we were paying for the old one. The White Sox brass has been all over the place, calling every day and visiting the stadium. They’ve sent down a team of experts to assess the stadium to see if it’s in good condition. They’re crawling all over the place.”
“I can save them the time. It isn’t.”
“I know. The league has already made noise about fining your father for unsafe working conditions, and three players are talking lawsuits.”
“Wow.” Maybe he should be satisfied to see everything he had tried to warn his father about finally coming to pass, but he wasn’t. Instead, it just made him sad. It was all so unnecessary.
“Paul, do you think you could come back as VP?”
He scoffed and shook his head. “My dad has made it clear how he feels about my presence.”
Tracy looked around and then edged closer, speaking in an undertone. “He’s said several times he’d like you to come back. I think he’s too proud to admit it to you, though. If you asked him, I bet he’d take you back.”
Paul shook his head. “No way am I going back under his thumb again. As long as he’s running the Thrashers, I won’t be involved.” Funny how clear a little distance had made everything. Now he could see that returning to work for his father would be an unmitigated disaster. Too bad he hadn’t realized that years ago.
Her face fell. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not. Leaving the Thrashers is the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. It was the best thing that had ever happened to his career.
The best things that had ever happened to him were a thousand miles away, in Florida, and communicating with him mostly through attorneys.
*
Paul turned down the quiet street in Gulfport, Florida, and checked his cell phone again. This was the right street, according to GPS and the address he’d found for the Bournes. The last he’d heard, Willow and Jack were still living in her parents’ basement. And even if they’d moved, no doubt her parents would be able to show him to her new address. Unless they slammed the door in his face, which was a possibility. He swallowed hard, ignoring the tickle of nervousness in his belly.
He could have called in advance, let her know he was coming, but he hadn’t been sure himself. He’d only decided for sure when he finished up his latest interview with the Tampa Bay Mockingbirds. He’d called the airline to tell them to reschedule his flight and had let the rental car agency know he’d had a change of plans.
The street was wide and tree-lined, the houses in this neighborhood fairly small and close together. It was an old-style Florida neighborhood, with the typical scrubby lawns that still existed where the communities weren’t gated and residents didn’t pay five hundred dollars a month to irrigate the grass into emerald-green lushness.
He parallel parked the rental and walked up the steps leading up to the little bungalow shaded by palms. It wasn’t an elaborate house, but was probably a nice place to grow up.
With any luck, though, Jack wouldn’t be growing up here.
A minute after he rang the doorbell, a slender, red-haired woman with sharp eyes answered the door. This could only be Willow’s mother.
“Yes?”
“Hello, I’m Paul Dudley. Jack’s dad. Nice to meet you.” He ignored her wide eyes and extended his hand for a shake. She took it on autopilot, not saying a word. “Are Willow and Jack around?” he asked.
“Um, yes.” She stared at him as if trying to make a decision and then shook her head slightly. “Willow is downstairs working. Jack is in the playroom. Come in.”
He followed her into the foyer and looked around.
She closed the door behind him but didn’t move, still staring at him.
He turned and met her gaze, one eyebrow crooked.
“It’s about time you showed up,” she said finally, crossing her arms.
Okay then. Willow’s mom liked to tell it like it was. “I agree.”
“Who did you come to see, Jack or Willow?” she said, still not budging.
“Both of them. Is that all right with you?” He didn’t really care whether it was or wasn’t. Her mother clearly didn’t mind sticking her nose in, however, so he didn’t mind answering her bluntly.
She smiled a little, and he got the feeling he’d passed a test. “I’ll get them both. Want something to drink? Iced tea?”
“Got any beer?” Maybe it didn’t make a good impression, but hell, he’d probably need it. It had been a long day, and it was going to get longer before it was over.
She didn’t blink. “Of course.”
She showed him to a small family room in the back of the house, with an overstuffed sectional sofa, a large coffee table and an enormous flat-screen TV hanging on one wall. Clearly this was Willow’s dad’s room. Willow had mentioned she’d bonded with him over sports. No doubt they’d watched a lot of games together on that monster screen. In a few minutes, she returned with an icy bottle of beer in one hand and Jack in her other arm. Ignoring the beer for now, Paul reached for his son, who squealed and reached right back.
He recognized his father. Paul hadn’t been sure he would. Relief seared through his chest.
“Oh, big guy. I missed you.” He pulled Jack’s small, warm body close, overwhelmed by joy at holding him again. Love swept over him and he held his son tight, feeling like he never wanted to let him go again. “God, you’ve gotten bigger in just a few weeks.” Jack cooed and smiled, and Paul nuzzled his cheek, taking in his sweet baby scent and swallowing the lump of emotion that rose in his throat. He’d longed for this moment for weeks. Now that it was here, one thing was clear: He couldn’t continue being a long-distance dad. No matter what, he had to work out a way to have his son in his life, every day.
*
“Willow, you have a visitor.” Her mother�
��s stage whisper from the top of the basement stairs caught her attention. She eyed her screen, intent on finishing this first draft about the acquisitions the St. Pete Invaders had made for their offensive line in the off-season. Not exactly a burning issue, but she focused on her screen as if it was.
Work was good. Work kept her mind off a hundred other things that weren’t so good.
“Just a minute, Mom.”
Her mother hurried down the steps. “What are you wearing? That old T-shirt? Well, no time to change now.” Her mom rifled through the cosmetics on her dresser. “Here. Put on some lip gloss and take your hair out of that ponytail. Run a comb through it.”
She eyed the tinted lip balm her mother handed her. “Have you gone crazy, Mom?”
“No! For your information, Paul Dudley is upstairs. He’s here to see you.”
“What?” Paul, here? Her heart rate kicked into overdrive.
“I think you heard me. You look like something the cat dragged in. Fix yourself up!”
“Thanks, Mom, for the confidence boost.” Willow pushed back from the desk and stood, hardly able to draw a breath. Like a robot, she followed her mother’s instructions, pulling out her ponytail, fluffing her hair and putting on lip balm, until she caught herself. “What am I doing? I’m sure he’s just here to discuss custody arrangements.” She put down the lip balm.
“Bull,” her mother said succinctly. “He doesn’t need to come here for that. He can discuss custody in an email or on the phone, or through those lawyers you’re throwing money away on.”
“Mom, we’ve been through this. I need legal representation.”
“Not if you get married, you don’t. Now get up there. Wait. I changed my mind. Take that T-shirt off and put on a blouse instead.”
“Mom, I’m not taking my T-shirt off. I’m not getting married, either. For Pete’s sake. That’s not what either of us want.”
“I don’t know about that. He’s got a look about him, Willow.” Her mom waggled a finger, narrowing her eyes. “I know that look. It means something.”
“It probably means he has jet lag. I hear from his sister he’s been flying all over for interviews.” Those periodic updates she’d gotten from Sarah had been painful, yet as necessary as breathing.
“Jet lag, my rear end.” Her mother sighed. “Here, at least take off those ratty old shorts and put on a pair of jeans.” Her mother grabbed a pair at random out of the closet her dad had built when she’d moved down here.
“Fine.” She changed to mollify her mother, figuring she’d never hear the end of it if she didn’t.
“They’re in the TV room.”
Willow wiped her damp palms on her pants and took a last nervous look at herself in the mirror. Upstairs, she followed the sound of Jack’s happy cooing. As usual, he looked as happy as could be in Paul’s arms.
She couldn’t blame him. She’d been pretty happy there herself.
“Hello, Paul.”
His gaze flew to hers, warm, a true smile on his face. Could her mother be right? He did look happy to see her. She swallowed, hoping he couldn’t see her nervousness.
“Hi, Willow. I’m in town for an interview and thought I’d stop by.”
“That’s nice. You can stop by to see Jack anytime you like.”
She kept her voice even. Not angry, but not welcoming. Testing the waters. She wasn’t putting herself on the line again without knowing where she stood.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you.” He looked at her mother, who was standing in the doorway, watching avidly. “Would you mind watching Jack for a bit? I’d like to talk to Willow in private.”
“Of course.” Her mother took the baby with such speed that it was obvious she’d been hoping for such a request. Jack fussed a bit at leaving his father, but Paul handed him over anyway.
Funny, but now that she’d had a little time to get used to it, Jack’s preference for Paul didn’t bother her so much. How many kids were lucky enough to have such a great dad?
When they were alone, a little silence fell. He picked up a beer from the table and took a long drink. “Want some?” He held it out to her.
“Sure.” She walked toward him and took the bottle from his hand, her fingers brushing against his. The hair on the back of her hand stood up at the contact. Some things never changed. Electricity always sparked between them without effort. “Thanks.”
She took a swallow, handed it back to him, and then sat on the nearby sofa. “What did you want to talk about?”
He took another long drink and then sat beside her, scraping at the label with his thumbnail. “I owe you an apology, and I figured it was best delivered in person.”
She wouldn’t get her hopes up. She would not. “An apology for what?”
“Sarah tells me the story you published had been edited.”
She tilted her head to look at him. “True. All stories are edited before they’re published.”
Maybe she wasn’t helping him out at all; but she wasn’t going to put words in his mouth either. They’d done that to each other too often. This time, she’d let him speak, and she’d listen with an open mind.
“She seemed to think the story had been twisted a bit, and maybe was a little harsher than what you intended.”
“It was, a little bit. The facts were as I reported them, though. I did include your meltdown in the clubhouse, and I wasn’t kind to your dad.”
“No, you weren’t. Maybe that was for the best.” He rose, pacing across the hardwood floor. “I’m not sure I ever would have gotten out of that situation if you hadn’t done what you did.”
Her brows rose. “I didn’t think you wanted out of that situation. It’s your legacy, right? And Jack’s. I took that away from you. I’m not happy about that, no matter what you think.” She’d lain awake thinking about it many nights, in fact.
“I never thought you were. But this has taught me some legacies aren’t worth what they cost.” He looked at her steadily. “If I have to give up you and Jack, running the Thrashers isn’t worth a damn. Nothing is.”
“Oh, Paul.” She bit her lip. “I didn’t mean for you to have to choose between us. I didn’t want to put you in that position, honestly. It was the last thing I wanted.”
“I know. Look, I said I wanted to apologize. I never gave you a chance to explain about the story. I never gave you a chance to explain a lot of things. I was so angry about you keeping Jack from me that I closed down and didn’t listen.”
A tiny tendril of hope uncurled in her heart, like a sprout responding to the warmth of the spring sun. “It’s like neither one of us trusted each other enough to really listen,” she said.
“I’d like to see if we can change that, Willow. I’d like to be a family, the three of us. I don’t want some half-baked custody agreement the lawyers hammer out. I want us.”
Her heart caught in her throat. “I want what’s best for Jack too, but I want what’s best for all of us. We can’t be a couple just because of Jack. It wouldn’t be right, and it wouldn’t last. It’s only postponing the inevitable.”
“Willow, even if Jack had never been born, I still would have wanted you in my life.” He took a step closer, brushing her hair back from her face. “I did want you in my life, even before you told me we had a child together. I love you, Willow. I couldn’t get you out of my mind after I left Florida. You made me laugh, and eventually you helped me to love, when I thought I’d forgotten to do both.”
He opened his arms, looking unsure, tentative and even a little scared.
He needn’t have worried. She flew into his arms in a rush, a homecoming sweeter than any she’d ever experienced.
He kissed her, with all the tenderness and passion she’d grown to expect from him. “God, Willow. I missed you both so much.”
“I missed you too. So did Jack.” Her arms enfolded him, and she never wanted to let him go. Being with him filled her with joy, and she knew no matter what struggles lay ahead, they would be worth the co
st.
They were a true family, not because they’d had a baby by accident, but because they loved each other.
He lifted his mouth from hers, his blue eyes gone smoky. Cupping her chin, he sighed. “My life is upside down right now. You know that, don’t you? I don’t have a job. I don’t know what city I’ll be in. I may not even get work until the off-season, when most of the clubs make their hiring decisions.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can do my job from wherever. We’ll follow where you have to go. We’ll find a way to make this work.”
“It’s not just about our jobs, though, Willow. We have to find a way to make us work. I can’t promise we’ll always have smooth sailing, but I promise to listen, Willow, and I promise to trust you. Before I drove out here, I decided it wouldn’t do any good if I wasn’t willing to forget the past and start over. I wouldn’t have knocked on the door if I didn’t think I could do that.”
“Thank you, Paul.” She looked at him solemnly. “You’re not the only one with promises to make. I can’t say I’ll ever like him, but I promise to never write about your father again.”
“A wise move,” Paul said. They both laughed.
“There it is,” he murmured, his warm gaze lingering on hers.
“What do you mean?”
“I once thought I’d be happy just to see you look at me with gladness in your eyes. Now you have.”
Her eyes misted. “So much gladness, Paul. You have no idea.”
He pulled her close for a long kiss that had her heart turning over in her chest. After a minute, he leaned back a fraction.
“What do you think? Would you like to make an honest man out of me?”
Her eyes widened. “Do you mean that?”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything. We can do it, Willow. I know we can.”