"You wouldn't even have to keep working, unless you wanted to." He countered. "I'm happy to support you for as long as you want. You could sell Ivy Cottage to Marc, I'll finance him."
He'd tried to think of everything, but he'd missed the one thing she wanted most of all, the one thing he couldn't or wouldn't give: something of himself. "You have all the answers, don't you."
"I'm trying to be logical."
"It can't always be about logic."
"What is it about, then?" His gaze searched her face.
She didn't answer, couldn't tell him.
"All right then, put it this way, I'm trying to do the right thing. I thought we were both going to try to do what was best for the baby."
"Best for the baby or best for you?" she snapped. "What about this 'obvious' solution? I can find a place for you to move to, near where I live."
"Whoa." He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "How about we forget I said anything?"
But he said it, not in a maybe I was wrong and I'm sorry kind of voice, but in an obviously you're not rational at the moment and you need to calm down voice.
"Gladly." But what she wouldn't forget was that all his reasons had been practical. An ache swelled in her heart. There had been no mention of him feeling anything at all for her beyond the pale like. He would fit her into a corner of his life, and she was supposed to be content with that, be grateful for the crumbs he offered her.
It wasn't going to happen. She closed her eyes and made that promise to herself. She'd compromised before and she wouldn't do it again. Not when she was the only one doing the compromising.
Nick started the Range Rover, pulled slowly back out into the road, swinging around to head back the way they had come.
They drove in cold silence. He stopped at the guest cottage. Neither of them spoke as she got out.
Eleven
C allie sat in the Range Rover, Melody at her side driving. "I appreciate you taking me back to Sydney." The lump was still there in her throat, where it had lodged last night, a smaller version of the one in her chest.
"It works out really well." Melody smiled, oblivious. "I want to see my obstetrician anyway. I've been getting some odd twinges. I'll stay at Nick's apartment tonight and meet Jason off the plane tomorrow. Then we're going to go and look at nursery furniture."
Callie felt a pang of envy. Shopping for nursery furniture with the father of her baby was not going to happen for her.
"Besides, it's the least I could do, after all the work you did for the festival. It felt so good to be able to help out the shelter, and as a bonus, the vineyard's profile has gone right up. The publicity you got for us was fantastic." Melody started talking about the vineyard and her plans for it. Callie tried to keep up. Tried to stop her thoughts going back to last night.
She had dreaded going down to breakfast almost as much as she had wanted to see Nick. The dread and the wanting were wasted. He hadn't been there. That was enough of a signal that he didn't care about what she said. The loss threatened to swamp her.
She had to take just one day at a time. Today was the day to go home and regroup, to figure out what was happening to her, which of her feelings were real and which were a by-product of the situation she was in and of capricious pregnancy hormones. Because she knew one thing for certain-her feelings for Nick were completely out of the realm of her experience. She knew now the love that could be so much more than the pale imitation she'd had before. But the pain increased in proportion.
Focus on the here and now. That was all she could do.
"Are you still expecting me to believe there's nothing between you and Nick?"
Callie glanced at Melody. If anything, there was even less between them than when Melody had last asked. "Nick and I have some things to sort out," Callie conceded. "But it's not what you're thinking."
"I was thinking you're pregnant."
Callie stiffened. "Why do you say that?" Was the whole family psychic?
"You haven't drunk any wine the whole time you've been here. And the only other person doing that is me. Rosa's knitting a pink cardigan, which I know isn't for Junior. And sometimes you touch your stomach and look the way I feel. Awed."
Melody's reasons at least were sound. Callie took a deep breath and answered. "Yes."
"And Nick's the father."
Not a question. A statement.
"Yes."
"So, what-"
"It's complicated." And it wasn't anything she felt like talking about.
For a moment, Mel's expression didn't change, and then a delighted smile lit her face. "I don't care what you say. That's wonderful."
Obviously, to her the complications meant nothing. Callie, on the other hand, had to fight the threat of another wave of tears.
"When are you due?"
At least that was a question she could answer. "Mid-September."
"Two months after me. Junior will have a cousin almost the same age."
This so wasn't where Callie wanted to go, talking of the future and family relationships. But she needn't have worried. Melody wasn't looking for any answers from her. "Have you had morning sickness? Mine was awful at first. Not just mornings, but all day long."
They drove, Melody's conversation darting from pregnancy symptoms to birthing options, and the best stores to buy nursery equipment. Callie got the feeling Melody probably even had plans for where her child would go to college. She envied her that certainty.
Melody's hand dropped to her abdomen, pressed against it, and for an instant her mouth tightened. "Nick's a good man." Another sudden conversational switch.
"I know. But his relationships never last." Melody's own words.
She was silent for several seconds. "I know I said that. And it's true. But they haven't lasted before because he hasn't wanted them to. He doesn't let people get close. Sometimes he'll even push them away. Deliberately distance himself."
Wasn't that the truth?
Melody patted her stomach, but her palm closed into a fist against it and she winced.
"Are you all right?"
"It was a cramp. I've had a few today. I don't know what they are. It's too early for Braxton Hicks contractions." The color had drained from her face.
"Shall I drive?" Callie offered.
"That might be a good idea. I'm sure I'm fine. The first trimester is the riskiest period, and I'm into my second now. But I am a little tired."
Melody guided the car to the shoulder of the road and they swapped places. Once in the passenger seat, Melody reclined it and closed her eyes, but a frown pleated her brow and she kept her hands clasped over her abdomen. Concern tightened Callie's grip on the wheel, and she drove as fast as she legally and safely could.
As they came into the city, Melody directed Callie to her obstetrician's offices. By now, Mel was white and tears were swimming in her eyes.
Callie went around to her side of the car and opened the door. Mel got out and doubled over. That was when Callie saw the blood.
Callie was sitting at the side of Mel's hospital bed, holding her hand, when the door swung open. Nick strode into the room and halted. His gaze darted between them, fear and questions in his eyes, then settled on Melody. "How are you?" His voice gentle, hurting.
Mel opened her mouth to speak but no words came out, instead her tears started all over again. Callie didn't feel that she had the right to hers, but they fell anyway, as they had throughout the afternoon, for Mel, for Jason, for the baby who would never be.
Nick crossed slowly to his sister, hugged her. Melody's arms snaked around his shoulders, and she clung to him, still crying. Feeling like she was intruding, Callie stood to go. Nick looked at her and mouthed the word, stay.
Her heart breaking a hundred different ways, Callie shook her head and left. Nothing had changed for them.
Nick leaned against a corner post of the veranda, his fists in his pockets in a parody of nonchalance that he was light years from feeling. When Callie had turned and walked away a week ago, he'd told himself that he could let her go. That through grim determination, he could make himself not need her. But even before she'd gone from his sight, he knew with blinding clarity that wasn't ever going to happen. He no longer wanted to live the shutdown existence of his past. He would do whatever he had to to get her back into his life.