Pffft. Even she didn't believe the garbage she was thinking! The truth was that Tyce fascinated her. And, yet again, she was venturing where she shouldn't go.
Oh, well...
"Where was your mom? Didn't she feed you?"
"When she felt well enough to do so," Tyce replied, standing up. That action and his closed-off face was a sign-billboard high and painted in neon-that he wasn't discussing his past anymore. Or again.
"Was she sick?"
Tyce stared at the abstract painting above her head and he eventually shrugged. "She suffered from depression. There were days when she wouldn't get up off the floor, when she'd rock herself for hours. Most days, she managed to work-just-but when she got home she'd collapse into a nonresponsive heap. If I didn't look after myself, feed myself, and Lachlyn when she came along, we didn't eat. It was... Yeah, it was tough."
"Where is she now? Is she..." Sage hesitated, keeping her voice neutral, knowing that she had to be careful how she framed her questions. If she was too blasé she'd sound callous; if she came across as being too sympathetic Tyce would immediately stop talking. "...still alive?"
"She died from a bout of pneumonia a long time ago."
Sage pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm so sorry, Tyce."
Tyce shrugged. "It happened."
When he looked around the room, Sage knew that he was trying to change the subject. She wasn't surprised. Tyce had told her more in ten minutes than he'd shared the entire time they'd been together three years ago. He resumed his seat next to her on the bed and picked a curl up off her cheek and pushed it behind her ear. "I keep looking at that photo of the red diamond flower ring. It's amazing. It's your time to spill. Tell me about it and tell me why you didn't want it displayed at the exhibition."
And this was the price she had to pay: she'd peeked under the lid of his Pandora's box and he thought he could do the same. Damn the person who'd invented the concept of tit for tat.
Sage sighed, pushed the rest of her wayward hair behind her ears and looked at a spot behind his head. She eventually looked at him again. "How much do you know about red diamonds?"
"Not much. That they are rare? That they are phenomenally expensive?"
Sage nodded. "There are only around twenty to thirty true red diamonds in the world and most are less than half a carat. My father was, like Jaeger, a gem hunter and my mom often accompanied him on his trips. He bought that diamond from a Brazilian farmer and it's, as far as we know, the largest red diamond in the world. It was his biggest find, ever, and I remember how excited they, and Connor, were. My mom assumed that the stone would be sold but my dad wanted to give it to my mom to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary. Connor designed and made the ring. The flower petals represent each of her children."
Tyce frowned. "There are four petals but only three of you."
Sadness passed through Sage's expressive eyes. "My mom was pregnant with her fourth child when she died."
Tyce swore and rubbed a hand over his face. He then slipped his hand around the back of her neck and he rested his forehead against hers. "Now it's my turn to say I'm sorry."
Sage managed a small smile. "One of my clearest memories is of her looking at that stone, holding it up to the light, a soft smile on her face. She was utterly entranced by it. She would've loved the ring." A small laugh left her lips. "The stone was worth millions and millions but my father was prepared to give it to my mother because she loved it so much. They were like that, you know. People before things, before money."
And, because she was such a scaredy-cat when it came to men and relationships, she would never have what her parents experienced. She'd never know what a soul-deep connection felt like. Maybe this baby would make her better, stronger, more courageous. Maybe, in a year or two or ten, she'd manage to move past her fears, stop equating love with loss and take a chance.
It wouldn't be with Tyce; loving him wasn't an option. Despite their mind-blowing sexual connection, he'd never settle down, not the way that she imagined she'd need him to. Like Connor, a relationship was way down his list of priorities.
"Does the general public know about the stone or should I write a promise in blood that I will never reveal its existence?" Tyce asked, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"Get a sharp knife and a piece of paper." Of everything she had to worry about, Tyce talking out of turn wasn't a concern. She trusted him. He wasn't the type to blab.
"I used another red diamond for the Ballantyne photo shoot, explaining that it was my mom's favorite stone but not explaining why. I didn't want to use the ring because it would've generated a tsunami of publicity. I just wanted to remember it-think about it-as a stone my mom loved, part of a ring my dad had made for her, a symbol of the family he adored."
Tyce's thumb stroked her jaw. "I can understand that. Your parents sound like they were good people, Sage."
She nodded as he thumbed away a tear that sneaked out of the corner of her eye. "They really were, Tyce. So was Connor. I know that Connor got your mom pregnant but if he'd known about Lachlyn he would've..."
Tyce placed a kiss against her temple. "Ssh, sweetheart. It's okay, Sage."
It wasn't, but here, half lying against Tyce's chest, she felt like it could be. She felt like nothing could hurt her, that there was a strong wall between her and life's next hard slap. Yeah, she definitely felt safe, Sage thought, her eyes drooping closed.
Dammit. That wasn't good.
She should push away, should push him away, make him go, but she didn't have the strength or the inclination. She just wanted to lie here, soaking in Tyce's heat and strength and allow herself to drift off to sleep.
Eight
Three days later, Sage sat on the corner of her sofa, her feet on an ottoman. Tyce was still with her and he was clearing up after dinner. He was a fabulous cook, far better than she was. She glanced down at the papers on her lap and wrinkled her nose. Depending on the answers to the surveys she held in her hand, Tyce might even be a better parent than her...
When they had started to talk about the baby, they both, swiftly, realized that the real work started once the baby was born and that they had no idea what they were doing. They both knew how to change a diaper and make a bottle; Sage had looked after her nephews often enough for the mechanics to sink in and Tyce remembered changing and feeding Lachlyn when he was little more than a kid himself. They'd agreed that, because the baby would be raised in two separate homes, they needed a consensus on how the logistics would work, on what mattered and what didn't, what lines couldn't be crossed.
Not knowing how to start, they'd turned to the net.
Sage felt Tyce's breath on her cheek and she looked up to see him leaning down, his mouth close to her ear. "Do you think these parenting surveys are a good idea?"
Sage looked into his eyes and she shrugged. "I don't know. But I think they would give us an idea of our different parenting styles. I think I'll be more of an operate-from-instinct type of parent and I suspect that you will be the disciplined one."
"What makes you say that?"
"Oh, the fact that you do Tai Chi at the crack of dawn, you go to the dojo four times a week and that you run six miles a day."
"Eight," Tyce corrected her and Sage saw the flash of the dimple in his cheek as the corners of his mouth lifted. Then she noticed that he was holding a bag of frozen peas, which he dropped into her lap.
"Slap it against your tailbone and that bruise," he told her, holding a glass of red wine in his other hand.
Sage tried to twist her waist so that the bag of peas hit the right spot but winced when she turned. While she wasn't in as much pain as she had been the evening of the accident, she was still damned sore. Tyce whipped the bag from her hand.
"Can you lean forward a bit?" he asked her, his big hand on her shoulder.
Sage leaned forward so that he could slide the bag down her back. She winced again as the cold seeped through the fabric of her yoga pants. With her injuries, yoga pants, a snug sports top and hoodie was all Tyce had seen her in. Super casual wasn't her best look. "Damn, I'm not sure what's worse, the cold or the bruise."
Tyce sat down next to her, his muscled thigh pressing into hers, and her body started to tingle. "Trust me, the bruise is worse," Tyce said.
"That bad?" she asked. After all, she couldn't see it herself.
"Size of a football and a deep, angry blue," Tyce told her. "You hit the ground at speed."
He snagged a copy of the survey from her lap and squinted at the paper. "Okay, let's do this. Question one... Is diaper changing a job for the mom, the dad or both of you?" His lips twitched. "That's easy. If it's loaded, it's your job."