The Best Man's Baby(49)

“You don’t like it? I know I probably should have consulted you on it, but when I bought it we weren’t exactly on the best terms. But it reminded me of you. That night after we agreed to be in this together, I went for a long drive, trying to figure everything out, and for some reason I stopped here. I mean, I’ve driven by this old place so many times, but that night I turned up the driveway and looked around. And the second I got off my bike I pictured us here. It’s so you. It’s beautiful and warm and it felt like home. I know it needs to be renovated, but I had the entire placed cleaned so you could try to envision what it might be.”

Claire stared through watery eyes at the man she was growing to love more and more each day and wondered how she could have ever thought he was a jerk. Or cold.

“Well? There’s even a small room off the master bedroom that overlooks the river. I thought it would be perfect for a baby’s room.” His blue eyes sparkled, and that mouth she’d memorized and fantasized about for too long had a vulnerable, lopsided grin on it that made her heart swell.

She shook her head, her eyes going to the massive bay window overlooking the sprawling front lawn. She didn’t want to think of all the things that were wrong with this scenario. She wanted to live in this world he was creating for them, to pretend they were this perfect couple, expecting their first child, and no secrets or hurt existed between them.

“This is a Christmas house,” she whispered, her eyes still on the view outside.

“What?”

She smiled wistfully, looking from the window up to Jake. “It’s a Christmas house, right out of a Trisha Romance painting,” she said, walking up to the window. She saw snowflakes in her mind as she touched the cold windowpane. “I can picture twinkling white Christmas lights, and a snowman, right there in the middle of the lawn.” How could he have picked a more perfect place? He knew her. Jake knew her. And suddenly, despite all the distance between them, when Jake looked into her eyes she knew he understood.

“I see it too. I know what you mean. This is a Christmas house. And I know how to build a damn fine snowman,” he said with a half smile that made her heart skip forward with hope. She looked at her hand on the window. It felt cool and damp on her palm, the rain on the other side of the glass flowing around the imprint of her fingers. It also jarred her out of la-la land.

“Why do you look like you’re going to cry?”

She didn’t turn to look at him. She spoke to his reflection in the window. It was easier that way. “You just bought a company and told your brother you weren’t going to work for him anymore. Don’t you think that’s something you should have told me about? You’re the one who told me that I needed to be open, but you’re the one who has been holding back. You’re hiding.”

His jaw clenched and she waited for an answer.

Goose bumps formed on her arms as she waited for him to continue. The fire crackled as it warmed the room, as she waited for Jake to talk to her. He cleared his throat and when he finally started speaking again, his voice came out sounding harsh and ragged.

“Remember that night we had Greek food at your house and I told you there were things about me I wasn’t proud of, that no one else knew about?” He wasn’t looking at her, but as she studied his profile, she could practically trace the telltale lines of pain across his handsome features.

“I remember,” she said softly.

He exhaled roughly and ran his hands over his face. He was tormented, pained.

“Jake, whatever it is, you can tell me. Nothing could be that bad,” she said turning around to face him.

“I did this for us, for you and me, and our baby.”

And when his large, rough hands came up to cup her face so gently, she moved into him, knowing she needed more. She needed him to be who he really was.

“Tell me,” she urged, watching his lips thin into a harsh line.

“You asked me a while ago how well I knew your father,” he said, his eyes turning downward, his shoulders slumping forward slightly.

“I remember.”

“Your father is probably the only reason I’m alive.”

He backed away from her and Claire fought the urge to reach out to him. His unspoken need to do this alone, to have his space from her, was the only thing that kept her from following him to the window. He imposed a distance that alarmed her.

“When I was kid, I was afraid of my dad. When Quinn or Evan were around, things were okay, but whenever I was alone with him, he became a different guy. He hated me. Like the kind of hatred that makes you want to hide. I thought he was like this to Quinn and Evan too. One day Quinn and I were fishing and I must’ve been like eight or something and I asked him if he felt sad when Dad called him names. I could tell Quinn had no idea what I was talking about, and then I knew I should keep my mouth shut. I was embarrassed, like maybe I was doing something to make Dad hate me, but I asked Quinn what Dad said to him at night, in his room when he tucked him in. Quinn just shrugged and said, ‘You know, Jake, he says good night my boy, I love you.’”