Up in Flames(64)

“No. You aren’t under any surveillance. But I watch after you. I have since the moment I saw you. Yes, I know you missed pills the last time we had sex, and I know you’ve been getting sick in the mornings and some afternoons, and I know you went to see your doctor and he confirmed you were pregnant. That’s what I do . . . did. I watched people. I’ve continued watching you from a safe distance while you mourned the loss of someone you cared about. But it’s time we talk now. I can’t put that off, and I can’t keep my distance any longer.”

The deep tone in his voice was the same one that still came to me in dreams and often during the day when I let myself remember. It had an addictive quality to it. One I’d had a hard time shaking. Listening to him now, I wanted to do whatever he asked. To please him. To forget that he wasn’t who I thought he was.

“I thought I was keeping a part of a man I loved. That man didn’t exist. In some ways, that makes his disappearance from my life without even a good-bye easier to deal with, and in other ways, it makes me ache for what never was. But this baby will be mine. It will be loved. I will provide for it, and I’ll never require a dime from you. Don’t think this was a trap. It wasn’t. Nor will I ever call it a mistake.”

His two long strides happened fast, and I didn’t have time to react before he was directly in front of me. His hands gripping my arms. His body heat mingling with mine. I inhaled without thinking, because I wanted to smell him. I’d missed him. Even if he wasn’t who I believed he was. “This baby will know me. I’ll provide for it, and I’ll love it. Don’t tell me I’m not needed. Don’t tell me this baby doesn’t need me, because every child needs its father. That’s not a fair statement to make. You, of all people, know how important a father is in a child’s life. The absence of your father and the detachment from your mother marked you and molded you. Do you want that for our child? Really, Nan? Is that OK with you?”

I hated him in that moment. Throwing my fears in my face. Accusing me of hurting my baby by my choices, when he knew nothing of my life. “You don’t know anything about me and my life.” My words lashed out as tears stung my eyes.

“I know more than you realize. I know your hatred, I know your cruelty, I know your mistakes, I know your self-loathing, and I know your pain and your regrets. I know it all, Nan. I’ve heard it, witnessed it, and I still love you so fucking much I can’t walk away from you. The life I lived before you is over for me. So don’t stand here and tell me that you don’t need me. That our baby doesn’t need me. Because you both do. You both need me, and you want me.” He stopped and sighed as if he was exhausted. “And I need and want both of you.”

I hadn’t expected that. It wasn’t in my daydreams or even my real dreams. I was afraid of those three words. I’d never heard them from a man. My brother didn’t count. I wasn’t sure if I could trust those words. “How?” The words were honest and came out without thought. If he knew all of me, how could he love me?

He smirked then, and I was reminded of the first time I’d seen him smirk. A part of me had fallen then. “How could I not? That’s the better question.”

Shaking my head, I tried to back away. That wasn’t an answer. He was dodging it. There was no way he knew all he said he did and still loved me. His hands tightened on my arms but not painfully.

“Because you captured me. You’re real. There is nothing fake about you. What most women hide you flaunt to the world. You don’t hide your ugly side; you showcase it. The problem is that most people are so unprepared to see that reality that they miss the beauty you also don’t hide. It’s there, but you don’t flaunt it. You don’t pretend to want something or to be OK with something when you’re not. You don’t hide your pain; you lash out and hurt others equally.” He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “You are real, Nan. More real than any person I’ve ever met. So when I say I love you, know that I do. I love it all.”

The emotion that hit me in the chest was too much. When I pulled free of his hold, he let me. When I turned and ran away . . . he let me.





Cope


When she opened the front door, she paused. I expected that. I also expected a fight. After letting her run away last week, then staying out of her sight for seven days, she was beyond annoyed with me. I could see it in her posture and the way she interacted with others.

Knowing that she was in that house dealing with morning sickness was hard. I wanted to be there, but I wasn’t forcing myself inside that door. She would open it and let me in. Eventually.