Angel's Rest(55)

Couldn’t bear to lose another child.

Then you should have kept your dick in your pants. In a low, disgusted voice, he murmured, “I’ve done some stupid, irresponsible things in my life, but this one takes the cake.”

Nic sighed and took the seat across from him. “Look, you and I both know that you weren’t in your right mind that night. The fact is, I wasn’t, either. I could have said no. I should have said no. But I was lonely and sad and it was Christmas. The situation got out of hand. We got out of hand. We’re both responsible. We were both wrong.”

She folded her hands atop the table and leaned forward, her tone earnest, as she continued, “But, Gabe, this child isn’t wrong. This child can never be considered wrong. I can’t emphasize this enough. I know what that’s like, and I will not have it for my baby.”

They sat in silence then for a long moment. Gabe tried to think the situation through, but he was having trouble thinking at all. A baby. She was having a baby! Finally, he asked, “What do you want from me, Nicole?”

“Only what you’re willing to give. Freely and without rancor. It’s important to me. I was illegitimate, and my father didn’t want me and he made sure I knew it. I won’t expose my child to similar hurt.”

“Wait a minute,” he protested, annoyed at the implication. “I would never be cruel to a kid.”

“I’m not saying you would be. It’s just, well, children are easily disappointed. Their hearts are fragile and easy to break.”

She sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled in a rush. “Look, Gabe, I’d like you to be part of this baby’s life, but if you choose otherwise, that’s okay. I don’t need you. But I do need you to make a choice and stick to it. I know from my own experience and watching Sarah raise her daughter that it’s better for the child if no ambiguity exists. Unless you can commit to being a real father to our baby, she’s better off without you. We’ll get by just fine. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

Our baby. He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “I don’t know what I feel, to be honest.” Other than scared. “One thing I can tell you now, though, is that you need not worry about money. I’ll take care of you in that respect.”

She nodded. “Thank you. I admit that eases my mind. I was a little worried about how we’d make it financially when you disappeared on me. I figured that if I had the chance to tell you about the baby, you’d come through in that respect. I always knew you were a good guy, Callahan.”

“I’m an idiot. I got drunk, had unprotected sex, and got caught.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Again he winced. “Hey, that’s not a dig at you. You got caught, too.”

“True. I don’t even have alcohol for an excuse. I let emotions carry me away. You’d think a woman my age would know better.”

“It was Christmas Eve. It’s an emotional time for everyone. I was mourning my family. You walked in and …” He shrugged.

After that, neither of them spoke. The moment drew out.

Eventually she picked up a knife and resumed decorating her cookies. Though outwardly calm, telltale little signs betrayed her emotional turmoil—the slight tremble of her fingers as she moved cooled cookies ready for decorating onto wax paper, a deepening of the little worry line between her brows, the nervous tap of her foot.

Gabe watched Nic and thought of Jennifer, mourned Jennifer. The night she’d announced her pregnancy, he’d been over the moon. They’d both been thrilled. They’d celebrated with sparkling water and chocolate ice cream, then they’d gone to bed and made love. That’s the way it was supposed to be. Not like this.

He swallowed a lump the size of a baseball in his throat and watched Nic spread white icing across the surface of cooled, heart-shaped cookies with hands that trembled. Unexpectedly, a little wave of compassion lapped at his heart. This was her first pregnancy. Her first baby. She must have had some tense weeks. What had she thought when she realized she’d conceived and the father didn’t answer his phone?

His gaze settled on her stomach. A baby. Their baby. His baby.

No. Matt is my baby. Sweet little Matt, who loved to growl like Cookie Monster.

The memory hit like a sucker punch to his gut. He had to get out of here. Had to get away. Grief forced out his deepest feelings in words just above a whisper. “No. I can’t, Nic. I’m sorry, but I can’t be part of this baby’s life. You deserve better and so does this child, but I can’t do it. Not again. I buried a child. I can’t do this again. I won’t do this again. I don’t want another child.”