A Different Blue(90)

“My mother abandoned me when I was two years old.” The words tumbled out with the force of

Niagara, and the little boy in the bed tossed, though I hadn't raised my voice. “I want my

child to have a different life than I had. I want her . . . or him, to be anticipated,

celebrated . . . ch-cherished,” I stuttered, stopping to press my hands to my galloping heart.

I was going to say it. I was going to make Tiffa Snook an offer that shook me to my core. She

had pressed her hands to her own heart, and her eyes were as wide as twin moons.

“I would like you and Jack to adopt my baby.”





Chapter Seventeen





Wilson was quiet as we drove back to Boulder City, and I was too preoccupied to confess that I

had overheard his conversation with his mother. I was too dizzy with hope to care that he'd

dismissed me as a whim, nothing more. I had arrived at Tiffa's that Fourth of July expecting

nothing but fireworks, hotdogs, and a long swim. I had left with a possible family for my unborn

child. And though my head swam and my thoughts raced frantically, I felt a rightness that

resonated within me through that first long night and into the days that followed.

Tiffa and I agreed that we should both sleep on the decision and say nothing to anyone until

after she had spoken to Jack and consulted a lawyer. Neither of us had any idea what legal steps

needed to be taken, but Tiffa thought she could get some answers from Jack's brother, who was an

attorney. Her hands shook as she embraced me and her eyes were wide with wonder, most likely at

the turn her life had suddenly taken. The hope in her eyes must have mirrored my own, and though

she begged me to think seriously about my choice over the coming days, I knew I wouldn't change

my mind.

[page]Tiffa, Jack, and I met with Jack's brother, who took us through the process. It wasn't

terribly complicated: Jack and Tiffa would pay my medical costs, which I would need to reimburse

if I changed my mind within a certain window of time. And, of course, the father would have to

be notified, and he would have to sign away his rights. The thought made my stomach cramp with

dread. It wasn't that I thought Mason would want to be a daddy and raise the child. But he was

territorial, and I could see him making trouble just for the sake of troublemaking.

And then Tiffa told her family. Tiffa's mother, Alice, Peter, and the kids were flying back to

Manchester in the morning, so Tiffa invited Wilson to dinner so she could break the news while

they were all still together. She invited me as well, but I refused, grateful that my scheduled

shift at the cafe gave me an excuse to stay away. Awkward didn't begin to describe the

situtation. And I really didn't want to talk adoption over tea and crumpets with Joanna Wilson.

I wondered if the awkwardness would extend to my relationship with Wilson, and I spent a tense

evening at work, dropping dishes and providing lousy service. It was nine o'clock when I finally

clocked out and walked home, tired and strung out from juggling orders and nervous energy.

Wilson was sitting on the front steps of Pemberley when I trudged up the sidewalk.

I sat down beside him and tried to rest my tired head on my knees, which I had done a thousand

times before, but my burgeoning stomach made it impossible. In the last week it had grown so

much it was constantly surprising me and getting in the way, and disguising it had gotten