LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

a week since he’d appeared out of the blue, and she’d finally stopped worrying that every stranger who turned up might be him coming back for round two.

      She straightened out the cloth and went for the triangles, smashing them into small trapezoids. She would get him his item and be done with him. She had too much going on in her life that she wanted to get done. She didn’t need one more thing to distract her.

      * * *

      Nigel checked the inside pocket of his sports suit to make sure he had everything. She wouldn’t be flinging his check back at him this time. He took a breath. No need to go there yet. He hadn’t gotten anything in the mail, so maybe her bark wasn’t as bad as her bite.

      He got out of the car and started unloading the packages from the backseat. It was after 8:00 p.m. on a Sunday, and the studio was closed, so he assumed they’d be home, tomorrow being a school day. He’d get all the packages up the back steps before ringing the buzzer.

      It was beginning to get dark outside, so when she opened the door, the warm, yellow light from inside haloed behind her and made her look like an angel—his angel. She had on white leggings and a summer camisole, but the soft fabrics hugged her curves in a way that made his mouth water.

      Except that her hips were deeper, she hadn’t changed from the girl he loved. She had natural dimples in the curve of her cheeks so that she looked always on the verge of a smile, and her tapered waist flared out into the most luscious behind he’d ever seen. Even in the simple leggings that she had on now, she made his knees weak.

      Her hair was different this time—pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck in a way that emphasized her umber eyes. The anger he saw form in her eyes at the sight of him in the doorway snapped him back to the present, to the fact that they were torn apart.

      “Hello, Reggie.”

      “Don’t hello me. What on earth are you doing at my house?”

      The moment she opened her mouth, his calm was shattered, but he didn’t show it. There was no mistaking the animosity in her voice. She didn’t want him in her private space. She didn’t want him anywhere near her at all.

      “I still need to speak with you. Can I come in?”

      “No. No, you cannot. And I don’t have anything to say to you.”

      He didn’t want to force things with her. He’d let her cut him off time and again in the studio, intentionally giving her the upper hand so that she could see that he wasn’t there to threaten her. But this time, he wasn’t going to back down. This time, he wasn’t going to be sent away.

      “Look, Reggie. You and whoever you’re with will not keep me from my child. Or children. You don’t have the right to do that.”

      “What?”

      “I want to see my children. I know I haven’t been there for them so far, but that will not be the case from here on out.”

      She sighed, and he saw some of the fight go out of her—not the rage or the anger that he saw in her eyes, but some of the fight. Her shoulders slumped, and she turned into the apartment, walking away from him.

      He gathered up the packages from the stairwell and followed her inside. She had her back to him and seemed to be staring at the wall or at nothing, so he shut the door behind them.

      He had been gone a long time. He knew that. Perhaps she had to decide if he was safe or if she was willing to share their children. Or perhaps she just needed to get her mind accustomed to the idea.

      He was standing in what turned out to be the dining area, with a kitchen off to the side. There was no partition separating it from the living room, where she now stood.

      The first thing he saw was the art. It filled her rooms with color, and she’d even painted the chairs and cabinets and bookshelves to make them pop. All of her touches filled the room—the African masks and dolls on the walls, the embroidered cushions on the sofa, the framed paintings and mosaics covering the walls. So much claimed his eyes that he almost missed how worn down the permanent structure underneath was.

      The kitchen and dining nook seemed to have come straight out of the ’60s—battered wooden cabinets, ancient countertops, worn linoleum flooring—and the rest of the place didn’t fare much better. Downstairs, everything that they’d added stood out as new against the old.

      Her voice tore him away from his perusal.

      “How did you find out?”

      He put his bundles down.

      “I found out from someone who’s not supposed to know.”

      “Please tell me.”

      The resignation in her voice pulled at his heartstrings.

      “I ran into your roommate’s ex-boyfriend a few months ago. But it shouldn’t have taken finding that out to make me come look for you. I just wanted to make something of myself before I did. But when I found out that you were pregnant when...when you called things off between us...Reggie, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you send me away without me knowing?”

      He took a step toward her, but she took a step back.

      “What would you have done? You were too busy hanging with your friends and blowing off school. You might have stayed, but it would have been for the wrong reasons. And I didn’t need you to make a life for...”

      She shook her head, trailing off.

      “But I should have known. I had a right to know. And if—”

      “Let it go.”

      “Why didn’t you tell me?”

      Her jaw was set in a rigid line that told him she would not be offering any answer to that question.

      “Where are they, Reggie? I want to see them. And I plan to be there for them from now on. It doesn’t matter if you’re with someone else. I’m still their father.”

      He pulled the check out of his suit pocket.

      “If you don’t want it, that’s fine. But they deserve it. And so do you. Where are they?”

      She looked at him as he put the check down on the dining table, and what he saw in her wet eyes was a combination of sadness and hate.

      She turned away from him again and buried her face in her hands. When she spoke, it was through tears, but it was with rage.

      “There is no they.”

      He didn’t understand. “What?”

      “Don’t you get it? There is no they. There was no child.”

      He wondered for a split second if she had...let go of it...after they had broken apart. But then he looked at her shaking shoulders. He knew her better than to think that.

      “No child?”

      It started to sink in. He wasn’t a father. The little boy he had seen wasn’t his. Nor the little girl. His child had not made it. His heart fell. He crossed over to her but stopped just behind her without touching her, not knowing how to comfort her, not knowing if she would receive his comfort.

      “There was no child,” she said again, stammering. She whirled toward him, ready to strike, but didn’t. She just stopped and stared at his face, her own face crumpling.

      He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her to him, but she wrangled against him.

      “There was no child,” she repeated, lashing at his chest with her fists. It was like a dam had broken, as though she couldn’t stop herself once she’d started letting it out. She kept pummeling his chest with her fists as if it was his fault, or maybe because he’d been the one to make her say it, relive it. “And you weren’t there.”

      She drew back after she said it—the truth of it all. She had tears spilling down her face, and her fists were still balled, ready to strike.

Скачать книгу