Blush Duo - Marriage Under the Mistletoe & The Christmas Inn (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

S
cott wandered around his apartment that night, barefoot, in jeans and a worn T-shirt; he walked from room to room, trying to soothe the crushing ache behind his ribs.

A baby...

Evie was having his baby. But he felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. That she would tell him like that...it seemed so outrageously callous he could barely get his head around it. And Evie wasn’t callous. Of course, he knew she was notoriously hardheaded about some things...but he couldn’t believe she would send an email containing two words and think that was adequate.

Scott headed for the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.

His head felt as if it were about to explode. He gulped some beer, winced as the cold liquid froze his brain for a few seconds and tried his best to be as mad as hell at Evie.

But no use. He’d spent months in a kind of dazed limbo—missing her, wanting her so much he couldn’t think about anything else. He’d gone back to work and gone through the motions, determined to keep his head because he knew what the consequences could be if he let the distraction take hold of him.

But the nights were impossible. He hurt all over just thinking about Evie.

I’m going to be a father.

And he didn’t quite know what he felt. Shock, definitely. And fear. And the absolute certainty that he wanted to share this child with Evie. And not just as a distant, absent parent. But how could it work? His life was in L.A....Evie’s was in Crystal Point.

He dropped his half-empty bottle into the trash and walked back into the living room. The laptop still sat on the coffee table in the center of the room. He should call her. Scott picked up the telephone, thinking of her number that he couldn’t remember memorizing but somehow had. The telephone stuck to his hand. What would he say—
Thanks for the news...let me know when our kid arrives?
Yeah, as if that was gonna happen.

The doorbell rang and he shook himself. A few seconds later three of his friends piled into his apartment, carrying six-packs of Bud and pizza boxes.

“The game’s on, remember?” Clint Dawson reminded him as he stood as if he were a statue and let them pass. “And you’re the one with the big flat screen.”

The game? Flat screen? Right...he vaguely remembered agreeing to an evening in with his friends, sharing the tab for takeout and watching the game on TV.

He shut the door and watched Clint, and then Marcus Crane, drop into the pair of recliners that had prime position in front of the flat screen. Gabe Vitali, his first cousin and closest friend, was the only one of the trio who thought to ask him if he was all right. Scott only shrugged, thinking the last thing he wanted was a night in with his friends. He wanted to get his thoughts together. He wanted to speak with Evie, to hear her voice, to tell her what he felt...

Which was what, exactly?

The constant ache in his chest, the lack of pleasure he got from doing anything, the almost robotic way he’d been living since he left her...what did that mean? And what they’d had together felt like more than he’d experienced before...more feeling...more passion...more everything.

He looked at his friends—newly divorced Clint, commitment-phobic Marcus and his cousin, whose fiancée had run off the year Gabe had been diagnosed with a serious illness. What did any of them have beyond the job and an apartment? Scott felt the meaninglessness of his existence through to the marrow in his bones.

And now Evie was having his baby. He wanted to shout it to the world. The shock had dissipated and was replaced by a sense of calm so acute it felt almost euphoric. Suddenly, like a shard of glass striking through his blood, Scott knew what he wanted.

Everything.
Evie—the baby—a life scratching at his fingertips.

He wanted Evie. He wanted their baby. Nothing else mattered.

He stalked across the room and grabbed the remote, then flicked off the TV and turned to face his startled friends.

“I’m in love,” he announced, watching as three broad jaws dropped. “And I’m going to be a dad.”

* * *

Evie covered herself in the baggiest smock she could find, hiding itself in the archives of her old maternity wardrobe. At four months along she was really beginning to show. For the past few weeks she had managed to avoid too many interactions with her family and friends—but she knew she couldn’t keep up the pretense forever. Especially to Trevor. Being a hermit would last only so long. Her mother wouldn’t be held at bay for too much longer. Grace was calling her every few days. And Fiona was doing what friends do by trying to leech the truth from her. Her family would come around, mob fashion if need be, and she had to be prepared for the onslaught. They would mean well, but they would also demand answers to questions she was not prepared to consider.

Okay, so her pregnancy would be revealing itself to the world soon. But she had no intention of admitting anything about her baby’s paternity until she spoke to Scott again. And he hadn’t communicated with her at all.

Too apprehensive to email him again, or call, she caged herself into her house like a hibernating bear. And as the cold fingers of doubt climbed over every inch of skin with each passing day, Evie convinced herself that telling Scott about the baby was the worst thing she could have done.

He obviously doesn’t care one way or another.
And it hurt. It hurt so much she could barely stand thinking about it. And it wasn’t that she had any kind of expectations—she simply couldn’t believe he’d drop contact altogether.

So she was to be a single mother. Wasn’t that what she’d planned anyway? From the moment she’d discovered she was pregnant, Evie had known she would be going it alone. And she was fine with that. Perfectly fine. She’d been a single mother for ten years, after all.

Only...she remembered those first precious moments when Trevor was born...she remembered the look in Gordon’s eyes, the tears of pride and wonderment toward the new and perfect life they had created together. Evie instinctively placed her hands on her growing belly, and a hot surge of love washed over her.
I’ll love you,
she promised her baby.
I’ll love you and keep you safe.

Without Scott. Besides, he was only her temporary lover and someone she shouldn’t have fallen in love with. The fact that she had was her burden to bear. He’d broken no promises to her. He was too young...too much the kind of man she didn’t want in her life and a risk she could never take. Especially now that she had a new baby to consider.

She would get on with her life, as she had always done. And once her family knew, she was certain they would support her decision to raise her child alone. Besides, nothing could dampen her joy at being pregnant. She was happy.

It was three days later that the downstairs doorbell woke her up from her usual afternoon nap. Evie checked her watch and clambered off the bed. Two o’clock. She remembered that Noah was coming around to hang a few of her paintings in the downstairs living room. To be
really
painting again had been a surprise—but strangely, her passion had returned with a vengeance. She had finished a few pieces she’d started years before, ever mindful of the small crystal globe and Saint Catherine watching over her from its spot on a shelf near her easels.

And maybe she would tell her brother about the pregnancy. She’d always been able to share things with Noah. They’d been there for one another over the years—when his wife had walked out on him and the kids, when Gordon had died, when Trevor had needed a father’s influence. Evie trusted her brother with her news.

Evie reached the door and flung it back wide on its hinges. “You’re two hours early,” she complained with a laugh as she flipped open the security screen. “And you interrupted my afternoon—”

She stopped and caught her words in her throat. It wasn’t her brother standing on her doorstep. It was the father of her baby.

Scott’s gaze dropped instantly to her belly. He lingered there for a moment and she heard him suck in a sharp breath. “Hello, Evie.”

She took a step backward. “What are you doing here?”

“You really have to ask that?” he replied as he met her eyes. “I want to talk to you.”

Evie absorbed everything about him in a second—the jeans and cotton Henley he wore so well, the duffel at his feet, the way his hair flopped over his forehead, the travel-weary look on his face. Her insides lurched and she instinctively laid her hands on her stomach. “I...I—”

“Can I come in?”

She took a second, thought about all the reasons why she shouldn’t let him inside and couldn’t come up with a single one. “Of course.”

He grabbed his bag and walked across the threshold. Evie headed for the living room and sat down on the sofa. She gripped her hands together and waited. Scott stood by the doorway and dropped his duffel. A few seconds past and he moved toward her. Evie got a good look at him and noticed he’d lost weight. There was a ranginess about his lean frame and she wondered if perhaps she was responsible for it. His eyes were dark, like the color of an indigo sky. And his mouth was pressed into a thin line. He looked so tired. She touched her stomach and saw his gaze immediately follow the movement of her hands.

“Scott, I—”

“How could you do it?” he demanded, running a hand through his hair. “How could you tell me like that?”

Evie choked back a gasp. He wasn’t tired, she realized. He was angry. “I can—”

“Two words,” he said, throwing his hands up. “Two words to announce the most important thing that’s ever been said to me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, feeling the bite of shame snap at her heels. She
was
in the wrong, and they both knew it. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have told you like that. I should have called you and told you about the baby.”

Scott let out a breath and turned, then paced across the room until he reached the window. His back was straight and Evie knew him well enough to recognize the tension searing through his body. He took a few long breaths and stared out the window for a moment before finally twisting around to look at her.

“So, how are you?” he asked, clearly back in control now. “I mean...how’s the... How are you feeling?”

Evie patted her stomach. “I’m good,” she replied softly. “
We’re
good.”

“You’ve been ill?”

She shook her head. “Just the normal pregnancy things.”

He expelled an exasperated breath. “Well, considering this is my first experience with pregnancy, you might consider being a bit more specific.”

“Nausea,” she explained a little stiffly. “And fatigue. And my doctor is keeping an eye on my blood sugar, considering my age. Other than that I feel fine. The baby is healthy and growing normally. I had my first scan last week—I have a picture if you like.”

He looked as if she’d slapped him in the face and she knew immediately how exclusive and selfish it sounded. She wanted to explain to him how she’d felt seeing their baby on the screen for the first time, how her heart had constricted so tight with love and joy and how she’d longed to share the moment with him but had thought it impossible.

“A picture?” he echoed softly. “And do you know...” He paused and swallowed hard. Evie watched his throat move up and down. “Do you know the baby’s sex?”

She shook her head. “I wanted it to be a surprise. If you’re keen to find out, I can schedule another ultrasound.”

“I’m happy to wait. But I would like to come with you next time.”

“Of course,” she whispered. “So, you’re staying for a while?”

He nodded. “I’m staying. Have you told anyone?” he asked. “Your family?”

“No. Although I don’t imagine I’ll be able to keep it a secret for too much longer. I think they’re all suspicious about why I’ve been avoiding them for the past few weeks.”

He looked at her stomach. “You’re already showing.”

Evie spread the cotton smock across her abdomen. “Yes. I’d like to tell Trevor—and my parents.”

“We’ll do it together.”

Evie wasn’t sure what to think. He looked so far away, still angry but fighting it. She felt like caving in and crawling into his arms. But she had to keep her head. “That’s not necessary. I can do it alone.”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “I’m sure you can. But you’re not alone, Evie,” he said, and pointed to her belly. “You’re not alone in this.”

But she’d felt alone. For weeks she’d felt like the only person on the planet. “But you didn’t respond to my message,” she said on a shallow breath. “I thought...I thought you didn’t...”

“You thought I didn’t what?”

Emotion clogged her throat. “I thought you didn’t want... I didn’t hear from you, so I assumed you—”

“It’s hardly the thing to be discussed in an email,” he said, cutting her off. “Or over the telephone.”

“But for the past two weeks—”

“For the past two weeks I’ve been organizing extended leave from my job and subletting my apartment.”

She stilled. What did that mean? He was here, but for how long? And what kind of role did he want to play during her pregnancy? And afterward? What then? Would he expect shared custody of the child they had made together?

“Why have you done that?”

He gave her an odd look. “You can’t be serious?” He shook his head. “You’re having a baby, Evie...my baby... What did you expect me to do, hang out in L.A. until the kid was born and then send you flowers?”

“I’m not sure what I expected,” she said frankly. “Nothing really. Only for you to know. I haven’t really thought that far ahead.”

“Well, you need to think about it.
We
need to think about it.”

He came across the room and sat beside her and took her hands in his. Evie didn’t move. She couldn’t feel anything other than the strong clasp of his fingers against her own. “I want...I want this baby, Scott,” she said in a shaky voice.

His grip tightened. “So do I.”

Hot tears burned behind her eyes. “I’m glad. And you can see as much of the baby as you like for as long as you’re here.”

He shook her hands. “Evie,” he said rawly. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to be a part-time parent.” He turned on the seat and dropped to his knees onto the floor in front of her. “I said I was staying and I meant it. I want...I want to make this right. I want us to raise our child together.”