One to Tell the Grandkids (30 page)

He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth as the subtle ache of regret weighed on his heart. “If I’m being honest with myself, I could tell how incompatible we were early on. It was the kinds of things you would have noticed after a few dates.

“But I was stubborn. I had a vision in my head about what a family should look like, and I wouldn’t budge about it. I had fallen in love with the woman I wanted her to be, and I got upset when she showed this side of herself I didn’t like.”

“The person she actually was.”

“Exactly. Again, she wasn’t an awful person. We just didn’t belong together. And I paid the price for not listening when she tried to tell me. I lost my daughter.”

Taryn cried out and fell against him. Caught off guard, Caleb gasped at her hard grip on his arm. “Sorry,” she said between clenched teeth. “Ah. Just . . . tell me more. Please keep talking.”

“Don’t be sorry. You squeeze as hard as you want.” He readjusted himself so he could wrap an arm around her waist. “They’re about five minutes apart now. I’ve been timing them.”

She groaned, still hunched over and panting. “Of course you timed them.”

He brushed his fingers along her side and tilted his forehead against hers. “It’s time to go, sweetheart.”

“I know.”

“You can call in the cavalry on the drive over, and we should check to see how Kaylynn is doing with Slate, if he’s out yet. Probably not, but you never know.”

When he moved to get her bag, she grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “I don’t think you hung the moon. You’ve got issues coming out your ears, and so do I. I see
you.
I love
you.”

He stared at her for a full five seconds before he cupped the back of her head and pulled her in for a soft kiss. He drank her in, the smell of her, the feel of her in his arms. “Baby, you’re all I see.”

There was nothing about pregnancy Taryn enjoyed. Well, feeling the baby move was amazing when it wasn’t slightly creepy. Aside from that, though, everything about pregnancy was a pain in the ass, sometimes literally.

The rest of her labor passed in a blur of incredible pain, her mother’s worried encouragement, nurses and her doctor exposing more of her than any of her lovers had ever seen, and the beautiful haze of relief when the anesthesiologist stuck a very large needle in her spine. Slate got there just before noon looking a little stale and a lot scared out of his mind. He was jumpy but sweet as always.

When it came time for the grand finale, Taryn had Slate on one side, her mother on the other, each of them counting or murmuring encouragements in her ear. Under other circumstances, Slate would have been hilarious. His constant exclamations of “holy crap” and “whoa” made it sound like he was watching a horror video instead of a live birth.

“This is . . . you’re amazing,” he said, his hand gripped tight around hers. “You’re so amazing.”

She remembered the building pressure, the pushing, the gritting her teeth, crushing Slate’s fingers, and trying not to crush her mother’s. Then the pressure was gone and her baby was screaming her displeasure at the world.

They set her on Taryn’s chest. She was still slimy and red and wrinkled and the most exquisite thing Taryn had ever seen.

“Wow. Wow. I . . . wow,” Slate said, which was about as coherent as Taryn felt. For something so frighteningly tiny, that little being was huge in her heart and her life.

She was only able to take her eyes off her daughter for a handful of seconds, but it was enough to see Slate’s wide, goofy grin. She smiled back and giggled, giddy, elated, and so in love with her baby.

A minute later the nurses whisked the baby away to be weighed, measured, and cleaned up. Taryn found herself in a cuddle tug of war between her mother and Slate. She giggled again, her eyes never leaving her daughter as the staff bounced her around the room.

When she was clean and wrapped in a soft blanket, the nurse put her in Slate’s arms. “I, uh . . . I . . . okay. Whoa,” he stumbled, as though he was shocked someone trusted him to hold something so precious. He looked up, his eyes wide and pleading like a child’s looking for assurance. “Am I doing this right? Is this okay?”

Taryn and her mother both laughed. “You’re fine, sweetheart,” Faye answered.

Slate scooted closer as Taryn tilted her head toward their daughter. They ended up cheek-to-cheek, him holding the baby while she counted tiny fingers and stroked the pad of her thumb over downy soft skin. “Hi, little girl. Aurora Raine. It’s almost not pretty enough for someone as beautiful as you,” he murmured. “I love you so much.”

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Taryn’s cheek. “I love you, too, you know. Not like that. But I love you.”

She grinned and rested her head on his shoulder. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Taryn hadn’t enjoyed her pregnancy, but gazing down at Rory, she knew she would have endured every pain, discomfort, and uncertainty a thousand times over. It was worth it. Every minute was worth it.

For two hours after she was moved to her postpartum room, it was just Taryn, Slate, and their brand-new daughter. Family bonding time, the hospital said. Rory would know a much wider family than the two of them, but there was time for that.

They searched first for familiar features and decided she looked more like a wrinkle-faced bulldog than either of them for the time being.

“She does have my hair, though,” Slate said. Bald she wasn’t. The baby had been born with a shock of hair.

Taryn rolled her eyes. “Just because it’s long for a baby?”

“Long and wild. Just like Daddy.”

He looked so proud Taryn was shocked he didn’t explode with it.

They took a thousand pictures, apologizing to Rory for her future embarrassment. The poor girl looked like she’d gone a round or two with a heavyweight.

When they were almost ready for visitors, Slate reminded her about the elephant in the room. “So are we talking to Caleb again or what?”

Taryn cradled Rory closer to her like a talisman against heartbreak. “He was good to me last night. This morning. Whatever.”

Slate grimaced. “Because I couldn’t be.”

“That’s why humans aren’t supposed to be islands. You’re not always going to be there, for Rory or for me, and vice versa. I think you should talk to him, though.”

“Why should I when he ditched me? He ditched
us.
”

“Because he needs a bridge. He needs to know family doesn’t always disappear. He needs you, and you need him. I don’t think he’s done anything so bad to break a friendship as good as yours, do you?”

He pulled a face and didn’t answer right away. Instead, he worked his finger into Rory’s palm and smiled when all her little fingers tightened around his big one. “I suppose I’m feeling charitable today,” he said after a few moment’s thought. “I’ll talk to him, but do
you
want to talk to him? I don’t want him in here if he’s going to upset you.”

Taryn had to smile despite the nerves twisting in her gut. “He can visit. Our parents first, though.”

“Of course.”

In the end, it was a nonissue. Only two visitors were allowed at a time. Kaylynn snuck in with Taryn’s parents anyway. Taryn, exhausted from a lack of sleep and the trial of giving birth, fell asleep midway through the second round of visits when Mike came in. She woke when Rory cried, fed her, and fell asleep again during Robin and Melanie’s visit. It was after visiting hours when she woke.

The rest of the night passed in a surreal blur. In between naps, Taryn dealt with nurses, nursing, diaper changes, and cuddles.

When Rory began to squall for what had to be the millionth time that night, Taryn didn’t snap into wakefulness. Her blankets were too cozy, and her mind clung to the haze of sleep with both hands and all her toes.

“Now, now. None of that,” came a whispered voice. “Can I persuade you to let Mommy sleep?”

The voice wasn’t the one she expected to find in her room. Sure enough, when Taryn’s eyes snapped open, it was Caleb in the reclining chair instead of Slate. He had Rory out of her crib resting on his chest as he ran his hand over her back. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful in the early morning light.

“How did you get in here?” Taryn asked. In her sleepy state, tact was left by the wayside.

Startled, Caleb looked up at her, his eyes cautious. “Slate walked me in. We talked, and he asked if I would stay with you and Rory for a bit. His mom came by with a change of clothes for him, and I think she was trying to persuade him to get a few hours of sleep in a real bed at her hotel.”

Taryn yawned and winced as she stretched. “She didn’t need to get a hotel room. They should have just gone to my place.”

“If you’re not comfortable with me here, I can leave. Slate just didn’t want you to be alone.”

“No. I’m glad you’re here.” It was true. She was afraid he would hurt her again, but in the end, she would rather have him in her life. “I was afraid you were going to run away again without the excuse of the heat of the moment.”

Caleb winced, but he nodded. “I deserve that.” Rory made a soft noise as she drifted back to sleep in his arms, and he turned his gaze down to her. “I didn’t leave yesterday. Not until I had to.”

“I know. I vaguely remember Mike and Slate saying you were still here. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see her yesterday.”

He shrugged and looked down at the baby. “She and I are going to be great friends. A few hours won’t change that.”

Something in Taryn’s heart glowed warm and healed. He would stay, then, for Slate if not for her. As much as it would ache to have to see him when she was still in love with him, she could survive. “I’m glad you’re going to be a part of this.”

A strange expression came over his face, one Taryn couldn’t read. He held his hands, one against the baby’s back and the other cupping her bitty bottom, in such a way that they engulfed the baby.

There was an awful awkwardness to the atmosphere between them, the weight of uncertainty. They had been lovers but not partners, not really. They had been friends, but he’d broken her heart. What were they supposed to be now? “I understand,” she said to fill the silence. “I understand why it’s too much. You and I. It’s too much to deal with.”

She hated how she couldn’t get the words to come out right, but she swallowed hard and tried again. “I’ve loved Rory for a long time, but it’s not the same.” She reached out to run a finger over her daughter’s hair. “It’s not the same at all as when I saw her. When I saw her for the first time, what I felt before was nothing compared to that.” Her throat closed off, and she had to shake her head hard to ward off the oppressive weight of the what-if scenario. “It’s too much. Even
thinking
about losing her is too much. The idea that she could exist and be somewhere I couldn’t hold her or see her . . . I’d go crazy.”

Her hand drifted from Rory to Caleb’s shoulder, and he finally looked up at her. She took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re going to be a part of this,” she repeated. “With me or without me, I’m glad.”

She let her hand drop and looked anywhere but Caleb. Her throat was tight, and tears were close. Her emotions were still all over the place, and they tended to hit her with brute force. Crying had the effect of making her offer of forgiveness seem insincere.

When he reached over to take her hand, Taryn jumped. Her heart rate climbed. He called her name quietly, and it took all her will to raise her eyes to his. His look was soft, so tender Taryn wanted to cry for entirely different reasons.

He swallowed hard. “If it’s a possibility, if I haven’t messed things up so badly, can I choose with?”

Taryn’s eyes blurred. Hope had been growing at the center of her chest since the night before when he’d said he loved her. She’d tried to push it aside, ignore its existence, but it pushed through and filled her chest with warmth. “Yeah.” Her voice cracked, and she wiped away the tears, laughing at herself and the whole situation. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask for months. You just have to promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

She reached out to caress her daughter’s cheek. “You can’t break her heart. She’ll love you. She’ll need you. If you and I don’t work out in the end, you can’t break her heart. You don’t get to leave her.”

He tilted his head to consider her for a moment. “Do you really think I would do that?”

“No, but it needs to be said.”

“Then I promise.” He grinned and shifted carefully, his hands protective over Rory, as he leaned forward to kiss her. It was a slow kiss, as tender as the look in his eyes. She giggled again against his lips, happy and hopeful.

When their kiss broke, Taryn scooted over. Caleb transferred the baby to her arms and climbed into the bed with her. He wrapped an arm around her, tilted her chin up with his free hand and kissed her again. “I love you,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. He rested his hand over hers, holding Rory with her. He dropped a kiss to the top of the baby’s head and lingered for a moment. “I love you, too.”

Taryn pressed her face into his neck, hiding her grin and her happy tears.