Tempting Meredith (26 page)

Blaine looked bewildered. “Why didn’t you call me? You should have called me.”

“I told Dylan. He denied the baby was his, told me to get an abortion.”

“I told you to call me.” The hurt in his voice grabbed her heart and twisted.

She had to fix it. “It wasn’t your problem.”

“It was,” Blaine insisted. “I was there that night. If I hadn’t been, Dylan’s condom might have stayed intact. Hell, for all we know, I’m the father. It’s a possibility. We both...” He glanced guiltily at Charlie.

“Yes, it’s possible but not probable,” Meredith said firmly.

“Why the fuck didn’t
you
call
her?
” Charlie snapped. “Why did you put everything on her? You fucked her and abandoned her. You didn’t call her. You didn’t see her. You didn’t do a damn thing to get in touch with her or make sure she was okay.”

Oh God, no! Not this. She hadn’t expected this—that her admission would cause a rift between Charlie and Blaine. She jerked her hand from Charlie’s and scooted closer to Blaine, protecting him. “Don’t blame him. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his responsibility. It doesn’t do any good to discuss should’ves and could’ves. It’s done. Everything worked out fine. Cassandra has a great family.”

“It’s not fine,” Charlie said. “I knew there was more. This is it, isn’t it?”

She took a fortifying breath. “Yes.”

“Your tat. The dandelion. It’s in honor of your daughter, isn’t it?” Charlie’s expression became tender.

“It’s an open adoption. Her dads send me photos and letters four times a year. On her birthday, Christmas, my birthday, and Mother’s Day. For her third birthday, they sent me a photo of her blowing dandelion seeds.” She choked on her tears and couldn’t finish. Couldn’t tell them everything the picture had meant to her. The playfulness, the freedom, the innocence. The hope that her decision had gifted all of that to her daughter and more. The love.

She’d gotten the tat a few months ago. She’d needed something, had hoped the ink would fill that hole in her heart. She’d cried while the tattoo artist worked. Not from the physical pain. That had been nothing compared to the pain so shallowly buried within her.

Charlie said, “It’s a beautiful tribute to her and to your love for her.”

“I’m flying to Boston to see her on Friday.” She hastened to assure Charlie so he didn’t think she was abandoning him, too, “You’ll be better by then.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’ll be the first time since she was born. She’s seven, almost eight. She’s naturally curious about me. Has been for a while. It’s time. It’s past time.” She spoke more to herself than to them. “I knew that, but I didn’t want to confuse her.”

“I’m going with you,” Charlie said.

“No. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. You need to take it easy.” When he started to protest, she held up her hand. “Really. This is something I need to do by myself.”

“I should go,” Blaine whispered. In a firmer voice he said, “I’m going. I should do a paternity test. If it rules me out, then we’ll know it was Dylan. If it’s me, well, then her parents will have that information if they ever need it. And she’ll have it when she’s old enough.”

She couldn’t help but compare his reaction to Dylan’s. Blaine was stepping up even though the child probably wasn’t his. Dylan had been an asshole. “You’d be okay knowing you’re her dad but not being her dad?”

He didn’t answer, and she didn’t press for one.

“Look, this is a shock for you. You need to think about it, let it sink in. I’ve had almost more than eight years to deal with it and I still have questions. You’ve had, what...eight minutes? I know you feel a sense of responsibility, of urgency. They’re moving to Houston in August. That’ll give you time to process everything, figure it out.”

“I can still go with you. You’ll need someone. You shouldn’t go through this alone.”

She wanted to take him up on his offer, but she felt guilty. He had a business to run, a campaign to finish. Charlie wasn’t a hundred percent, so there wasn’t much he could do with the ranch outside of the office. “You need to take care of business, and have you forgotten the campaign? You’ll have your hands full. Really, guys. I can do this. And it’ll be easier without an audience.”

“What about your sister or brother? Your parents?” Charlie asked.

“I haven’t told them. I just—how do I explain? I don’t want to overwhelm her. I don’t want to descend on her world like a plague of locusts. I want her to meet everyone eventually, but one, maybe two, at a time. You know?”

“How long will you be there?” Blaine asked.

“A few days. It’s kind of open-ended.”

“Did you think this would change things?” Charlie asked.

“Not so much with you.” She paused and turned to Blaine. “But yeah.” She twisted their fingers together, afraid to let go.

“I just wish you’d told me,” he said. “I could’ve been there for you. I could’ve helped.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Can I see a picture of her?” Blaine asked, his voice so low she had to strain to hear it.

“I don’t have one with me.” Why hadn’t she thought to bring one? Of course he’d want to see her.

He looked surprised. “Not on your phone or your computer?”

“That’s something a parent does. I’m not her parent.” She blinked back tears.

“Hey, you gave birth to her.”

She couldn’t argue with that, didn’t even try. There was one more thing she had to get off her chest. “After she was born—” Ah God, there was that stabbing pain in her belly again.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asked.

She shook her head but didn’t speak as she breathed through it. After the pain subsided she continued. “It was so much more than a broken heart. It still hurts. Not as badly, but there’s a constant ache, sometimes sharper, more intense than others. But it’s always there. I couldn’t handle any more, and I made sure I wouldn’t have to.” Would they understand? Should she go into details about the tubal ligation?

There was silence as they processed what she’d said.

“I get it. I think,” Charlie said. “No children?”

“Yes. I could do IVF if I ever changed my mind, but I don’t think I will. I just—I have no desire.” The admission was cleansing. Now, they knew everything. No more secrets.

“You know I’m not with you because of your baby-making potential, right?”

“Actually, no. We haven’t known each other very long.” In fact, she didn’t know why he was with her. Except the sex. Because face it. The sex was great. She knew he felt more for her than that, but she didn’t understand why. She loved him, and that baffled her, too. She’d been so careful to shield her heart. But he’d started chipping away at her armor on that first date.

And Blaine? He was already tugging at her heart. She was running full speed toward a cliff, knowing that when she dug her heels in at the edge, it would be too late. She was going over.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Blaine knocked on Charlie’s door. When Charlie didn’t answer, Blaine invited himself in. The door between Charlie’s room and bathroom was closed. Blaine sat on the bed and waited, listening to the splatter of the shower.

When the water cut off, he straightened expectantly. It would be their first time to talk since Meredith’s departure an hour ago. He needed to know where Charlie’s head was.

Charlie strolled from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, his red hair glistening from the shower. When he realized he wasn’t alone, he stopped, hands braced on his hips, legs spread, feet planted. The bruises over his ribs had faded to a blotchy yellow and the scrapes and scratches were healing. They weren’t as angry-looking.

“I don’t like her going alone,” Charlie said.

“She won’t be for long. I couldn’t get on her flight, and that’s probably a good thing. But I leave an hour after her. It’s not nonstop, but since she’s going straight from the airport to Cassandra’s, I’ll be there before she gets to the hotel. I left her to deal alone before. I’m not doing it again. I don’t care how pissed she gets. I’m going to Boston.”

“Good.” Charlie rummaged around in his closet. He stuffed his arms through the sleeves of a denim shirt then slipped on jeans and tossed the towel on a chair in the corner.

“Is this gonna change things with us?” Blaine asked. “If Cassandra is mine and Meredith’s, will you be okay with that?”

“Are you asking if I’ll be jealous because you have that connection?”

“Yeah.”

Charlie sat next to him, and their arms bumped before settling comfortably against each other. That contact assured Blaine more than words could have. “I don’t think so. But I
am
worried about you.”

“I fucked up. I know that. But Meredith was right. It’s done. As much as I want to, I can’t go back and undo it.” And God, what he wouldn’t give for a do-over. “I can only do the right thing going forward.”

Charlie dropped his arm around Blaine’s shoulders and pulled him in to kiss the top of his head. Blaine almost cried in relief. As long as they kept touching, kept talking, they’d be okay. They’d get through this. “How would you feel about being a daddy? About the possibility that you’ve been a father for almost eight years?”

“Odds are Cassandra isn’t mine. But if she is—well, I’d like to get to know her. Even after thinking about it these last few days, I’m having trouble wrapping my brain around the whole daddy concept. It doesn’t feel real.”

“And Meredith?” Charlie asked. “Are you pissed she didn’t tell you earlier?”

“I can’t blame her. She was younger than I was. It makes me sick when I think of how scared she must have been. She’s stronger than I gave her credit for.”

“You and me both.” Charlie raked his fingers through his hair. “This is so fucked up. I don’t know what to do, how to help her.”

“Yeah, you do,” Blaine said. “But you’re second-guessing yourself. You’re afraid of spooking her. And she’s had to deal with this for so long on her own that she doesn’t know how to ask for or even accept help.”

Charlie lifted his head, his expression tortured, and Blaine regretted that he’d caused it. If he’d followed up with Meredith all those years ago, if he’d checked up on her, made sure she was good...

What then? They’d have married, had a baby. Blaine would’ve had a normal life, a normal family. He would’ve been happy. He’d have never met Charlie. Couldn’t miss someone he’d never known. Couldn’t love someone he’d never met. Could he?

No, he’d have to go back further. If he had it to do over again, that night never would have happened. He and Charlie and Meredith could’ve started from scratch.

Would’ves, could’ves, should’ves. They were all irrelevant now. He had to deal with the decisions he’d made then and their consequences now. The rest was bullshit.

* * *

Meredith parked her rental car on the street in front of the white picket fence. Behind that symbol of domesticity was a narrow lawn leading to a colonial red clapboard house, which was similar in style to hers. Unlike her house, a purple bike was propped against the stairs in the shade of the porch, completing the picture of hearth and home.

Suddenly, she wasn’t so certain this was the best plan. Didn’t matter that Larry and Chris had been thrilled when she’d called before making her flight reservations. Didn’t matter that she’d been convinced of the rightness when she’d explained it to Charlie and Blaine. She wished she’d taken Blaine up on his offer to come with her. Right about now, she needed someone to hold her hand and tell her everything was going to be okay—whether she believed it or not—because she was ready to bolt.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t leave. A seven-year-old girl was waiting on the other side of those bay windows, and she was as excited and scared and hopeful as Meredith. Probably more so. Meredith wouldn’t let her down, not again.

She forced a smile before she stepped out of the car because Cassandra might be peering through those windows. It was what Meredith would do in Cassandra’s shoes, and she didn’t want her daughter to see how frightened she was. Her heart pounded as she fumbled with the gate’s latch. She finally got it open then shut it behind her, making certain it closed properly, stalling. She reached the front door too quickly. It opened before she pressed the doorbell. Larry stood just inside, a broad, welcoming smile on his face. He hadn’t changed since she’d last seen him. He was tall, an inch or two over six feet, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes.

“Meredith, come in.” He stretched toward the screen door and swung it open. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

She almost extended her hand to shake his. That had been her plan, but it didn’t seem right. Too businesslike. Too impersonal. This man was her daughter’s father. Should she hug him? Indecision kept her arms at her side. She simply said, “I’m sorry I’m late. The flight...” Nerves closed off her throat.

Larry waved away her explanation. “Don’t worry about it. We kept up with your progress on the computer. Gotta love technology. Cassie was able to follow your plane on a map as it crossed the country. Of course, the difficult part came after you’d landed. But you made good time from the airport.”

She followed him from the entry through a doorway to the right and into a living room. In the middle of the room, Chris waited, anticipation and worry mingling in his brown eyes. He was shorter than Larry, about Charlie’s height, but more slender than Charlie.

Slightly behind Chris, peering shyly around his side, was a wisp of a girl with curly blond hair and big blue eyes.

“Cassie,” Larry said gently, “this is Meredith.”

“I know,” the girl said, the certainty in her voice at odds with the youthful airiness.

A real smile replaced the one Meredith had forced. Of course Cassandra knew who she was. Her dads had probably shown her photos. If she was anything like Meredith at that age, Cassandra didn’t understand why her dads were introducing her to someone she was already acquainted with.

Meredith wanted to touch her so badly, her palms tingled. For almost eight years there had been a hollow emptiness to her arms. She wanted to cradle her daughter like a newborn and hold her until that emptiness disappeared.

She didn’t, afraid of frightening her daughter, afraid of coming on too strongly, afraid of overstepping.

Larry got drinks for everyone, something to do with their hands and mouths as they talked in uncomfortable spits and spurts. Cassandra sat pressed close to Chris’s side on the couch, her feet nowhere near the floor, and Meredith was happy that her baby could count on him for comfort. Meredith and Larry sat in wingback chairs across from each other.

Cassandra ignored her water and stared with wide-eyed curiosity at Meredith. She didn’t say anything, but Meredith could see her taking everything in.

Larry told her about the move to Houston. The neighborhood, the schools. Little by little, Cassandra slipped from Chris’s side and inched closer to Meredith. When she bumped up against the end of the couch, she scooted forward on the cushion until her feet touched the floor. It wasn’t long before she slid off the couch to sit next to Meredith’s legs.

Meredith couldn’t restrain herself any longer. Years of longing overcame her fears. She tentatively brushed the tips of her fingers against Cassandra’s hair. Cassandra leaned against Meredith’s legs. Heat radiated from her tiny body. Meredith lovingly swept the girl’s hair back from her flushed cheek.

Cassandra stood, and Meredith jerked her hand back, afraid she’d gone too far. But Cassandra crawled into Meredith’s lap and curled up, resting her cheek against Meredith’s breast. Holding her breath, Meredith wrapped the girl in a loose hug, still uncertain of her welcome. Cassandra was warm and solid. Real. Not a photo. Not words on a page. Not the ghost of a girl Meredith had tried countless times to hold and comfort.

When she could breathe again, she looked to Larry and Chris, hoping they were okay with Cassandra’s display of affection. Larry smiled softly. Chris wasn’t smiling, but the tension in his face and posture was gone. He seemed relieved.

Larry continued to talk. Chris occasionally added something. Meredith couldn’t have said what the conversation was about. She was too focused on her daughter. Her sweet little-girl scent, her breath delicate on Meredith’s chest, her heartbeat, rapid at first, like a hummingbird’s wings, but then slowing. Cassandra’s eyelids fluttered, fighting sleep. Her body grew heavier and warmer as she lost that battle.

“She hasn’t slept well the last few nights,” Larry said. “It’s been like waiting for Christmas and her birthday all in one. She was so excited.”

“And nervous,” Chris added.

Meredith cautiously lowered her lips to the top of Cassandra’s head. Her hair was silky, slightly damp with sweat. Meredith was vaguely aware of Chris and Larry leaving the room.

She tightened her arms around her daughter. The ache in her heart grew as she realized she could have had this all along.

* * *

Meredith stood in line at the hotel’s check-in, barely holding herself together. The emptiness in her arms was stronger than before she’d held her daughter. Would it ever go away? She’d held her for almost three hours. Her arms had gone to sleep. And it still wasn’t enough.

A voice cut through the useless noise in her head. “I recognize that look.” It seemed directed at her, but she didn’t acknowledge it. Probably just some guy trying to pick her up.

“Meredith, what’s wrong?”

She froze then slowly turned. Blaine. She stared stupidly at him. He couldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be here. “What’re you doing?” She scanned the lobby. “Where’s Charlie?”

“It’s just me.”

Just me?
He was exactly who she needed. He’d understand because he might be Cassandra’s father. But... “Who’s taking care of Charlie?”

“He doesn’t need anyone to take care of him.”

She stared at him, still not quite believing her eyes. He was here. With her. She wasn’t alone. Oh, God. What if he
was
Cassandra’s father? What if she’d kept him from his daughter because of her certainty that the child wasn’t his? She desperately wanted Cassandra to be his. He was a good man, and he would be everything Cassandra needed him to be.

“Let’s go up to the room,” he said. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you look like you’re about to lose it.”

She panicked. “I need to check in.” That was something she could handle. It didn’t involve emotions or children or even thinking. She’d sign the paperwork, get her key, go to her room and unpack. Travel 101. She’d done it hundreds of times.

“You can do that later.”

“But I have reservations.” And a plan. He couldn’t disrupt the plan.

“They’ll still be there after you pull yourself together.”

She was next in line. Almost there. She spoke firmly. “No. I need to do this. I need to check in.”

Blaine was quiet for a moment. “Okay.”

The check-in process went smoothly, and Blaine carried her suitcase to her room. She had him put it on the bed, and she began to unpack. Not thinking. Just doing. Holding back the tears that threatened. Hanging clothes. Putting stuff in the top drawer of the dresser. Toiletries in the bathroom. Back and forth, suitcase to closet, dresser, bathroom. Finally, the suitcase was empty. She zipped it up and stashed it in the corner near the window, then just stood and looked around the room, trying to figure out what she could do next.

Blaine planted himself in front of her. “So how did it go?”

Next thing she knew, she was enfolded in his arms, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop crying. She cried for Blaine and for all the years they’d missed with Cassandra because of her own inadequacies, her stupidity and her lame-assed excuses. She cried for the hole in her heart, the emptiness.

Blaine spoke words she didn’t understand, but soothing nonetheless. His tranquility seeped through her skin, calming until her sobs became sniffles. Or maybe she just ran out of tears.

He sat her on the bed and then disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the water running.

He returned and handed her the glass.

She sipped. The water slid coolly down her overheated throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“How did you know?”

“Know what?”

The tears had cleansed her, and she was strangely calm. “That I’d need you.”

He sat beside her and took her hand. “Because
I
needed to be here with you.”

They sat in comfortable silence until Blaine cleared his throat. “Did you ask them about the paternity test?”

“There wasn’t a chance.” Selfishly, she’d wanted to spend every second with her daughter, and a DNA test wasn’t something she could discuss in front of her. Plus, she didn’t want to disrupt Cassandra’s life. As much as she wanted Blaine to be the father, she worried that he’d claim his parental rights.

“I’ve thought about it—what it would mean.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly then continued, his voice quiet but certain. “I’m not her dad. If she needed something—a kidney, blood, a bone marrow transplant—I’d give it to her. But she’s got a dad. She’s got two dads. She doesn’t need another.”