Chapter 3

She sighed. “John, there are some things you need to know. I never intended for this to turn out as it did. I never intended to hurt you so badly. I was 24 years old, for God’s sake. We got married when we were 19. I felt as if I was suffocating. I wasn’t leaving you; I just needed some space for a while. I tried to explain it, but I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job. You went all nuclear and divorced me. You moved to Alaska, for God’s sake. Alaska, John, really? Is that the place you thought would be the greatest distance you could get from me?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it was,” I said. “You moved out, left me. We were talking about starting a family, and then in one month, it all went to shit. You left. Your choice.”

“Yes, I moved out,” she said. “I was scared. I was losing myself. The idea of having a baby scared me to death. I just panicked. I know it sounds to you like a bunch of shit. It does to me, too, now that I’m not a stupid immature baby. I felt like there was no me, there was only us and I felt like I was losing my identity. I panicked and got stupid, okay? I never meant to really leave you. I just wanted a little space, a little time to figure out who Sara really was and what she was all about. I thought I’d see you every week; make love to you, that it would be like we were when we were dating. I wasn’t leaving you, John. I didn’t want another man; I wanted us to stay exclusive, but you were too busy shouting at me to get that. I was just trying to establish myself as my own person. I thought it would be a few months and I’d move back in. I loved you, John. I still love you. You hurt me a lot when you went nuts like that. I know I hurt you, too, and I need to tell you how sorry I am for that. I’m sorry, John. I fucked everything up. I didn’t mean to do that, but I did.”

I thought back to our last conversation. I was yelling, furious and frustrated. She had told me she was moving out a week before and my anger, hurt and insecurity had been building all week. When she pulled up with the truck, and I knew she was really leaving, it all came boiling out. It was not pretty and it had been the last time I had spoken to her. Oh, she’d tried. I just wasn’t in any mental state to have anything to do with her. I wasn’t in any state to do so that day, either.

“What do you want from me, Sara?” I asked. “It’s all good, Sara? I don’t believe a word you say. You realize that, right? I think you’ve been out ‘finding your identity’ by sleeping your way around town. I don’t know what your game is here, but I think you should leave.”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “I expected all this, John. That doesn’t make it any easier to hear, but I did expect you to feel exactly like this. You never gave me a chance to explain what was going on. You never showed up at court, you’ve avoided me like the plague and you run every time I track you down. You know the court ordered counseling, don’t you? The problem was, you were in Alaska and couldn’t be reached. I finally just gave up and let it go through. Give me a chance, that’s all I’m asking for. Let me come and talk to you. Let us come and talk to you. If not for me, do it for her.” She nodded toward Sareen, walking toward us with her arm over Tomy’s broad back. “What about her, John?”

I couldn’t say anything because Sareen was standing beside me. “I love Tomy,” she said. “John, when you’re my daddy, will I get to stay here and play with him sometimes?”

Now that wasn’t fair. There was no way in hell that was fair. It got even worse when she climbed up on my lap and laid that curly little head on my chest. “Hold me,” she said. She curled up as if she was settling in. I looked daggers at Sara but she only laughed. She knew damn well that little girl was irresistible.

“I have a couple of errands to run,” she said. “It should only take me a couple of hours. It looks like Sareen is sleepy. Can she stay with you?”

“No, I…” That gorgeous little face tilted up at me and sleepy blue eyes melted my soul.

“Please, John. Mamma does boring stuff and I’m very tired.”

“I… well, let’s go inside,” I said.

I carried her and she was as light as a little feather. Sara carried the leftover pizza and the cooler. I sat on the sofa and Sareen curled up in a little ball on my lap. “Cold,” she complained.

I grabbed a throw off the back of the sofa and put it over her. She wiggled around until she was comfy and her breathing grew slow and deep. I heard Sara puttering around in the kitchen, putting the pizza in Tupperware and then into the refrigerator. She brought me a beer and opened it, setting it on the table where I could reach it. Damn the woman, she waltzed into my house and made herself at home, as if she had every right to be here, and she got away with it because she knew Sareen would have me wrapped around her little finger in nothing flat.

She looked at us for a long moment and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. I hadn’t expected that. The brilliant green of them started sparkling and she turned, grabbed her purse and started for the door. “I shouldn’t be long,” she said over her shoulder. Her voice sounded sort of funny, and I could see her wipe her eyes as she closed the door.

I watched some sports on TV and drank my beer. Sareen sighed softly in her sleep from time to time and then Sara was kneeling in front of us, watching us. I woke up a little and Sareen was still asleep. Sara noticed I was awake and reached out, cupping my cheek in her palm.

“Carry her to the car for me, John.”

I stood up carefully, trying not to disturb my weary cargo, and carried her out. Sara opened the back door of her Escalade and I put Sareen gently in her car seat. There was a little pillow on the seat beside her and I used it to prop her head up. I couldn’t help myself. I kissed her tiny little cheek. She sighed and shifted a little into a more comfortable position. I stood up, Sara took a step toward me, pressing all that hotness against me, and she kissed my cheek.

“Thank you, John,” she said. “Can we come over some evening after you get off work? I really need to talk to you. I’ll bring the stuff for a DNA test. I’ll bring her. Please?”

“Friday at six,” I told her. “I’ll cook.” I didn’t trust myself any longer, so I pushed past her and went in the house, not looking back. I stood with my back against the closed door for a minute, then shook my head to clear away the cobwebs. It had been a hell of a night.

I was worthless at work for the rest of the week. My mind kept playing over that feeling I had, sitting on the sofa and holding that little angel on my lap. Visions of an incredibly sexy and passionate redhead filled my dreams at night and I woke up exhausted. There was something bugging me, too, something Sara had said that I couldn’t quite remember, but was important.

It finally came to me on Thursday. She’d said something about if I’d stayed at The Cellar, I’d have seen my mom drop off Sareen. What the fuck? I visited my parents regularly, and they hadn’t said one word about either Sara or the little girl. Sara, I understood: I’d made it clear I didn’t want to talk about her. A little girl who might be mine, who they’re babysitting? That was another story altogether. I invited myself to dinner at my parents’ that night with the four famous words: We Need To Talk.

I was still upset when I got to the house, but dinner and talking about other things settled me down to the point where I could listen. Mom said they hadn’t told me about Sareen because they didn’t want to look like they were pushing me to get back together with Sara. Well, that was fair enough, I guess, and I had been pretty vehement about not wanting to talk about her.