CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kimber didn’t know what sucked worse. That Landon hadn’t argued with her or that he’d made a plan with so much efficiency it masqueraded as relief.
Only he hadn’t been relieved… she didn’t think. He’d been almost cold. His usually bright eyes had been shuttered; flat and dark. Emotionless. Now that she thought about it, he’d avoided her eyes the entire time they talked, despite her attempt to lighten the conversation with a gentle joke here and there. He’d simply kept his eyes on the sheet of paper in front of him and filled in the blanks.
Did I do the right thing?
She studied the agreement now, sliding her fingers over his neat penmanship. In one part he’d requested copies of the doctor’s bills and prior knowledge of any special visits or emergencies. He’d been very amicable. They’d agreed on most things, to her surprise. And the items they hadn’t agreed on weren’t deal-breakers.
Which made her think they really would have been good together. But maybe she misread him. Maybe his amicability, his distance, had everything to do with his concern for their baby, not her. If he cared for her at all, would he have allowed her to make this list in the first place?
Something felt wrong. Then again, every time she’d trusted her feelings, she’d made a mistake. She thought of Glo, her mother, Mick. Everyone around her agreed single motherhood was better than staying with Landon. And since she couldn’t trust her own feelings, she had defaulted to the people closest to her. Her hand strayed to her stomach. She had more to think about than herself.
Her heart ached as she pictured Landon at the door before he left. His face wasn’t set in stone like it had been earlier, but his eyes were as expressionless as before. “If your insurance doesn’t cover something, will you let me help?” he’d asked. Asked instead of demanded. Which was likely why she’d agreed.
At least we have guidelines, she thought the next day while spacing the hangers on a rack in Hobo Chic. Their new list wasn’t as fun as the original list they’d worked their way through. The list of ten ways to curl her toes and make her feel like a woman. Cherished. She’d asked him to cherish her that first night, and oh, he had. He had every day. Until yesterday.
“Whoa, sweetheart.” Neil stepped in her range of vision, and she blinked at his overly gelled hair. “You’ve been zoning out at this rack of peasant dresses for a while now. Either you’re about to get your Little House on the Prairie on, or your mind is on someone tall, hot, and wealthy.” He lifted a manicured eyebrow.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted.
Neil’s expression clearly revealed his thoughts, but he spoke them, too. “Whaaaaat?”
“May as well tell everyone. It’ll be obvious soon, anyway.” If not by her expanding belly, then by the way she’d been inhaling rocky-road brownies from the bakery across the street. If she wasn’t careful, that could become a seriously bad habit.
That evening, over another of Jilly’s SinSational brownies, Kimber worked a pencil down the sketchpad on her lap. One of her favorite hobbies before she’d opened her store had been designing her own clothing. She used to create her own patterns, too, though she’d never worn any of her creations. They’d been more for fun than function. Yet another dream that hadn’t come true.
She took another bite of her brownie, brushing crumbs from the page, watching as the dress appeared almost magically. Whenever a vision was in her head, getting it from her brain to paper happened seamlessly, in a flurry of motion. Drawing complete, she finished the rest of her brownie and admired her work, adding in a line here or a shadow there to finish it off.
One of my better ones, she thought without an ounce of bragging. She used to believe at one point she’d be designing dresses like these for the Lissa Francines of the fashion world. She’d pictured her creations prancing across the catwalk while she watched from behind the curtain.
Man plans and God laughs. Ain’t it the truth?
After the snafu with fashion royalty Karl Kingsley, and her eventual shunning from the fashion world, Kimber had slunk away, beaten and bruised. None of it mattered now. Even if she would entertain the outrageous possibility of reclaiming her passion for design, she was in no position to act on it. Not now. Not with a baby on the way. She’d be lucky to maintain her current schedule and care for an infant full-time. Although Landon would have partial custody. She’d never take that from him. He’d make an amazing father.
What would that be like? she thought with a dart of pain to the chest. She pictured him cradling their child, murmuring softly to him in the dark and shushing him to sleep. Just envisioning Landon in a rocking chair, their tiny child in his large, capable hands, had a lump forming in her throat.