He was trying to understand. Trying not to get defensive on Michael’s behalf. Trying not to give in to the temptation to lie to his sister and tell her that everything was going to be all right.
“Yes, of course, which I guess means I didn’t set out to trap him, but...” She walked into the middle of the room, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Michael asked me the other night what I planned to tell the baby about him, and I didn’t have an answer.”
Seth was out of his element. Had no idea what to say. Had no idea what you told a kid who was made by arrangement.
“I’m so confused, Seth.” The pain in her eyes tore at him. “I know that logically, in my mind, I was fully prepared to have this baby on my own, to raise him—her—alone. I’m just afraid I was so busy forging ahead, I didn’t stop to listen to my heart.”
Seth leaned against the wall behind him, the big book of wallpaper samples still in his hands. He wished he could help her.
“Or maybe I really did want to raise the baby alone back then. Maybe I’ve changed over the past few months and I’ve recently begun to wish Michael could be a father to his babies.”
“You didn’t tell him about the twins yet, did you?”
“No.” She looked helplessly around. “I... couldn’t.”
“He has a right to know.”
Her eyes were filled with fear as her gaze flew to his. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”
Raising both hands, Seth muttered, “Hey, I’m staying out of this. It’s between you and him.”
Susan’s face was anguished, distorted by uncertainty.
He’d never seen her like this. It scared the hell out of him.
“I never meant to hurt him, Seth,” she said softly, shaking her head.
“I know that.”
“The thing is—” she turned her back to him “—I want it all. I want Michael in my life, however he needs to be there, and I want his babies, too. I guess I should’ve realized you can’t have everything before it was too late to do anything about it.”
He couldn’t stand to hear her so bitter, so hopeless. “It’s never too late, sis.” Seth tossed the book to the floor and gave his sister a hug. “It’s never too late.”
But even as he said the words he was afraid that sometimes it was.
“YOU ASLEEP?”
“Yeah, but that’s okay.” Susan rolled onto her back in the dark, the bedside phone at her ear, happy he’d called. “How’s your week going?”
Michael was in California meeting with the finance directors of one of Coppel’s diversified interests. It had been a little over two weeks since she’d seen him, but he’d been calling. A lot.
“Fine,” he said, his voice tired. “Business is good.” Another sigh. “You know how old it gets having to walk through a lobby of strangers every night just to go to bed?”
“Yeah, well, there are other options to those fancy high-rises you stay in, Michael,” she told him. “You know there are these things called motels where you drive right up to your own front door.”
“Don’t get smart with me, woman,” he said, but she could hear the laughter in his voice. “Point taken. No more whining.” It sounded like he’d just torn a sheet of paper off a tablet. Susan could picture him, sitting at the desk in his posh hotel room, drawing pictures.
“The McArthur case starts tomorrow.”
“On Tuesday? I thought you were expecting later in the week.”
Susan bunched her pillows more comfortably behind her. “Wishful thinking, I guess.”
“You ready?”
“Of course.”