The bottoms of Lexie’s pink cowboy boots dragged across the peach carpet as she moved toward the door. “I think Amy gots a cold,” she said.
Georgeanne, who normally kept her daughter as far away from germs as possible, recognized Lexie’s ploy for what it was: a blatant attempt to stay and eavesdrop on adult conversation. “It’s okay this one time.”
When Lexie reached the entryway she looked over her shoulder at John. “‘Bye, Mr. Wall.”
John stared at her for several drawn-out moments before a slight smile curved his mouth. “See ya, kid.”
Lexie turned her attention to her mother and, out of habit, puckered her lips.
Georgeanne kissed her and came away with the taste of Cherry Lip Smackers. “Come home in about an hour, okay?”
Lexie nodded, then walked through the door and down the two front steps. One end of her green boa dragged behind her as she strolled down the sidewalk. At the curb, she stopped, looked both ways, then dashed across the street. Georgeanne stood in the doorway and watched until Lexie entered the neighbor’s house. For a few precious seconds she avoided the confrontation ahead of her, then she took a deep breath, stepped back, and closed the door.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about her?”
He couldn’t know. Not for certain. “Tell you what?”
“Don’t jerk me around, Georgeanne,” he warned, his scowl as stormy as a funnel cloud. “Why didn’t you tell me about Lexie a long time ago?”
She could deny it, of course. She could lie and tell him that Lexie wasn’t his child. He might believe her and leave them alone. But the stubborn set of his jaw, and the fire in his eyes, told her he wouldn’t believe her. Leaning back against the wall behind her, she folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Why would I?” she asked, unwilling to just come right out and admit everything up front.
He pointed a finger at the house across the street. “That little girl is mine,” he said. “Don’t deny it. Don’t force me to prove paternity because I will.”
A paternity test would only confirm his claim.
Georgeanne didn’t see any point in denying anything. The best she could hope for was to answer his questions and get him out of her house and, hopefully, her life. “What do you want?”
“Tell me the truth. I want to hear you say it.”
“Fine.” She shrugged, trying to appear composed, as if her admission cost her nothing. “Lexie is your biological child.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Jesus,” he whispered. “How?”
“The usual way,” she answered dryly. “I would have thought that a man of your experience would know how babies are made.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “You told me you were on birth control.”
“I was.” Only apparently not long enough. “Nothing is one hundred percent.”
“Why, Georgeanne?”
“Why what?”
“Why didn’t you tell me seven years ago?”
She shrugged again. “It was none of your business.”
“What?” he asked, incredulous, staring at her as if he couldn’t quite believe what she’d just said to him. “None of my business?”
“No.”
His hands fisted at his sides and he took several steps toward her. “You have my child, and yet you don’t think it’s my business?” He stopped less than a foot in front of her and frowned down into her face.
Even though he was a lot bigger than she was, she looked up at him unafraid. “Seven years ago I made a decision I thought was best. I still think so. And anyway, there is nothing that can be done about it now.”
One dark brow lifted up his forehead. “Really?”
“Yes. It’s too late. Lexie doesn’t know you. It’s best if you just leave and never see her again.”