He pulled a face. “Hell, no.”
“Wow.”
“Does that surprise you?”
Tears clawed at her throat. She swallowed hard, willing them to disappear. “Why not?”
But his features were tight; a mask of impenetrable toughness. “It’s a decision I made a long time ago.” There was so much he wasn’t saying, and old memories bubbled to the surface. The month they’d spent together had been perfect, but he’d done this three or four times. Whenever she’d gotten close to a subject he didn’t want to discuss, he’d shut her down. Just like this. Not rudely, not unkindly, but with a firm determination that she’d known she couldn’t shake.
“Well, you should be fine,” she said, over-bright, wanting to get rid of him now, even as she was aware of all manner of things – like the fact hehadshowered and changed, and smelled of citrus and pine and looked as though he’d stepped right out of a Times Square billboard for cologne or underwear. She looked away.
“Are you hungry? Want to grab something to eat?”
She stared at him as if he’d just started speaking a foreign language. “No.”
He expelled a rough sigh. “So just wham-bam in the alley, huh?”
“Yep.”
His laugh was a little forced. “Then promise me this, Abby.”
She made herself meet his eyes even when she was trembling. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a card. “My number hasn’t changed, but just in case you’ve lost it.” He passed the card over. “Call me, if anything does come of what happened last night.”
She stared at the card, all her fears and failures and hopes and choices forming a tornado that whirled mercilessly around her, making it impossible to think. “Would you really want to know?”
“That you were having my baby? Christ, yeah, I’d want to know.”
Guilt was a nauseous tide rising through her. “Even when you don’t want children?”
“I might not want children, but nor do I want to ignore my responsibilities. You promise you’ll contact me?”
She dug her fingernails into her palm. She just needed for him to go away again, then she’d be able to think clearly. “Uh huh.” She pasted a smile onto her face. “Sure thing, Gray. I’ll call you if I need to.”
“Okay. Good.” He frowned, a furrow forming between his brows, and she wondered if he was looking for an excuse to stay longer. He didn’t seem to want to leave.
But then, a moment later, he took a step back. “It was nice seeing you again, Abby. Really nice.” And he smiled, a care-free, life-is-wonderful smile, that made her itch to slap him.
Instead, she stepped back inside her apartment, slammed her door shut and threw the business card onto the bench as though it was burning her fingertips. A moment later, Charlotte woke, her little voice calling into the apartment, “Mama! Mama! Mama!”. Happy and cheery, as she always woke.
Grayson didn’t want to be a father. He’d made it crystal clear. But she could no longer pretend he wouldn’t want to know. She swept into Charlotte’s room and lifted their daughter, hugging her tight, taking solace in her daughter’s unquestioning love. She moved to the small, high window and peered through it, just as Grayson emerged from the building. She watched him cross the street, so sexy even from this distance. He unlocked a low, sports car and slid into the drivers’ seat, then pulled into traffic, disappearing from her life.
But, she feared, not for good. The choices she’d made two years ago, then again fifteen months ago, had all made sense at the time, and they’d been easy enough to justify, but having seen him again, having spoken to him, nothing was as clear now as it had once been. An impending sense of doom wrapped around her. She wanted to ignore it. To go back to living as she had the day before, but she couldn’t.
She hugged Charlotte tight, with all the awareness that this beautiful little family she’d created – just the two of them – had to expand and change. He deserved to know about Charlotte, even when that knowledge would tip his life on its head. He’d always deserved to know.
* * *
Gray lookedup from the presentation, disturbed by a buzzing noise.
“Who left their phone on?” He asked, looking around the room at the assembled tech geniuses, with their chaotic sense of fashion and tired eyes.
“All of us, probably,” Benita Juarez chipped with a grin.
He lifted his brow, pointing to the sign on the wall, which clearly indicated mobile devices had to be switched off.
“Um, sir, I think it’s you.”
Gray turned to the young kid from Illinois, Jackson. Shy and nervous but brilliant with coding, the eighteen year old was pointing to the desk.