She clicked her lips together. “But am I wrong?”
He finished the beer before answering, as if needing the time. She waited, quietly, watching, aware that the mood in the room had more tension than counting rooms on election night.
“Yes.” He placed the bottle on the bench, fixing her with a cold stare. “You’re very wrong.”
“In what way?”
“Every way!” He roared, then shook his head, turning away from her. When he spoke, his voice was soft and hoarse. “I wouldneverhave abandoned you. I would never have left you if I’d known –,”
“You’d have stayed with me out of pity or a sense of obligation. Which makes me unbelievably glad that you broke up with mebeforeI found out about her, and not after.”
“This isn’t about what you wanted, or what I wanted. We made a child together. It was on both of us to put Charlotte’s needs before our own.”
“Don’t talk to me about Charlotte’s needs. You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed to be there for her, to give her everything I possibly can.”
“And whose fault is that? You think you deserve congratulations for providing what you could for our daughter? For busting a gut to feed her when you could have had my financial support at any goddamned time? You think that deserves a medal?”
It was like being slapped in the face. “I’m not going to talk to you while you’re in this mood.” The sting of the words was lessened by the quiver in her voice. “You have no right to stand here and insult me.”
“I have every right! You had my child and didn’t tell me!”
“Because you didn’t want to be a father!” She hurled at him. “You told me that enough times for me to know what my pregnancy would mean to you. And I wasn’t going to inflict a sense of being unwanted on Charlotte.”
“That’s your issue, not hers.”
She gasped, turning away and focusing on the windows. The view of Manhattan had always been breathtaking from up here, but she barely saw it now. “I thought I was doing the right thing. For everyone.”
“Yet you’re telling me now.”
“You explicitly said you’d want to know if I fell pregnant. I couldn’t hide her from you any longer, knowing that to be the case.”
“Ah, so the problem was I wasn’t explicit enough in the past,” he ruminated mockingly.
She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “The problem is you sold me on your lifestyle a little too well. You told me how much your freedom means to you, how much being alone means to you. You told me we wanted dramatically different things.”
“I didn’t know I was about to become a father.”
“Nor did I.” She dashed a tear away from her cheek before he could see it. “If I’d found out, before you dumped me, I would have told you. It’s not like I’m a natural born secret keeper. But you made your feelings known. I was just respecting your wishes.”
He was silent, and she darted a glance at him, recognizing his expression easily enough. He was lost in thought. Totally concentrating on her words, or perhaps on solving a perceived problem.
The silence stretched between them, long and straining, and every second that passed only made her more uncomfortable, more stressed, until she wondered if maybe he wasn’t going to say anything else.
“I just thought you should know.”
His eyes zipped to hers, and now she saw the fury in their depths and she shivered. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much passion and heat was a constant in their interaction. They couldn’t be in the same room together without feeling that awareness and need. Until now. Green eyes morphed to gray, pushing her out, shutting her down.
“I want to meet her.”
Abby’s lips parted. She should have expected this, anticipated it, but the truth was, she still took him at his word: That he didn’t want any part of parenthood.
“Why?”
He braced his palms against the counter. “Because she’s my daughter.”
“I know. But –,”
“There is no but.” He stared her down, his expression unflinching. “Was she there at your apartment that morning?”