“Maybe, but you wanted out, Brett. That’s the truth that finally dawned on me. You didn’t try to get help. You just saw an attorney. And later, just left. You aren’t your dad, you know. You’re your mom. You check out. And maybe you can’t help that. I just know I can’t do it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she said then, her eyes warming and glistening, as if she might cry again. But then her shoulders slumped and the softness came back into her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said again, giving her head a little shake. “I’m not myself right now. I don’t mean to be so hard on you. Or so harsh. It’s just...I’m... I have to be strong, Brett.”

He nodded. Wanted to take her in his arms and promise her that everything would be all right. That he’d be strong for her when she couldn’t be.

But he knew he couldn’t.

Ella couldn’t take any more empty promises.

“I was going to call you,” she said, her voice gentle. “I was wrong yesterday. So wrong. I want you to know that as far as I’m concerned, you have no obligation here, at all. I’m perfectly okay and capable of doing this on my own. But I have no right to keep you out of your child’s life. This baby is yours as much as mine and you are welcome to whatever involvement you want to have. If that’s financial, then so be it. This baby is mine, but only on loan. I can’t control every aspect of his or life—including his relationship with his father. And I just can’t do...you and me...anymore.”

She was beautiful. And so far away. And so right. Again.

“Let me ask you something...”

She waited.

He stood in the employee parking lot of a children’s hospital and felt as though he was somehow fighting for his life.

“Knowing what you know about me, if I was around, would you really trust me not to abuse my child?” The question was purely hypothetical, but one that had repeated itself over and over as he relived the last time she’d carried his child.

“Of course I would. It’s not a matter of what I think of you, Brett, it’s a matter of what you think of yourself that’s always been the problem.”

The arrows hit flesh that time.

“Who knows, maybe with you living separately from us, if you are involved in the baby’s life, you won’t feel so afraid of getting out of control. You’ll have your own place to go to when you’re angry, so maybe you won’t be so paranoid about what you might or might not have in you. All I know is that you’ve taken almost thirteen years of my life, Brett. You can’t have any more.”

Unlocking her car, she flung her bag over to the passenger seat, climbed in and drove away.

But not before Brett had seen the tears in her eyes.

And he knew she meant every word she’d said. If, upon hearing the night before that Ella was having his baby, he’d had even half a hope that they might find some kind of future together, she’d just snuffed it out.

* * *

ELLA WAS CLIMBING into bed the next night—Sunday, one day after Brett had met her outside work—when her phone rang.

Recognizing his number, she slid her legs under the covers and sat back against her headboard while she answered.

Best not to deal with Brett lying down.

“Is this too late?”

“No.”

“I’m in a little town in Kansas, getting ready to attend the meeting of a potential new client in the morning, a nonprofit delegation of farmers, and my concentration is not what I need it to be. I want to help you. And it occurs to me that I don’t know how. I know that I can’t give you what you need most, but surely there are ways I can help.”

Oh, God. Her emotions were too vulnerable right now...she couldn’t let herself get soft. But soft was exactly how Brett’s words made her feel.

“I don’t have the answer to that, Brett,” she said, giving him complete sincerity when what would have been better for both of them was more of her stiff upper lip. “You are who you are. It’s not fair to you that you try to be anyone else. None of this is fair.”

“So...I was thinking...I would like updates on the baby. I want to know everything. Every step of the way. I just don’t want to make things more difficult for you.”

He sounded so stilted. So unnatural. Because he was trying to be something he was not?

Was trying too hard?

Biting off the words this is difficult for me, she said instead, “How about if I text or call when I have something to report?” she asked, picturing a relationship similar to the one he shared with his mother.

“That would be good.”

“Good...so...good...”

“I’d like to start now,” he said before she could get the “‘night” part of her salutation out of her mouth.

“You’re two months along. Based on what my memory’s telling me, you’ll soon be hearing the heartbeat and having an ultrasound. At some point, you’ll be able to choose whether or not you want to know the sex. And you need to be thinking about birthing classes...”

Whoa. He’d remembered all that? She started to smile. And then sobered. What was she getting herself into here?

He was the baby’s father. What choice did she have?

“I have my first appointment tomorrow. And when the time comes, I’m thinking of opting not to know the sex...” At least not until she was further along and had more assurance that she was actually going to carry the baby to term. “And I’m thinking about having the baby here, in the apartment, in my garden tub.”

“At home? Is that safe?” She wanted to be able to ignore his concern, not to be warmed by it, but failed. Miserably.

And spent the next ten minutes discussing details of the birthing process as she’d heard it described by the mother of one of her patients a few months before—an option many women were choosing these days.

“Can I be there?”

Heart pounding, she took a deep breath. “If you want to be.” This was his child. He had rights, though not the right to be present at the actual birth if she didn’t want him there.

“I think I do.”

He felt that way now. But she knew him. If he started to get too uptight, he’d change his mind. When Brett’s emotions started to get out of control, Brett got going.

Just as Jeff was learning ways to be accountable to and responsible for his negative emotions, Brett had been learning to avoid his since he was a little boy.

She’d finally started really listening to him.

He couldn’t help how he felt or what he needed. Not any more than she could help loving him. She got that now, too.

And wished him good-night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

HE STOOD NAKED and let the water sluice over him. Eyes closed, arms raised with his hands splayed above him on the porcelain tile in his hotel room, Brett dropped his chin to his chest. Monday morning after the longest weekend of his life and he wasn’t ready to face the week ahead. Water pressure that was fine for cleansing, wasn’t strong enough to wash away the tension knotting the muscles along the back of his neck.

He knew how to stay in control. Of himself and of his life. He had his rules clearly established. When emotion threatened to get the better of him, he headed for a hot shower. A completely private and personal relaxation that would allow his emotion to dissipate without hurting anyone else.

The water swirled down the drain. But it didn’t take his emotions with it.

He stood there anyway. Planned to let the hot water run out and then to remain in the cold for as long as he could take it.

Anything to ease the tension.

Maybe if he’d been home, in his own shower, his own space, he would have found some peace. He’d shaped his life, made his choices, so that he had a place he could always return to when he needed to find calm.

His phone rang. Brett wanted to let it ring. To stay right where he was and give every drop of that water a chance to help him feel better.

But Ella was pregnant. And Jeff was in therapy. And they both might need him.