verbalizing it now.
It was so real. So heavy. He’d much rather view it as a situation he needed to conquer. Maneuver Meg into marrying him so their child could have the same things he’d had growing up.
Stability. Support. The chance to become bigger than he was. They wouldn’t be able to provide that while apart. At least, he wouldn’t. He was too selfish to give up his share of this child’s life. His child’s life. A child who would have the best he could offer.
He realized he’d been silent too long, that she wasn’t saying anything either. But when he looked at her, she had that soft, considering look on her face, and he wished he could wipe it off. He didn’t want her consideration. He didn’t want her softness.
He was not the one who needed sympathy here. He wasn’t the screwed-up one, or the one who needed to be embarrassed by his past. Meg with her childhood bitterness, this business that probably had a five-year shelf life at best... he should feel sorry for her.
So, why did he feel like the fool? “I should probably go,” he muttered. He was losing sight of things. Getting too overwhelmed by feelings and unimportant things. He needed to go, regroup and—
“Don’t go,” she said gently. Gently enough he wanted to growl. But then she hit him where it hurt.
She smiled, that easy, content smile that somehow warmed him even when he wanted to be completely irritated with her.
“Tell me about your family,” she said, less gentle, more demanding.
He couldn’t quite say no to that.
* * *
F OR A SECOND she thought he was going to leave anyway. For a second she had wanted him to. But it was the way he said family—near my family , it had finally given her a glimpse. A teeny, tiny one, but a glimpse nonetheless, that he might be more than the position he’d been laid off from, and had still worked at after.
“Well, my parents still live in the farmhouse I grew up in, but they sold half the farm to Dell, my brother, and the other half to a neighbor. My dad works part-time at a mechanic shop, and Mom works in the cafeteria at the middle school.”
“You said your dad didn’t like the farm, right? That’s why they sold it off?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yes. I thought maybe they’d move, but Dad isn’t much for change. Since Dell and his wife live on the property, it keeps them close to the grandkid.”
“Girl or boy?”
“Girl. Lainey. She just turned two.”
Meg wondered if he had any idea the way his face changed. The way his muscles, which had been so tense and ready to bolt, relaxed as he spoke his niece’s name.
“She can’t say Charlie, so I’m Uncle Chawie.” He took a breath, focused that gaze on hers, the kind that made her heart flutter because it was so intense .
She had to remind herself that this wasn’t about her . He was looking at her like that because she was now connected to his life, but it had nothing to do with who she was or actual, real feelings or anything.
It was simply a mistake that had created a miracle, and now they both had to live with it.
He leaned forward, and she didn’t trust the way part of her wanted to lean with him. Lean into each other and pretend it was as simple as that, but she had enough self-preservation to lean back, to know better.
“You know, if we got married, we would be in it—wholly—together. I know it wouldn’t be true love or anything, but isn’t the good of our child bigger than that?”
She swallowed; she knew he had a sliver of a point. But she also knew she couldn’t give her entire self up for this child, and allowing him this would be doing just that. She deserved to survive this intact, as much as her child deserved the best she could offer it.
“I think a lot of people raise children separately and they’re just fine. In fact, better off sometimes.” Would her parents be as vicious to her if they’d separated? Because sometimes she couldn’t help feeling like some weird pawn in their
It was so real. So heavy. He’d much rather view it as a situation he needed to conquer. Maneuver Meg into marrying him so their child could have the same things he’d had growing up.
Stability. Support. The chance to become bigger than he was. They wouldn’t be able to provide that while apart. At least, he wouldn’t. He was too selfish to give up his share of this child’s life. His child’s life. A child who would have the best he could offer.
He realized he’d been silent too long, that she wasn’t saying anything either. But when he looked at her, she had that soft, considering look on her face, and he wished he could wipe it off. He didn’t want her consideration. He didn’t want her softness.
He was not the one who needed sympathy here. He wasn’t the screwed-up one, or the one who needed to be embarrassed by his past. Meg with her childhood bitterness, this business that probably had a five-year shelf life at best... he should feel sorry for her.
So, why did he feel like the fool? “I should probably go,” he muttered. He was losing sight of things. Getting too overwhelmed by feelings and unimportant things. He needed to go, regroup and—
“Don’t go,” she said gently. Gently enough he wanted to growl. But then she hit him where it hurt.
She smiled, that easy, content smile that somehow warmed him even when he wanted to be completely irritated with her.
“Tell me about your family,” she said, less gentle, more demanding.
He couldn’t quite say no to that.
* * *
F OR A SECOND she thought he was going to leave anyway. For a second she had wanted him to. But it was the way he said family—near my family , it had finally given her a glimpse. A teeny, tiny one, but a glimpse nonetheless, that he might be more than the position he’d been laid off from, and had still worked at after.
“Well, my parents still live in the farmhouse I grew up in, but they sold half the farm to Dell, my brother, and the other half to a neighbor. My dad works part-time at a mechanic shop, and Mom works in the cafeteria at the middle school.”
“You said your dad didn’t like the farm, right? That’s why they sold it off?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yes. I thought maybe they’d move, but Dad isn’t much for change. Since Dell and his wife live on the property, it keeps them close to the grandkid.”
“Girl or boy?”
“Girl. Lainey. She just turned two.”
Meg wondered if he had any idea the way his face changed. The way his muscles, which had been so tense and ready to bolt, relaxed as he spoke his niece’s name.
“She can’t say Charlie, so I’m Uncle Chawie.” He took a breath, focused that gaze on hers, the kind that made her heart flutter because it was so intense .
She had to remind herself that this wasn’t about her . He was looking at her like that because she was now connected to his life, but it had nothing to do with who she was or actual, real feelings or anything.
It was simply a mistake that had created a miracle, and now they both had to live with it.
He leaned forward, and she didn’t trust the way part of her wanted to lean with him. Lean into each other and pretend it was as simple as that, but she had enough self-preservation to lean back, to know better.
“You know, if we got married, we would be in it—wholly—together. I know it wouldn’t be true love or anything, but isn’t the good of our child bigger than that?”
She swallowed; she knew he had a sliver of a point. But she also knew she couldn’t give her entire self up for this child, and allowing him this would be doing just that. She deserved to survive this intact, as much as her child deserved the best she could offer it.
“I think a lot of people raise children separately and they’re just fine. In fact, better off sometimes.” Would her parents be as vicious to her if they’d separated? Because sometimes she couldn’t help feeling like some weird pawn in their
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