it, I told her that you never knew I was pregnant. After all, how
could you? You were gone before I knew myself.”
She couldn’t resist
adding that last jab, but somehow making him feel uncomfortable—and she knew
she had by the way his mouth pulled into a tight line—didn’t make her feel any
more comfy.
“Is this something
that’ll always be in the way?” he asked, so gently she almost didn’t hear him.
Valerie searched
his face in the deepening twilight. His short, mussed hair looked dark under
the shadows. There was a touch of stubble across his jaw and cleft chin. His
nose was different—with a slight telltale crookedness that revealed he’d been
hit once or twice. But for a split second he resembled the boy he used to be.
“In the way of what?”
“Of me getting to
know my daughter.”
The mirage
shattered. Shouldn’t she be relieved though? Illusions—and expectations—were
far too risky, especially when it came to Peyton.
“Like I said last
night, I’m out to protect Lucy. Don’t give her all these high hopes built on
nothing or on promises you know you’re not going to back up. And try getting
ahold of me when you know she’s someplace where she shouldn’t be.”
He turned, hands
up, and took a few steps in the direction he’d come from. Then he pivoted and
shot back, “Check your messages, Valerie. The second Lucy gave me your cell
number I called. What the hell was I supposed to do? Bring her to you in the
mountains on horseback?”
As if he could.
Years of jet-setting, of riding fast cars and equally fast women, had probably
left him unable even to sit upright on a horse. Narrow-eyed, she said, “No, but
you could’ve left her at the house with Dinah.” At his blank look she
clarified, “Dinah, my uncle’s ex-wife. She lives with us and helps keep an eye
on Lucy.”
“Seems you and
Dinah’ve got your hands full if Lucy’s pulling stunts like this and racking up
detention hours. Is she a class clown or—”
Valerie wondered if
her color had risen enough for him to notice in the limited light. “Or what,
Peyton? A mean troublemaker like you?” She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to remember
to breathe. “I’m handling it, okay? And she’s never pulled a ‘stunt like this’ before. ”
“Before what?” The
way he said it told her he already knew exactly what she’d meant.
“Before you. First
a crying jag, then cutting school. What next?”
“Next I’ll make it
all better, just disappear and forget about Lucy? Forget about Anna?” His voice
cracked on Anna’s name, and she knew in her gut how affected he was.
That. That right
there. It’s how I feel every other second. It’s like a splinter to the heart. “So where do we go from here? This—” she gestured at the expanse of land around
them “—is my world. Not yours.”
“Funny how that
didn’t matter when we were friends. I would come here and do chores just to be
with you. And after my grandmother died you’d visit my place just to be with
me. We were good together then.”
Were. The past.
Over. “It did matter, though. Evidently our friendship couldn’t hold up even
then.”
Peyton waited a
beat, then said, “The point is, we’re here now. In the present. I won’t
be kept out of Lucy’s life. Is my name even on her birth certificate?” At her
headshake he sighed roughly. “How long did you wait before telling her about
me?”
“I told her and
Anna about you when they were sick. That’s when your grandfather had found out
who they were.” She dug the toe of one boot into the ground. “Putting your name
on Lucy’s birth certificate is … fair … but aside from that—”
“Blaming me for her
behavior these past two days won’t convince me to turn tail and run. I’m her
father—”
This time she
interrupted, because the word father dripped with apprehension. “Out of
obligation, Peyton. Not because you want to be. Well, having no father at all
is better than having a
could you? You were gone before I knew myself.”
She couldn’t resist
adding that last jab, but somehow making him feel uncomfortable—and she knew
she had by the way his mouth pulled into a tight line—didn’t make her feel any
more comfy.
“Is this something
that’ll always be in the way?” he asked, so gently she almost didn’t hear him.
Valerie searched
his face in the deepening twilight. His short, mussed hair looked dark under
the shadows. There was a touch of stubble across his jaw and cleft chin. His
nose was different—with a slight telltale crookedness that revealed he’d been
hit once or twice. But for a split second he resembled the boy he used to be.
“In the way of what?”
“Of me getting to
know my daughter.”
The mirage
shattered. Shouldn’t she be relieved though? Illusions—and expectations—were
far too risky, especially when it came to Peyton.
“Like I said last
night, I’m out to protect Lucy. Don’t give her all these high hopes built on
nothing or on promises you know you’re not going to back up. And try getting
ahold of me when you know she’s someplace where she shouldn’t be.”
He turned, hands
up, and took a few steps in the direction he’d come from. Then he pivoted and
shot back, “Check your messages, Valerie. The second Lucy gave me your cell
number I called. What the hell was I supposed to do? Bring her to you in the
mountains on horseback?”
As if he could.
Years of jet-setting, of riding fast cars and equally fast women, had probably
left him unable even to sit upright on a horse. Narrow-eyed, she said, “No, but
you could’ve left her at the house with Dinah.” At his blank look she
clarified, “Dinah, my uncle’s ex-wife. She lives with us and helps keep an eye
on Lucy.”
“Seems you and
Dinah’ve got your hands full if Lucy’s pulling stunts like this and racking up
detention hours. Is she a class clown or—”
Valerie wondered if
her color had risen enough for him to notice in the limited light. “Or what,
Peyton? A mean troublemaker like you?” She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to remember
to breathe. “I’m handling it, okay? And she’s never pulled a ‘stunt like this’ before. ”
“Before what?” The
way he said it told her he already knew exactly what she’d meant.
“Before you. First
a crying jag, then cutting school. What next?”
“Next I’ll make it
all better, just disappear and forget about Lucy? Forget about Anna?” His voice
cracked on Anna’s name, and she knew in her gut how affected he was.
That. That right
there. It’s how I feel every other second. It’s like a splinter to the heart. “So where do we go from here? This—” she gestured at the expanse of land around
them “—is my world. Not yours.”
“Funny how that
didn’t matter when we were friends. I would come here and do chores just to be
with you. And after my grandmother died you’d visit my place just to be with
me. We were good together then.”
Were. The past.
Over. “It did matter, though. Evidently our friendship couldn’t hold up even
then.”
Peyton waited a
beat, then said, “The point is, we’re here now. In the present. I won’t
be kept out of Lucy’s life. Is my name even on her birth certificate?” At her
headshake he sighed roughly. “How long did you wait before telling her about
me?”
“I told her and
Anna about you when they were sick. That’s when your grandfather had found out
who they were.” She dug the toe of one boot into the ground. “Putting your name
on Lucy’s birth certificate is … fair … but aside from that—”
“Blaming me for her
behavior these past two days won’t convince me to turn tail and run. I’m her
father—”
This time she
interrupted, because the word father dripped with apprehension. “Out of
obligation, Peyton. Not because you want to be. Well, having no father at all
is better than having a
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