disapproval.”
She was about to tell Charlie he was a complete ass, but truth be told, he wasn’t. If Luke had been alive, she could well imagine Charlie lecturing him from here to next Thursday. And then, after the baby was born, pounding him on the back and sharing a cigar.
“It wouldn’t be that weird.”
“What do we do now? Road trip to Amherst?”
“Not necessary.” Abby told him about Tessa showing up on her doorstep and everything that followed. “She might want to give the baby to someone else,” Abby said, and the cracker she’d eaten hardened in her belly. “I’m keeping the baby.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Charlie said, and his airy confidence rubbed Abby the wrong way. “She’s just a kid. She’s scared,” he said, as if Tessa were a damsel in distress, rather than a young woman who’d come here with a hidden agenda. “How can she know whether she’s ready to raise a child? She’s probably spent the past few months trying to avoid the issue.” Charlie’s voice filled the kitchen, taking on the resinous tone of Charlie the caring objective teacher. No relation to Charlie the one-time absentee father.
“Is that what you did?” she said, hating the raw edge to her voice, but powerless against the pull of the past. And sleep deprivation stripped away every defense.
“Never.”
“No?”
Tessa stepped into the kitchen, her face flushed, her pink camisole wrinkled from sleep. The fabric gaped, revealing an inch of bare round belly. “You sound just like Luke. I thought you were Luke.” The disappointment in Tessa’s eyes wound around Abby’s heart and tugged her toward the girl. Then Abby remembered Tessa’s list of options for Luke’s baby, and she stood her ground. Tessa knew what they’d all lost. How could she threaten Abby with more of the same?
Tessa tugged the jersey down over her belly. She hung her head, and tears ran down her cheeks.
“Hey, don’t be like that.” Charlie opened his arms to Tessa and ushered her closer. “Tessa,” he said, drawing out the syllables, the way Luke had done. “We should be celebrating.”
Tessa ran into Charlie’s arms. She buried her face in the shoulder of his white polo shirt, no doubt soaking the fabric, as if she’d known him forever. “It’s going to be okay. We’re here for you. We’re going to figure this out. No worries.” Charlie rubbed Tessa’s back, and her shoulders rose and fell with her tears.
All Abby had ever wanted from Charlie those many years ago.
Abby ducked into the pantry and clamped a hand over her mouth to quell the cottony swell, the urge to scream. Did Charlie think he could sway the girl? Convince her to leave Luke’s baby with Abby, just because he said so?
What you wanted and what you ended up with weren’t necessarily the same.
Luke had worried Abby with his devil-may-care attitude toward sports and all manner of physical dares. Her son was all-boy, all the time.With Luke, Abby had at least understood what she was up against. Girls in general, this girl in particular, were something else altogether. Charlie was no match for passive-aggressive girly crap, especially in the guise of a beautiful girl who was carrying their grandchild.
Abby focused on a row of spices—rosemary, thyme, oregano—and bit the soft flesh of her palm until pain bloomed and the panic in her belly receded.
Back in the kitchen, Tessa clung to Charlie’s shirt. Above the girl’s head, he mouthed, No worries, to Abby. But Abby Stone wasn’t a schoolgirl he could charm with his good looks and pretty words. She’d seen too much to believe in easy answers. Happy ever after had died with her son.
Abby put water on for peppermint tea. She poured batter into the waffle iron and peeled a banana for slicing. The baby needed nourishing. The girl needed convincing. If Tessa were anything like Abby had been while pregnant, breakfast would lead to second breakfast and slide right into lunch. Abby wished she could rewind
She was about to tell Charlie he was a complete ass, but truth be told, he wasn’t. If Luke had been alive, she could well imagine Charlie lecturing him from here to next Thursday. And then, after the baby was born, pounding him on the back and sharing a cigar.
“It wouldn’t be that weird.”
“What do we do now? Road trip to Amherst?”
“Not necessary.” Abby told him about Tessa showing up on her doorstep and everything that followed. “She might want to give the baby to someone else,” Abby said, and the cracker she’d eaten hardened in her belly. “I’m keeping the baby.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Charlie said, and his airy confidence rubbed Abby the wrong way. “She’s just a kid. She’s scared,” he said, as if Tessa were a damsel in distress, rather than a young woman who’d come here with a hidden agenda. “How can she know whether she’s ready to raise a child? She’s probably spent the past few months trying to avoid the issue.” Charlie’s voice filled the kitchen, taking on the resinous tone of Charlie the caring objective teacher. No relation to Charlie the one-time absentee father.
“Is that what you did?” she said, hating the raw edge to her voice, but powerless against the pull of the past. And sleep deprivation stripped away every defense.
“Never.”
“No?”
Tessa stepped into the kitchen, her face flushed, her pink camisole wrinkled from sleep. The fabric gaped, revealing an inch of bare round belly. “You sound just like Luke. I thought you were Luke.” The disappointment in Tessa’s eyes wound around Abby’s heart and tugged her toward the girl. Then Abby remembered Tessa’s list of options for Luke’s baby, and she stood her ground. Tessa knew what they’d all lost. How could she threaten Abby with more of the same?
Tessa tugged the jersey down over her belly. She hung her head, and tears ran down her cheeks.
“Hey, don’t be like that.” Charlie opened his arms to Tessa and ushered her closer. “Tessa,” he said, drawing out the syllables, the way Luke had done. “We should be celebrating.”
Tessa ran into Charlie’s arms. She buried her face in the shoulder of his white polo shirt, no doubt soaking the fabric, as if she’d known him forever. “It’s going to be okay. We’re here for you. We’re going to figure this out. No worries.” Charlie rubbed Tessa’s back, and her shoulders rose and fell with her tears.
All Abby had ever wanted from Charlie those many years ago.
Abby ducked into the pantry and clamped a hand over her mouth to quell the cottony swell, the urge to scream. Did Charlie think he could sway the girl? Convince her to leave Luke’s baby with Abby, just because he said so?
What you wanted and what you ended up with weren’t necessarily the same.
Luke had worried Abby with his devil-may-care attitude toward sports and all manner of physical dares. Her son was all-boy, all the time.With Luke, Abby had at least understood what she was up against. Girls in general, this girl in particular, were something else altogether. Charlie was no match for passive-aggressive girly crap, especially in the guise of a beautiful girl who was carrying their grandchild.
Abby focused on a row of spices—rosemary, thyme, oregano—and bit the soft flesh of her palm until pain bloomed and the panic in her belly receded.
Back in the kitchen, Tessa clung to Charlie’s shirt. Above the girl’s head, he mouthed, No worries, to Abby. But Abby Stone wasn’t a schoolgirl he could charm with his good looks and pretty words. She’d seen too much to believe in easy answers. Happy ever after had died with her son.
Abby put water on for peppermint tea. She poured batter into the waffle iron and peeled a banana for slicing. The baby needed nourishing. The girl needed convincing. If Tessa were anything like Abby had been while pregnant, breakfast would lead to second breakfast and slide right into lunch. Abby wished she could rewind
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