The Good Father (26 page)

They had dinner a couple times a week. Saw each other at work.

And he still made her laugh.

“I hate to ask this, especially in light of my hope that we’re on our way to being exclusive, but have you... Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

“No!” Her response was immediate. And followed by another severe bout of nausea. She made it to her private bathroom. But just barely. And was embarrassed as hell when she took the moistened towel he handed her when she was done.

He was a doctor. He dealt with bodily functions every day.

But not hers.

Ella wiped her face, sitting on the floor of the bathroom, leaning back against the wall. She didn’t trust herself to stray far from the commode. And the cold tile felt good.

Jason stood along the opposite wall, his lab coat giving him a sense of authority that she didn’t need right then.

“I can’t be pregnant, Jason.”

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

He didn’t want kids. It was one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place.

She told him about her medical condition. About the years of treatments that had been necessary to help her conceive. About losing her baby. Leaving out the part about Brett not wanting the baby and retaining a divorce attorney.

“Have you had normal periods since you lost the baby?” He was frowning. And sounded so doctor like.

Her stomach felt sick again. “Up until recently, yes.”

“As you know, metabolic irregularities cover such a broad range, you don’t always hear or understand everything about them,” he said, looking more serious than ever. “But you should have been told...sometimes—not always of course, but sometimes—pregnancy corrects the irregularity in certain hormonal imbalances, allowing a woman who couldn’t conceive on her own prior to the pregnancy to conceive quite naturally afterward. Regular periods could indicate such a correction.”

Oh, God. She might have been told. She couldn’t remember a lot about the time immediately following her miscarriage. She’d been too busy grieving. And divorcing. Paralyzed, Ella sat on the floor, staring up at Jason as he said, “Doctors don’t always mention the possibility, depending on the circumstances, because there’s not enough known about why it does or does not happen, but, there are enough marked instances that we know that it can. Anyway...I find it interesting that you tell me you can’t get pregnant, not that you haven’t been with anyone recently.”

She knew the exact second that realization dawned on him. Knew, too, that he’d probably read the truth in her expression.

The timing had been right when she’d been on the boat with Brett. If she were a woman who ovulated normally, she could have conceived...

Afraid she might be sick again, she leaned her head back against the wall and said, “It’s not what you think.”

She wouldn’t have blamed him if he walked out on her. She’d been free to sleep with Brett. But when Jason had asked her if she’d been in a relationship recently, she’d told him the truth. That she hadn’t.

“I’m assuming this is why you’ve wanted to go slowly with us? Because there’s someone else?”

She didn’t hear any recrimination in his voice.

“There is no one else.” But yes, the fact that she’d slept with her ex-husband seven weeks and six days ago did probably sway her decision to take things slowly with Jason. Mostly, it had been the fact that she was still in love with Brett that had done it, though. And sitting there on the bathroom floor, Ella told Jason about Brett. The divorce. And his recent advent into her life. When Jason reached out a hand to her, suggesting with more kindness than she felt she deserved, that they go do a blood test, Ella had a feeling, as she knew he did, that they weren’t going to get the answer they wanted.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

O
H, GOD
. S
HE
was pregnant. For the second day in a row, Ella took half a day’s leave and left work before she was scheduled. She didn’t go anywhere in particular. Just drove around.

Alone.

Jason had asked if she wanted company. He’d offered to spend the evening with her. But she had a feeling he was going to be distancing himself from her life fairly quickly.

He was a good guy. He’d be a friend.

But he didn’t want children of his own, let alone another man’s child.

And that other man—the one whose child this was—didn’t want anyone.

* * *

S
HE ENDED UP
at the beach. She’d driven by The Lemonade Stand. Needing to go in. To see Chloe. The place was crawling with compassionate women and she needed someone to talk to.

She’d even settle for Lila McDaniels. Would prefer the older woman, actually, with her quiet, but firm, motherly way.

Ella’s nerves needed a firm talking-to.

But she couldn’t tell anyone else until Brett knew.

She’d already made an appointment with an obstetrician she knew from the hospital for Monday—having explained her situation. Her hormonal imbalance. The loss of her first child. The woman had worked her in.

She’d had a doctor’s confirmation. She was pregnant.

At the moment, all that made her feel was fear.

She was all alone.

What if something happened and she lost this baby, too?

Shaking, she stared at the ocean. Jason had assured her that if her body had reversed itself, there was every chance she could carry this baby to term.

This baby. She was pregnant.

She, Ella Ackerman, was going to be a mama.

If all went well.

And...Brett...

She had to tell him. Right away. But she wanted nothing from him. And was clear on one thing. She wasn’t going to give him the chance to reject their baby a second time.

* * *

B
RETT HAD NO
idea why Ella wanted to see him. But he didn’t ask her any questions, either, when she texted him on a Friday afternoon eight weeks after their weekend at the cabin and asked if she could see him right away.

He assumed it had to do with Chloe. She was supposed to be taking Chloe to Palm Desert to meet with Jeff the following week. But hadn’t liked the idea of a meeting so soon after Jeff’s explosion. Maybe she’d talked Chloe into waiting.

Still, a phone call would have done in that case. What could she have to talk about that had to be done in person? Ella had asked if they could meet at his place. Out by the pool. She’d said it made her feel good out there. Peaceful.

He was expecting her at six. By quarter to he was pacing. The tea was freshly brewed. With lemon. But there was a bottle of wine chilling, too.

For the first time in history, he’d cut out of a board meeting before its conclusion when her text had come through late that afternoon. The meeting was continuing the next day, and there’d be a full video transcript. He’d wanted time to change out of his suit into khakis and a polo shirt. He always ended up acting like a stuffed shirt around her.

Probably made her uncomfortable.

Was she coming to tell him she was ready to have a purely physical relationship? That it hadn’t worked out with her doctor friend?

Or that it had and she was getting married again?

Maybe it had nothing to do with them at all.

She hadn’t bought a house yet. Had she decided not to stay in Santa Raquel after all?

He wanted a beer.

But had sworn off beer after that night on the boat. Though he’d only had three drinks that night, he’d made a mistake in sleeping with Ella.

He’d known that she couldn’t make love with him without investing part of her heart.

He’d known and done it anyway. Because he’d wanted to touch the heart of her one more time.

It hadn’t been fair to her.

And if she’d give him a chance, he’d apologize...

The doorbell rang.

Brett was ready.

* * *

H
E WASN’T READY
. Studying the staunch expression on Ella’s face, unable to glean even a hint of what was going on with her, he started to panic.

Like he hadn’t panicked since high school.

She sat across from him at the table by his pool, sipping tea. In black pants and matching black-and-white tweed jacket with silk trim. Looking professional and gorgeous and untouchable all rolled into one. Had she carried the clothes to work or gone home to change before meeting him?

“I need to talk to you,” she said, obviously uncomfortable.

“That’s what you said.”

He’d like to believe her odd tension was just nerves, but didn’t think so.

“I... Something has been on my mind, Brett, and I need it cleared up.”

Why did he have the feeling that hadn’t been what she’d planned to say? Breathing more normally now, Brett said, “I’ll do what I can.”

“That weekend...when we were on the boat...”

So this
was
about sex! If she was ready all she had to do was say so. Should he make it easy for her?

“You drew a correlation between your dad and you. Talked about how your parents vowed to keep violence out of their home—trusting each other to do so because they both came from violence and knew how damaging it was.”

He remembered Ella reacting strangely when he’d said that. As if she’d finally understood something.

Remembered, too, specifically not asking her about it.

He hadn’t wanted to know, then. And didn’t want to know now, either.

She didn’t seem all that surprised by his lack of response. Or deterred by it, either.

She also wasn’t drinking much of her tea.

“You said that I’d quit really listening to you. That I
patted you on the head
when you tried to talk to me about your fears. And so you quit talking.”

He nodded, feeling far too much at the moment. He wasn’t good at being vulnerable.

“Tell me how you felt, Brett. Really felt. When you came home that day and found out you were going to be a father.”

“Why?” He’d spewed his frustration at her. His tension. He’d told her he wasn’t like her. Wasn’t ecstatic. Wasn’t even happy about it. He’d accused her of never stopping to find out what he wanted. Somehow blaming her for his inability to celebrate with her.

The past was past. He wanted to leave it there.

But sitting there on his patio with Ella, noticing how much better it felt having her in his space than occupying it alone, it hit him why she was there. She’d come to him looking for a way to leave the past behind her and be free to love another man.

Jason.

He thought about telling her that he knew, thought about preventing this whole conversation—sparing himself from it. But didn’t.

Ella had the right to say what she’d come here to say. Had the right to get this closure.

He also knew, without doubt, that he had to give her what she wanted...

“Please, Brett, tell me how you felt.”

She didn’t answer his question. Didn’t tell him why.

But she didn’t owe him that. He owed her.

“I was scared to death,” he said, meeting her gaze in spite of what it cost him. His chest tightened to the point of pain. If he didn’t know better, he’d have considered the possibility that he was having a heart attack.

But Brett knew better. The sensation was all too familiar to him.

And one he’d been having since junior high.

“Of what?”

He drew in air. “Of having someone look up to me, looking to me for example and guidance in matters of life, and me, damaged goods, ruining them. Putting the family curse on them.”

“I was going to be there, too.”

“Yes, but it only takes one person to bring misery to a whole family.”

“You were afraid you were going to be your father.”

“There’s no guarantee I wouldn’t be.”

“Because he showed you the way, right? He showed you how a man can be absolutely, completely certain he’d never bring violence into his home and then...he did.”

“Maybe.”

“My father was a great dad, El. A great husband. For well over a decade there’d been no sign...and then, he just snapped.”

“Maybe there were signs. Maybe you were too young to recognize them.”

“I have a lot of memories of me and him when I was a kid. None of them bad.”

“Kids have ways of forgiving things, forgetting them. They adjust. Adapt.”

“There’s no guarantee I wouldn’t do the same. And I can’t let that happen. I’d rather be dead than abuse someone. And the thought of creating an abusive streak in another human being...of continuing the pattern...”

“But there’s no guarantee you
would
do it.” Her words were a cry from the heart. Even he recognized them as such.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why, after we knew you were pregnant, I’d started wandering the house in the middle of the night?”

“You were having trouble sleeping, obviously.”

He hadn’t planned to tell anyone other than the counselor he’d spoken to about that time in his life. About the nightmares that still haunted him when he allowed their memory to surface. Had thought that was a shame he’d carry with him to his grave.

But Ella needed his help. Needed to understand. And her comfort was more important to him than his own. At least these days. He’d grown up a bit since staying with a woman long past the time when he’d known he should get out.

“I was having nightmares, El. Every night. I’d close my eyes and there they’d be, waiting for me...”

He swallowed. Couldn’t meet her gaze.

“What kind of nightmares?” The softness of her voice reached him as surely as if she’d reached out a hand and stroked his cheek.

“I’d dream about things that had really happened. About times my dad had come at me. But in mid-dream his face would change to mine. And the boy in the dream would be my son, and I’d be lifting my hand to hit him. I’d see the fear on his face. And in those eyes, the love he still felt for me. I’d want to stop my hand from coming down, but I just couldn’t. Not ever. Not one single, damned night...”

He looked straight at her as he fell silent. Needing her to know the truth behind his words. The tears in Ella’s eyes weren’t a surprise to him.

“Didn’t you ever have a good dream about him? Something about us together? A family? You said you had good years with your dad.”