The ER's Newest Dad Page 6

  “You said that earlier,” she reminded him. “Why come here to say it again?”

  “Because I felt like things were left wrong between us when I dropped you at your car. As if, instead of settling anything, we’d just muddied the water even more.”

  She flexed her fingers at her sides, curled them tightly into her fists. “You’re here to clear the water?”

  “I’m here because I couldn’t stay away.” Which was the truth, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He reached for her then stopped himself. “I want you, Brielle. The fact that you have a child doesn’t change that.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Not really. Even now, I just want to take you into my arms and kiss you until you forget every man you’ve ever been with other than me. Until my name is the only one leaving your lips.”

  * * *

  Brielle hadn’t been prepared for this conversation. Not tonight. Sure, she’d imagined it hundreds of times in her mind, but never quite this way.

  She closed her eyes, searching for the right words. Whatever words she chose, her life was going to be changed for ever. Once she told Ross about Justice their relationship would be changed for ever.

  Not that she thought he’d want marriage, not now. Just as well, she’d never marry a man just because of a child.

  If she’d learned nothing else from her mother’s mistakes, she’d learned that lesson. Twice her mother had gotten pregnant by men who hadn’t been her husband. Both times the men had married her “for the baby’s sake”. Both times the marriages had been dismal failures because, really, how could a marriage be a success when it wasn’t based on love and knowing that person was the one?

  Her mother, a sad, bitter, and lonely woman, had died during Brielle’s senior year of high school.

  “Does the turmoil on your face mean you’re struggling because you want me too?” He sounded hopeful. “Tell me you want me to touch you as much as I want to touch you.”

  Part of her was still startled that Ross was admitting he wanted her. Then again, physical attraction wasn’t enough. If it was, she’d be doing a lot more than telling him she wanted his touch. She’d be touching and kissing and dragging him into her bedroom.

  Curling her fingers into her palms, she sighed, walked into her living room and sat on her sofa. “Touching isn’t a good idea for a zillion reasons and that isn’t what I need to talk to you about.”

  Joining her on the sofa, he regarded her for seconds that seemed to drag out much longer. “I could give you a zillion reasons why touching is a very good idea, but we’ll do this your way. What is it you want to talk to me about?”

  “Justice.”

  “What is it about Justice—” his face pinched as he said the name “—that you want to talk about?”

  “Like I told you before, he’s my whole world. I’d do anything to protect him.”

  He nodded. “I wouldn’t expect less from you, Brielle. I’ve no doubt that you really are a great mother. Surely you don’t think I’d do anything to interfere with your relationship with your son?”

  Despite her current stress level, his praise pleased her. “No, I don’t think you would interfere with my relationship with Justice.” Or did she? “At least, I hope you won’t.” But the reality was that Ross would interfere with her relationship with her son. Just his very presence in their lives would shake up their whole world. “The thing is, well, Justice is—”

  “Mommy?”

  Both Brielle and Ross turned toward the sound as Justice padded into the living room in his superhero pajamas, well-loved stuffed frog in his hand. Why the kid had latched onto the long, skinny, stuffed frog she wasn’t sure, but Ribbets was his favorite must-have sleeping companion.

  “I need a drink of water,” Justice continued, rubbing his sleep-swollen eyes then staring directly at Ross. “Who is that man?”

  Your daddy.

  The only man I’ve ever loved.

  The man I’m trying to confess a five-year-old secret to.

  “This is Dr. Ross Lane. He works at the hospital with Mommy and he’s...” She searched for the right description of Ross for their son since she wouldn’t be using any of her previous thoughts. “He’s a friend of Uncle Vann’s. They went to school together when they were in college.”

  “Uncle Vann is awesome,” her son said with conviction, giving Ross a closer look. He wasn’t used to waking up to find a strange man in their house. Curiosity and uncertainty creased his forehead.

  “That he is,” Ross said, seeming to finally find his tongue as he’d not spoken since Justice had interrupted their conversation.

  Brielle scooped Justice up in her arms, knowing she wouldn’t be able to do so for much longer as he was growing like a weed. She loved the feel of her son in her arms, of his freshly washed hair and warm little body. Her heart swelled at how much he meant to her, how much he’d blessed her life.

  “Come on, Bruce,” she said gently, kissing the top of his head. “Let’s get you that water so you can get back to bed.”

  “Bruce?” Ross asked, looking confused and a bit overwhelmed. She’d felt his gaze on her and Justice while she held him, had sensed his curiosity and even awkwardness, as if he felt he was watching something private, just between them, that he shouldn’t be witnessing yet couldn’t bring himself to look away.

  Brielle pointed to her son’s superhero-covered pajamas.

  “Oh, right.” He laughed low, unnatural sounding almost. “Bruce.”

  Justice found his comment or something about it funny and began to laugh, too.

  Curious about how strong, confident Ross looked and sounded awkward, Brielle hugged the giggling boy to her, kissed his brow. “Come on, giggle box. Water, then back to bed for you.”

  Knowing exactly how to wrap his mother around his precious little fingers, Justice put his hands on her cheeks, palms flat, and kissed her. Normally, she might have given in, held him in her lap, and just enjoyed the moment. Not tonight. Not with the past waiting to engulf her.

  “That was a great kiss,” she informed her son. “But you still have to go back to bed.”

  Frowning, Justice shook his head, his fine blond hair flying away from his head with the movement. “Uncle Vann’s friend is here and I should take care of Uncle Vann’s friend for him.” He spoke so fast, making his argument, Brielle couldn’t help but appreciate her son’s sharp little mind. “He would want me to.”

  Fighting the squeezing motion gripping her heart, Brielle stared at her son and was curious about where his thoughts had gone. “Just how would you take care of Uncle Vann’s friend?”

  “I’d teach him how to build a castle like me and Uncle Vann did. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Her son turned wide blue eyes to Ross and, just as everyone else was, Ross seemed instantly charmed by their son.

  Looking directly at Justice, his face intent, he nodded. “I’m an expert castle builder. The best in the state.”

  Justice’s eyes got huge then he shook his head, sending his hair flying again. “Nope. Uncle Vann is the best. I know he is.”

  Brielle’s heart caught in mid-beat.

  “Not biased, are you, champ?”

  Justice’s big blue eyes lifted to her at Ross’s question.

  Knowing her son didn’t understand Ross’s comment, she clarified. “Dr. Lane just means that you love Uncle Vann very much and sometimes when you love someone, that makes you think they are the best.”

  Justice, sharp as ever, seized the moment. “Like you are the best mommy ever?”

  Brielle couldn’t keep from kissing her son’s downy head. “Exactly. Now, let’s get you that water and back to bed.”

  Ross followed her and Justice to the kitchen, watched as she got her son’s water, watched the little boy take a sip and hand the cup back to his mother with a big s
mile.

  “Thank you,” Justice said automatically, reaching for her to pick him up again. Brielle did so, letting him wrap his legs around her waist and his arms around her neck. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Bruce.”

  Justice giggled at her pet name for him and buried his face against her chest, yawning.

  Unable to look towards Ross, she walked past him to carry her son to his bed, tucked him in, and told him a quick story while lightly scratching his back until he fell asleep.

  For long moments she watched him in the low light given off from his superhero nightlight.

  The safe little existence she’d made for them was about to change for ever.

  Her heart beat so loudly she couldn’t believe it didn’t awaken her precious child.

  Tonight she’d tell Justice’s father that he had a son.

  * * *

  Ross stood in the doorway of the little boy’s bedroom, watching as Brielle went through the ritual of getting her son back to sleep. The soft, soothing tone of her voice as she told Justice a story about saying goodnight to the moon did little to ease the very real agitation moving through him.

  Agitation he didn’t understand.

  Not at first.

  But as he watched the motion of her hands moving gently back and forth across the sleeping boy’s back, the unease that had gripped him from the moment he’d realized she had a child began to make perfect sense.

  “He’s mine.”

  Brielle’s head shot up at his low words, staring at him across the dimly lit room.

  Despite the truth written all over her guilty face, he needed to hear her say the words.

  “He is my son, isn’t he?”

  Her hand stilled, flattened against the sleeping boy’s back almost protectively. “I...” She stopped then stood slowly, taking care not to disturb Justice. “Let’s go talk.”

  She wasn’t denying it.

  Brielle wasn’t telling him that he was crazy, that he’d lost his mind.

  She wasn’t telling him that she’d met someone, gotten pregnant on the rebound, and had had that man’s child.

  She’d been pregnant when he’d left for Boston.

  She’d given birth to his son and had never bothered to tell him.

  As she walked past him to head back into the living room, he wanted to grab her shoulders, shake her, demand to know why she hadn’t told him, why she would have done something so cruel. Had she hated him so much when he’d left?

  She didn’t look at him, just waited for him to move out of the doorway then gently pushed the door closed.

  Without a word, she turned to go to the living room. He supposed it made sense to move away from the boy’s room so they didn’t wake him again, but he couldn’t wait another second.

  “Say the words, Brielle. Tell me what we both know is the truth.” He spat out the demand, knowing in his soul what was coming, what seemed impossible yet blared through his being as the truth.

  The truth that it seemed imperative to have confirmed verbally.

  “Justice is your son.” Her tone was deadpan, as if her words didn’t have the effect of a tornado ripping through his mind and chest, leaving everything within him in turmoil.

  She stood there, not looking at him, hands at her sides, body slightly trembling, and waited.

  Ross was waiting himself.

  Waiting for an explanation of why she hadn’t told him about his child.

  CHAPTER SIX

  BRIELLE’S ENTIRE INSIDES shook. Her tongue swelled to where it stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her brain spun like a child’s toy top. She felt so dizzy she thought she might fall. Her head pounded as if her eardrums had taken up a jungle beat. But she stood firm, not looking at Ross but waiting for a reaction from him.

  She half expected him to turn, leave her house, and never darken her doorstep again.

  Another part of her expected him to rush into Justice’s room, wake him up and tell him he was his daddy.

  His daddy.

  Justice’s father.

  Tears burned her eyes, blurring her vision. Not that it mattered that she couldn’t see. It didn’t because she refused to look at Ross, refused to see whatever was on his face.

  Her mind was doing a bang-up job of filling in the blanks anyway. Anger. Hurt. Betrayal. Disgust. Disbelief.

  “You have a lot of explaining to do.” His voice broke into her imaginary cocoon. He grabbed her hand. His grip didn’t hurt, but he wasn’t gentle either as he pulled her towards the living room, away from where their son slept.

  Tension bubbled so hot she was amazed the paint didn’t peel from the walls as they passed by.

  “When is my son’s birthday?”

  His angry tone triggered a hundred old hurts, a thousand wishes of Ross being there to share Justice’s birth and each year’s celebration of that special day, a thousand moments of feeling so abandoned without the man she’d given her heart to without reserve. Every protective wall she had flew up.

  “Perhaps if you’d stuck around you’d know the answer to that question.” Sarcasm was so thick on her tongue that it left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she dug her feet in, putting a halt to their trip down the hallway. She jutted her chin and glared straight into Ross’s vivid blue eyes.

  Eyes that were so like her son’s.

  His gaze narrowed. His jaw tightened then worked back and forth once. “When was he born? How long after I left was it before my son was born?”

  She told him Justice’s birth date.

  She watched him do the math in his head. “That’s just...” His gaze grew darker, more accusing. “You knew you were pregnant when I left, didn’t you?”

  “He was a couple of months early.” Her chin went up another notch. “But so what if I knew? What difference does that make? Either way, you left.”

  His jaw dropped as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “You were pregnant with my child and didn’t tell me? Don’t you think that’s something I had a right to know?”

  Anger and hurt swelled her chest. Lifting her shoulders, she repeated words that had haunted her time and again over the years since he’d carelessly tossed them at her. “You gave up your rights when you told me you didn’t want anything to do with me or anything that involved me. My son involves me. I took you at your word.”

  His jaw began working back and forth again, then he tugged on her arm, pulling her the rest of the way into the living room. She let him for the sole reason of hoping they didn’t wake Justice.

  Again without hurting her but with some force, he pushed her toward the sofa. “Sit.”

  With pleasure, she thought, flopping onto the sofa. Much better to sit than to end up falling on her face because of her wobbly, nervous legs.

  Ross didn’t sit. He stood next to the sofa, staring at her as if he were looking at a stranger. “Let me get this straight. You think my saying I wanted our relationship to end gave you the right to keep my son from me?”

  I wanted our relationship to end.

  Hearing him say the words sliced way too deep for five years to have passed. Maybe some blows never stopped wounding no matter how many times they’d pierced your soul.

  Then again, Ross sounded pierced as well. Would he really have wanted her to tell him? To have interfered in his life?

  “It’s not as if I hid him, Ross.” She went for flippant, but knew her attempt fell flat. “You were the one who left us.”

  “I didn’t leave him,” he thundered. “I didn’t even know he existed.”

  She flinched at his harshness, at the searing truth of his claim. “Fine. You left me and he was a part of me. Same difference.”

  “Wrong!” As if he could no longer stand still, he paced across the room, tu
rning and meeting her gaze. “I wouldn’t have left if I’d known you were pregnant. You know I wouldn’t have.”

  There it was. The truth she’d known and avoided so thoroughly because a man staying with her because she’d been pregnant had been the last thing she’d wanted. She’d wanted him to stay because of her, because he’d loved her and wanted her in his life for ever. She’d believed Ross had, but she’d been wrong. Never would she have trapped him into staying. She wasn’t her mother.

  “You think I would have let you stay if the only reason you were staying was because I was pregnant? Hardly.”

  “That wouldn’t have been the only reason and you know it.”

  “I know nothing. You left so whatever the other reasons were, they weren’t enough.”

  “I didn’t know,” he repeated.

  “Lucky you,” she seethed, going on the offensive because she didn’t like being defensive, didn’t like any of the feelings swirling around in her chest. “Nothing to stand in the way of your career aspirations.”

  “Lucky me?” He resumed his pacing, his hands thrust deep in his pockets as if he didn’t know what else to do with them. Or perhaps it was to keep him from wrapping them round her neck because he looked as if he’d like to do that and more. “I’ve missed out on almost five years of my son’s life and you call me lucky?”

  When he put it like that...

  “You don’t even like kids,” she accused, guilt punching a hole in her argument.

  He stopped, turned to face her, his cheeks blotched red. “Who said I don’t like kids?”

  Brielle slid her hands under her thighs, feeling restless just sitting on the sofa. “I saw how you reacted earlier when I said I had a son, how you clammed up when you discovered I was a mother.”

  “Exactly. I discovered you were a mother.” He made his claim sound like a dirty accusation. “You should have told me, Brielle. You had no right to keep that to yourself. No right whatsoever.”

  “I had every right.” But she hadn’t. Hadn’t she already admitted that to herself?

  “No, you didn’t. He is mine. Just as much mine as yours.”