Читать книгу To Be a Dad - Kate Kelly, Kate Kelly - Страница 11
ОглавлениеDUSTY SCRUBBED AWAY the residue of a hard day’s work. It was an unseasonably warm day for November, and he’d overdressed, anticipating a biting north wind. Instead, he’d spent the day sweating and stripping away one layer of clothing after another. Not much he could do about his underwear, though. His deck hands, Josh and Andy, had teased him about his red long johns.
He and Teressa had managed to keep the news about her pregnancy a semisecret for two days now. Semi because his family knew about it, but Teressa had begged for a few more days before she broke the news to her mother.
Mrs. Wilder was a gnarly person to handle. He didn’t know exactly what her problem was, other than she looked as if she had a broom handle stuck up her... Hell, he had to stop thinking like an adolescent, especially about the grandmother of his child. But there was no denying she was a bitter woman. He didn’t remember her being uptight when he was a kid, but kids saw the world differently than adults.
For the past two nights he’d worked hard emptying his house of anything that absolutely didn’t need to be there. It looked empty and rough at the moment, but slap down some new flooring and a fresh coat of paint on the walls and things would start to come together. That’s what he kept telling himself. Where he’d find the time to accomplish all that, he had no idea. Because regardless of what Teressa said about how she was fine where she was, eventually she was going to need a bigger place, and houses didn’t come up for sale all that often in Collina. Plus now that he’d started working on his house, he was getting into the renovations in a big way.
As soon as he ate, he planned to head over to Teressa’s to nail down a time that they could go to Lancaster together to buy some paint. His bank account already had a huge dent in it, because Cal had purchased a bunch of building and plumbing supplies. Good thing Dusty had a solid line of credit, and that it was one of the better fishing seasons. If he was careful, he might almost pull this off. Although Teressa had been pretty clear on not moving in with him, the fact was her place would be too small once the baby came, and he thought he should at least offer her the option of moving in with him. He gulped for air. It was the right thing to do. No matter how many times he repeated that thought to himself, it didn’t get any easier to swallow.
Dusty heard a knock on the door as he stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stuck his head out into the hallway that led to the kitchen. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“No hurry, son. You’ve done a lot of work the past few days.”
His father, Pops. The man he most admired in the whole world. Cal had given Pops the lowdown, and Dusty had talked to him briefly on the phone, but he hadn’t heard from his father since. He grabbed a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt, pulled them on and ran a hand through his wet hair as he hurried down the hallway.
“There you are.” Pops eyed him. “Good day on the water?”
“Great. You should come out with me before the weather changes.” His father had fished for years before he sold Dusty the boat and his quota for lobster. More and more these days, quotas were going to outsiders and not always by choice. Dusty considered himself lucky to be able to buy his father’s business, when not so many years ago, it had been a given that a son, not a stranger, would take over the business.
Pops smiled. “Can’t say I haven’t thought of going.”
Pops took his time studying the carnage he and Adam and Cal had wrought the past two nights. The floors were stripped down to the subfloor and the icky wallpaper in the living room—did people really choose to have roses on their walls?—had been pulled off in strips. His house was an open-concept with the kitchen and dining room one big room and the living room opening off both. The three bedrooms and the bathroom were clustered at the other end of the house. They hadn’t touched those yet.
“You’ve got a lot of work in front of you.”
“Yeah.” He sank onto an arm of his black leather couch, the sum of what he hoped to accomplish weighing down on him.
Pops came over and put his hand on Dusty’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Dusty. I know neither you nor Teressa are ready to live together yet, but I think it was important to let her know she can move here if she wants to. It would be a big adjustment for you, and it couldn’t have been easy to offer her your home.”
They both knew that was the understatement of the year. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a dad.”
Pops’s face lit up. “Can’t say I’m disappointed. I’ve been waiting on a grandchild for a long time now. I never thought you’d be the first, though.”
Dusty laughed. “Me, neither.”
“Having a child, that’s nothing short of a miracle. You’ll see.”
“And having three kids?” Might as well get that elephant off his chest.
“I brought up three kids single-handedly, and even if I do say it myself, I think I did a damned fine job. You’ll do fine, too. The thing about having kids? You only get to live the experience a day at a time. When you’re feeling overwhelmed, remember that. All you have to do is get through the day.”
“And then you get to do it all over again the next day.” Pops’s advice wasn’t helping.
“See? There you go, getting ahead of yourself. Just concentrate on today.”
Pops wandered around the living room and looked out the window. “Cal says he’s busy with the Tolster job. He can only help you part-time.”
“I can’t let him do all that work for free, and I can only afford him part-time. Adam’s been a big help so far, and I plan to work evenings.”
“Your mate, Josh, he’s handy with a hammer. He built his own house.”
“He did a good job, too. But I’m working on a budget, Pops. I guess I could remortgage the house once I get a few more things done, but I was hoping to keep the building expenses under control.” He looked at his hands, a tight knot in his chest. “I’m going to have a child to support.” The knot twisted into a sharp pain. He couldn’t breathe.
“That’s what I came by to talk to you about.” Pops pulled the ottoman in front of Dusty and sat. “I’ve got more money than I need after selling the café to Teressa and Sylvie and Adam.”
Dusty reared back. “No way. That’s your money. You need it.”
“Not all of it. I planned to put aside a healthy sum for each of you to inherit. I gave the family home to Sylvie, so why can’t I give you money? You need it. I don’t. I always said better to give with a warm hand than a cold heart. This way I get to enjoy watching you spend it.”
“I don’t know, Pops. I just... I never figured...” Goddamn it, he was not going to start blubbering in front of his father.
“I know you didn’t. That’s what makes giving you money all the more enjoyable. I talked to Muriel at the bank. She’s going to transfer fifty thousand into your account tomorrow. Maybe you can hire one or two carpenters to work during the day while you’re fishing. Buy a few appliances. Whatever. It’s yours to do with as you see fit.”
They both stood, and Dusty felt his father’s strong arms around him. A father’s hug—his father’s hugs were a wonderful thing. Would he be as good of a father as his own dad was? He had a lot to learn and a long way to go, but at least his family had his back. Could be, things wouldn’t be so bad.
* * *
TERESSA HELD HER arm protectively over her stomach as her mother’s words drilled into her.
“Can you not keep your legs closed to anyone? What are you, the village whore?” Her mother’s face flared fiery red, and she screeched loud enough that Teressa worried the children would hear, and if they could, would they understand the foul words that were coming out of their grandmother’s mouth? She’d known breaking the news to her mother was going to be bad, but she hadn’t anticipated the depth of Linda’s bitter disappointment.
“That’s uncalled for,” Teressa responded.
“Is it? What’s uncalled for is having a slut for a daughter.”
Teressa flinched, but refused to let her tears take over. Had she really thought something good might come out of her pregnancy? That for once in her life, she’d be happy? Or if not happy, content? Dusty had almost made her believe it was within her reach. But then she’d known Dusty had a glib tongue. What she’d do to feel his arms around her right now. She’d considered asking him to come over and support her while she told her mother about the pregnancy, but at the last moment decided against involving him. It had been a good call.
“Where do you think you’re going to live? You can’t stay here. It’s too small. The money I could have made renting this place out.”
“That’s not fair. I pay rent.”
Her mother snorted. “A portion of what it’s worth. You’ll have to move in with us. It’s the only solution.”
And eat crow for the rest of her life?
“We’re moving in with Dusty.” Oh, God, where had that come from? Now that she’d told her mother, she couldn’t take it back. Dusty had looked so relieved when she’d turned down his offer to move into his house.
“You can’t think a decent man like Dusty is going to put up with you for long. He’s not stupid, Teressa. No man wants used goods, and someone else’s children to boot.”
Teressa sagged. Hadn’t the very same thought plagued her continuously? What happened when Dusty woke up to the fact that this wasn’t one of his wild romps? That she and her children weren’t going to disappear? But she’d be damned if she’d admit her fears to her mother. The woman would feast on them like a starving vulture.
“I guess that’s something Dusty and I will have to discuss.”
Her mother’s voice peaked into an even sharper screech. “I won’t have my child and grandchildren treated like charity cases. It’s bad enough everyone knows you’re a slut. You’ll move in with us. That’s the end of it.”
“I’d rather live in a shelter than live with you.”
Linda’s hand connected with Teressa’s face at the same time the outside door opened. Tears that Teressa had held in check spilled over when she saw the horror stamped on Dusty’s face as he stood in the doorway. She hadn’t wanted him to bear witness to any of the ugliness her mother directed at her. The woman had just straight-out called her own daughter a slut. Which was totally unfair.
Everyone froze. Linda looked horror-struck at being caught in a violent act. Teressa could hear Dusty’s heavy breathing. He sounded like a bull about to charge.
“What the hell is this?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Linda thinks the children and I should move in with her and Dad.”
He narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare at her mother. “Not going to happen. She’s moving in with me.”
“Why would you want someone like her to live with you?” A sly look crossed Linda’s face. “Oh, of course. Because everyone knows my daughter puts out.”
“Mother! Stop.” She was going to die from embarrassment on the spot. Her own mother talking about her like that. Did Dusty think the same thing? What if Linda was right? What if she had no worth? Maybe she should admit defeat now rather than wait for the inevitable crash to happen. That Dusty would someday think the same thing was devastating.
A vein pulsed in Dusty’s jaw. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as if he didn’t trust what would come out. Finally he swallowed and tried again. “Your daughter is ten times the woman you are.” He opened the door. “We’re finished here.”
Teressa choked back her tears. No one had ever defended her before, not even her own father.
“You can’t kick me out of my own place,” Linda protested.
“If Teressa’s paying rent, I can.”
A look of triumph stretched the skin tight on Linda’s face. “There’s no formal rental agreement. She has no rights.”
“It’s okay, Dusty.” She tugged on his arm. “I’ll handle this.”
He finally looked her full in the face, and his anger blasted over her. “It’s not okay. Go pack whatever you and the kids need for a couple of days. You’re moving to my place tonight.”
He turned to Linda. “We’ll be back tomorrow to get everything else.
“Come on, Teressa.” He took her by the arm and led her down the hallway. “Let me help.”
Teressa’s heart broke, and broke again when they stumbled into the children’s room to find Sarah hugging her baby brother. Tears rolled down Sarah’s cheeks and Brendon watched her with round, frightened eyes. She felt Dusty hesitate before he continued onto the bed where both children cuddled. If she had been in his shoes, she honestly couldn’t say that she wouldn’t have turned and run out the door.
She sat and gathered her babies into her arms, rocking them back and forth. She knew they both needed a minute to overcome the rush of relief they probably felt at seeing that she was okay. This was not the first time she and her mother had come to blows.
She felt broken inside. If she moved too fast or breathed too hard, she’d shatter. Not only because her mother hated her, but also because Dusty had witnessed Linda’s disdain for her. What if he thought the same thing, that she didn’t deserve respect? “Mama, are you hurt?” Brendon patted her cheek where her mother had hit her. She should have gone to the washroom first to check if Linda had left any marks.
She hugged her son closer. “I’m okay, baby. Your grandmother was upset. She didn’t mean anything.”
“If you point me in the direction of your suitcases, I’ll start packing things,” Dusty said in a low voice, as if afraid to upset the delicate balance in the room.
She blushed, amazed she could find something else to be embarrassed about. “We don’t have any. There’s a couple of cloth bags in the hall closet, and there are garbage bags.” She smiled wanly. “We never go anywhere.”
She could tell by the way the vein in his jaw jumped that he was clenching his teeth again. “Garbage bags it is.”
“Are we really moving to Dusty’s house?” The fear on Sarah’s face was replaced by curiosity. Brendon crawled up on her lap, his thumb in his mouth.
“Yes.” As if a window had opened, her spirits lightened a bit.
“What’s it like there?”
A mess. She sighed and ran her hand through her son’s sleep-mussed hair. “It’s bigger than this place. I’m not sure, but you may each get your own bedroom. Maybe not right away, because the house needs to be fixed.”
Sarah stood up on the bed. “I can help him fix it. I got my hammer and saw.”
“Perfect. Okay, we have to figure out what you need for tonight and tomorrow, and then we’ll go to Dusty’s.”
“I hope I like it there.” Sarah climbed down off the bed and headed for the shelves that held her toys.
“Me, too.” Brendon drooled, a beatific smile lighting up his face.
Teressa held her baby to her chest and kissed the top of his head. “Me, too,” she whispered.
An hour later, her hands shaking on the steering wheel of her old minivan, Teressa and the children followed Dusty’s truck. She was leaving home. Really leaving. She wasn’t sure what she felt. Excited? Maybe. Definitely scared. What if Dusty decided he didn’t really want them? Nice went only so far, and then there was reality. He had to be as scared as she was right now.
There had always been a push and pull between her and Linda, and yes, from now on she was Linda, not Mother. Linda was headstrong, wanted things done her way, and she... Dear God, was she really like her mother?
She’d complained nonstop the whole time Sylvie had been remodeling the café a few months ago, not that it had made any difference. At least she’d been big enough to admit to Sylvie that she’d been wrong, something Linda would never do. People loved coming to the café now. They’d liked it before, but now they loved it, because Sylvie had painted the constantly changing wall mural on the back wall that chronicled their lives, and installed Wi-Fi and comfy chairs surrounded by stacks of books and newspapers. Sylvie nourished their minds and Teressa nourished their bodies with good food. So maybe there was still a chance that she hadn’t grown as rigid in her opinions as her mother.
She’d had to toughen up quickly when she’d gotten pregnant with Sarah. Lots of women had children by the time they were twenty-two, but she hadn’t been prepared for suddenly being cut out of the small social scene in the village. Although having Sarah had helped compensate for almost everything she’d lost.
She glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed Brendon’s eyes were closed. Please let him stay asleep. Sarah looked wide-awake, her gaze glued to Teressa’s reflection in the mirror, as if afraid that if she took her eyes off her mother she might disappear.
“Hey, honey bun. Are you okay?”
“Grammy hit you,” she whispered, her eyes round with disbelief.
How to put a positive spin on that? She’d hoped Sarah and Brendon had somehow missed that bit. “Sometimes when people are angry they say or do things they don’t mean.”
“Why are we going to Dusty’s house?”
Great question. Her daughter was nothing short of brilliant. “Because Dusty’s a good friend, and he wants us to live with him for a while.” All true. She’d wanted to delay the news of having another baby sister or brother until her first trimester was over.
“Is he going to be our daddy now?”
Teressa groaned. How did life get so complicated? “Corey’s your father, Sarah.”
Sarah pushed against the back of the seat in front of her. “I like Dusty better.”
So did Teressa. She hadn’t heard from Corey for two years since he’d gone out west to work. His parents were dead, and he only had one brother, who moved around a lot, as well. She had no idea how to locate either one. Corey wasn’t a bad person, but neither had he been interested in being a dad. A few months after Sarah was born, he left and had come back only a couple of times to say hello. As for any financial support, it was hard to tap someone’s pocketbook when you didn’t know where to find them. Corey had been a fun guy, and he loved the good times and the parties.
Much like Dusty.
She blinked back tears. She was setting herself up for another fall, wasn’t she? Only this time she had two—make that three—kids to drag down with her. She should turn the car around and go...anywhere but Dusty’s. She clicked on the turn signal and pulled into his driveway. Maybe tomorrow she’d find somewhere else to live. Except she knew as well as Dusty that the only homes available to rent were drafty summer houses that were impossible to heat. She was backed into a corner with no way out. God, she hated her life.
* * *
DUSTY CLIMBED OUT of his truck and welcomed the cold as he waited for Teressa. He’d never in his life wanted to hit a woman before, but he was ashamed to admit he’d come close tonight. What kind of mother talked to her daughter that way? It burned a hole in his gut wondering how long Teressa had been putting up with that crap.
Collina was a small village, and if Teressa had ever been promiscuous, he’d never heard about it. And he’d always paid attention when the gossip involved her. He had no patience for the women-are-sluts, guys-are-studs bullshit. People were people, and normal people needed sex.
He leaned against the truck fender and crossed his ankles. Okay, so he hadn’t liked it when she went out with Corey, but he’d been dating... He frowned and tried to recall who he’d been dating at the time. Patricia? Sherry? Point was, he wasn’t a saint. But when she got pregnant... Yeah. Whole different ballgame. As far as he knew, Teressa had only had two boyfriends, and Stan, Brendon’s father, had been more a bad idea than a boyfriend.
The point was Mrs. Wilder had no business talking to her daughter that way. Teressa was a good mom and a good woman. Earlier tonight, when her mother had bad-mouthed her, Dusty had watched something die in Teressa’s eyes. She seemed to shrink right in front of him. That was so wrong. She worked hard to keep her little family together and to make a success of the café. He knew she’d always wanted to be a chef somewhere fancy, but he rarely heard her complain about being head cook at his family’s café.
He’d been so proud of her a couple of months ago, about the same time their child had been conceived, when she’d managed to come up with the funds to buy a third share of the café. Adam had decided to buy in to the deal as the second partner, but then Sylvie realized she needed to hold on to a part of the café that had been originally bought for their mother, and became the silent third partner. Dusty smirked. Silent, as in not working there daily. She was pretty damned vocal about her vision for the future of the café.
He straightened away from the truck and pulled up a smile as Teressa drove into the yard. She was going to have a fit when she saw the shape his house was in. He should have gone inside and tried to straighten stuff up.
“Want me to get Brendon?” he asked when she got out of the car.
“Could you carry Sarah instead? It’s dark out here and she’s heavier.”
“Sorry. I’ll get an outside light hooked up tomorrow.” Right after he renovated the entire house.
He leaned down into the car. “Hey, Sarah. How about a piggyback to the house?”
She looked at him suspiciously. “What’s a piggyback?”
“I’ll show you. You get out of the car, and I get down like this. Now, you put your arms around my neck, and up we go.” He grabbed her legs and pulled them around his waist. Sarah squealed as he stood, and she grabbed a handful of his hair.
“Look at me, Mommy.”
Teressa pulled out of the backseat with a sleeping Brendon in her arms. She gave her daughter a weary smile. “You have to let go of Dusty’s hair, honey, but hold tight to his neck.”
Sarah released her death grip on his head to clamp a tiny hand right on his larynx. Dusty tried to breath, but his throat was blocked. He galloped to the house, anxious to get her off his back.
He put her down as soon as he reached the back stoop, took her hand and went inside, switching on the kitchen light. Teressa followed on his heels. They stood, silent, surveying the gutted house. The cold, gutted house. He’d been so excited that Pops had given him money to work with that he’d forgotten to start a fire before going to Teressa’s to tell her the good news.
“I know it’s a mess,” he began. Sarah let go of his hand and slipped behind her mother. Teressa looked everywhere but at him, tears brimming in her eyes.
“We’re going to fix it up,” he said in a loud voice. “I’ve hired Josh to work on the house instead of coming out on the boat with me. Cal said he’d help when he could, and Adam will, too. And me, of course. And you.” He sent a silent plea to Teressa. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
“Of course it is,” Teressa said in a too bright voice. “Where are the bedrooms? Sarah and Brendon need to be in bed.”
He cleared his throat, feeling like a total loser. “Um...the bedrooms are crammed full of stuff right now. But I’ve got a king-size bed, and there’s lots of room for you and the kids.”
Teressa’s mouth hung open. “I’ll sleep out here,” he said and waved vaguely around the living room. “Just let me change the sheets on my bed.” And pick up the dirty clothes he’d left on the floor after his shower. And, hell, that magazine Andy had given him as a joke for his birthday last month.
He left them standing in the middle of the living room, looking like shell-shocked refugees. What was he supposed to have done? He couldn’t leave them at Teressa’s mom’s, and the closest hotel open at this time of the year was sixty kilometers away.
You could have taken them home. Although his father had given the old family house to Sylvie, he still thought of the house as home. Sylvie was living with Adam in his tiny house next door to the family home, because they planned to start renovating the old house soon, if they hadn’t already.
The truth was he needed to take care of Teressa and the kids himself. Which was stupid and selfish and proved he hadn’t a clue what he was doing.
Sarah stood in the bedroom doorway, clutching her doll to her chest.
“Where’s your mother?”
“In the bathroom, crying.”
Hell. “Brendon?”
“He’s sleeping on the couch.” She stepped into the room. “You’re a bigger slob than Brendon.”
“I can change.” He tucked the edge of the bottom sheet under the mattress corner.
“How come Grammy hit Mommy?”
Because she was an evil witch. Dusty punched the pillow before he put it back on the bed. “I don’t know. I don’t know your grammy very well, but it’s wrong to hit people.”
“You hit that man at the bonfire.”
The annual bonfire, a couple months ago. He couldn’t remember if he’d hit the SOB who’d been sniffing around Teressa that night or not. He’d been so drunk he doubted he’d done any damage, and he’d been too embarrassed afterward to ask. He’d gotten the idea that he and Teressa were going to the bonfire together. Sort of like a couple. But she’d turned up with that tourist who’d been hanging around her, and when one of his buddies had passed Dusty the rum, he’d gotten a glow on.
No wonder Teressa wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of marrying him. At thirty-two, he still acted like a kid. He had to grow up fast.
“Are those your pajamas?” He threw the comforter over the clean bed.
“Yes.”
“Okay, climb in bed. I’ll get your brother.”
“What about Mommy?” she asked after crawling under the blankets. She looked so tiny in the middle of his bed.
“I’ll get her after you guys are settled.”
Two minutes later he carried Brendon to the bed and tucked the sleeping boy in beside his sister. “Is he supposed to go to the washroom or something?” The last thing he needed was kid pee on his expensive mattress.
“No, silly. He wears diapers at night.”
“Right. Okay. So, lights. Want them off or on?”
“Off, but leave the door open.”
He switched off the light and edged toward the door. “I’ll get your mom now.”
“Dusty?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re supposed to kiss us good-night.”
He felt a weird snick inside, almost as if something was clicking into place. He strode back to the bed, dropped a kiss on Sarah’s forehead, then leaned over her and kissed Brendon. “Good night, funny-face,” he said from the doorway.
Sarah giggled. “That’s not my name.”
Dusty smiled in the dark. “It is now.”
His smile slipped as he faced the closed bathroom door. He stared at it for a couple of minutes like the dumb idiot he was, then turned and walked back to the living room. Teressa had once told him she’d never caught a break in her life, and now here she was, stuck with him, a place she’d never wanted to be. He needed a beer.
He went to the kitchen, grabbed a beer and popped the lid. He didn’t know what to say to Teressa to make her feel better. Your mother’s a bitch, forget about her? Everything’s going to be okay? Was it? He and Teressa squabbled on a regular basis, and that was with not nearly as much at stake. He had feelings for her, but were they enough to sustain them through having a child together?
He took a swig of beer. And yeah, he resented that she had children with two other guys. She’d have been smarter if she’d hung out with him. Except he’d been busy with...Suzy? Julie? He was such a shit. How could he be mad at Teressa for doing exactly what he’d been doing at the time? He put his beer on the counter and called Sylvie to let her know what had happened and ask for a favor. When he hung up, he went back to the bathroom. He had to at least try to make Teressa feel better.
He knocked softly on the door. “You okay?”
“Um, yes, of course.” He heard her run the water in the sink.
“We need to talk, Teressa.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
He stared at the door, waiting for her to say something else. Something smart-ass, like she usually did. After a couple of minutes he went back to his beer in the kitchen. He was out of his depth, and he wished someone would give him a checklist. Crying woman locked in bathroom—break down door. Check. All that would do was wake up the kids.
He tensed when he heard the bathroom door open and close. It took a few minutes, but Teressa finally walked into the kitchen. Shuffled into the kitchen. Hell. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop from hauling her into his arms. Her eyes and nose were red from crying.
He and Teressa may have had their differences from time to time, but underneath all the stuff that went on between them, they were good friends. Teressa was a fighter, but her mother’s attack must have knocked her for sixty. And then, to come here to this mess.
“It’ll get better. I promise.”
She hugged herself. “Sure.”
“We’ll go to town tomorrow and pick up a few things. You have to start making a list of what we need. I mean, I know what building materials, but we’ll get a new stove and fridge, too. What else?”
She took a weary look around the kitchen. “What’s wrong with that stove? We don’t need to buy new. You can’t afford it, and neither can I.”
“The oven doesn’t work. What else do you need?”
She stuffed her hands into the sleeves of her faded pink dressing gown and hunched her shoulders. Damn it. He hadn’t meant to snap at her. He’d been meaning to get the oven fixed for months, but what did he need an oven for when he had a microwave?
“Hey.” He stepped into her space and waited until she looked at him. “It’s killing me, you acting like this. I need you to be fighting mad.”
“You hate when I argue with you.”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know. I like you just the way you are. Or the way you are most of the time. Spicy.” He raised his eyebrows up and down.
She glanced longingly at his beer. “Wish I could have one of those.”
He slapped a notepad and pen on the island in front of her. “Grocery list. We’ll pick up some food tomorrow, too. We’ll have to leave here by two.”
“I can’t. I’m working.”
“Adam said he’d cover for you, and Sylvie will babysit the kids. I need you to go to town with me, Teressa. There’s some business we need to take care of.”
“Like what?”
Oh, no. If he got into that, they’d be up all night arguing. Best to spring it on her at the last minute. “Stuff.” He finished his beer and put the empty on the counter. “If it’ll make it easier for you, I’ll quit drinking beer.”
A gleam sparked in her eyes. “You? Quit drinking? Now I’ve heard everything.”
“No biggie.”
She hooted with derision. Personally, he thought she was overreacting, but he let it go.
“Want to bet?” she challenged him.
He may not have liked the direction of the conversation, but at least Teressa was back in fighting form. This was familiar ground for them. They were always challenging each other over silly things.
“Absolutely. A hundred bucks says I can quit drinking anytime I want.”
“I don’t have a hundred dollars.”
His smile grew wider. “What have you got?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” He loved watching her face turn a rosy pink as she punched him on the arm. She knew him too well. “I’ll let you pick out the name for the baby.”
“Really?” He frowned. “That’s a big responsibility.”
“I didn’t say I’d agree to use it.”
“What about the last name?”
“What about it?”
“I’d like my child to have my last name.”
She shook her head. “That won’t work. Both Sarah and Brendon have Wilder as their last name. It’ll be too confusing if their brother or sister has a different one.”
“That sucks. I just assumed when I had kids they’d have my name.” It surprised him how much it bothered him.
A yawn caught him by surprise. Because he had to start work so early in the morning, he was usually in bed by now. “We’ll talk about the name thing again. I’m too tired to argue with you right now. I’ve got to grab my clothes and sleeping bag out of the bedroom. I’ll try not to wake you in the morning.”
“Dusty?”
He stopped and turned back to her. “Yeah?”
“Thanks. For everything. I know you must be freaking out about...well, everything. If this—” she swept her hand as if to include the room “—doesn’t work out, I’ll find somewhere else to live.”
For the first time since he’d walked into her house tonight, panic tiptoed up his spine. They both knew there was nowhere else for her to live in Collina, except with her parents, and if he had any say in the matter, that wasn’t going to happen. He’d move out and let them have the house if he had to. But he knew if he told her that, she was contrary enough to pack up and leave that night.
But truthfully, the prospect of her—and Sarah and Brendon—staying was just as scary. It was a helluva situation they’d dug themselves into.
“Pops says you only get to live your life a day at a time. How about we concentrate on getting through tomorrow?”
“It’s a place to start,” she agreed.
He hated the sad smile on her face, and to stop himself from hugging her, he busied himself picking up a pair of dirty socks he’d kicked off by the door earlier. They both could use a hug, but she looked so fragile right now, he didn’t dare touch her. Last time he’d done that, she’d gotten pregnant.
