Chapter Twenty-One

Sacha

The next morning, I woke up ravenous and craving French toast. No wonder, since we ended up in bed before making it to the kitchen. And so far, pregnancy sex had been intense. After last night's session, I'd slept like the dead. Wrapping myself in a robe, I walked to the kitchen to make breakfast while Gib took a shower.

As I busied myself with the preparations, I couldn't help but laugh. All I'd done the past few months was try to convince myself to stay away from Gib, but the man was like sexual quicksand. The harder I tried to get away, the stronger his pull. Learning about what he'd been through with his wife's death had made my final resistance melt away. He was a good guy who'd been through hell. So, what if he wasn't a rock star or a billionaire? He had a good heart and a hot body I couldn't seem to refuse.

I'd always pictured motherhood as my own pursuit, but having someone around to help out now and then would be nice. He seemed sincere in his efforts to prove he'd make a good father and companion. I was honestly running out of reasons to reject him.

I was setting the table when I heard Melanie's signature knock on the door. Gib was still in the bedroom getting dressed so I went to answer it.

"Hey girl. I brought you some muffins and juice. Want to have brunch?"

She didn't wait for an answer but walked in as she normally did, headed for the kitchen. I closed the door with a grin, thankful Gib hadn't wandered out naked.

"Sure, there's room for one more."

The look on Melanie's face as she spun around was comical. Her dark hair was a mess, and she still had on leather pants and a ripped tee, presumably from last night's gig.

"Wait, what? You have company?"

"Yep. Gib stayed the weekend. He went to the gallery thing with me."

"Oooh. Somebody got laid."

I didn't deny it, but didn't agree. My wicked smile spoke for me, confirming Melanie's guess. "Shh. He'll hear you."

"Hear what?"

My heart thumped as Gib's deep voice announced his presence. "Gib, this is my friend Melanie. She lives next door."

He extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Melanie."

She placed the paper bag she was carrying on the counter and shook his hand. "Likewise. I've heard so much about you."

"Well, I hope it wasn't all bad."

"Not all of it."

I was plating the French toast. "Stop, you two. Time to eat."

We spent the meal mostly talking. Melanie was quite chatty for someone who'd been up all night, but she'd told me before that playing a gig always wound her up. She couldn't sleep until at least noon, which it would be by the time we finished brunch. She stopped in the middle of devouring her second helping of French toast to pull an envelope from her jacket pocket.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Some guy was here last night, looking for you. I was leaving for work and he was hanging around your door."

"Looking for me? What did he look like?"

"Tall, thin. Older guy. He gave me this note 'cause you were still out. He wanted to leave it on your door, but he had no tape. He asked me for some, and I told him I'd see you got it."

Gib's brows rose as I shot him a look. He knew as well as I who it was. "Must have been my father again."

Melanie's dark eyes widened. "Again? Cripes, I don't see you for a day or two and miss all kinds of drama."

I rolled my eyes. "It wasn't as much drama as you think. I told him to go away. You can't pop up after almost thirty years and pick up where you left off."

"Well, he didn't take the hint, apparently."

"No surprise."

The envelope sat on the table now, and both Gib and Melanie were eyeing it then looking at me. I simply shrugged and kept eating.

"I want to enjoy my brunch first, if you two don't mind."

Soon the suspense was too much, and I picked up the envelope. My name was written on it in that familiar, messy scrawl Garth had always used. I ripped the seal and extracted the folded paper. My throat was parched despite the large glass of juice I'd just finished. With shaking hands, I held the note up and read.

Pumpkin (I know you hate that, but there was a time you didn't),

There are no words to tell you how sorry I am. I know it won't make a difference now, but I want you to know I do love you. And your mother. I never stopped loving either of you.

I did some bad things in my life, and God has seen fit to make me pay. I had cancer years ago. I finally beat it, after a long struggle. But I guess the joke's on me because it has shown up again. I'm not sure if I'll beat it this time around, so I knew I had to make amends. That's why I had to see you again, if only to beg your forgiveness, so I can die with a peaceful heart.

Someday if you're willing to sit down with me, I'll explain more about why I left. Until then, just know how happy I was to see you healthy and living a great life. I wish I could be around to see my grandson or granddaughter, but who knows.

I'll be here for a few days more. Call me if you want to talk or get together.

Take care of yourself, Pumpkin.

Love, Dad

His phone number was scrawled on the bottom of the note, along with three x's and o's. Was he trying to be cute?

I let the paper slip from my fingers onto the table. I blinked twice, but the tears welled up anyway. I looked up at Melanie, and then at Gib. I must have looked like I was about to crumble, because in a split second, both had their arms around me. They held on, hugging me as I cried.

My shoulders shook as the sobs came. I hadn't meant to react, not in front of anyone. But Mel and Gib weren't just anyone, and my guard fell. I took in a big breath then put into words what I felt in my heart.

"He's still an ass. And he's right, it doesn't make a difference."

I let them read the letter, and after handing it back, they both looked at me, not saying a word. This was my decision to make, and making it was breaking my heart. No, Garth Rowan was breaking my heart, all over again. My friends were still silent, so I let my anger out.

"Well, it doesn't. I'm sorry he's sick, but that's the only reason he's trying to make peace, so he can die with a clean conscience. He doesn't really care about us, no more than he ever has."

I tossed the note back on the table and walked to my bedroom to have a good cry. The sound of the door slamming behind me wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped. Throwing pillows across the room helped, as did kicking over the wastepaper can in the bathroom.

I turned on the shower. Maybe the hot water would rinse away the disgust I felt holding that note. Once the water was cascading over me, I slid down the wall into a crouching position and let the tears flow.

~*~

By the time I emerged from the bedroom, Gib had cleaned the kitchen and Melanie had gone home. He stood staring out the window, holding a mug. As he took a sip, his eyes watched me cautiously. It was the same look he'd had last night before calling me a "she-bear."

The recollection made me smile, and his face relaxed. For the first time, I noticed a few wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and a few stray white hairs in his blond beard. We both weren't getting any younger, were we?

"Gib, I'm sorry for my outburst. I guess I have a lot of baggage where he's concerned."

He set down the mug to fold me into his arms. "It's okay. I understand. We all have baggage, you know."

"I know."

He held onto me, rocking us slowly back and forth. I'd decided in the shower the time had come to tell Gib about my job situation. I hated my father for never being honest, and I didn't want to be like him in any way. I hadn't lied exactly, but there comes a point when keeping the truth from someone can be as harmful.

Sometimes the truth isn't what we want to hear, but it's exactly what we need.

Plus, I had to admit, I was no longer as excited about the new training position. It would take me further away from Gib. He must have sensed my discomfort because he looked down at me with a question in his eyes.

He released me from the hug. "Is something wrong?"

"Let's sit down. We need to talk."

As I sat on the sofa, I winced. That dull ache in my lower back had returned, and my abdomen felt heavy. Maybe the sex had stirred something up. If it continued, I would call Dr. Kapoor in the morning.

Gib sat facing me. I placed a throw pillow on my stomach, which helped ease the ache a bit.

"So last night was more of an interview than a networking event. Mr. Redfield, the artist's father, may be hiring me soon. I think it went well."

"That's great, darlin'. No wonder you were nervous."

"I was, a little. Anyway, the thing is, if he hires me, I'll be moving to Birmingham."

"Alabama? Oh. Will you still have to travel so much?"

He didn't seem upset. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "Some, but not like I do now. I'll be training reps in the region."

"Is this what you really want? I mean, is it your dream job?"

His question caught me by surprise. Dream job? Where did that come from?

"Well, no. Liquor sales has never been a dream job, but it pays the bills nicely. This new position would pay better and will involve less travel. If I could choose my work situation, I'd really love something I can do at home so I can be with the baby. But that's not likely to happen."

He smiled then winked at me. "So, being a stay-at-home mom is your dream job?"

Damn him, it kind of was. Would staying at home mean I was selling myself short?

It really didn't feel that way. I loved my independence and my career. But my child would always come first, no matter what.

"I never thought of it that way, but yes. I'd love to be able to afford to spend time with the baby, especially the first few years. But that's not likely to happen anytime soon, so I'll do whatever it takes to give him or her a good life. I'll always do my best at whatever job I happen to have."

He looked thoughtful, holding his chin in his hand. Something about his eyes told me he was formulating a plan. "Hmmm. Well, you know I'll support your decision, whichever way you choose to go. And I agree, the baby's needs should come first. Work will always be there."

I nodded. I was glad the Alabama thing didn't upset him, but it made me wonder why. "So, you know this means we'll be even farther apart if you're still living in Tilly."

He took my hand in his. His touch was warm, sending a tingle through me, but the dull ache in my back overrode my desire.

"That's true. But I have an alternative that might work for both of us. Before I explain, I'd like to show you something."

His smile was that of a child who peeked downstairs at Christmas before dawn. He was hiding something.

"What is it? You know I don't like surprises. Just ask my father."

His brows rose, but he took my hand and kissed the back of it. "It's better if I show you. Can we take a short drive?"

~*~