Chapter Sixteen
“How goes the love fest?” Diane said over the phone.
“Other people simply say hello. Just saying.”
“Other people are boring,” Diane replied. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Clara laughed as she leaned against the rail of Walker’s wraparound balcony. “It’s great.”
“You haven’t lost the spark yet?”
“I’d say more of the opposite.”
“Well, ten years of repressed lust will do that to a couple.”
“Let’s just call it mutual desire, hmm?”
“Call it anything you want. We both know what’s going on behind closed doors. Bow chicka bow wow.”
“What are you, sixteen?”
“Yes. Now give me details.”
“The past week has been…”
Incredible.
Closing her eyes, she remembered the last few days with Walker. Most nights they tumbled into her bed, taking advantage of their limited baby-free time. Then there were the nights when they were too exhausted to do anything more strenuous than fluff the pillow before succumbing to sleep. Nights where she curled around him and woke up with nothing but good dreams.
Though there was a lot more to this than their two-week relationship had encountered yet, every day gave her hope. Maybe this really would be the rest of her life. With Hunter and Walker by her side, there was nothing else she’d ever need.
“That good, huh?” Diane asked.
Clara chuckled into the phone, realizing she’d been lost in thought.
“Yes,” she agreed. “That good.”
“I have to say, I didn’t think Walker had it in him.”
“Me, neither,” Clara said.
“Does this mean you’re going to run away to tour the world on his money with your fabulous family and I’ll be out a reporter?”
“Not on your life,” she said. “Walker is getting more and more confident with Hunter every day, and Emily is a freaking godsend. I’ll be back after next week. My vacation days run out so I pretty much have to return.”
“Be still my heart.”
“Trust me, if your options were going back to work or continuing to have hot sex with a man who’s a genius in more ways than one, you’d want a longer vacation, too.” Clara sighed.
“Next week your deal with Walker will be up, though, right? Have you guys talked about what happens then?”
Some of her contentment drained away. “No.”
It was a topic they both avoided. Soon their twenty-one days would be over. Clara could move back into her little apartment, safe in the knowledge that Walker would be fine as a father.
She hated every day that drew them closer to the finish line.
The last thing she wanted was to move back home and miss seeing Hunter every day. He was growing so fast, if she wasn’t here she’d miss the milestones.
Unease coiled through her. She was getting as attached to the baby as she was to his father. If everything worked out for her and Walker, that was all to the good. But if it didn’t…
She’d lose much more than just a lover.
“We’ll figure it out,” she said more to herself than Diane. “There’s still time to cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“All right. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help. Other than babysitting. I’m not offering that until the kid is old enough to handle his own bodily functions.”
She rolled her eyes. “Babies are adorable.”
“At a safe distance for a limited time, totally.”
Shaking her head, she wandered back inside. “Sounds like Auntie Diane might be an absentee role model.”
“Hey now, I’ll take Hunter to get his first tattoo. And teach him how to hide the beer in high school.”
“Great. You’re already planning on making my kid a delinquent.” She froze at the words. “I mean…”
“I know what you mean,” Diane said, the humor draining from her voice. “Just be careful, Clara. Nothing is set in stone yet.”
“I know that,” she said softly. “I remind myself every single day that this could all be temporary. That’s what Walker wants, after all. No strings, remember?”
“Just take it one day at a time. My advice hasn’t changed.”
“I remember,” Clara said as she heard the lock turn in the door. “I have to go.”
“Sure thing. Call me next week and let me know how this unfolds.”
“Will do. Good luck with the paper.”
Hanging up, she headed for the entranceway as Emily shouldered her way inside.
“Hello,” Emily said cheerfully. “I grabbed the mail on my way up. Here you go.”
She accepted the stack of letters and reached out to help Emily with the grocery bags she was holding.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, carrying them into the kitchen.
Emily shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. What do you want for dinner?”
“Whatever you decide,” she said, thumbing through the letters. “You’re a way better cook than Walker or me.”
“You just need a little practice. Think of all the bake sales and PTA meetings in your future. I’m sure you’ll develop a knack for it.”
Clara smiled at the assurance before her fingers froze on one letter in particular.
“Oh my God,” she said, staring at the return address. “Excuse me. I need to find Walker.”
Not waiting for a reply, she dashed up the stairs and into the nursery.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, shaking a rattle before Hunter.
“Walker,” she said as she burst into the room.
He looked up in surprise. “Are you all right?”
She nodded sharply, her heart in her throat, before holding out a long white envelope. “The paternity results,” she whispered.
His face hardened as he stared at the letter like a snake.
“I know,” she said, dropping to her knees beside him. “I can’t imagine any other outcome than him being yours either.”
“Part of me wants to throw it out.”
She swallowed, setting the letter on the ground. “Your call.” Half of her wanted to burn the thing so they’d never know if they had to give Hunter up. The logical side of her, however, whispered she couldn’t run away. She’d made a name for herself going after the heavy-hitting stories. Was she really going to turn away from the truth now?
Walker picked up the envelope, flipping it over and over in his hands.
“If he’s not mine…”
“Don’t even think it,” she replied. “Look at his eyes. They’re the same blue as yours.”
“Could be coincidence.”
“It’s not,” she said, because she had to be right. No other outcome was acceptable to consider.
“He’s your son. He has to be.”
They both stared at the baby gnawing on a plastic ring.
“He has to be,” she repeated, the words barely a whisper.
He ran his fingers along the sealed edge. “If he is, we celebrate tonight.”
“Deal.”
And if he’s not…what do we do then?
In the past few weeks, she’d seen Walker grow from a man who avoided children like the plague to a caring father who could distinguish between his son’s many cries. What would they do if this was all a lie?
How could we ever survive it?
“I need to know,” he said, looking down at the envelope.
She scooted closer, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. “I’m here,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Taking a breath, he ripped open the top of the letter.
Clara waited with bated breath as he took out the results and skimmed through them. She hadn’t even realized how tense she was until she felt Walker’s shoulders relax.
“He’s mine.” He breathed in wonder.
She exhaled in relief. “He’s yours?”
He handed her the papers, which she eagerly accepted. “It’s 99.9 percent accurate,” she read aloud. “He really is yours.”
“No one can take him away.”
She dropped the papers with utter relief. “You’ve got a kid, Walker.”
“Yeah.” His smile was slow but not less devastating in its joy.
Her heart throbbed in her chest as she watched him. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and it showed on his face.
He glanced back at her before wrapping a hand around her nape and pulling her forward for a searing kiss.
“We’re celebrating tonight,” he said against her lips.
“Hell yes we are. Let’s ask Emily to stay, and we’ll pop open a bottle of wine.”
“Now who’s brilliant?”
As she leaned into the kiss, she couldn’t help smiling. Everything was falling into place one step at a time.
…
He tumbled into bed, Clara in his arms.
“That was a fun evening,” she sighed, snuggling up to his side.
“Yes, it was.”
They’d opened the wine but shared it with Emily as they’d passed the baby around the table, taking turns entertaining Hunter.
The nanny had been as thrilled as they were to learn the baby was officially a Beckett. She’d whipped up a meal that clearly put his meager culinary skills to shame, but none of that mattered. His child was undisputedly his, and his best friend lay in his arms.
When had he gotten so lucky?
He rolled his head to watch her, only to find her looking at him.
“Hey,” he murmured.
“Hey,” she whispered, reminding him of their first time together.
He reached over to brush the hair from her eyes. Her expression was languid but open. Once again, her beauty made him pause. He’d heard her complain over the years that her eyes were a little too wide, her nose a touch too long, her lips too full for the professional persona she tried to project. Staring at her now, all he could think was the flaws she saw made her perfect to him. She was gorgeous in a way no one else would ever be able to match.
Still, he wanted more. More than just hearing about her secret flaws and complaints. He wanted her trust, completely and utterly. Wanted the answers to the riddle she posed.
Would she tell him now what she’d never given him before?
“Can you trust me?” he asked, his voice soft as he traced her features with a gentle fingertip.
“I trust you more than any other person on the planet,” she answered with a laugh.
“But you still have secrets.”
The smile dimmed before she pushed herself up into a seated position.
He followed suit more slowly, loath to leave behind the intimacy between them.
“You’re asking about my past,” she said.
“Yes.”
She grabbed a pillow and hugged it close to her chest.
To distance us? he wondered. Or for comfort?
He slid closer until their knees touched. “You don’t have to tell me. But I’m here if you want to.”
“It’s not a unique story,” she said, picking at the bedspread. “All it will do is make you pity me.”
Cupping her face, he lifted her eyes to his. “You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met,” he told her. “Pity is the last thing I’d ever feel for you.”
Indecision filled her eyes.
“Let me know you,” he whispered, kissing her softly.
She sighed against his lips. “I’ve avoided this story for ten years.”
Hearing the brittleness of her voice, he relented. “You can avoid it for another ten if it makes you feel better.”
She shook her head. “No. You’re right. We’re moving forward for the first time in too long. Couples should trust each other. Should share what matters.”
Couples. Because that’s what we are right now.
Usually the idea of being in a relationship gave him hives, but hearing the word he dreaded on Clara’s lips didn’t seem as bad as he’d thought.
What is she doing to me?
Clara pulled back from his touch, and he let his hands fall as he waited for her to start.
“I wasn’t a baby on a doorstep but I was close,” she finally said.
“What?”
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Except neither of my parents wanted me the way you want Hunter.” She ran a hand down her face. “I was an accident. One that forced two people who were clearly not meant to be together into a permanent bond. Until Dad found a way to make it not so everlasting, that is.”
“Divorce?”
“Yep. He jetted off to Europe with his new arm candy, and that was the last I ever heard from him.”
“At least you had your mother,” he tried, running a hand over her knee.
“That’s one way to look at it.”
Silence stretched and he wondered if he should prompt her for the rest. With her head bent, he couldn’t see her face the way he wanted.
He longed to tell her anyone who left her was an idiot. She was priceless, no matter what her parents thought. But he didn’t want to stop her story if she was finally ready to share it.
“I was ten when Mom remarried. Her new husband was the love of her life, and she was happy to be with him. There was just one problem.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Me.”
“A child isn’t a problem,” he said, mimicking the words she’d once said to him so long ago.
“Yeah, well my new stepdad wasn’t crazy about raising someone else’s kid, and Mom didn’t want to risk her new life. I became…an afterthought, really. The live-in maid ghosting around the house, staying out of the way when I wasn’t wanted. Which was most of the time.”
She drew a deep breath. “Then the first of my stepsiblings was born. My mom’s new husband wasn’t much for the child-rearing, so that fell to Mom. Then she got pregnant almost as soon as my sister was born, this time with twins. By the time I was twelve, I had three baby siblings I needed to help take care of and it didn’t end there. I have five stepsiblings in total. Ones I practically raised by myself when my mother saw I was doing a better job of it than she was and left the chore of settling the babies to me.”
“That’s child abuse,” he said, his voice hard.
She shrugged again. “It’s not like I had anyone to speak for me. Besides, I had a roof over my head and three meals a day. Many others were much worse off than I was.”
“But you were a just a kid with no one to love you.”
Her hands shook before she slid them under her legs out of sight. “I left when I was old enough to do it legally and moved across the country. Our college was the farthest one away I was accepted to.”
“Sweetheart…”
“You see, I’m proud of how you’ve taken in Hunter. He will never be a child who wonders if he’s wanted, and that’s a gift.” She gripped his hands in hers. “You’ll be everything he needs, even if his mother never appears. He’s lucky to have you.”
“He’s even luckier to have you,” he replied. “You improve any life you’re a part of, Clara. Just look at what you’ve done for me.”
She ducked her head again. “I was firmly in my shell when we met. You were the one who brought me back to life again. You never wanted anything from me other than my company. I’d never had anyone in my life I could rely on the way I could rely on you.”
“The feeling was mutual,” he told her. “You were my rock through all those years. I loved you for it.”
She sucked in a deep breath before lifting her eyes to his. “What a pair we were.”
He kissed the back of her fingers. “Are,” he corrected.
“Are,” she agreed in a whisper.
Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself to speak of the one thing he’d tried so hard to leave behind. “It wasn’t my father.”
“What?”
His lips twisted in a mockery of a smile, but after hearing her confessions, how could he withhold his own?
“The parent who left. It wasn’t my father. Most days I wish it had been.”
It was the most he’d ever said aloud about his past.
But this was Clara. If he couldn’t tell her, he’d never tell anyone.