about child support?”
“If you decide to be a part of this child’s life, we can talk about how we’ll divide the finances. If not, I don’t want your money. I can take care of myself and my kids.”
Lainey’s got a stubborn streak. It’s there in the flash of her amber-green eyes, the twitch of her nose and rise of her chin. It’s very, very cute.
And confusing as hell.
Because I’ve spent more than half my life being chased by women. They always cared more than I did, were always more invested in the relationship than I was. I’m not saying that to be a douche—it’s just the truth. They wanted the commitment, the promise, the key to the house, the drawer in the dresser, the ring.
But now, this woman could chain me to her for the rest of our lives. And she’s not. Lainey’s not just putting the ball in my court, she’s laying it at my feet and walking away.
I have no idea what to make of her.
Lainey pushes her empty plate back, and takes a drink of her water.
“You don’t have to decide this minute—we have time. You should think about it, figure out what you want.”
She looks up into my face, her big eyes shining, her jaw set.
“The thing is, Dean . . . with kids . . . you have to be sure. Jason’s father isn’t in his life—he never was and I know that was hard for Jason. But it was a clean break, the hurt was allowed to heal. He has uncles and a grandfather who love him and have filled in that space when I can’t. But if his dad had been half in and half out—if he’d let him down, said he’d do things with him then didn’t, if he’d messed with his emotions—that would’ve been like ripping off a scab over and over. It would’ve . . .”
“Scarred,” I finish softly.
Because I get it. I understand what she’s saying. I’ve seen it in my students, and because of my own screwed-up parentage. Kids know when they’re wanted, and when they’re not—and it’s really fucking important that the people closest to them, want them.
“Exactly.” Lainey folds her hands across her stomach, and her pretty mouth purses. “So, if you decide that you’re not up for this—I’ll understand—no hard feelings, really. But if you decide that you’re in, you have to mean it. You have to be sure. You have to be all in.”
I look back into her eyes and it’s like everything inside me is shifting and spinning and upside-down. I don’t know what I’m doing—and I have no idea what I want.
I nod slowly. “That makes sense. Totally reasonable.”
Lainey gives me a soft smile and stands. “Call me if you want to talk some more or if you have any questions.” She tilts her head toward the door. “I’ll be over in the haunted house on Miller Street.”
I chuckle. Then Lainey leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek, and the scent of her surrounds me. I remember that too—the fragrance of her skin, the taste of her—warm and clean and honey-sweet. The way I craved another taste of her for days . . . weeks, after we hooked up.
She straightens up and turns toward the door.
“Hey,” I call softly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why are you being so cool about this? How are you so . . . not freaked out?”
She thinks a moment before she answers.
“I had Jay when I was nineteen—this is not my first time at the unplanned pregnancy rodeo. And, though my family has helped out, I’ve raised him on my own. Every instinct I have tells me you’re a good guy, Dean. A decent guy. So, while I want to do this with you, if it turns out I have to do it without you . . . I know I’ll be okay.” She puts her hand on her stomach. “We’ll be okay.”
~ ~ ~
After Boston Market, I swing by Garrett’s house. Two of his brothers, Connor and Tim, are there and the four of us sit out on the deck around the firepit having a few beers while Connor’s three boys are down at the dock skipping rocks on the lake.
There are four Daniels boys in total—Connor the doctor, Ryan the cop, Garrett, and the youngest—Timmy the fireman. Being best friends with Garrett gave me a taste of what it was like to be a part of a big family, to have brothers who