It's Never too Late - By Tara Taylor Quinn Page 0,60

son.

He tried to picture it. To think about holding a child. There was nothing there. He should feel something.

“I have to be able to support a child, Ella,” he said. Finances were the only thoughts he could focus on. “I’ve already used up a full semester’s tuition and there are no refunds on that. I’ve paid the lease for the first semester and accepted a check for living expenses. If I quit school, I’d owe all of that back immediately. I just don’t have the money.” Not even if he cashed in his 401K retirement plan. Not after he took the hits for early withdrawal and taxes. They’d have some left, but not nearly enough to sustain him through an emergency with Nonnie...

He’d emptied his savings account getting him and Nonnie out here and settled in.

He wanted to sleep with another woman.

“I thought about what I said that night you asked me to marry you.” Her tone was back to the one she used at work now and he wondered what she was hiding. “About loving Bierly and never leaving. I was wrong. I can move there, Mark. For us. For the baby. As long as I know it’s only for the time you’re in school and then we can come back here.”

She hadn’t asked how Nonnie was. Still.

Nonnie. Oh, God in heaven, Nonnie. Ella said only her mother knew about the baby, but if that was even true, it wouldn’t be for long. Telephone. Telegraph. Tell Dot. He remembered the joke he’d heard around town more than once after he started dating Ella.

And once people in Bierly knew, Nonnie would find out. Between Facebook and email, Nonnie still knew everything there was to know about everyone in the town where she’d been born and raised. The woman and her computer were a dangerous combination.

“I need some time to think this through, Ella.” He tried to relax the tension radiating through him. “There’s a lot to consider.”

“You taking back that offer of marriage, Mark?”

“You turned me down.”

“Well, now I ain’t. Please, Mark. Don’t leave me in the lurch here.”

He’d told her he’d be back. No matter what. Even after she wouldn’t answer his texts, he’d told her he’d be back.

“It’s late there, Ella.” Almost midnight by his calculation. “Why don’t you get some rest and I’ll call you tomorrow. We can talk about everything then.” His own drawl sounded loudly in his ears. Did he always sound that way? Did Abby think he was some backward hick?

Did he think that of Ella?

Growing colder and sicker by the second, Mark felt like a fool for ever thinking that he could really change his life. He was a high school dropout from Bierly. Always had been. Always would be.

And that was okay. Only problem had been him thinking that he could escape.

He’d been happy before. He would be again.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ADDY FINISHED HER TEA. Took the glass into the kitchen for a refill and just happened to make it from the counter to the refrigerator by way of the living room window.

Mark’s truck was still not in the driveway.

Working late? It wasn’t impossible. With the time he’d missed that weekend, he’d want to make up hours if they were available.

And she had no right to be disappointed. They didn’t even have plans to see each other. She’d just assumed.

Which was why she’d showered and slipped into a lacy white peasant blouse and her favorite jeans. And left off the bra she normally wore with the outfit.

Back in the kitchen, she poured herself half a glass of wine. Just enough to make her sleepy. To take the edge off the nervous tension running through her.

She’d been counting on seeing him. On giving in to the desire that had been haunting her every waking moment.

She’d been the one to insist that they could only exist in the moment. Because she was Adele.

Her emotions were strangling her tonight. Creating a dichotomy within her that had to be soothed so she could sleep. Or work.

Work. Her head hurt when she thought about work. What was she going to do if it turned out that Will had committed litigable acts? How could she help him if she knew he’d done wrong?

How could he have changed so much?

Or had he? She’d been six the last time she’d seen Will Parsons. He’d been twenty-eight or twenty-nine. What did she really know about his character? Other than the fact that he’d been kind enough to spend time with his ten-year-old sister