Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,71

peephole and saw Diane, blotchy-faced and obviously upset, my stomach’s sideways roll morphed into a full-out tilt. A knot formed in my throat and squeezed.

In one smooth motion, I yanked open the door, grasped her arm and pulled her into the foyer.

Her eyes had grown to the size of saucers, tears swimming along the edge of her lower lashes.

I studied her, forcing my lips to form one word. “What?”

Myriad thoughts flew through my mind in the time it took her to answer. The baby. David. Ashley. Ashley and David. Their house. The rink. All of them. None of them. And wasn’t Diane supposed to be under baby house arrest?

“It’s Ryan.”

Ryan?

I’m fairly sure I stopped breathing momentarily. I know for a fact my heart stopped beating.

You can tell yourself you don’t care about someone until the moment you think they might be hurt, or sick, or worse.

The full force of how much I still cared about Ryan hit me like an oncoming locomotive--headlight beaming, horn blaring--knocking me backward until my heels hit the bottom step and I sank onto the stairs.

“Is he...?”

I held my breath waiting for her answer.

Diane nodded. “A daddy.”

A daddy?

I shut my eyes, hating myself for how quickly the tears came, stinging behind my closed lids.

“Girl or boy?” I asked without opening my eyes, but I pulled myself taller, as if a stiff spine could fool anyone, including me, about how much this hurt.

“Girl.”

Diane spoke the word in barely more than a whisper, wedging herself onto the step beside me, squeezing her very-pregnant body between the wall and me. She wrapped one arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.

Poindexter tiptoed down the steps behind us to investigate. He typically hid after I answered the door to make sure whoever stood on the other side posed no threat. Then he appeared.

Had the visitor been a burglar, axe murderer, or door-to-door magazine salesperson, he’d be beneath the bed upstairs by now.

Instead he sat behind me, his furry chest pressed against my back as he lowered his chin to my shoulder, tucking his head against my neck.

“Is she all right? Healthy?” An irrational fear tugged at my insides as I asked the question.

“She’s fine.”

I nodded, happy for that much. “What did they name her?”

Diane shook her head against mine. “I don’t know. Ryan called David, but he didn’t say anything more than she was here.”

She was here.

Ryan’s new daughter. Ryan’s new life.

I had thought I’d be prepared for this. After Emma’s death and Dad’s death, I hadn’t expected this particular moment in my life to be quite as painful as it was, but the deep, throbbing ache in my heart was almost more than I could bear.

“Well,” I forced a note of levity into my voice, even though I knew I’d never fool Diane. “I should have known it would take more than a designer purse sale to get you out of bed this early.”

My voice broke on the last word and a guttural sob punched through my facade of control.

Diane tightened her grip on me, anchoring my head against her neck. Poindexter moved even closer, until I felt like a sandwich filling, pressed between the woman and dog who probably loved me more than most everyone else in my life.

And even though my heart hurt at the mental image of Ryan cradling his new daughter, my head knew I’d survive.

“It’s going to be all right, Bernie,” Diane whispered. “I promise.”

I nodded. I knew she was right, but for the time being, I was content to stay exactly where I was. Safe. Protected.

I could face the world later.

After all, I was fairly sure it wasn’t going anywhere.

o0o

I called out sick to the rink, though based on David’s voice, he hadn’t believed a word of my elaborate fictional disease description.

Matter of fact, he’d sounded sympathetic and concerned.

I scowled.

The whole new in-touch-with-his-emotions David might take some getting used to.

I’d decided to pull a movie marathon.

Why just wallow in my sadness? Why not watch one sappy love story after another to fully reinforce the fact there wasn’t a sign of true love or romance to be had in my life.

After the Dating Now fiasco, I’d let my trial membership lapse, leaving me with just about zero prospects for a love match. And even though he’d been quite friendly in my dream, I hadn’t had a single Number Thirty-Six sighting since I’d verbally attacked him over Poindexter’s near-death experience.

I had just slipped into another blissfully deep sleep when the doorbell rang.

I was beginning to