“August, we’ve met all of twice and—”
“Correction. Today makes three,” I say, adding a smile to show I know how ridiculous it sounds.
The tight lines around her mouth loosen some, too. Humor softens her eyes.
“I stand corrected. Today makes three,” she says, slowly sobering. “But you can’t expect me to walk away from the man I’ve been with for two years. For what? A feeling? An attraction?”
“So youareattracted to me?”
She aims an exasperated look at me, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. I can be . . . attracted to someone without acting on it. That doesn’t mean I’m walking away from my relationship, the father of my daughter who’s taking care of me and my baby.”
“I’d take care of you, if that’s what you wanted.” I force myself to stand, though I’d be content to sit at her feet all night. “But the girl I met in that bar didn’t want to be taken care of. I’d do everything in my power to help you follow your dreams so you could take care ofyourself. And then we’d both know you were with me because you wanted to be, not because you had no other choice.”
I pause, letting my words linger in the air, letting her hear the truth behind what I’ve said. “Ask yourself if Caleb would do the same.”
I’m about to press my point a little more, take advantage of these few, rare moments as much as I can, but the baby chooses that moment to open her eyes.
I’m lost all over again.
Her complexion hovers between the lighter tan of her father and the deeper gold of Iris’s skin. Dark curls frame a tiny face with a button of a nose and a rosy bow of a mouth. The daughter captivates me at a glance, just like her mother did, and my heart falls right out of my chest and lands at this baby’s feet.
“She looks just like you,” I whisper, unable to look away from the little dusky-haired angel in Iris’s arms.
Caleb’s eyes stare back at me, though, a blue so dark they’re almost violet. “But she has her father’s eyes,” I say, my teeth gritted and my jaw clenched.
“Yeah, she does.” Iris stares down at the baby. Her expression doesn’t soften or hold that maternal adoration I’d expect.
For the first time, I see past how beautiful Iris looks, and I see something else. Or maybe I notice the absence of what I’ve seen before. A spark. Life. Vitality.
“Are you doing okay?” I ask softly. “I mean, really okay? What’s going on with you?”
Surprise flits across Iris’s face at my question before she blanks her expression. “I’m fine.”
“Not overjoyed? Deliriously happy?” I tweak one of the baby’s curls, grinning when she gurgles with something close to laughter. Caleb may be an asshole, but his daughter is gorgeous. Perfect
“I just . . .” She sighs and twists her lips into a grimace. “I don’t know, August.”
“Hey. You can talk to me.” I smirk and shrug. “After all, thisisour third conversation. Surely we’re past keeping secrets by now.”
A husky laugh is her only answer. For a few seconds, I wait in the silence, unsure if she’s going to tell me anything. She presses her lips together, and blinks rapidly, but not before a few tears escape over her cheek.
“I don’tfeellike a mother. I feel . . .” She pauses, maybe searching for the right words. Maybe she already has the right words and doesn’t want to say them.
“You talk about that girl you met in the bar,” she continues, brushing impatiently at her tears. “She’s gone. I was offered the job of my dreams, the opportunity I’ve been working toward for years, and I had to turn it down because of this pregnancy.”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I know how badly you wanted to get into sports.”
“I still do.” She sniffs and lifts eyes liquid with disappointment. “But what if I never—”
“You will, Iris,” I cut in.
“I feel like I’m becoming everything I never wanted to be, and I’m not sure how to stop it. I didn’t want this pregnancy.” Her voice pitches low as if, even though her daughter couldn’t possibly understand yet, Iris doesn’t want her to hear. “I didn’t want . . .” She doesn’t say it, but she glances down at the baby snuggled into her chest, and the unspoken words come across loud and clear.
She didn’t wanther. The baby. She didn’t want her.
“I’m an awful person,” she says, her words tortured and choked in sobs. “But I’m determined to take care of her. I want it to be enough, for her to be enough, but I resent everything all the time. It’s all I feel. Everything else seems . . . faded. One minute I’m completely numb, and the next I feel too much, and I’m a blubbering mess.”
An ironic smile quirks her lips, even as tears streak down her face. “See what I mean? I’m all over the place.”
