The Great Escape

“Well, I have, and I’ll tell you what’s not going to happen. I’m not pretending I went to a sperm bank, and I’m not getting rid of this baby.”

He was horrified. “You sure as hell aren’t.”

She went on, still highly pissed. “So what are you going to do about it? Crack up again?”

The way she belittled his past mental problems, as if they weren’t all that important, made him love her even more, if such a thing were possible.

“Well?” She tapped her foot in the wet grass, just as if she were his third-grade teacher. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

He swallowed. “Good job?”

He expected her to take a swing at him for that. Instead, she pursed her lips. “My parents are not going to be happy.”

Surely an understatement. He spoke carefully, fully aware that he was treading on dangerous territory. “What do you want me to do about this?”

She went supersonic. “That’s it! I’m done with you!”

She stomped back toward the house, and since he couldn’t manhandle a pregnant woman like he’d manhandle an unpregnant one, he cut around her. “I love you.”

The brat stopped in her tracks and sneered at him. “You care about me. Big difference.”

“That, too. But most of all, I love you.” His throat grew tight. “I’ve loved you from the moment I found you in that Texas alley.”

Those green-flecked eyes flew wide open. “That’s a lie.”

“It isn’t. I’m not saying I knew I loved you, but I felt something important right from the beginning.” He wanted to touch her—God, did he ever want to touch her—but he was afraid that would only make things worse. “Every moment we’ve been together, I fought to do the right thing. I can’t tell you how tired I am of that. And I think you love me, too. Am I wrong?”

This was the question that haunted him. What if he was wrong? What if she’d meant it when she’d said he’d only been a fling? His instincts told him otherwise, but he was all too aware of the power of self-delusion. He braced himself.

“So what?” Lucy had elevated sneering to an art form. “I thought I loved Ted Beaudine, and look how that turned out.”

He got so light-headed he could barely respond. “Yeah, but he was way too good for you. I’m not.”

“Okay, that’s true.”

He wanted to pick her up, dump her in his car, and drive off, but he doubted either she or her mother’s Secret Service detail would go for that. He dragged in some air and made himself say what he needed to. “Kristi found a counselor for me who’s a veteran. He’s seen combat. We hit it off right away. I won’t say everything’s perfect, but I will say he’s convinced me I’m saner than I thought.”

“He’s wrong,” Madam Sensitive declared. Still, he thought he detected a softening in those big brown eyes, although that might be wishful thinking.

“Tell me how you want to handle this mess,” he said, stopping just short of pleading. “You know I’ll marry you if that’s what you want. I’ll do anything for you. Just tell me what you want.”

Any tenderness he’d imagined vanished, replaced by an icy hauteur. “You’re hopeless.” She stomped through the leaves and up the steps toward the front door. She didn’t slam it in his face, so he deduced he was supposed to follow her inside for more ass kicking.

The imposing entrance hall held a sweeping staircase, impressive oil paintings, and antique furniture that shouted old money, but the abandoned backpacks, bike helmets, and single multicolored kneesock tossed in the corner spoke of younger occupants. She flung her windbreaker on a chair that looked like a loaner from the Smithsonian and turned to face him again. “What if I’m lying?”

He’d stopped trying to wipe the leaves from his shoes on the Oriental carpet that stretched across the doorway. “Lying?”

“What if I’m not pregnant,” she said, “and I’m making this whole thing up. What if I finally saw through that charade you built to protect me—as if I weren’t perfectly capable of protecting myself—and what if I really do love you and this is the only way I could think of to get you back? What would you do then?”

He forgot about his wet shoes. “Are you lying?”

“Answer my question.”

He wanted to strangle her. “If you’re lying, I’m going to be more pissed than you can imagine because, despite everything I’ve said, I want a baby with you. Tell me the truth right now!”

Her eyes seemed to melt. “Really? You really do want a baby?”

Now he was the belligerent one. “Don’t screw with me about this, Lucy. It’s too important.”

She turned away. “Mom! Dad!”

“We’re in here.” A male voice boomed from the back of the house.