Love Rekindled (Love Surfaced) (14 page)

“He’s her father.”

He inhales a deep breath and his eyes follow me while I slide into the chair opposite him.

“It’s not because of Em that you’re giving him a chance.”

I nod.

“Do you still love him?”

My fingers knot together and I look down at the carpeted floor. I’m not going to shatter him.

“Do you?” His voice rises and my shoulders shake from the surprise. I thought I would be unable to be that truthful to him, but with his voice rising, he’s asking for it.

I lift my head and allow my eyes to lock with his. He will not intimidate me. I might feel guilt for allowing him to accept a role that wasn’t his in the first place, but I never stepped over that line. Not even an awkward hug was exchanged between us. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

“I do.”

His eyes darken as he stands up, snatching his coat from the arm of the chair. All his movements sharp and deliberate.

“Figures. Don’t women always want what they shouldn’t?” he mumbles and stalks toward the door. “I promise you, Taylor, he’ll hurt you again. But now it’s not only you, it’s Em, too. What are you going to tell her the next time you find him with some trash?”

I swallow down the words that I still fear every day.

“You don’t have to worry about it if it happens. I’ll handle it.”

“Damn right you will. Seriously,”—his fists clench in the air, his knuckles whitening, and it’s the first time I’ve witnessed this side of him, when his control is hanging on by a thread—“why do you Delaney girls want these boys, who treat you like shit? What’s wrong with the good guys, who cook you dinner, take care of your kids, and want to spend evenings wrapped up in only you?”

My breathing stutters, because if this world made sense, I wouldn’t want a guy who cheated on me with some girl, whose name he probably doesn’t remember. I’d want a man like Sam—reliable, caring, and loving. But I can’t help but remember Brad has those qualities too. Most of all, I can’t deny that my heart belongs to Brad.

“What can I say, Sam? Do you want to hear all the details? How my heart yearns for his arms to hold me at night. That seeing him with Em ignites this fire so deep and hot, I’m not sure I can hold myself back. I love him, and yes, we’ve both done shitty things to each other, but I never stopped loving him.”

He huffs and back steps to the door. “You disgust me,” he sneers and opens the door. “Go fuck your life up just like your sister.”

At first, I’m taken aback by his insults. It’s out of character for the Sam I know. But being unable to hold my mouth back at any point in my life, I have the last word before the door clicks shut. “Go to hell.”

The door closes and I rush over, flicking the lock. My back rests along the door and my body slides down until my ass hits the floor. “He’s wrong. Brad will not hurt me this time around,” I murmur, hoping like hell if I repeat it enough times my fear will never come true.

“Oh, Em, help Mommy out a little.”

Em is standing at my legs, grasping for dear life as I try to pack her things for the weekend trip. I’ve picked up my phone at least five times this morning, ready to cancel on Brad. The thought of meeting his parents after hiding Em’s existence doesn’t give me the warm fuzzies. Then add on the fact I invited myself. My only hope is, by some off chance, Piper’s in town.

“Mama,” she whines, and my shoulders slump, looking down at her, eager for me to hold her.

“One minute, okay?” I abandon her bag and sit in the rocker. She climbs onto my lap with my help and we sit there for a minute. Her hands roam over my face and play with my hair. “You’re going to meet some people today,” I say.

“Yeah,” she replies, her standard answer for almost anything I say.

“Your grandparents.”

“Papa,” she says, and I shake my head. She thinks she’s seeing my dad, who doesn’t even know anything about Brad, or the fact I’m leaving town for a few days. His life is that barstool at Carolle’s Tap.

“New grandparents.”

She busies herself with what I can assume is memorizing the features on my face, which makes me believe I’m having a one-way conversation with myself.

“Brad’s,” I say, and her hands stop on my face, her eyes widen.

“Dada?” My head draws back and she claps her hands like I just announced we were going to have ice cream.

“Dada?” I question, because it’s not something we’ve ever discussed. Not that she can make sense of our unusual situation, being only twenty-two months.

“Dada?” She twists around, her eyes examining every nook and cranny in the room. Not seeing what she wants, she climbs down from my lap and walks out of the room. “Dada,” she repeats. “Dada!” Every time she says it, she’s more insistent, and I wonder if she’s looking for Sam.

She rolls on her stomach and slides down the stairs as I follow her, wondering where she’s going. “Em, I need to pack your bag. Dada, or whoever you believe is Dada, isn’t here,” I say, but she never turns around. Once her little feet hit the bottom of the stairs, she scampers over to the window, drawing back the curtain.

“Dada!” she screams. She peers up at me and out the window again. “Dada!” Flabbergasted by this whole exchange, I kneel down by her at the window, seeing no one except a man walking his dog across the street.

“That’s not Dada, baby.” My hand smoothes down her unruly hair. I make a mental note to pull it up into pigtails before we leave. No need for Brad’s parents to think I’m incapable of grooming their grandchild.

“Dada!” She pounds on the glass, and I grab her hand.

“That’s not Dada,” I repeat, trying to persuade her back upstairs.

Just as we’re passing the front door, the doorbell rings. I glance at the clock on the wall, noticing it’s only eight, then back down to my unshowered self. Letting go of Em’s hand, I walk to the door and investigate through the peephole. Brad stands there with his hands in his jacket pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“You’re early,” I say through the door, running a hand through my greasy hair.

“Thought you might need help.”

“I’m not ready.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. Why are we having this conversation through the door?”

“Because I’m not ready.”

“Open the door, Taylor.”

“No.”

“I held your hair back while you threw up Taco Bell in an alley. Open the door.” My shoulders slump. He has a point. “Maybe we should discuss the times we’d screw each other in the morning, or how I ventured down—”

I unlock the door and open it up before he can finish. “No need to go down memory lane,” I say once we’re standing face to face.

“Dada!” Em screams and runs toward him. Brad’s barely able to pull his hands out of his pockets to catch her.

“Emerson.” He scoops her up and she runs her hands down his scratchy beard.

“I quite enjoyed thinking about those times when you couldn’t keep your hands off me,” he softly says, and presses his lips to Em’s forehead.

“Well, that’s probably how we got her,” I mention, twisting my mop of hair into a ball behind my head.

“Let’s make some more.” He chuckles, and a nervous laugh sneaks out, unsure how serious he is.

“You mind filling me in on why she’s calling you Dada?” Em’s admiring eyes stare up at her dad like he’s Santa Clause. She already loves him. Those annoying words Sam spilled out last night float back to the forefront of my mind. Brad will stick around, I’m sure of it.

“I taught it to her.” A proud expression splashes across his face and he carries Em into my house.

“When?” I shut the door and flick the lock while trying not to inhale his cologne that makes me dizzy with want.

“We worked on it when I’d pick her up. Who am I, Emerson?” he prompts her.

“Dada,” she answers, and he reaches into his pocket to grab a row of Smarties. He unrolls it and hands her a colored sugar disc.

“Good job.” She places it on the tongue she’s stuck out once she answered.

“She’s not a dog,” I comment. “It’s like you’re conducting Pavlov’s experiment while I’m at work.”

“No, it’s not. I don’t give her the reward, and then she says it. It’s reinforcement. She says Mama and she should say Dada too.” He places her on the ground and she scurries over to her toy bin. “And not to that jackass,” he whispers only to me, and I roll my eyes because this whole thing is so Brad.

I exhale a deep breath and decide not to fight. I took enough away from him all those years ago.

“Do you mind watching her while I shower?” I begin to back step to the stairs, and he sits with Em on the floor.

“Not at all. Em likes spending time with her Dada.” He laughs, tickling her, which entices her laughter, and then he looks back to me with a cocky grin. All I can do is smile back because they are terribly cute together.

“I’ll be fast.”

“Taylor?” Brad yells, and I stop, looking back over to him.

“You’re a knock-out in the morning.” One side of his mouth curves up and a rush of heat floods my body. After a deep inhale, I double-time it up the stairs before I run over to him and sprinkle kisses all over his face.

An hour later, we’re packed up in Brad’s truck and on our way out of Roosevelt.

“Good riddance,” I say as we pass the Leaving Roosevelt sign.

“That’s not nice,” Brad comments, fiddling with the radio.

I glance back at Em staring out the window, holding one of the princess dolls that her Dada gave her. Her eyes are droopy, signaling she’s close to falling asleep.

“I hate this town,” I whisper, which he should already know. I rambled on enough about it in college. But then again, maybe he wasn’t listening.

“I remember,” he says on cue, and my heart thaws more toward him. He reaches across the center console and squeezes my leg. “Why did you come back?”

I look over my shoulder, finding Em asleep, so I turn my eyes to Brad, who I find is checking on her in the rearview mirror, too. At this rate, my heart will be leaping out of my chest and into his hands before we hit his parents’ house.

“My sister had promised to help me, but that was short-lived. She vanished before I delivered. Actually, the day I went into labor she disappeared. The nurse kept trying to call her, but she never picked up. I delivered Em by myself with a nurse holding my hand.”

I hear his quick intake of breath next to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel sorry for me.”

He shakes his head and his eyes focus on the road in front of us. “I wish things would have been different. The thought of you by yourself is hard to swallow.”

It had been excruciating at the time. I never thought we’d get through it, but we did. “It was my own doing.” I cross my legs and shift them toward the window, because if he tries to console me now, I’m fairly sure my willpower will wane.

“No one deserves to go through that alone. I wish you would have told me.”

But I didn’t and I can’t change that fact, so I don’t respond and he seems to drop the topic.

“I told my parents about Emerson. You should be prepared by knowing that Tanner’s parents live next to mine, so they might come by too. It might be awkward at first.”

“Were your parents upset that they are just finding out now?” I feel like my lungs are on fire and I can’t catch my breath from the anxiety resting in my chest.

“A little. I explained the situation, but I’ll run interference if need be.”

“Brad, maybe I shouldn’t go.” I turn my body to face him. I don’t do confrontation well, and it sounds like there could be an altercation. The last thing I can deal with is Brad fighting with his parents.

“Don’t be silly. They’ll forgive and forget.” He waves me off. I’m guessing they’ve forgiven and forgotten his mistakes.

His hand on my thigh pulls me from my thoughts. “Hey, don’t worry. I promise my parents are as great as me. Hell, they raised me. They know what a screwup I am, so don’t worry. Plus, I’ll never let them treat you bad. Not that they would. Fuck, listen to me ramble.” He shakes his head as though that will stop his mouth from moving.

“Okay.” What else could I say at this point?

“Do you remember Bea from college? Piper’s friend?”

The sassy blonde that always made rude comments to me. How could I forget? “Yeah.”

“She and Tanner’s brother, Dylan, have some screwed and weird thing going on, so they might join us for dinner one night.”

“Great.” Too bad the sarcasm didn’t leave my tone before the word came out.

Brad looks over and smiles. “I gotcha. Don’t worry.”

No matter how many times he promises it, my level of anxiety continues to rise. I can’t help thinking,
what did I sign myself up for?