Emily mulled over what he’d told her. After a pause, she asked carefully, “You never considered not marrying Kristi when she told you she was pregnant? Never questioned that the baby was yours?”
“I knew he was mine. And, no, I had no intention of allowing a child of mine to be born without my name. Old-fashioned of me, maybe, but that’s the way I was raised.”
“Too bad all men don’t take that kind of responsibility for their actions,” Emily said. “My cousin Savannah got pregnant with her twins when she was only seventeen. The father denied all responsibility and even got a bunch of his friends to lie that they had slept with Savannah. She swore to us that Vince had been the only one, and we believed her.”
“Vince Hankins.”
Wade said the name with a confidence that suggested he’d already heard the rumors. Emily wasn’t surprised, considering the efficiency of the Honoria grapevine, and the lingering fascination wi
th the McBride family in general. “Yes. The jerk. I wouldn’t ever buy a car from him if I were you. Any guy who could lie as well as he did at seventeen is probably a master of the skill by now.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I could never respect a man who didn’t take responsibility for his own children.”
“As it turned out, Savannah and the twins were better off without him, anyway. They’re so happy with Kit—Christopher Pace, the writer. He and Savannah were recently married.”
“I’m a big fan of his work.”
“He’s good, isn’t he? I liked his futuristic thrillers even before Savannah met him. She was reluctant to get involved with him at first because of his celebrity. She’d been the subject of so much gossip here in Honoria that she developed a real obsession about her privacy. Of course, marriage to a man who makes his living writing bestselling books and blockbuster screenplays hardly guarantees that. But Kit quickly won her over.”
“I’m glad things have worked out for her and the kids.”
“So am I. I’m very close to both Savannah and Tara. They were like sisters to me growing up, and Tara’s younger brothers were my playmates. I never got a chance to know my mother’s family—most of her relatives moved away long ago, and my father never attempted to stay in touch with them. The McBrides have always been my only family, just as this has been the only home I’ve known.”
“And yet you’re still planning to leave at the end of the year.”
She caught her breath. “Yes,” she answered quietly after a moment. “I’m planning to leave.”
Because she didn’t want to think of leaving while lying in Wade’s arms, she quickly changed the subject. “Are you hungry? I have about a dozen casseroles in the refrigerator. Several of my neighbors brought food when they heard what happened here last night—the standard small-town response to disaster,” she added with a slight laugh. “As though green-bean casserole could make anything better.”
“You have a lot of friends in this town, Emily. A lot of people who know just how special you are. The others—well, they simply don’t matter,” he said firmly.
She didn’t know if he was referring to Sam Jennings and April Penny, or if he’d heard other slurs, but she appreciated his words. “Thank you. I try not to let the gossip bother me as much as it did Savannah, but sometimes it’s hard to ignore. Especially when they talk about Lucas. Whatever you’ve heard, Wade, my brother didn’t kill anyone. I will never believe otherwise.”
“I would never judge a man’s guilt without solid evidence,” he assured her. “Or listen to gossip.”
“Good for you. As you pointed out, the ones who say the nasty things about my family and me don’t really matter.”
“So why are you letting them run you out of town?”
The blunt question startled her into sitting upright. She made a hasty grab for the sheet to cover her bare breasts as she stared down at Wade, who still rested rumpled and relaxed against her pillows. “No one is running me out of town, Wade. I’m leaving by my own choice.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Stung by his obvious skepticism, she persisted. “I am. I need to know that I can make it on my own.”
“I have no doubt of that. But I still think there’s a very real possibility that you’re acting on an impulse you’ll regret. You aren’t a footloose adventurer, Emily McBride, no matter how much you fantasize about being one. You’ll probably enjoy your travels for a short while, but then you’re going to think of home. And you’re going to miss it.”
She frowned. “Oh, you’re psychic, are you?”
“No. Just a pretty fair judge of character. Comes with the job.”
“Well, you’re wrong this time. You’re assuming that I was always happy in this house, Wade. I wasn’t. My father and I weren’t close. My mother hated this place so badly she left it—and me—behind. My brother couldn’t wait to shake the dust of Honoria off his heels. What is there to hold me here now?”
“Your family. Your friends. Your memories, both good and bad, because they have made you who you are. And—I would like to think—me.”
She bit her lip.
Wade studied her expression, then laughed with little humor. “Or maybe not.”