And I can, I realize.
I’m not going to let Bridget or anyone else control me again. Now that I know what it feels like to be loved—really loved, by a woman who accepts me for who I am—I realize I was never doing Bridget any favors. She’s never going to grow up and change her ways if people keep indulging her, and the kind of relationship she forced on me wasn’t love.
It wasn’t anything remotely close.
“All right.” Maddie squeezes my shoulder on the way to the door. “But call me if you need me.”
“Thanks, will do.” I hold Bridget’s gaze as Maddie starts down the stairs.
Bridget swallows hard, her thin neck visibly working. “Is this what you want, Mick? To make the mother of your baby feel like a slut?”
I pull in a ragged breath. I don’t think Bridget would lie about something like this, and she never even glanced sideways at another guy while we were together—but God, what if Maddie’s right?
What if Bridget made this happen?
What if she deliberately tampered with the condom?
I wouldn’t put it past her. She wouldn’t have thought about the moral implications of using a baby as a pawn or all the far-reaching consequences of her actions. She would have only thought that having my baby would bind me to her in a way I wouldn’t be able to escape.
“Please, Mick,” she continues. “You know me. There has never been anyone for me but you. Seriously, I don’t know what you want from—”
“I want some time to think,” I cut in, rubbing my temple, which started throbbing the second I spotted her downstairs. “And I want to know why you didn’t tell me sooner. Why keep it a secret until it’s so close to time for the baby to be born?”
She glances down at the warm milk in her hands. “I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” The more I think about it, the stranger it seems that she waited so long to contact me. Sure, I changed cell phones, but she knows where my family lives. Obviously. It isn’t like her to let months of holding something over my head slip through her fingers.
There has to be some other reason she waited.
“I need an answer,” I press when she continues to stare down at the mug in silence.
“Well, I spotted a lot at first,” she says, her voice soft. “There was blood almost every day. I worried I was going to lose the baby and… Then my mom and dad were being difficult and I just… I had a hard time finding a way to reach you.”
I frown. “How were your mom and dad being difficult? What do they think about all this?”
“They don’t understand me,” she says, reaching up to adjust the ribbon in her hair, though it’s perfectly tied. As usual. “They never have. That’s why I have to stay here. With you.”
She shifts her gaze, meeting mine with a pleading look. “Please, Mick. Let me stay here with you. I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I’m scared of doing this alone.”
If she were anyone else, I would have reached out, taken her hand, and offered what comfort I could.
But she’s Bridget and I don’t want to give her any reason to think I’m reconsidering my position. I feel sorry for her and worried about the baby and afraid for the future, but no matter what happens I’m not going to take her in and take care of her.
It’s time for her to stand on her own two feet if she can manage it, or to find professional help if she can’t.
“You aren’t alone,” I say, my voice firm, but gentle. “I meant what I said. I’m here to help with money and I’m happy to split custody fifty-fifty. I can even take the baby more at first if you need time to work things out with your parents.”
Or log some quality time with a shrink, I add silently.
“We’ll work this out,” I continue. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll make sure the baby never wants for anything.”
She sniffs. “But I don’t want to split custody. I want to be a family.”
I hold her gaze, willing her to look into my eyes and see the truth. “No, Bridget. We will never be a family. I will never live with you, I will never love you, and I will never touch you again. Not ever.”
Her bottom lip starts to tremble again. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” I say. “I’m sorry if that hurts you, but it’s the truth. And nothing is going to change that.”
“You’ll change your mind.” Silent tears stream down her face even as she smiles. “I know you will. I’ll make you understand.”
I sigh. This conversation is futile.
I might as well be trying to reason with a rock.
No, a rock would probably be more receptive to logic.