His Temptation, Her Secret

“I know,” Sage said.

She had complete confidence in the staff at St. Bea’s. There wasn’t a reason in the world for TJ to move Eli anywhere else.

* * *

The Red Grill turned out to have a Southwest flair, with bright colors and lively music in the dining room. The hostess seated them on the patio, which was quieter. She quickly brought them glasses of iced tea and tortilla chips with guacamole.

The pain in TJ’s hip was getting worse, but he didn’t want to muddle his thinking with any more painkillers. He pushed the tortilla chips toward Sage, but she shook her head.

“Doctor’s orders,” he said.

She gave him a glare but took a chip and bit down on it.

TJ had so many things to ask her, he barely knew where to start. “Do you have any pictures of Eli?”

She set the chip on her side plate. “I do.” She dug into her small bag and retrieved her phone, opening the photo app.

When she handed it over, TJ got the first look at his infant son. The pain in his hip faded as he took in the smiling, cherubic baby.

“How old is he here?” TJ asked.

“Six months in that first one.”

He stared at the picture for a long time.

“Are you ready to order?” the waitress interrupted.

“We’ll need a few minutes,” Sage answered for them.

TJ flipped to the next picture. Toddler Eli was standing in a yard, petting a black Lab that was taller than him.

“You have a dog?” TJ asked.

“No. They’re not allowed in our basement suite. Beaumont belonged to a friend. Eli loves animals. He talked me into a gerbil once.”

“What happened?”

“He played with it every day, but it was kind of sad. It just wasn’t the same as having a dog to walk and play fetch with. Eventually, the gerbil died and, well, we weren’t really supposed to have it in the first place. And I didn’t want to get evicted, so we never got another.”

“A boy deserves a dog.” TJ could remember how badly he’d wanted a dog when he was a boy.

“A boy deserves a roof over his head,” Sage retorted.

TJ looked up from the screen to see her annoyed expression. “I didn’t mean that as a criticism.”

“I tried, TJ.”

“I know you did. I’m sure you did. I don’t understand why you didn’t contact me.”

“Well, I’m not going to explain it all over again.”

The waitress arrived once more.

“I’ll take a beef burrito,” TJ said, not wanting to bother reading the menu and not caring what he ate.

“The same,” Sage said, and the waitress departed.

“You didn’t look at the menu,” he noted.

“Just so long as it’s not lasagna.”

He couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. He flipped to the next picture.

Eli was in front of a birthday cake covered in blue icing and decorated with mini balloons. There were three candles on the cake, and he was grinning ear to ear.

“His birthday?” TJ asked, although it was pretty obvious.

Sage nodded.

Eli had dark, slightly wavy hair, just like TJ’s. There was a familiarity in his eyes and in his slightly crooked smile. TJ’s chest was tight. His heart was expanding to fill every crack and crevice behind his rib cage.

He had a son—his own son. He’d missed so much of Eli’s life.

He moved to the next picture, but it blurred in front of his eyes. “I deserve a chance to catch up.”

She looked like she wanted to argue. But then she looked like she didn’t have it in her.

“I know,” she said. “You can see him as much as you want. I won’t try to stop you.”

“I want him at Highside Hospital.”

This time, she shook her head, and he could see the steel determination in her eyes. “That’s not possible. He needs me. He needs me there every day.”

“You can stay in Whiskey Bay.” The problem was hardly insurmountable.

“I have a job, TJ. I can appreciate this is a huge adjustment for you, but—”

“Adjustment? You call what I’m going through an adjustment?” He shifted in his chair, and pain shot through his hip. He struggled to keep his expression neutral.

“You’re in pain,” she said. “Should we go back to the hospital?”

“No!” He lowered his voice. “We should eat. Starving yourself isn’t going to help Eli.”

Her jaw clenched tight. “Are you going to give me parenting advice?”

“I’m not.” He leaned forward to make his point. “Because I have no idea what it’s like to be a parent, thanks to you.”

“I just apologized.”

“You think that cuts it?” He realized his tone was growing louder, and he forced himself to take a beat. They were both raw and tired, and sniping at each other wasn’t going to help anything.