My Babies and Me

She could see the truth in his eyes.

“No, because part of the problem is yours, too

, huh?” she asked, still leaning on him as tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.

He didn’t say anything for a long time. Susan savored his warmth, soaking it in while she could. Garnering her strength for the days and years ahead.

She kneeled there until her back started to cramp, the cut on her leg to throb. And then, painfully, she stood. “You need to go,” she said.

His eyes locked with hers, filled with pain—and regret—but resolution as well. Slowly, so slowly she thought she’d die, he nodded his acquiescence.

“You’ll call—”

Cutting him off, she shook her head. “Not for a while, anyway.” Not until she was strong enough.

His hand on the doorknob, he stopped and turned, meeting her gaze where she stood, hugging herself, at the end of the hall.

“I do love you, Sus, more than anyone else on earth.”

She knew he did. And that probably hurt most of all. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was so clogged with tears, no sound came out. She nodded.

He stood there a few minutes longer, his throat working as he watched her.

Then, silently, he turned his back and walked out of her life.

Sobs shook her body as she watched him drive away. But somewhere she found the courage to say what she’d tried to say while he was still in her house.

“I love you, too, Michael. I love you, too.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE LITTLE BOY could hardly walk, but man, could he run. So fast his father was having a hard time keeping up with him. Stopped at a streetlight in Chicago a couple of miles from home, Michael watched the father finally catch up before the child ran headlong into the street. The man scooped the boy into his arms so high so fast, Michael had to wonder if the kid would be sick. The man was angry, scolding the little boy as he held the toddler in front of him. Then he wrapped his arms around that little body, holding the boy close, burying his face in the child’s neck....

The drivers behind Michael started to lay on their horns. The light was green and he was sitting through it.

Michael gunned his engine.

He’d left Susan more than a month ago, and he still couldn’t get on with his life, couldn’t get her off his mind. Couldn’t get his mind on anything else. He finally had his freedom—what he’d been craving for months—and the crazy thing was, he still wasn’t happy.

He called his closest friend as soon as he was inside his door.

“Seth, I’m losing it, man,” he blurted. He couldn’t believe he’d said the words. Wanted to snatch them back.

“I wondered how long it’d take you to call.”

“Just tell me how she is,” he said. If he knew she was all right, he’d be able to get on with things. Quit worrying about her and worry about the Miller deal that had been hanging on the edge far too long.

“She’s fine,” Seth said. And then, as if taking pity on Michael, added, “She’s huge. Can’t reach her feet at all.”

“How’s she put on her shoes?”

“She and Laura went out and bought a bunch of slip-on things, a pair in every color known to man.”

Pacing his living room, Michael nodded. She’d handled that problem in typical Susan fashion. That should make him feel a little better.

“She’s only working part-time at the office right now. Tricia brings most of the stuff to the house.”

“It’s that hard for her to get around?” Michael asked. See, he was needed there.