The Good Father

She had a child to think about now.

A new life.

Cradling her stomach, she sat there in the darkness and rolled down her window so she could hear the waves in the distance.

She was going to have to move.

It wouldn’t be fair to Brett to have his child grow up right under his nose.

And she owed him. Because he’d done this for her. He’d given her his child.

He couldn’t give her his heart. Or his life.

But he’d given her a piece of himself. A new life.

One that would be a connection between them Brett could never sever.

She just had to get herself under control enough to let him know what he’d done.

* * *

BRETT WAS OUTSIDE, still in his khakis and polo shirt, skimming the pool in the shadows cast by the landscape lighting when he heard his doorbell ring. He glanced up, a bit confused by the sound. In all the years he’d lived there, he’d never had unsolicited visitors and now it was happening a second time.

Still, it wasn’t a summons he could ignore. And when he pulled open the door, he saw Ella standing there, looking exactly as she had when she’d walked out of his home an hour before except for her tear-ravaged face.

“I have to talk to you,” she said, stepping forward so he had to either let her in or block her. He stepped back.

“El, I’m so sorry...” The words stuck in his throat. It was closing in on him. He’d sworn he was done hurting her. And he was doing it all over again.

With a wave of her hand she dismissed his apology. And anything else he might say.

“I came here today to tell you something. But I had to understand the past first, and then that got in my way.”

She walked toward the kitchen, but before he could follow her she was on her way back to him. Looking at the floor. Not him.

“I know you don’t want this, but I still have to tell you. Brett, I’m pregnant.”

He was busy watching her pace, trying to get a good look at her face so he could figure out if she was pissed or beside herself with pain. It took an extra second for her words to register. She’d come to tell him she was pregnant?

Dear God, don’t let it be true.

That was why she’d been asking questions about the past?

Because she was pregnant?

No. Oh, God, no. Please...no.

She couldn’t be. They’d made love one night with no thermometer. No test tubes, or small rooms with a command to him to perform. No artificial insemination. Or fertility treatments. It had been physical desire, period. No baby making involved.

His thoughts flew like snowflakes in a blizzard. Mixing with mental repeats of the words he’d said to her earlier.

“I understand that you don’t want a child in your life. And I’m absolutely certain that I don’t want you in this baby’s life. You’re right—he doesn’t deserve a father who would be relieved by his death. The damage that would do to him would be irreparable...”

She paced. Still not looking at him. “But as his father, you had a right to know. I had an obligation to tell you. So there. You’ve been told. Now I have to go...”

She headed for the door and Brett, arms crossed, barred her way.

“Wait.” The word was short. Softly spoken. And filled with more emotion than he could decipher. But panic was definitely in there.