Sue dropped his hand. “And no one will ever live up to her, either.”
He had to go. Found himself at her front door without any clear memory of getting there.
“Thank you for having me over,” he said, feeling like an interloper in someone else’s household. A familiar feeling, yet not one he’d experienced anytime in the past fifteen years. Or had ever expected to feel again.
“You’re welcome.”
He was out the door, heading down the walk, not really sure where he’d go from there.
“Rick?” Sue called out to him.
He turned, but didn’t go back. “Yeah?”
“Can we…is this it already? Are we done being friends?”
Rick wanted to nod. And thought of Hannah. Of all he’d already lost. Of all that her death had cost him, and what loving his daughter had taught him. There were no guarantees. And sometimes the hurt was unbearable.
Still, if he had it to do over again, even knowing how it ended, he would do so in a heartbeat.
“No.” His answer was definitive. As was his certainty that he still had to go, for now. He’d never use another baby, another person, to replace Hannah. His precious little girl would never be replaced. Not in six months, and not in sixty years.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t love and cherish another child.
He headed straight to his Nitro. He was inside, key in the ignition and driving down the street, before he noticed the tears on his cheeks.
Damn them.
Damn them all.
COUSIN JOE HADN’T PHONED. Hadn’t returned her calls. But on Friday Sue received a card from him. There were two kids pictured on the front, on a teeter-totter. A boy and a girl. The inside read simply, “Hang in there. Joe.”
Boss Joe sent the next week’s work by courier with a note, written in Thea’s hand, telling Sue that other than payroll, there was no rush. And to call if she needed help with any of it.
The only other men in her world that weekend, Michael and William, took turns beating up on her with middle-of-the-night cries. And middle-of-the-day cries. All three babies were recovering from the flu. For the past two nights, Sue had kept Carrie in bed with her.
The little girl had had it the worst.
And though the doctor, who’d made a house call, had told Sue not to worry, that everything would be fine, she didn’t relax.
Carrie came from a legacy of pain. Sue wanted to see that change in this little girl’s generation.
Rick called a couple of times. He’d wanted to see her again, to take her out on his friend’s boat for the afternoon, but with the babies sick, she hadn’t been able to leave. So they’d talked. About politics—they’d voted for the same candidate in the last election. About their first kisses when they were kids—he’d been ten, stole a kiss on the playground and been made to sit in the corner; she’d been thirteen, in a game of spin the bottle. They’d talked about food—they both loved scallops and hated squash.
And they talked about sex. A lot. A lot of talk about a lot of sex. By the end of the weekend, Sue knew she was going to make love with him. If for no other reason than to get him off her mind. Not that she told him so.
Other than the focus it took to tend to her charges, she couldn’t seem to think about anything these days but Rick Kraynick, and being naked with him.
Based on the number of sex-filled conversations they’d had that weekend, he seemed to be suffering from the same mysterious illness. They had it bad.
Throughout that long weekend, they never mentioned Hannah. Or Carrie’s future. Or the mother Rick refused to believe in even a little bit.
The man had Sue’s sympathy. Her compassion. Her respect. Maybe more. But she hadn’t changed her mind about helping him. She couldn’t do anything to help Rick Kraynick. And wasn’t sure she would even if she could.
She didn’t think it was a good idea to place a baby girl with a single man, most particularly one who was still in the early stages of grief.
No matter how well grounded he appeared to be.
William left on Monday. His birth mother, having a change of heart, had signed away her rights, and the agency already had a long list of approved homes waiting for her to do so. He’d been placed immediately.