Baby Maker (It Takes Two 1)

“She’s not your mother, Dane.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“Well then, I don’t see why you won’t ask her. You afraid she’s gonna say no?”

There’s a heavy pause.

“For starters, yeah. She’s not the marryin’ type. That’s partly why we…started dating. Seeing as we both agree on it.”

“You gotta try for the sake of the baby. She may have changed her mind. All it takes is the right person, and that woman is the right one for you.”

I want this conversation to end for all our sakes. The longer we stay here the harder it’s going to be when Bill discovers the truth. All I can do now is pray it doesn’t do irreparable damage.

I open and close the bedroom door again, to alert them I’m coming. With a knot in my stomach, I step into the kitchen and both men turn their attention on me, both looking stressed for entirely different reasons.

“Everything okay?” I inquire.

“Peachy,” Bill answers, his smile weighed down by the events of last night. “Carson’s comin’ over,” he tells Dane. “Says he’s got an offer we can’t refuse. He should be here in the next half hour.”

Dane nods at his father and looks me over. His expression is pure concern. “How are you feelin’?”

I shrug. What is there to say? If I think about it, I’ll start to cry again. In fact the only feeling that’s safe for me to dwell upon at the moment is the one telling me to go back to New York.

Dane pours me a cup of coffee, splashes cream in it, and adds two spoons of sugar. I don’t ask how he knows how I take my coffee.

“Pardon me, I’m gonna go check on Missy,” Bill announces in a dull tone.

“How is she?” I ask Dane after Bill leaves.

“Better now, but it’ll be a while before she’s a hundred percent.”

I stare into my coffee and Dane walks around the kitchen island, takes the coffee out of my hand, placing it on the granite countertop, and hugs me. His big warm hands run up and down my back. I instantly melt into him.

“I need to get back to New York,” I say, the declaration muffled by his shirt.

“Carson’s here. Let’s talk about it later.” He lets go of me and walks out the front door.

I step closer to the enormous picture window and see a gleaming red metallic Range Rover parked in the driveway. Out of the driver’s side, a tall handsome man steps out. He looks to be in his early sixties, well dressed, cosmopolitan. Out of the passenger side steps Brandee.

“What I’m sayin’, Bill, is that I’m willin’ to pay top dollar. If Gilroy is offerin’ x amount an acre then you can tack on ten percent from me. That’s my offer.”

I walk up slowly, hanging behind Dane. On my way to see Missy, I found the four of them standing outside the barn.

“But you’ll develop it instead of leavin’ it a workin’ ranch,” Bill cuts in. I can tell by his expression he’s not happy about it.

“You’re less that fifty miles from the university. It’d be stupid not to.”

Mr. Carson’s attention slides to me. He gives me a perfunctory smile and I return one.

“Steve Carson,” he says holding out a hand. “You must be Dane’s girlfriend.”

“Oh no, Daddy, they ain’t together.”

Oh shit.

“Of course, they are, Brandee. Stella and Dane are havin’ a baby,” Bill says, quick to come to my defense.

My pulse races and I start to sweat because I know what’s coming. I love this man and I’m about to break his heart. It’s practically written across the sky with curlicues.

I step next to Dane and he throws his arm around me, his big paw hanging off my shoulder. Brandee sees it and her head cocks. Then feigning all the innocence in the world, turns her attention onto Bill.

“I think you may be mistaken, Mr. Wylder. Dane and Stella have a baby contract.”

Dane’s body turns to stone, every muscle braced. I can feel him shooting daggers at Brandee even though I don’t dare glance up. In the meantime Mr. Carson looks lost. He has no idea what’s going on.

“A contract?” Bill repeats, chuckling. “I don’t know where you’d get an idea like that, sweetheart, but you’re wrong.”

“This meetin’ is over,” Dane growls. “We’ll consider your proposal, Steve.” He tries to steer his father away, literally takes him by the shoulders and begins to guide him toward the house.

“It’s all over the entertainment news, Mr. Wylder. These two started a trend it seems. Stella needed a baby daddy ’cause she couldn’t get a husband, and Dane offered. Her ex-boyfriend explained it all. It’s a business arrangement. They share custody––like I said, they ain’t together.”

Jeff…double shit.

With great trepidation, I glance at Bill. He’s pale…pale and heartbroken. I’ve never felt more awful in my entire life, sick to my stomach and weak.

He focuses on his son, who’s running his hands over his face in what is clearly a sign of frustration, and says, “Is this true?”

“It’s not what it sounds like.”

I watch the light leave Bill, all the lively charm replaced by an empty, blank expression. And then the inevitable happens, his attention falls on me and I die a thousand deaths. I’ve never before prayed for a sinkhole to swallow me up until this very minute.

“We’ll talk later, Steve,” Bill mumbles and begins shuffling back to the house, his posture showing age.

With Bill out of earshot, Dane blasts all the fury he’s tamped down at Brandee, who’s basking in satisfaction as if she didn’t just unleash hell. He leans in, finger pointing.

“My father just had a heart attack,” he snarls.

The smug slides off Brandee’s face and she inches closer to her father.

“Now, son––” Carson interrupts.

“Don’t call me that,” he growls at Carson. His death glare swings back to Brandee. “And you…you b...” His jaw locks, lips press into a tight, straight line. Quite a valiant effort to refrain from calling her a bitch. “You start this shit because you have a bone to pick with me over something that didn’t happen over a decade ago?”

I’ve never seen Dane mad, not truly mad like this, and I hope to never see it again.

“You can forget the deal,” he tells Carson. “Now get off my property.”

He turns to leave, but not before he takes my hand and takes me with him.

We might as well have hung a mourning wreath over the front door the mood was so black. It wouldn’t have been too far from the truth. Bill was certainly mourning.

After Dane and I returned to the house, Dane disappeared into the office where Bill had gone to lick his wounds and curse me to the heavens in all likelihood.

I called Jeff, ready to rip him a new one, an

d I couldn’t even do that. He thought he was defending my honor when the gossip rags started saying all kinds of nasty things about me and my motives. What a mess.

I booked a flight home, gathered my things, and began packing. My mother had overnighted me some of my clothes in a small travel bag shortly after our unfortunate shopping trip to the department store.

I was going to have to face Bill before I left, but I didn’t know what to say. How do you apologize for something you acted on knowing it was wrong in the first place? An apology didn’t seem enough.

“What are you doing?” Dane’s raspy question startles me. I glance over my shoulder and find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his demeanor one of uneasy curiosity.

The Ride a Cowboy t-shirt in my hand gets stuffed into the travel bag.

“Leaving. I’ve overstayed my welcome. Your father must hate me and I don’t blame him.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” he argues, the volume of his voice dropping in sympathy. “I explained everything…if he’s mad at anyone, it’s me.”

I’m not buying it. I hurt him, broke his trust. And I’m a big believer that trust takes forever to be repaired, and even then it will never be seamless again.

“I have to get back to my life, Dane…so do you.”

“You are my life,” he forces out.

What? I must’ve misunderstood. I must have. Blinking at the clothes in my hand, I drop them and face him.

He looks as surprised he said it as I am. “A part of it,” he corrects.

“I feel horrible, Dane. I knew this was going to blow up in our faces and still I went along with it. I’m not cavalier like you. I can’t brush it off as an unfortunate incident and move on. He’s the only grandfather this child will know and I will never be able to look that man in the eye again!”

I’m expecting some sort of apology, a sign that he understands why I’m so upset. What do I get instead? Nothing. Silence from the man that is never silent. He blinks back at me as if I haven’t just implied he’s callous and self-absorbed––which I did.