In daylight. Sometime in the future. Implying he’d be around, for a while at least.
“You will,” she agreed.
As she worked, Trey set down the bag and prowled over to the stove, lifting lids and sniffing in appreciation. It looked
domestic and comfortable. Sandy waited for the disquiet to come from having someone else in her space besides family but felt none.
“Wine glasses?”
“Upper cabinet to the left of the dishwasher.”
She watched him as he pulled them out and utilized the corkscrew she’d left out on the counter. He looked…right there, in her kitchen. And that was utter crazy talk. But for just a moment, she let herself dream. This could have been their life had things been different. Sharing a meal and conversation at the end of the workday. That had never been her reality with Waylan, and no one had tempted her to break her solitude in the years since the divorce. Until now.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” The words spilled out before she could stop them.
Trey’s hands stilled on the bottle. “About?”
Damn it. She’d meant to wait until later, after their dinner and some catch-up conversation. But the truth was burning in her throat, desperate to get out. “That night, thirty years ago.”
Something flickered over his face. “Sandy, you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do. Just listen.” She flattened her palms on the table to keep them from trembling. “It wasn’t what you think.”
His lips flattened. “I saw you that night. It was pretty damned clear.”
His announcement derailed her train of thought. “You—What? Where?”
“When you didn’t show up, I got worried and came to Wishful. To your house. I saw you with Waylan through the window. It was obvious you’d made your choice.”
So that was how he’d known. She’d always wondered. Crossing her arms, she cupped her elbows. “You’re right. I did choose someone else. I chose my son.”
A crease appeared between his brows. “What?”
“I was ready to break things off with Waylan. My bags were packed. I was just waiting on him to get home. I’d been sick as three dogs for days, but I just assumed it was nerves because what we were doing was so huge.” Because she’d accepted that her marriage was a failure, and she’d fallen in love with someone else.
“You were pregnant?” By the shock in his tone, it wasn’t a possibility that had ever crossed his mind.
It had been the best and worst day of her life.
“I’d found out just that day. The idea hadn’t even occurred to me. But my sister-in-law called wanting celebratory Mexican because her morning sickness was finally past and something just clicked in my brain. I didn’t think it was possible under the circumstances, but then I was paranoid, and I had to know before I talked to him. And then I couldn’t not tell him. He was so damned happy, and I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t tell him I was having his child and that I was leaving him in the same breath. And how could I come to you carrying another man’s baby? You didn’t sign on for that. In the end, it didn’t matter. By the time I got free to try to tell you, you were gone, and the decision was made for me.”
Trey said nothing and instead poured himself a glass of wine and drained it. Some of the tension seemed to have left his shoulders as he set the glass on the counter with a clink. He met her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’d have gladly taken him as my own.”
Her heart squeezed as the implications slid through her. The girl she’d been wanted to cry out in shock and fresh loss. Would it have made a difference if she’d known that? Would she have believed him? It hardly mattered now. She smiled, knowing it was sad around the edges. “But then you wouldn’t have your Tess. And we might neither of us be where we were supposed to be to affect the most good.”
He circled around the counter, bringing the wine. “You believe in that? Fate?”
Reaching for the remaining flowers, she considered the question. “I think there’s always choice. But there’s a right path and a wrong path. And the two can often get confused because what’s right isn’t always what we want.”
He filled the glasses and set the bottle aside. “What does that mean for us now?”
Sandy’s mouth went dry, her pulse beginning to drum in her ears as he set the wine aside. “Is there an us now?”
Trey moved in, planting his hands on the table behind her, boxing her in. “I think that, for the first time in thirty years, there’s nothing stopping us from finding out.”
He was big and warm and inherently male in his dress pants and shirt, the top button popped on his collar, a five o’clock shadow darkening his cheeks. She wanted to rub her hand along the scruff, feel the contrast between the rough stubble and the softness of his hair. All the touch and textures she hadn’t allowed herself to explore in college because she hadn’t been free.
She expected him to close the gap between them, but he didn’t. Instead, he stayed where he was, well inside her personal space, brown eyes steady on hers, waiting. Giving her a chance to acclimate? To change her mind? She couldn’t think with him so close. Couldn’t figure out what it was he expected. God, she was so out of practice with this.