“You forgot your jacket?” he asks with an asymmetric grin. Rubbing my arms, I scrunch my nose and tell him, “I’ll warm up.”
When he politely pushes in my chair, I thank him and then the waiter who’s already beside me with a menu.
My nerves rattle, but even as I order a drink, I keep thinking we should have done this years ago. “We should have had a paternity test years ago.” My hushed comment slips out the second the waiter has let us be.
The ease and peace I feel with the decision today is not at all reflected in Robert’s surprised eyes. Regret instantly consumes me.
With a glass of wine to help me settle, I take a sip of ice water as he reaches for his tumbler of whiskey.
“A paternity test?” he asks and the thud of the glass on the table matches the thud in my chest.
“You don’t think so?” I whisper the question and his head shakes silently as the waiter sets my glass of wine down.
“Thank you,” I manage to get out with a small smile, even though Robert’s lips are pressed in a thin line.
“It’s not that I want anything … legally.”
“It’s not that, Mags.” The words rush out of him and worry plays across his handsome features. With a hand running down his face he lets out a rush of air and adds, “This is not what I wanted to talk about tonight.”
“I’m sorry.” That guilt in the pit of my stomach climbs up higher.
“Don’t be; it’s all right,” he tells me and lays his hand out on the table, palm up, coaxing me to take it. I can only stare at his outstretched hand in disbelief. We’ve had plenty of dinners together in public. And I’ve held his hand privately many a time. But … public affection? PDA or whatever it’s called? There’s an unspoken rule between us that we don’t cross that line.
Pulling his hand back, he continues, his cadence easy. “If that’s what you want to do.”
“You don’t want to know?” I ask him with earnest.
Robert hesitates and it’s then that I see how tired he looks. The darkness under his eyes and how his normally cleanly shaved jaw shows more than a five o’clock shadow. “Is everything okay?” I ask and the waiter interrupts the moment, laying down fresh bread and oil on the table.
Once he’s gone, Robert smiles at me. A soft smile that I know well. “I didn’t know you were ready for more,” he says and there’s a sadness in his tone that’s unlike him.
Shifting in my seat, I pull both hands into my lap. “I don’t know what to say,” I tell him, my appetite vanishing.
“I would wait forever for you,” he starts and I cut him off.
“You broke up with me,” I remind him.
“And then you needed me and I went right back to you,” he tells me like that’s what happened.
“It wasn’t the same.” He knows that. It’s not like he took me back. It’s not like I wanted him back either. “My whole life fell apart and you were there for me, but as a friend.”
“I—I,” his frustration shows but it’s not directed at me. With his eyes closed, his next words are pleading. “Do you think I have what we have with all of my friends?” His pale blue eyes beg me as he adds, “Really, Mags? I didn’t know you were ready or that you wanted more.”
My silence is met with a plea from him. “I deserve a chance.”
He may have been surprised by the paternity test, but not as surprised as I am sitting here.
“That’s what this dinner is?” I ask him and as I cross my legs, I can still feel Brody from last night. I’ve never felt like a whore before. The town whispered that word and slut when they found out I was pregnant and there wasn’t a single moment I felt like it was deserved. But sitting here now, having this conversation … I truly think less of myself.
“We can leave, Mags. We can go up north, wherever you want.”
“What?”
“It’s more liberal,” he tells me and his tone adds in that he’s got a whole speech prepared for me.
“I can’t even wrap my head around what you’re saying right now. You want to move? Not just across town but away from here?”
“Don’t you? You wanted to when we were young. Under our angel oak tree.”
My eyes prick with tears remembering that old tree that sits in the center of town and the promises we made together. “We were kids and didn’t know any better.”
“Mags, you name a place, I’ll go with you. We’ll start fresh. Me, you, and Bridget?”
“Bridget may not—”
“I don’t care if I’m not her father.” Robert’s voice is louder than intended and I know other people may have heard. He doesn’t bother to look around us, but he does take in a steadying breath. “I’ll do the test if you want to know, but I don’t care about that. I care that I’ve been there for her every step of the way when I could. You did it all and I’m not trying to take away from that, but I did everything you wanted.”