CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FOR THE FIRST time since he’d arrived, Conall dreaded going downstairs come morning. From day one, he’d thought about Lia the moment he opened his eyes, anticipating his first sight of her, the first sound of her voice. Today… God. What would she say? What could he say?
“I’m sorry” might be a good start.
Annoyed with himself and trying to ignore the unwieldy lump that had taken up residence in his chest, Conall showered and shaved, finally making his way down. The house was quiet—too quiet—and for a minute he had the fear she’d taken the boys and absconded for the day. He couldn’t blame her; hadn’t he slunk around avoiding her yesterday?
Some major-league groveling was clearly called for. Not his specialty, but he could do it.
The lump in his chest lightened momentarily when he heard her talking to someone in the kitchen. Thank God, she hadn’t left.
She was on the phone, he found when he walked in, leaning with one hip against the counter and frowning while she listened. Her glance flicked to him, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
“We can do tonight,” she agreed. “Please make her parents understand that Sorrel’s condition for coming is that I be present.” Pause. “Yes, I know it’s unusual, you’ve already said that.” More listening. “Okay, seven o’clock.”
He’d already put water on for coffee and was pouring his cereal when she ended the call.
“Sorrel’s meeting with her parents at last?”
“Yes.” Her gust of breath held exasperation. “They’re upset about the idea of me sitting in on the session. Why, I have no idea. The counselor was going to be there anyway. I swear, it’ll be all I can do not to slap their faces if they start in again trying to get her to admit she accused Uncle Raymond falsely.”
He abruptly fixated on Uncle Raymond. “Is that his name?”
“Yes.” She leveled a sharp look at him. “You’re not thinking—”
“Thinking?” He lifted both eyebrows.
“Oh, shoot him, I don’t care,” she muttered, and automatically went to pour the boiling water through the coffee filter.
“You okay?” he asked her. He cleared his throat. “I mean…feeling all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be feeling all right?”
“I thought maybe… Since your door was shut last night—”
“That I was sick? Oh.” She laughed. “Having my period, you mean. No, as it happens, I’m not due for almost another week.”
Should he be nervous, it occurred to Conall, because they’d been having sex during her most fertile time of the month with only condoms for protection? They had a pretty significant rate of failure. His heart picked up the pace a little, but— Oh, God. The image that filled his head of her pregnant was erotic and…something else, but not frightening.
And that scared the crap out of him.
“Was I wrong in assuming you were telling me I wasn’t welcome?” he asked, voice even.
Her breasts rose and fell with a quick breath. “No.”
“You going to tell me why?”
Their eyes met, hers wide and wary.
“I realized this morning that I let myself get a little too melodramatic last night while I brooded about our relationship, such as it is, but I’m not sure my conclusion was wrong.” She stayed where she was, a good distance from him at the kitchen table. His cereal was getting soggy, but he didn’t care. “You’ve…changed these past few days,” she continued.
“I’ve been working through some things,” Conall admitted, voice rough.
“You’ve hurt our feelings. The boys’ and mine.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
Lia shrugged. “You did it anyway.” She raised a hand when he started to speak. “No, let me say this. The truth is, you’ve been filling your time with us. And that’s okay, to a point. You’ve been good for the boys. It’ll be hard for them when you leave, but you’ve never pretended. They know your job will take you away eventually. You’ve helped heal them in the meantime. This may be the first time in their lives they’ve really had the chance to relate to a man.”