Nine Months to Redeem Him

I wished I’d never told Howard so much. Edward had made me love him as I’d never loved anyone. He’d filled me with his child. He’d made me so happy.

But he hadn’t wanted me. He hadn’t wanted any of it. Love. Children. Happiness.

Bluebirds soared above my mother’s garden, singing as they lifted higher into the cloudless blue sky. Something caught in my throat, and I looked away. “He told me he didn’t ever want a child. I was doing him a favor.”

“People can change. Sometimes for better than you can imagine. He deserved the chance.” He looked at me and said softly, “Your mom would have said the same.”

I gave a soft gasp. Bringing Mom into it was punching below the belt.

Not that I actually had a belt anymore. Unthinkingly, I put my hand over my swelling body. It was a good thing that long dresses were in style, because now I was in my third trimester, none of my regular clothes fit me anymore. Not even the stretchiest yoga pants.

“He had his chance.” I slowly rose to my feet. “He threw my love back in my face. I’m not giving him the chance to do it to her.”

“He hurt you. I get it.” My stepfather’s rheumy eyes met mine in the bright, unrelenting California sunshine. “But take advice from an old man who loves you. Grab your chance at love when you can. Because right now, you think there will be endless chances.” His throat caught. “There won’t. You used to know that, until he turned you hard and cynical. When I think of the sweet kid you were, I’d like to punch Edward St. Cyr in the jaw.” His bushy gray eyebrows lowered ferociously. “If I ever meet him—”

The hinge of the garden gate squeaked. I looked up. “Jason—”

But it wasn’t Jason. Looking across the dappled sunlight of the garden, my heart was suddenly in my throat.

Edward stood across the green grass, in front of the bright pink flowers. Sunlight illuminated his dark hair, and luminous, deep blue eyes.

“Is it true?” He lowered his gaze to my pregnant belly. “You’re pregnant?”

My breath caught.

Edward took a step toward me, and another. His eyes devoured me, as if he’d been dreaming of me for months and could hardly believe I wasn’t a dream now.

“Is it mine?” he said quietly. “Or Jason Black’s?”

I trembled, my hands shaking.

“Yours,” Howard said helpfully.

I turned on him in outrage. “Howard!”

“Oh, c’mon.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not as if you were going to lie. At least not for long,” he amended, looking at me more closely.

“You’re meddling,” I accused.

“I’m saving you some trouble. You can thank me later. Excuse me.” My stepfather walked toward the garden gate. He stopped in front of Edward. “About time you showed up.” He rubbed his jowly chin thoughtfully. “I actually owe you a punch in the jaw—”

“Howard!” I cried.

“Later,” he said hastily, glancing back at me, and he let himself out the gate. Leaving us alone.

Edward and I stared at each other across the soft green grass. He had a five-o’clock shadow on the hard edge of his jawline, and shadows beneath his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days. And he’d never looked so beautiful to me. Never, ever.

Except I didn’t care about him anymore. I didn’t. And I wouldn’t. I took a deep breath. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here...” Edward seemed uncharacteristically uncertain. His gaze lowered to my belly, the shape of which was clearly visible beneath my cotton maxi dress. “I saw a picture of you online. The article said Jason Black was your boyfriend but...”