“Family who would take care of this baby.”
“No, not take care of it, maybe just, I don’t know, love it. Love me.”
Miranda shook her head hard. “If you really love this kid, you’ll give it up for adoption.”
Gypsy’s face dropped with shock. “What?”
“You’ve been lying about it from day one. What mother lies about their kid? I’ll tell you what kind—ours. Our mother lied about my existence whenever a new man came into the picture. She got clean, found a nice guy, and hooked him, all before he knew she had a kid or a habit. She sent me to the neighbor’s house or to the playground or to just wander off alone while she ‘entertained’ her boyfriend. She lied about me until she got what she wanted. Then she’d surprise the guy with me. He was already enamored with her, so he usually accepted she had a kid.”
“I…I’m sorry,” Gypsy said. “I didn’t know—”
“It doesn’t matter.” She faced Gypsy with hot tears streaming down her face. “The point is that you’ve been lying about your baby while you wheedle your way into my life, Marty’s and Elaina’s lives. Then, when you felt secure, you were going to spring it on us—after you’d bought the bar, after I’d built you a home on this property. Surprise, I’m pregnant, and you have to live with it.”
Miranda was so livid, she literally couldn’t see straight. Her vision hazed and wavered. Her brain felt like it rattled inside her skull. “No kid deserves to be an afterthought. You should give this baby to someone who will put it first, not last. Someone who will stand up for it, protect it, and love it, not hide it or use it as a tool.”
Now Gypsy was crying. And Miranda felt like she was on the edge of sanity.
“Fuck this.” She turned for the door. “Fuck everything.”
28
It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since Miranda had sped away from him, and Jack already felt like he’d been hit by a truck, bruised and achy. And guilty. So damn guilty. He was still torn over whether or not to believe she was involved. He’d even gone to the jail to confront Alex, but he’d refused to see Jack.
He turned onto his father’s street and spotted what Jen said Jack had to see for himself—spools and spools of welding wire piled in his father’s driveway.
A heavy breath pushed from his lungs. He stopped at the curb, shut down the engine, and stared at the bales. She was definitely trying to make a statement by hauling these spools here to dump them. Clearly a “fuck you.” But was it a Fuck you for catching me or a Fuck you for doubting me? Jack didn’t appreciate his gut telling him it was the latter.
His cell rang. It was Klein.
“Hey,” Jack answered.
“Hey, we’ve got a lead on Fischer. Law enforcement says he just docked at Jolly Harbour in Antigua. I’m at the airport, headed there now.”
Jack closed his eyes, and some tension drained from his shoulders. “That’s good news.”
“I haven’t made much headway in searching for other thefts by Wright,” he told Jack. “I’m about to board, but I’ll keep looking and touch base when I can.”
“Hey, why don’t you forward those files to me. I wouldn’t mind digging in.” The sooner Jack could cleared her name, the better.
“Sure thing.”
Jack disconnected, only to be faced with the fucking wire again. He put in a call to Gillespie and asked him to get someone to come pick it up.
Jen was out on the porch with all three boys by the time Jack climbed the stairs.
“You look like hell,” Jen told him.
“Feel worse.” He dropped his hand to Jacob’s head and ruffled his hair. “Hey, buddy.”
She lifted her chin toward the wire bundles. “If the circumstances were different, I might like her. She’s got some…” She darted a look at the boys, then back. “Cojones.”
“What’s cojones?” Jacob asked.
Jen and Jack just smiled.
“That she does,” Jack admitted. He admired her, even when she was flipping him off.
Her furious, disgusted, Goodbye, Jack snapped in his head. It had kept him up all night.