Bombshell
“Jack, let him talk.”
Jack’s head whips around. “Why?”
“What does it hurt? I mean, whatever you want to do to him—short of actually killing him, because you promised never to leave me again—you can do after he talks. Besides, Mr. Moore is watching.”
Leka smirks. “I’m done here.” He nods at Jack and then disappears down the porch steps.
Jack kicks the door in and drags Clayton over to a chair in the living room.
“You have five minutes to talk. Go.” Jack looks at his watch as if he’s really timing the guy.
I get up from my chair, still carrying Anna, and join Jack, who is looming over Clayton. The smaller man shrinks in his chair, shaking like a leaf in a bad storm. I hated this man for ten months. I felt he was responsible for my misery, for keeping me from Jack, but as I stand next to my love with my daughter in my arms, I can only feel sorry for him. What story can he give that would explain his actions? What excuse would we accept? Nothing. Nothing can take the lost time and return it.
I transfer Anna to my shoulder and grab Jack’s elbow. “It’s not important.”
“What?” He swings a confused look in my direction.
“He’s not important. His reasoning isn’t important. What matters is that we’re together. Right?”
Jack’s expression grows fractionally less angry. “Right. That doesn’t mean I don’t need to kick the shit out of this bastard. He stole ten months of my life. He kept me from you. He made me hurt you.”
The last part comes out so anguished and so personal that it is wrong for Clayton Davis to be witnessing it.
I walk over to the door and throw it open. “Get out. Get out and don’t ever show your face around the Harris family again.”
The small man doesn’t need to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet and races out into the cold.
Jack runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Why? Don’t you want to know?”
“No. We know why he did it.” I close the door. “He thought he’d win favor with your mom or brother or whoever by making sure you stayed at the company. Hearing him explain it wouldn’t change anything.”
Jack isn’t happy about this. All day he broods. Over dinner, he barely says two words. He helps me wash Anna, but while I give her the last feeding of the night, he disappears. I finish feeding our baby, burp her and lay her on the changing table.
“He’s trying to avoid diaper duty, isn’t he?” I joke.
She gurgles in agreement. I stick a new diaper on her and tug a nightshirt over her head. Her little arms wave happily in the air. She’s been washed and fed and is happy as a new puppy. She isn’t aware that her daddy is mentally castigating himself.
I grab her mint-green blanket with the pink frogs and bundle her inside. “He’s upset with himself and his lack of memory, I think. Mommy will go and kiss his owie and make it better.”
Anna coos sweetly in agreement. “Time for bed, my sweet.” I lay the sleepy girl in her crib and go find my man.
The hallway is quiet. As I walk toward the living room, a cold draft of air hits me. The slider to the patio door is slightly ajar.
“I’m here,” calls a low voice.
I turn to see a large figure clad in a simple sweater and pair of snug jeans standing beyond the door. The porch light is off, but there’s enough moonlight that I can see the set of his jaw and the firm line of his plush lips. It’s not a welcoming look. I wrap my arms around my waist to ward off the cold and pull the door open wider.
“You do know that it’s December, right? The month of snow and ice and wind,” I joke.
He swings around, almost in slow motion, and then advances. I back up, feeling like I’m prey for some reason. Inside the house, he slides the door shut and sets a glass of whiskey he’d been drinking on the kitchen table.
“I should fund your bank account with enough zeros so that you never have to worry about another bill your entire life,” he says quietly as he closes the distance between us. “I should buy you a big house, a fancy car, a chest full of jewels. I should introduce you to every decent, eligible man in this state and maybe three others.” He stops inches from me. “I should step aside as you fall in love with that man and make a new family with him.”
I rub my dry lips together. “But…”
“But I won’t.” He grabs my shoulders. “Because I’m a damn selfish bastard. I wanted to be a good man for you, for Anna. A good man would let you go, but I’m not good or kind or decent. I want to lock you up in this house and hide you away from the rest of the world. I don’t want another man to even breathe on you. I know this is wrong. I know that you deserve someone better than me—someone who hasn’t abandoned you for these past ten months, someone who would have held you while you birthed our child. I’m not that person, but I can’t let you go.”