Greek Affairs: Claiming His Child. Rebecca Winters
really. Your ex-wife not only left you, she left Morgan. As her nanny, I think I should know some details.”
He hated to admit it, but she had a point. Even though it raised the bile in his throat to discuss his ex-wife’s appalling actions with anyone, maybe he needed to let Jenny in on what had happened. For Morgan’s sake only, of course.
He paced toward the sink. “Andrea wasn’t happy living way out here.” He flung the sponge into the sink, familiar, overpowering bitterness rising in him. “Said it was boring and dull. Even after Morgan was born, she was restless and took off for Portland every other weekend to shop and visit friends. Still, we had a daughter, and I had hope.” For love. Peace. A happily-ever-after.
He stopped and shook his head. “I was a fool for hoping for anything. The second Morgan was diagnosed with diabetes, Andrea was out of here, saying she couldn’t handle having a child with a chronic disease.” He snorted. “Just like that she left, and I haven’t seen her since.”
Jenny remained quiet for a moment. “She deserted you,” she said in a monotone. It was a bald-faced, razorsharp statement that cut deep.
His hackles shot to the roof. “Dammit,” he ground out, swinging away, floored by her tactless statement. “No kidding she deserted us.”
Jenny placed her small hand on his rigid arm for a moment. “No, that came out wrong. What I meant was that I’m just…incredulous that a woman would willingly throw away her husband and child.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry for being so blunt. It’s just that as a widow who had no control over my loss, I can’t imagine choosing to walk away.”
Slowly his hackles relaxed. “That makes sense,” he said, seeing the pain and contrition in her eyes. “Sorry I overreacted.”
She smiled, then bent down and pushed the dishwasher closed. “I understand. It’s easy to overreact when the wounds are fresh, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I guess it is.” He rolled a shoulder. “Although, I don’t like to think of myself as wounded.”
“I guess that’s my perspective.” She hung the dish towel on its hook on the refrigerator. “Jack’s death left a wound that I’m not sure will ever heal.”
For some reason, the thought of this vibrant woman being wounded for the rest of her life bothered him. “So does that mean you’re never planning on marrying again?” Strange how the question seemed suddenly very important.
She was quiet for a second, then softly said, her voice tinged in sadness, “That’s right. I loved and lost once. I don’t plan on ever doing that again.”
He straightened the chairs around the table, again somehow saddened that a beautiful young woman like Jenny was planning on being alone for the rest of her life. Funny how he could imagine himself that way, but not her. “Hey, I get that.” Boy, did he. “Depending on someone will burn every single time.”
She turned around and leaned back against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. “Seems we have a lot in common, don’t we?”
Before he could reply to her statement, Ava called out, asking Jenny to come see the funny doggy on TV. With an understanding smile that Ty liked way too much, Jenny left the kitchen, leaving him alone, one disturbing thought running around in his brain.
They did share a connection. She’d been trampled by love, just like he had. She undoubtedly understood him on a level he had never expected, in a way that made him feel open and vulnerable.
And that scared him to death.
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