Father by Choice. Amanda Berry
sorry. What were we talking about?”
“Luke’s party?” Her cheeks flushed.
His gut tightened as he recalled that night—her sweet smile and soft kisses. He waited until she looked at him before saying, “I remember.”
Her lips parted slightly before she shook herself. She inhaled before taking a bite. Whatever she was working herself up to must be major. The Maggie he remembered had been bold that night. Unrelenting, untamed, unashamed.
“It was the last time I was in Tawnee Valley before I left for London,” he said, trying to ease her into whatever she needed to say.
She set down her fork. “I don’t know how to even begin to explain—”
His phone buzzed. Brady didn’t want to answer it. Something had Maggie tied up in knots. He glanced at the screen. An email notification from Peterson, and Jules was calling. “Dammit. I’m truly sorry. I have to get this one.”
He didn’t know if she looked relieved or upset as he picked up the call and walked outside. When he returned ten minutes later, their lunch was on the table, but the work situation had been resolved…for now.
“Perfect timing.” He tried to lighten the mood.
“You’re a busy man.” Maggie’s statement was soft and nonaccusatory, but it was also a little sad.
“I’m in the beginning stages of a major project. New office. New position. New phone.” He held up the phone and then dropped it into his suit’s inner pocket. “No more interruptions. How have you been?”
She froze with a bite halfway to her mouth. A little war raged in her eyes until she sighed and put the fork down. “I’ve been better.”
“Is every—”
“Things haven’t been all sunshine and daisies the past eight years, but we’ve gotten through.”
His mind stuck on the word we. He didn’t even know if Maggie was married. His gut tightened. She wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t mean anything. A memory of Maggie being the kind of girl you married hovered in the back of his mind. Not that it would bother him if she were. He choked a little on the word. “We?”
With her gaze firmly on his, she said, “After Luke’s graduation, I found out I was pregnant.”
The blood flowed heavy in Brady’s ears and the air left the room. “Pregnant? But we—”
“Used protection. Yeah, that was my first thought, too, as I was holding five positive pregnancy tests.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Brady asked quietly, too numb to be angry. A child? How could he have not known? He’d lost track of a lot of people, but someone could have reached out. It’d been eight years. Why keep the child a secret?
She bit her lip. “I wrote you a letter. It was childish. I should have called, but I was scared. We weren’t anything more than one night to each other.”
“I would have wanted to know that you were pregnant. I don’t shirk my responsibilities.” He automatically defended himself, but then her words sunk in. Brady’s fork hit the plate. “I never got the letter.”
“I know.”
His brows drew together. “Then why didn’t you try to reach me?”
Maggie’s cheeks brightened and her eyes flashed. “I didn’t know then. Shortly after I sent the letter, I started receiving money. I figured you wanted nothing more to do with me or Amber.”
A headache started behind his eyes. “Money? I never sent—”
“A week ago, Sam stopped by. He’d been the one receiving my letters and sending me the money.”
“Sam?” Brady felt as if his world was crumbling in on itself. Eight years of lies. He’d been across an ocean, but never out of reach. Brady had sent Sam money for the farm and always included his address and a way to reach him in an emergency. His older brother had always been controlling but this went beyond that. His thoughts stumbled. “Wait. Amber?”
“Our daughter.” Maggie pulled a photo out of her purse.
Brady was afraid to take it, afraid to touch it, afraid of making this real. She set the photo in front of him.
“Amber is seven. She’s in second grade with Mrs. Mason. She plays softball and takes gymnastics. She’s a good kid.”
Brady glanced at the photo, meaning to take a peek. But his gaze settled on a face so familiar, it broke his heart.
“She looks like my mom.” Brady’s hand trembled as he lifted the photo. Tears choked in his throat. It had been ten years since Mom died. When she became sick, it had changed their household. After she died, it had been the three of them. Angry, confused teenagers hell-bent on going their own way. Now his mother had a grandchild she’d never be able to spoil. Finally, a girl.
Maggie gave him a wary half smile. “She looks like you. Every time I see her, I see a little of you.”
He had a daughter. His phone clattered in his pocket, insistent for his attention.
He ignored it, trying to grab on to one of the emotions flying around in his head. Anger at not being told, frustration that he couldn’t ignore work for even an hour to discuss this with Maggie, confusion over the still-vibrant connection he felt for Maggie and uncertainty on how to process all this.
He had a daughter.
Maggie sat across from him with her usually emotion-filled face as serene as the pond in the back field of the Ward farm. He had a daughter with this woman that he barely knew. A daughter who didn’t know her father.
The bubble of a grin threatening to expand on his face burst as his phone once again vibrated violently. Taking it from his pocket, he glanced at the screen.
“Damn.” Setting down his daughter’s picture, he scrolled through the three new emails. One from Peterson and two from the production leads in response to Peterson’s email. “Give me a minute.”
He didn’t look up as Maggie shifted slightly in her chair. Her outgoing breath was a little harsher than normal. He read Peterson’s email and held back the vulgar word that came to mind. Peterson was taking over his project and trying to write his name in Brady’s blood all over it.
He couldn’t regain his focus as Sam and Amber floated through his mind, each vying for his attention. One with anger and the other with curiosity. And then there was Maggie. He connected with her hazel eyes, and he stopped to take a breath. His chest tightened. “I’m a complete ass. Here I am trying to multitask while you’ve been doing that for the past eight years. Seven years old?”
Maggie nodded. Seven birthdays. What would his parents think about him not knowing about his child growing up in Tawnee Valley without him? How could he not know? Anything he said or did would feel inadequate for the time he’d missed.
He put down the phone without finishing his response and reached out and took her hand in his. “I wish I’d known. I wish I could have been there for you and Amber. To have to do that all on your own…”
Maggie flushed and dropped her gaze. “My mom was there for us when she had good days.”
“Good days?” Brady couldn’t remember much about Mrs. Grace Brown, but she’d always been nice to all the kids at the town picnics.
Maggie looked back at Brady. “Mom had breast cancer. She underwent treatment while I was pregnant and we had a few good years before…”
With the revived memories of his own mother still battering his heart, Brady lifted a napkin to the tear that trailed down her cheek. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother.”
They both froze at his action. Maggie shifted back and he pulled away quickly, looking at his hand as if it were the hand’s