Practicing Parenthood. Cara Lockwood
That’s right.” Collin nodded. He glanced out the window, as he saw a golf cart speed by. “Something wrong with that plan?”
Yvana shrugged one shoulder. “Oh, honey, that’s not for me to decide.” She chuckled, then picked up the phone. “Let me call her and see if she’s willing to see you.”
Willing to see me? Now Collin was definitely feeling anxious. He thought about all the times she’d refused his calls.
“How about you just tell me how to get to her house and I’ll surprise her? It’s number fifty-nine, Harbor Bend Road?” He pulled out the printout from his pocket, the result of his search for her uncle’s property.
“Oh, I know where it is.” Yvana picked up the phone and punched in the number. “Maddie, sugar?” she said.
Maddie? Collin had never heard her called that before.
“I’ve got a male visitor here for you. His name is...” She cupped the receiver with one hand. “What’s your name again, hon?”
“Collin.”
“Collin’s here. He wants me to take him to you, but I thought I’d...” She paused, listening. “Oh, I see. Mmm, hmm. Is that right? Well, now.” She studied him, frowning. What was Madison telling her? “Oh... I see.” She eyed him. “All right, then. Don’t you worry none. I can handle this.”
Was Madison refusing to see him? That didn’t compute with Collin. He’d driven all this way, paid for the ferry, lugged this one-carat perfectly cut diamond from Fort Myers—and it had never occurred to him that it might be a wasted trip.
“You take care of yourself, you hear?” Yvana said and then hung up. She focused her dark brown eyes on him.
“What was all that about?” Collin asked, but Yvana ignored him. Her body language made it clear that she had no intention of sharing any details.
“Well, how about you wait out there on that bench?” Yvana said sweetly, pointing to the bench near the line of parked golf carts bathed in North Captiva sunlight. “I’ll get Gus to drive you. He’s running a few patrons out to their houses, but he should be back in fifteen or so.”
“Maybe I could just walk?” he offered. He didn’t want to wait that long. The ring felt suddenly heavy in his pocket. It belonged on Madison’s finger.
“Oh, honey, you’d get lost.” She shook her head, then gave him a big smile. “Wait right there. Gus will come by. You sure you don’t want me to hold on to that ring for you?”
Collin chuckled. “No, I’d rather keep it, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” The phone rang and Yvana picked it up. “Hello, North Captiva Club,” she sang. Collin let himself out, the cool breeze from the beach ruffling his hair. He looked at a line of tropical flowers. There were worse places to wait, he figured, as he headed to the bench in the shade. He slumped down and checked his watch. He’d come this far. What was another fifteen minutes?
COLLIN BAPTISTA WAS HERE.
Madison paced her uncle’s third-story deck in a panic. She bit her thumb as she glanced out over the treetops toward the ocean, which sparkled blue in the distance. Collin had found her. How? Did he know she was pregnant? God, she hoped not. Then again, she remembered that her uncle had spilled the beans to Yvana. Was he trying to play matchmaker with Collin, too?
No. He couldn’t do that. She hadn’t told him who the father was, after all.
Would Collin have been able to find out some other way?
She’d steadfastly refused his calls. Surely, he would’ve gotten the message that she wasn’t interested. Besides, why was he even interested? And why now? He’d been more than clear that he didn’t want a relationship. I don’t date defense attorneys. Wasn’t that what he’d said? No, he doesn’t date them. Just sleeps with them, that’s all, she thought bitterly. And then dumps them like garbage the very next day. She remembered how coldly he’d treated her. She got that it had been one night, but she had assumed he’d enjoyed it as much as she had. Obviously, that hadn’t been the case. She’d thought the sex had been...exceptional, and yet he’d treated her as if it had been the worst night of his life. Maybe it had been. That idea was painful. He hadn’t felt the connection, the spark that she had.
She ought to see him, but part of her felt scared. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep the baby a secret, and the anxiety of seeing him roiled her stomach so that her morning—now officially afternoon sickness—had returned. She told Yvana to stall him while she figured out what to do. She couldn’t flee; the next ferry wasn’t for an hour at least, and she’d have to walk right past him to get on it. She could hope he’d get tired and leave, but what she knew of Collin told her he was a tenacious fighter who wouldn’t give up easily.
What was he doing here?
Calm down, she told herself. Just calm down and think. A million different thoughts flooded her mind.
He knew. He had to know about the baby. Was he here to tell her to get an abortion?
She clenched her teeth at that possibility. She wasn’t going to do it.
What to do?
Her brain suddenly didn’t want to work. Ever since she’d stared at those two pink lines on the pregnancy test, she’d felt that her brain had gone into slow-mo mode, and she’d lost all ability to make a decision. Now, faced with Collin here, on North Captiva, she’d need to decide. If she told Yvana to get rid of him, she would. But was that what she really wanted? She wasn’t sure.
What she did know was that she still wasn’t over the sting of rejection she’d felt when he failed to call her the morning after their drunken tryst. She’d texted him—twice—and he hadn’t bothered to respond. The curt nod she’d gotten in the courthouse the next morning had told her all she needed to know—she was a one-night stand, a mistake he didn’t intend to repeat. She should’ve seen it coming. I don’t date defense attorneys, he’d warned her over drinks. It’d be a bad career move.
She ought to have walked away from him right then and there. Yet, she hadn’t. It was his green eyes, she thought, almost gray, striking with his tanned complexion, set off by his jet-black hair. He wore it longish and wavy on top, short at the sides. He was shrewd, but that wasn’t what had made her stay for a drink. It was his surprising show of empathy that day.
“Nobody said this job was easy,” he’d murmured as he sidled up to her at the bar at Pete’s, down the street from the courthouse in Fort Myers. “I know you had a rough week. Buy you a drink?”
Rough didn’t begin to cover it. Two days ago, she’d had to tell the mother of a nineteen-year-old that he was going to prison for seven years. He stole a car because someone had left it running with the keys in it. A crime of opportunity. But he’d messed up badly—because the car had had a baby in the back seat. That automatically made it a felony.
The teenager wasn’t a bad kid, just rudderless; he’d spent his life in an impoverished neighborhood. Nevertheless, his carelessness had left a mother in a panic, and worse, he’d abandoned the car with the baby still inside. Thankfully, a cop had spotted it, but if that hadn’t happened...the baby could’ve overheated, could’ve died. Poor decision-making and bad luck meant he was going away for seven years, and he’d come out harder. Maybe even more violent. There was nothing reforming about the prison system.
And then, in the afternoon, she’d had to represent a white supremacist—her! Madison was about as brown as a person could get. But Jimmy Reese was a KKK member who’d tried to shoot a black man and hit a white twelve-year-old instead. She couldn’t imagine getting a worse case. She’d lost the one case and then gotten another that she hoped very much to lose.
“You planning to cut