Baby on Board. Lisa Ruff
why didn’t I hear from you?” Kate watched him closely as she asked the question.
“I called you,” Patrick said with a slight frown.
“Once! One call.”
“I was in the middle of the Atlantic—”
“Don’t try to tell me you were cut off from all communication, Patrick.” Kate threw up her hands and spun away from him, away from his touch. If she didn’t put some distance between them, she would strangle him. “Everything you did—everything you said—was posted on the race Web site every day.”
“I didn’t write that,” Patrick said in protest. “I was sailing the boat. The sponsor put some guy on board with a satellite phone. He did all the updates.”
“What about before, then? The race took three weeks. You called me when you first got to France, but you didn’t leave the dock for weeks after that. You could have let me know you were all right, or asked me how I was doing. Did you even think about me once while you were gone?”
“I did. Honest.” Patrick faced her squarely. “But it’s crazy before the race. There’s never enough time to get everything done. Something always goes wrong at the last minute.”
“There were photos of you on the boat, on the docks and at lots of parties, Patrick.” She shot him a glare. “You looked really busy with a beer in your hand.”
Patrick ran a hand through his hair. “Katie, I—”
“I never even crossed your mind, did I?” She searched his eyes. What she saw there deflated her anger, filling her with sadness.
Patrick fell silent, his face somber now. Finally, he raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “I’m sorry. I should have called more.”
Kate sighed. The apology only depressed her. She had handled this poorly. She had let anger take control, when she should have been calm. Of course, she had never planned to have this conversation with Patrick, but that was no excuse. It was time to end this once and for all.
“Yes, you should have, but that’s beside the point.” Kate rubbed a hand over her forehead. “It was over between us when you left. I—”
“It was?” His laugh was short and sharp. “We spent every night together for the last month. Did I miss something?”
Kate flushed, remembering all too well the passion they had shared. “I should have known it after the first week you were gone, when I didn’t hear from you again. When I saw what a good time you were having,” she continued, ignoring his interruption.
“I’m sorry, Kate.” Patrick reached to take her in his arms. “We can start over.”
“No, we can’t.” She stepped out of range.
“Sure we can.”
“We had an affair.” She sat on the stool and leaned an elbow against the table, shoulders slumped. “I thought it was more, but three months of silence taught me a lesson. It was just an affair.”
Kate met Patrick’s eyes. The gray had somehow turned to silver again, hiding his thoughts. That clear color was the perfect camouflage. Like water, it reflected its surroundings, never revealing what lay beneath.
“So what do you want?”
Kate swallowed hard. The words she had to speak were painful. “I want you to leave. I’ll stay here and work, and we’ll both get on with our lives.”
“No, it doesn’t end like this. It’s too good between us.”
Kate stood and faced him. This was possibly the hardest thing she had ever had to do. More than anything, she wanted to go to him and press herself against his strong body. She wanted—ached—to feel his arms close around her as he held her tight. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t just think of herself. Not anymore. She stiffened her spine.
“We had a good time, Patrick. But that’s over.”
He looked at her silently, his expression a carefully controlled mask. Some indefinable emotion swept through his eyes, turning them a dark and stormy gray. “I can’t believe you mean that.”
“Believe it. While you were gone, things changed.”
“I know that.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His tone was flat and hard. “That change is exactly what we need to talk about.”
The color drained from Kate’s face. She closed her eyes and felt almost dizzy. When she opened them, Patrick was watching her intently.
“Who told you?” she asked.
“Shelly. I saw her down at the coffee shop twenty minutes ago.”
Kate wrapped her arms around herself and stared out the window on the summer afternoon, then back at him, not knowing what to say.
“When were you going to tell me, Kate?”
“I wasn’t.”
“What?” He shook his head slowly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I am the father, aren’t I?”
Kate’s temper rose at his implication, but she tamped it down. “Yes, Patrick,” she said with a slight snap in her voice. “You are. Technically.”
“Technically?” he repeated. “You make it sound like I was just a convenient sperm donor.”
Kate winced. “That’s not what I meant at all.”
“Then what did you mean?”
She sighed. “Look. I didn’t intend to get pregnant, but I was—I am—happy that it happened. I’ve always wanted to have a child and now I will.”
“Great! So what’s the problem? We’re having a baby. I’m going to be a father. Break out the cigars!”
“No, Patrick. I’m having a baby.” He opened his mouth, but before he could protest, she continued, “I’m having this baby, and I don’t think you should be involved.”
“I don’t see how I can be any less involved.”
“I meant…” Kate paused and took a deep breath. He was making this much harder than she had planned it to be. “My baby is going to have a father. But it won’t be you.”
“It’s a little too late to make that choice.” Patrick’s tone was dry as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I am the father.”
Kate shook her head. “Not in that way.”
“Oh? So who is the father in that way?”
“I’ve got a list of possibilities, but I—”
“A list! And I’m not on it?” With a laugh, he leaned against the workbench again. “What kind of joke is this?”
“It isn’t a joke.” Kate could feel her face flush, but she kept her chin high. “Face it, Patrick. You would not make a good father. I’m looking elsewhere.”
“You can’t make a decision like that on your own, Kate. You aren’t the only one involved here.”
“You’re right,” she agreed softly. “There’s someone else to think of now. I want what’s best for the baby. That is not you.”
His silver eyes darkened like a storm rolling in from the sea. “You have no idea what kind of father I would be. And you don’t have any right to deny me my child.”
She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin higher. “Patrick, you’re never here. A child needs two parents. Two. Are you willing to give up racing so you can be that kind of father?”
“Just because I like to sail doesn’t mean I can’t be a good father.”
“Then you’ll give up racing?”