Kelly Jamieson - Lost and Found

But admitting and accepting his own imperfections helped him accept Lauren’s cheating, her senseless death, and to deal with the fact that the baby she’d carried had been his.

Damn Rich for calling and telling him that. His stomach cramped and his heart constricted with worry about Krissa, because now he couldn’t stop thinking about her, all night and all the next day. Ah, who was he kidding? He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since he’d left Santa Barbara. Not a day had gone by that he hadn’t remembered her sweet smile, her sparkling green eyes, the touch of her hands. He ached with missing her, even now, and had begun to wonder how long it would take to get over her. Now, thoughts of Krissa alone, without Derek, obsessed him, occupied every corner of his mind. When he found himself staring blankly through the lens of his camera, not even seeing the subject of the image he was attempting to capture, he knew what he had to do.

With only one bedroom in the apartment there was no nursery to decorate, as she would have had in the house. But that was okay. Krissa kind of liked the idea of the baby sharing a room with her, especially at first. And she’d start looking for another place as soon as she could afford it. Maybe she could even find a little house.

Her parents had been amazingly supportive and generous. Her small bedroom now held a crib, outfitted in lime green and yellow. Her mother had shopped for baby necessities with a strange pleasure, considering how she apparently didn’t want any grandchildren. Krissa was now stocked up on diapers, onesies, tiny socks that she held up and marveled at. Surely babies couldn’t be that small?

Then she pressed a hand to her growing belly. On the other hand, she hoped the baby was that small, because the idea of the baby coming out was starting to scare her.

She put the socks back in the dresser drawer and wandered into her living room. The Christmas tree sparkled at her with white lights and decorations. Another gift from her parents. She wanted to be independent, but helping her seemed to give them so much pleasure. A Christmas tree wasn’t a necessity, but it made it that much nicer.

Alone at Christmas.

It didn’t scare her as much as it once might have. She sat down in the rocking chair, another gift, and placed her hands on her tummy. She felt a kick first to her hand, then inside against her bladder. She winced, thought about going to the bathroom, then decided she didn’t really need to. Those kicks to the bladder could trick you.

She slowly rocked, the rhythmic motion soothing, the lights of the tree hypnotizing. Outside, rain drizzled down in the darkness, running in rivulets down the windows. In the four months she’d been on her own, she’d settled into herself. Many of the stronger emotions that had tormented her had faded—the sense of betrayal, the anger, the guilt, the confusion.

What hadn’t faded was the intense feeling of missing Nate, of yearning for him, needing to talk to him, to share with him what she’d learned, and especially to share with him the joy of the baby they’d created together. But four months out of a lifetime wasn’t long and given enough time, she’d get past that too.

After Christmas she was going to have to ask Derek if he knew how to reach Nate. If he didn’t, she’d have to track down his parents in L.A. That was going to be weird. But she wouldn’t have to tell them why—although they’d find out eventually.

She thought about Nate all the time. About how he must have felt when he’d found out what Derek had done. Why he’d looked so obliterated the day he’d left. How he’d never dealt with Lauren’s death or betrayal, had just closed himself off to everyone who cared about him.

She hoped he’d reconciled with his parents. After that breakfast in L.A., she’d seen him relax and open up to them. Maybe that’s where he’d gone when he left.

Maybe he’d been traveling the world, taking beautiful pictures. One day she’d Googled him, but couldn’t find anything recent about him.

She rose from the chair, her center of gravity a little different now. She’d have a bath, then time for her and baby to go to bed.

She filled the bathtub with steaming water—but not too hot because she’d read that wasn’t good for the baby—and slipped into it blissfully. Steam curled around her face. She lay her head back on the bath pillow and took a long, slow breath, letting the warmth of the water and the scent of the peach bath oil she’d added relax her.

She’d almost drifted off to sleep, which was not a good thing, when a pounding on her door jarred her to wakefulness. What the hell?

She’d ignore it. Maybe one of the neighbors checking to make sure she wasn’t lonely. They invited her to join them all the time, and sometimes she did, but she didn’t fit in with the crowd of young partiers.

Another burst of knocking. She huffed out a breath. Jeez. She was trying to relax here.

At the third knock, she heaved herself out of the water, grabbed her terry robe and fought to get it on over damp skin. She’d clipped her hair up and little tendrils curled around her face.

She stomped to the door, annoyed at the interruption, and put her eye to the peephole. She drew back sharply. She blinked. She couldn’t have seen right. She looked again.

Nate.

He stood outside her door, scowling at the peephole as if he knew she was there, as if he thought she’d been there the whole time not answering her door. Rain glistened in his shaggy brown hair and on the shoulders of the black jacket he wore.

Her tummy did a little flip and adrenaline raced through her, causing her heart to speed up. Her fingers went to the lock of the door, and she hesitated. Why was he here? Did he know? This wasn’t exactly a good way for him to find out. Oh dear God.

She fumbled the door open with shaky fingers.

His eyes snapped to hers in the opening of the door. She kept it mostly closed, peeked out through the opening. “Nate.”

Nate studied the pretty face that appeared in the opening of the door. Cheeks flushed and glowing, dark hair curling around her face, she apparently had been having a shower or something.

“I came at a bad time,” he murmured.

“Um…” She bit her lip, looking adorably uncertain. She stayed behind the door. He could see she wore a robe, thick pink fabric bunched at her throat, covering her completely—so why was she hiding?

“I’m just surprised to see you,” she said.

“Yeah.” Hell, he was surprised, too.

“What are you doing here?”

He glanced behind him. “Uh…do we want to discuss this in the hall?”

Her eyes closed briefly. “No. Of course not.” She looked almost…afraid. Was she afraid of him? “Come in.” She stood back and pulled the door open. He walked in, looked around him at her apartment.

The only light in the small room came from the Christmas tree sparkling in the corner. It illuminated the leather couch, which he recognized from their house, and a rocking chair he didn’t recognize. The place was nice, just…bare. And small. A far cry from the huge five-bedroom house on the beach she and Derek had occupied. Something poked at his heart to see her living like this.

He turned, Krissa still behind him. She gave him her back as she closed the door, all bundled up in that butt-ugly robe. Nah, nothing Krissa wore could be ugly. He’d just rather see her in…less.

She slowly turned to face him, adjusted the belt at her waist.

“Your eyes?”

“Huh?” His gaze roved over her beautiful face.

“Are your eyes okay now?”

“Oh. Yeah. Fine. Back to normal.”

“I’m so glad.”

He was so fascinated with her face, her sparkly green eyes, that lush mouth, he didn’t at first notice that her hands were at a waist that was no longer slim.