Caroline Cross - The Paternity Factor

Following his gaze, Jessy said mildly, “The furniture came.”

“Yeah. I noticed.” He was in no mood for small talk. It was after eight, he had indigestion from the too-spicy pizza he’d eaten for dinner and he was dead-dog tired. All he wanted was to be left alone, to have a little quiet time to get his head together before the whole damn thing started all over again in the morning. Not that he expected her to care.

“You’re home late.” She drew up her legs and looped her arms around them.

“Yeah.” He’d gone by the hospital to take Grace some flowers and wound up spending more than an hour assuring her she didn’t have to worry about her job, the hospital bill, or anything else. “I guess I should have called.”

“No problem,” she said easily. “Have you had dinner?”

“Yeah.” He picked up the mail and began to sort through it.

She was silent a moment. “Tough day?”

“You could say that.”

“I’m sorry. It must be the rain. Chloe had a bad one, too, poor little thing. It wore her out. She was out like a light by seven-thirty.”

He set down the mail, which except for an invitation to one of his best customer’s wedding was mostly flyers and bills, and turned to face her. “Well, I’m not far behind her. I’m going to go for a short run, then turn in, okay?”

It wasn’t a question so much as a declaration of his need for space, but she nodded anyway, her eyes very blue in her tranquil face. “Fine by me. I’m going to finish this article and then watch a movie. Enjoy your run.” That said, she curled up, propped her head on one hand and went back to her magazine.

Shane remained where he was for a second, feeling off-kilter and not liking it. Turning on his heel, he started out of the room, only to grind to a halt halfway across the floor. Exasperated with himself, he slowly retraced his steps. “Listen,” he said without preamble, certain that the next few minutes were going to be about as pleasant as the rest of his day. “I almost forgot. I have to fly to Dallas tomorrow. One of my suppliers is having some cash flow problems. Can you handle things with Chloe?”

Jessy looked up, studied his face for all of two seconds and said, “Sure. Don’t worry about it.” She resumed reading.

He stared at her finely drawn profile. That was it? No muss, no fuss, no major upset? “Okay then,” he said, feeling inexplicably irritated.

She nodded but didn’t look up, and after a moment he turned and left the room, his annoyance growing with every step. He stopped briefly to look in on Chloe—the kid was flat on her back and snoring noisily—then changed out of his suit and into some sweats, and went for his run.

It was still light out, so he started out on the wide, well-maintained path that circled the lake. Later, he’d take one of the many offshoots and come back along the road to the house, but for now the wide vista of silvery water suited his mood.

For the first mile or two he tried not to think. He concentrated instead on the even ebb and flow of his breathing, the cool slide of the rain against his skin, the firm feel of the running path beneath his sneakered feet.

At some point, however, he began to brood about his exchange with Jessy. What was her problem, anyway? Why did she have to be so damn accommodating? It wasn’t normal—not for a female. She was so rational, so reasonable, so calm and sensible. She acted just like a guy.

Only she wasn’t a guy, he reminded himself impatiently. She was Jessy, the motherless little buddy he’d practically adopted back in high school. And for all her lack of pretension, her penchant for dressing in T-shirts and shorts, for going without makeup and wearing her hair simply, there had always been a kindness about her, a sensitivity to other people’s feelings, that was markedly feminine. So, too, was the way she’d always looked up to him, treating him as if he were some sort of paragon or, better yet, her own personal knight in shining armor who could do no wrong.

Shane grimaced. Now, that was a laugh. A real man wouldn’t care that the child he loved wasn’t truly his. He’d be able to get past his wife’s betrayal, to get on with his life instead of merely going through the motions—

He clamped down on his thoughts, his stomach twisting with the familiar self-disgust. He’d been over this ground so often he knew every futile twist and turn, every useless bump and bend. No matter how often he considered it, or how much he wished things were different, that he could be different, it changed nothing.

Nor did it help to address the situation with Jessy. As much as he hated to admit it, all the time he’d been telling himself she’d be good for Chloe, part of him had nevertheless been dreading the moment when she finally saw him for the sorry son of a bitch he really was.

Yet so far—despite his less-than-admirable demeanor—she’ d been nothing but warm and understanding. And she’d saved him a monumental hassle tonight when she’d agreed to stay with Chloe while he went to Dallas. Without her, he’d be back at the house calling childcare agencies, not out in the fresh air running off the day’s worries.

He considered the rest of the week. He had to concede that because of her he’d been able to come and go as he liked, instead of juggling sitters. And she was certainly easier to deal with than his mother, who had recently started nagging him about the way he was neglecting her granddaughter. Best of all, it seemed that he could trust Jess not to demand more than he was able to give.

He reluctantly conceded he ought to be grateful for her presence. But had he shown even the slightest appreciation? Hell no. Instead, ever since she’d moved in, he’d been expecting her to act like Marissa. He’d been waiting for her to demand his attention, to complain that he was never home, to sulk or pout or cry.

But she hadn’t—for which he was damn grateful.

He sighed. Under the circumstances, he supposed it wouldn’t kill him to act a little more civil. He could still keep his distance. It didn’t mean he had to spend any time with her or let down his guard.

For some reason, the decision lifted his spirits. He picked up his pace, pounding out the next few hundred yards, then slowed as he approached the house. By the time he’d showered and thrown on a T-shirt and jeans, he felt nominally better.

It wasn’t until he came down the hall to put his dirty clothes in the utility room that he heard the opening theme from Star Wars. Surprised, he stopped in the doorway, sure he must be mistaken until he glanced across the room and saw the opening credits unrolling on the TV screen. He was swept by a wave of nostalgia; the George Lucas saga had been his absolute favorite as a teenager.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before he admitted he was hooked. He edged into the room and watched for a while longer, then set down his laundry, walked over and finally sat gingerly down in his new recliner. He felt Jessy glance over at him briefly, but she didn’t say anything.

During a lull in the action, he cleared his throat. “Jess?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for staying with Chloe this weekend.”

It was a moment before she spoke. “No problem. You want some popcorn?”

“Sure.”

As she passed him the bowl and he realized that was the end of it, something inside of him that had been wound tight began to uncoil just a little.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said suddenly. “Bailey called. He said he’d give you a call in the office next week.”

“Yeah?” Although not as close as they’d once been, he and Jessy’s brother still talked periodically. In addition to their friendship, Bailey had an endorsement contract with TopLine, thanks to his status as one of the NFL’s premier quarterbacks. As usual for this time of year, he was at summer camp with the rest of the Florida Falcons. “How’s he holding up?”