Chapter 22 #2
She cracked a smile. Not much of one, but a smile nonetheless. “Don’t play the dumb jock with me. You’re plenty smart.”
“All I know is that I believe in you.”
That seemed to get to her. She nodded, then jumped out of her chair. “Watch!” She raced across the courtyard after him as he ran toward the far corner of the house. “Get away from there.”
Instead of obeying, the dog disappeared.
“Watch!”
Curious about what was alarming her, Clint got up, but he was barely out of his chair before Dancy tried to stop him. “Stay where you are! Finish your coffee.” She dashed from his view. “Watch, get out of there.”
Instead of obeying her orders, Clint followed her around the corner, where he saw Watch investigating a mushroom-shaped child’s
playhouse with a red roof, a green chimney, and a little yellow ramp leading to the front door.
Dancy heard him approach and backed away. “It’s for my friends’ kids when they visit.” If she hadn’t been so flustered, he
might have believed her, but he knew she’d bought this playhouse for her own child.
She faced him, posture stiff. “It’s past time for you to leave.”
Clint had seen what he wasn’t supposed to. Her vulnerability. The playhouse was a visible symbol of what she’d lost. He wanted
to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be okay, but he couldn’t do that.
He stood by the empty fountain, searching for something to say to break the tension, finally gesturing toward a pair of solar
panels barely visible in a nest of greenery. “They’re not getting enough light. You need to cut those plants back if you want
your fountain running again. Or I can do it for you.” Fountains . . . solar panels . . . He was a pro at thinking on his feet, and yet that was the best he could come up with?
She gathered herself together. “I have things to do.”
She wanted only to get rid of him, and that hurt. They were two people who could be real with each other. Solve problems together.
Talk about anything. He’d put this off long enough. It was time to be straight. “I was irresponsible that night.”
“I’ll show you out.” She walked past him toward the living room doors.
“No condoms.” He stayed where he was, not moving. “And I didn’t ask if you were on the pill.”
She stopped walking and turned to him. “I’m not.”
He shoved his hand through his hair, starting to pace. “We should have talked about this.”
“Relax,” she said stonily. “I’m more familiar than I want to be with my reproductive cycle.”
“That doesn’t bring me a lot of comfort.”
“I started my period the day after I left.” With that, she disappeared into the living room.
All his tension evaporated. “That’s great!” He followed her inside. “That’s really great.”
She didn’t look nearly as happy as he felt, and he realized he was coming across as insensitive. “I blame myself for not initiating
the conversation.”
She regarded him coldly. “Why? There were two of us in that bed. If I’d realized how worried you were, I would have clued
you in.”
“No, that’s fine. It’s okay. It was—” Instead of shutting the hell up, he kept going. “I know things have been hard for you.
After what you went through. With the baby and everything. You’ve . . . well, you’ve gone through a lot.” He was getting himself
in too deep, and he desperately tried to change course. “And with what happened in Chicago . . .”
Her spine stiffened. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Chicago.”
“You were in a bad place.”
She curled her fingernails into her palms. “You’re terrified that you might have gotten me pregnant, aren’t you? That’s why
you’re here.”
She was making him feel like the unreasonable one, which wasn’t fair. He tried again. “We’re responsible adults, and we acted like kids who’ve never heard of sex education. Of course I was worried. I know how much having a baby means to you.”
She stared at him. Her chest rose and fell. “You think I was deliberately using you to get pregnant.”
Her words fell flat and hard on his ears. Too late, he saw his mistake. She would never have done something so underhanded.
In an instant, he’d turned into one more man in her life who’d betrayed her. “No, of course I don’t.”
“Yes, you did,” she said slowly. “Somewhere in your mind, I’m still untrustworthy. You think I was trying to baby-trap you.”
“You’d never do that.”
“No, I wouldn’t. Now get out.” She marched through the house toward the front door.
He followed her—what else could he do? But he didn’t want to leave like this. He wanted to stay in this cozy house bursting
with color and make her laugh. Play with Watch. Fix them dinner and get her fountain working again. “We need to talk about
this.”
“Now!” She yanked open the door. He’d never seen her so angry. Angry and, maybe, heartsick. She spoke through clenched teeth. “I
don’t have the physical strength to throw you out, but if you care about me at all, you’ll leave.”
He’d run out of options, and he did what she said. “I’m sorry, Dance. I wouldn’t hurt you for anything.”
“Too late.”
The door closed with a hard bang behind him.
She sat on the tile floor, right there in the foyer, letting the tears drip down her cheeks. “It’s okay to cry when you need to,” she whispered to Watch. “And I really need to cry right now.”
Watch trotted off only to return a few moments later with his yak. He dropped it in her lap. She smiled through her tears.
“You’re the best dog in the world.”
She stumbled upstairs, Watch following, and pulled off her jeans, leaving them on the floor. She crawled into bed. This was
it. She was done. Done with men. Done with trying to make a career for herself. Done with life. She was nothing more than
big boobs and blond hair.
But she was too angry to stay in bed, and she jumped out. How could Clint believe, even for a moment, that she’d do something
so underhanded?
I believe in you. That’s what he said, but when would she start believing in herself?
She changed her clothes, went into the garden, and attacked the plants growing around the solar panels. No fairy godmother
was going to wave a wand and give her the career she wanted. She had to find another way.