Chapter 17 #2
Yes, I am, my mind shoots back immediately. Or I was… I let out a slow breath. “Then what is it?”
He tilts his head, considering me. “It’s much more than that. I think he’s part of your life in a way you hadn’t considered.”
I swallow. The questions that were nagging at me earlier have merit, it seems. After a moment, the alternate view clicks into place.
“He didn’t step in uninvited. I’ve let him into my life, and this seemed like an appropriate response to him.
He wanted to help, probably thought this was something we should tackle together. And I attacked him for it.”
“There it is,” my dad says quietly.
I look away. “Even if I allow it, the problem with Evie still exists.”
“Sure it does. But having someone in it with you means something,” he replies. “You just don’t want to name it yet.”
The room goes quiet again.
“I’m not asking you to,” he adds. “But I am asking you this. What makes Luc different? Why did you choose to let him in?”
My stomach rolls, part nerves, part something else entirely. “I might need help after the baby arrives,” I say finally. “Just for a little while.”
My dad nods. No smile. No comfort. “I’m not sure that’s entirely it, but that makes sense. He is the baby’s father.”
I let out a breath.
For a moment, no one says anything. Then Viola sets a bowl in front of me and one in front of Dad, steam curling up between us as she returns to the stove. She comes back a moment later with a bowl for herself, and the mood shifts with the first few bites, the tension dissipating.
As we eat, we talk about how the baby’s doing, and I tell them about the mural I’m planning in the nursery.
They think the grapes will be ready in the next few days, and they’ll do the picking with some of their neighbors.
They all work together to gather everyone’s harvests.
Dad’s particularly excited about a white he’s growing.
“I can’t wait to try your wine,” I tell him when he finishes regaling me with the flavor profile. “Actually, any wine sounds good right now,” I confess.
We relax a while after lunch, and there’s a moment when I wish I had given myself the option to stay. But I know hiding here doesn’t actually help me with anything, and if I don’t want the drive home to be miserable because of traffic, I need to get going.
When I stand to leave, Viola hugs me, and then Dad walks me to the door. He looks at me a moment, seeming unsure if I want a hug. He doesn’t pull me in, but when I lean into his arms, he holds me tightly.
“You’ve got this,” he promises and kisses the top of my head. “Your heart is smarter than you give it credit for.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Viola rushes from the kitchen and hands me a large container of her soup. “Eat this. It’s really good for you.”
“Thank you. I will.”
“Drive safe,” Dad says.
I wave to them and walk back out to my car.
I’m glad I came.
The drive back feels shorter, even if the clock says otherwise.
I leave the radio off and let the road hum fill the space.
My dad’s perspective rides along with me, and I replay the conversation once or twice, trying to decide what it means that Luc has ended up somewhere I didn’t fully intend.
I’m not sure I know how to proceed. I’ve lived my life as a closed system for a long time now.
The baby shifts about halfway home, a slow roll that causes me to adjust in my seat. I murmur a distracted okay and crack the window. Cold air helps. So does focusing on the road lines sliding past, steady and predictable.
By the time the outskirts of Paradise come back into view, the light’s already fading. Evening settling in.
I pull into my driveway and sit there for a second. I don’t feel particularly resolved or any lighter, but at least I have a sense of what I need to figure out, even if I don’t particularly know how to do that yet.
I’m gathering my things when headlights sweep across me.
I look up just as Luc’s car pulls in behind mine.
Of course, he’s here and on time. Luc has never been the kind of man who says he’ll show up and then doesn’t.
I get out of the car as he does, the timing close enough to feel intentional even though I know it isn’t.
“Hey,” he says, reaching for the passenger seat.
“Hey.”
He lifts a familiar paper bag. “I’ve got the lemongrass pho.”
I nod. “Sounds perfect.”
His smile seems a bit relieved, and he follows me up the walk without comment, like this is the natural continuation of his day.
As I climb the stairs and unlock the door, Luc stands close. After I’ve opened the door, I step back and let him in.
The bag rustles as he moves past me to set it on the counter.
He starts unloading the containers without asking, lining them up in an order that makes sense.
I watch him do it, admiring the way he remembers how I like things without having to be told, and I feel that same small shift inside me that I felt earlier, when I talked with Dad. Just a quiet tilt.
“Thank you for bringing dinner,” I tell him. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” he replies.
We sit at the table with the containers between us, not bothering to plate anything properly. He hands me a fork, and we put together our pho. It all feels normal, which brings me back to the issue. Luc has become part of my reality in a way I don’t usually allow people to do.
“What did you do today?” he asks as we eat.
“I drove up to my dad’s. He lives in North Lake.”
“Isn’t that quite a ways?”
I nod. “It is, but I hadn’t seen him in a while. And I wanted his thoughts.”
“And did you get them?”
I appreciate that he doesn’t ask what I wanted, but whether I got the answer.
“I did.”
He nods, though a question flickers across his face. He’d like to know more, but he’s not going to ask. I take a bite and focus on the taste instead of the way he watches me.
We eat for a few minutes before either of us says anything that isn’t about the food. It’s delicious. Or maybe I’m just hungrier than I thought.
“So I’ve been thinking about last night,” Luc finally says.
I nod, because that’s true for me too. “Yeah.”
“I don’t want it to sit wrong,” he adds. “That’s all. I want to be sure we understand each other.”
I set my fork down and look at the table, at the faint scratch near my plate that I keep meaning to sand out. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I understand your intentions.”
He waits. I can feel him doing it without looking up.
“I reacted fast,” I add. “That part’s on me.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think you were wrong, necessarily.”
“I didn’t say I was.” The corner of my mouth lifts. It’s defensive but light enough to pass for humor.
He exhales through his nose. “Fair.”
I pick my fork back up and take another bite. “I’m not good at recalibrating in real time.”
“Neither am I,” he says. “I just pretend.”
That gets a real smile out of me. It slips away almost immediately, but it counts.
“I don’t want you thinking I was trying to take over,” he says, quieter now. “Or that I was trying to push something you weren’t ready for.”
I meet his gaze. “I know.”
And I do. I realize my signals might have been confusing, but I need to be clear. Dealing with Evie is for me to handle.
“I should’ve waited until we could talk about it together,” he adds. “I didn’t need to contact you during dinner. And offering a ride was about me and my worry, not what you needed.”
“Maybe,” I say. “Or maybe I should have warned you she might do something like that so you’d have been prepared.”
He considers that, and then nods. “That would have helped.”
He gets up to find the sriracha without asking where I keep it and tips it over his bowl.
I watch him move around my kitchen and think about how easily he’s started to exist inside my space.
It’s a surprise even to me. Though perhaps it shouldn’t be.
I’ve been considering giving the baby his last name.
And that’s not just naming a child, it’s choosing a framework, a structure that isn’t temporary.
That says he belongs here in more than theory.
Anderson wouldn’t erase Dempsey, but it would connect the families, tie my son to Luc in a way that can’t be undone if things get complicated. I’m surprised to find that strikes me as more of an assurance than a risk.
We go back to eating.
“I don’t want you trying to manage Evie,” I tell him. “She’s a master manipulator, and it’s just not worth it. It’s my family mess, and I want to be in charge of how I handle it.”
He nods immediately, like he’s already decided he’ll respect what I tell him before he even knows what it is. But something tightens in his jaw before it smooths out again. He doesn’t argue, though. He just absorbs it.
“Showing up like that is her style,” I add. “I understand why it felt alarming, but she does it because the surprise makes people overshare, makes her seem powerful. That’s what she’s counting on. My brother’s going to talk to her. Probably tonight or tomorrow.”
Luc looks up. “Okay.”
“It won’t change anything,” I add.
He pauses. “No?”
I shake my head. “She listens long enough that the person can feel heard, and then she does whatever she’d planned to do anyway.”
“So it’s more about him feeling like he tried?”
“Exactly.”
He leans back, thinking. “And you don’t want me involved? Even if she comes to me directly again?”
“No,” I say. “I’ve been dealing with my family a long time. Looping you in doesn’t dissuade her. It just gives her another angle.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is,” I agree. “But it’s familiar.”
He nods. “Okay. Then you can just keep me posted.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I ask you something?” he says.
I nod.
“What does Evie actually know about me? She knew I was staying with you. She knows I’m around. Does she know I’m the father?”
God, no. “I don’t think so. And honestly, it sounds strange, but it’s better that way.” Once she knows the truth, she’ll zero in and target all her energy until you’re pushed right out of my life. “I think she just knows we’ve been spending time together.”
He looks at me a long moment, and then he nods. I’m sure the poor guy has no idea what he’s supposed to do now. He wipes his mouth with his napkin and leans back in the chair.
Suddenly, the baby shifts, that same fluttery motion I’ve been feeling all day, and it’s enough that I lose my train of thought.
Luc goes still. “What?”
I press my hand against the side of my stomach, waiting. “There.”
“What?”
“The baby.”
Luc’s chair scrapes against the floor as he pushes back from the table. “Did it—?” He stops himself. “Was that a kick?”
“More like a roll.”
His eyes drop to my stomach, the focus so intense it’s almost clinical, like he’s trying to diagnose something he can’t see. “Can I—?”
I nod.
Luc comes around the table and crouches beside my chair. I guide his hand to the place where the baby moved. “Right here.”
His palm settles against my stomach. But for a few seconds nothing happens. Luc glances up at me, uncertain. “Maybe I missed—”
The baby moves again. A small, unmistakable push.
Luc freezes, like even breathing might scare the moment away.
“Did you feel that?” I ask.
His eyes lift to mine. “Yeah.”
The baby moves again, another small shift beneath his palm. “That’s…” He stops, searching for a word that clearly isn’t coming. “That’s real.”
“It’s been real the whole time.”
“I know,” he says. “But this…” He looks down at my stomach again, his hand still resting there. “This is different.”
The baby settles again, like the moment has passed. Luc leaves his hand where it is a few seconds longer before pulling it back. He sits in the chair beside me instead of returning to the one across the table. For a moment, neither of us speaks.
“When did it start?” he asks.
“It’s been happening all day. I’m glad you got to feel it too.”
Luc glances back down at my stomach one more time. “Hi,” he says softly, almost under his breath.
I suppress a smile. “Did you just say hello to the baby?”
He doesn’t look up. “Seemed polite.”
After a moment, he smiles up at me, and we continue eating, our conversation drifting all over. But near the end of our meal, Luc circles back to our previous topic again. “For what it’s worth, I’m here. Not to manage anything. Just…to be with you.”
I glance at him. “Thank you.”
“I mean it,” he adds. “If you ever want to deal with your family together, or if you don’t, I’ll take my cue from you.”
“I appreciate that,” I tell him. “And I believe you.”
He nods.
So that should be the end of it, and mostly, it is.
But still, something has shifted. Not between us. Inside me.
Trusting him wouldn’t be hard. It feels like I’ve started doing it without even realizing. And that makes things complicated. Because that’s not what I’m used to. That’s not what I know how to do. But maybe I no longer have an excuse not to figure it out.