22. Miles
22
MILES
L ydia was pregnant.
My pulse raced and my heart pounded so hard against my rib cage, I thought it might burst out of my chest. I couldn’t stop smiling.
I was going to be a father.
Lydia was so happy and so beautiful. She didn’t glow, she radiated. She sparkled. She was the happiest I had ever seen a person be, and it was all because she was pregnant with my child.
It was hard to swallow. It was hard to fathom. It was amazing. I was confused and giddy, and I was going to be a father. The emotions were overwhelming and unexpected.
I had never planned this. I had never thought I’d be here, a parent, a father.
It wasn’t one of those things that I really ever thought about. But now, looking at Lydia with her bright eyes and shiny hair and expectant belly, how could I have ever not wanted this?
This changed everything on one hand. And on the other, my gut clenched.
Since she was pregnant, everything at the inn had to be that much more difficult for her. Yet, she sounded more determined than ever to turn Sweet Mountain Inn into something outstanding.
And she had no idea who I was. How was I going to be the man she thought I was and still push this resort through? She was going to hate me.
Even more so now that she was pregnant. How could I have the mother of my child not want me around?
And I was convinced that was definitely going to happen until I got her to see that my plan was really going to help this town, while her Historical Society and their lame attempts at getting people grants to help renovate and restore their homes and places of business was only going to cause more grief and stress.
She led me into her apartment within the inn. I set my thoughts on the resort aside. I needed to focus on her and our child.
“So, I was thinking,” she said.
I hadn’t been listening to her, too busy tripping over my own thoughts.
“If I got enough grant money, I could expand the apartment. I would like to build a kitchen on this side so that I wouldn’t have to constantly be running back and forth.”
“Moving a kitchen is not a small expense,” I said.
“Well, I wasn’t exactly thinking of moving the kitchen. The kitchen was designed to be a commercial-grade kitchen. That just never happened. Anyway, I was thinking I have three guest rooms at the end of the first floor hall on this side of the building that I could take over, and close off the entire end of the hallway, expanding the apartment.”
As she spoke, she tried to define spaces with her hands. She pushed air and kind of boxed in spaces with her hands. It didn’t exactly make sense, but clearly, there was something in her mind that she was picturing.
“I would have the apartment and the two ADA-accessible guest rooms on this side of the first floor. Then on the other side of the first floor, get that kitchen updated and upgraded so that it can be a viable commercial kitchen, and outsource a small cafe for lunch and dinner. They could even take over breakfast service, or add after hours room service.”
“That’s going to be a hefty investment,” I said.
“I know,” she admitted. “Upgrading the kitchen and putting in a small restaurant are part of my long-term planning.”
“And building a kitchen in your apartment? Wouldn’t it be cheaper to find a small house and live off property?” I asked. “Especially now with a baby on the way.”
She cut a sharp glare in my direction. “This is my home. This has always been my home. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“You honestly can’t imagine living in a little house with a white picket fence, and a yard with a swing set for the kid?” I asked.
I had grown up in a little house with a picket fence. The fence had been falling down, and the swing set had been tethered with rusty chains to cinder blocks so that it didn’t fall over. But I had the freedom of running around outside. I had a yard to play in.
The inn didn’t have a yard. Where was our child going to play? Where would we put a swing set and a slide?
“I don’t know. I never really thought of it. I mean, this is how I grew up,” she said. “If I needed to play, I could go to the park.”
“How are you planning on running this place and taking our child to the park at the same time?”
She stood in the middle of her small living room. Her expression turned sad, and her lower lip started to tremble.
“Oh, Lydia.” I reached out for her and pulled her against my chest. “I didn’t mean to make you upset,” I said as I stroked her hair.
“I don’t know how I’m gonna do any of it.” She sounded so sad and a little bit scared. “But if my mom could do it, then I know I can do it. I’m not going to be the first single mother to balance having to work and raising a kid.”
“You aren’t going to be in this alone,” I said.
She tilted her head up to me and blinked. I saw tears dot her eyelashes. With a thumb, I brushed the little bit of moisture that escaped from her eyes away from her cheek.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “I mean, you’re not here more often than you’re here. And if I listen to the inner voices that tell me everything is wrong with the world, I have to wonder if I’m not just someone who fell into bed with you and that you actually have a family somewhere else.”
“Lydia,” I said, trying to keep anger out of my voice, “I do not have a family somewhere else. The only family I have is growing right here in Brookdale.” I rested my hand on her pregnant belly. “You don’t have to worry about anything like that.”
“I’m not a side piece who accidentally got pregnant?” she asked.
“Accidentally got pregnant, check. Side piece only if you consider my job my first relationship. And right about now, I’m beginning to think I’ve spent a little too much time at work and not enough time with you.”
“Are you trying to be romantic?” she asked.
“I don’t know if I would call this romantic. Can’t say that I ever considered myself that. But I am trying to be realistic.”
“Speaking of being realistic,” she started, “how long are you staying? What brings you to town this time?”
“Does it matter?” I brushed her hair away from her face and cupped her cheek. “You and the baby are going to keep me here.”
“Are you serious?” A small smile played across her lips.
I much preferred to see her smiling than frowning. Happiness looked good on her.
“I’m very serious.” I was going to have to play the long game with Lydia. I needed to get her to trust me, to know she could rely on me. And I needed for her to trust me enough so when I revealed who I really was in regard to forcing her hand in selling the Sweet Mountain Inn to me that she would happily do so, even though she knew what my plans were.
“I know that your dream renovation is expanding your little apartment, building a kitchen, creating a home. Until you can do that, where are you putting the baby?”
“I’ve already started cleaning up the second bedroom, and I’m going to turn that into a nursery.”
“You have a second bedroom?” I asked.
“This is where I grew up. Where Mom and I lived, and after Mom died, where my Aunt Ruth lived. I tend to not go into that room, but I think turning it into a nursery will give it a renewed sense of happiness.”
“Show me,” I said.
Her little apartment had a sitting room, her bedroom, and a bathroom. The door on the other side of the bathroom, I had always assumed was a closet, but it wasn’t. It opened up onto another equally sized bedroom. It was dark and gloomy, packed in with boxes, and the bed was piled high with somebody’s old clothing.
“I’m still cleaning everything out from when my aunt died. It’s been a while, and unfortunately, it brings up a lot of emotions and memories. So it’s been going slow, and I haven’t exactly been motivated. Now I’m motivated, and the emotions are still getting in the way.”
“Why don’t you let me clear out this room?” I suggested. “I don’t have the emotional attachment. If there are items that are sentimental to you, we can go through and pull those out first?—”
“I don’t want anything from this room. Anything that had belonged to my mom, I already have. Anything that belonged to my aunt, I don’t want. You can get rid of it all.”
“Are you certain?”
“I am. I mean, we can save the furniture. I’d like to pull out those old dressers and paint them in bright colors, because right now, they’re dreary and old. But they’re good quality, and I don’t see why I couldn’t freshen them up for the nursery.”
“Then it sounds like we have a plan for the next couple of days,” I said.
“Are you serious?” she asked me again.
It was as if she didn’t believe I was really here or that I really planned on helping her get this room set up for the baby.
“It’s my baby, too,” I said. “I want its mother to be happy and comfortable. It’s the least I can do for you right now.”