Chapter 10
TEN
SOPHIE
Hearing my name, I glance up from the display of onesies covered in whales and puffins and into Cliff’s intense stare.
I suck in a breath and drop the onesie I was holding.
He strides across the shop, not bothering to acknowledge the couple of people who call out greetings to him. I guess I should be glad he’s so stern and reserved with everyone here as he was back in Seattle.
“Good.” He stops a few feet from me. “You’re still here.”
“Of course, I’m still here.” I raise my jaw, hoping it gives me the appearance of having more confidence than I do. “I couldn’t get a seat on the next flight to Seattle, so I’m here until at least morning.”
“Good. I’m coming with you.”
I frown at him. “No, you aren’t.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No,” I say more defiantly. “You don’t just get to storm in here and tell me what’s going to happen, without at least giving me some kind of explanation.”
Or, at the very least, an apology.
He moves toward me, but I take a step back. Stopping in place, he hangs his shoulders and gives me a wry half-grin.
“You’re right.” He sighs, and if possible his shoulders droop even lower. “Do you mind if we go somewhere more private to talk?”
I want to tell him no. That the time for talking was earlier, when I told him our—no, my—news. But the plea in his expression, the panic in his eyes, is my undoing.
“Yeah, okay. Let me pay for my stuff first.”
Nodding, he leans over to pick up the onesie I was holding when he first came in. He traces a thumb over the outline of a seal. I search his expression for any sign of emotion, but I can’t find one.
We move wordlessly to the counter, where he only speaks up when the cashier gives the total.
“I’ve got this.” I start to protest, but he puts down the money before I can.
Whatever. If he wants to buy a couple of novelty baby clothes, that’s fine.
He carries the bag for me out of the store.
He gives me plenty of space, while somehow staying close enough that it’s almost hovering.
We walk down the street until we reach a small park.
It’s the middle of the day, so it’s mostly empty, except for a few parents and their children who are too young to be in school.
We stand against a railing, facing the park instead of each other. I fold my arms across my chest.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
I shake my head. “What did you want to talk about?”
He hesitates, and for a moment I think he might shrug out of his coat to drape it over my shoulders. It would be a waste if he did. Even with how impromptu my trip north was, I did take the time to come properly dressed for the late February elements.
With a sigh, Cliff turns his stare back to the park. Long seconds pass. Is he waiting for me to speak again? He’s the one who said he wanted to talk.
I cast a sidelong glance at his face, and my heart hitches. The expression on it—clearly stricken—reaches inside of me, past all of my complicated feelings toward him.
Complicated, because as mad as I am at him right now, I still love him.
“Did you know I was engaged?”
I start then. “You were?”
He nods slowly. “A little more than five years ago.”
Five years ago. When he abruptly quit his job and bought a cabin about as far away as he could get from his life in Seattle.
“Liv and I had been dating for about six months when she told me she was pregnant.”
He pauses when I suck in a breath, but I don’t say anything. I need him to finish telling me what he’s started, even if the pain flowing out of him starts to seep into me.
“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure she was the person I wanted to spend my life with. I liked her. Cared about her. I even loved her in a way.”
I nod, even as his words sear new wounds inside of me. Of course, he’s been in love before. Most people don’t live almost forty years of their life without having been in love once.
It’s not fair for me to expect him to never have been in love with anyone else, just because I’ve been pining for him all these years.
He shifts from one foot to the other. “When she told me she was pregnant, I was excited. My dad had died a few months earlier. It hit me hard. But hearing that I was going to be a father seemed like a way to have a connection with him, even though he was gone. You get that, right?”
I moisten my lips. “I do.”
It’s part of the reason I’ve always wanted to have a family of my own. I hardly have any memories of my parents. My grandma is the only family I remember having for most of my life. But having a baby—having a family of my own—seemed like a way to have a link to them.
I’m thinking about all of this when it suddenly hits me: Cliff doesn’t have any children. Or, if he does, he’s somehow managed to keep them a secret all of these years.
He reads the question in my eyes. “She lied. She wasn’t pregnant.”
“Was it a false alarm?”
“She lied,” he repeats. “I found out when I overheard her talking to one of her friends about it. Apparently, she figured she’d fake it until we were married and then fake a miscarriage.
I don’t even think she did it because she loved me.
She did it because I had a good job, and she saw dollar signs. ”
The ache in my heart swells even more until I’m sure it’s going to shatter into a million pieces. How could someone do that? First, lying and getting someone’s hopes up just so they could get married and then faking one of the most traumatic experiences a person can have.
It’s so awful I can’t even find a word for it.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“Yeah, well.” He lifts his shoulder as if to say it was no big deal.
We both know that isn’t true. It was a big deal. One so big, he felt the need to quit the life he was living and start over. One so big it made him decide he never wanted to get married or have kids.
One so big, it made him question everything when I told him I was carrying his child.
And... I can’t blame him for that. Yes, he hurt me, but it wasn’t from a place of cruelty.
It was from a place of hurt and bad experience.
“Sophie, I’m—I’m sorry for how I reacted.”
“I understand.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “The way I behaved is inexcusable. You’ve never given me any reason not to trust you. Not when we met years ago, and especially not over Valentine’s weekend. I’m really sorry.”
“Okay. I forgive you. I also understand if you need to take some time to think about everything and… decide how involved you’d like to be.”
I pause, needing a moment to control my emotions before I say this next bit. “The door will always be open if you decide you’d like to be in.”
“About that. After you left, I got to thinking. And, I—I want to have this baby with you. Not out of a sense of obligation or duty. Though I won’t lie, I do feel one.
A responsibility, that is.” He runs a hand over his beard.
“I’m saying this badly. But, the point is, I want to do this with you. I want to raise this baby together.”
My bottom lip begins to tremble, but I capture it with my upper lip before I can give myself away. “Why?”
“Because it’s you.” He takes a tentative step toward me. This time, I hold my ground instead of retreating. “And somehow, I’m not entirely sure how, I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without you.”
A sob escapes me. Before I can put up a fight—before I can decide if I want to—Cliff folds me into his arms.
The tears flow freely down my cheek, soaking his flannel-covered chest. All the while, Cliff presses light kisses to the top of my head while gently stroking his hands around my back.
All of the worries, all of the fear, all of my heartbreaking disappointment from his reaction eases away until it completely disappears.
When I’ve cried all the tears I think I can manage, I ease back in Cliff’s embrace so I can study his face. My breath catches when I see the unshed tears swimming in his dark eyes.
“I love you, Sophie.”
Four simple words, but they mean more to me than any long speech ever could. Especially because I know how hard they are for him to say. It makes them mean even more.
Coming from him, they mean everything.