Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
I’m staring through the windshield like there’s something to see other than Gavin’s garage door—we both are—until I can’t stand the sight of it and turn to my mom’s house—the house I grew up in.
The porch light is on. Mom’s probably watching TV or climbing a ladder. Above the porch is my bedroom window.
“I used to climb out of my window onto the roof to sneak out,” I say for no reason. “I’d meet Amanda and we’d go meet Greg.” I laugh a little. “I was always a third wheel with them, I guess. But they never made me feel like it.”
Gavin wrings his hands around the steering wheel, and I wish the airbag would deploy from the dash and explode in my face.
“I’m not who you think I am,” I finally say.
“I’m not—” I shake my head, hating how raw everything is.
My voice, my heart, my cuticles that I picked until they bled on the drive here.
“I lost a big account because I work too much”—I can’t bring myself to admit that I’m completely alone—“and to save my ass I said I was trying to get pregnant. By a sperm donor.” I pause to press my tongue to the roof of my mouth.
“I’ve always wanted kids but I’m busy. And you’ve probably noticed I’m a bit stubborn.
And afflicted with follow-through.” I look at Gavin; he’s already looking at me.
Staring really.
With a slack jaw.
And wide eyes.
“Anyway,” I continue. “I went forward with the plan. And I—” The truth sticks in my mouth like gum on the bottom of a shoe.
“Acquired donor information through alternative means to ensure I pick the right one. And that’s what this has been.
Holden. Theo. Leland. They’re all donors who fit my criteria whom I—”
“Stole information on and stalked,” he finishes for me.
I let out a sharp breath. “That’s dramatic.”
An angry sound rattles in his throat.
“You’re mad.”
“Ya think?”
“Why?”
“Why?” He’s incredulous. “You lied, among about four hundred other things, Reese.” He snatches the hat from his head and throws it on the dash then drags both hands down his face.
“What other things?” The lying, I get. Even the ethics of stealing the medical information. But aside from that, I’ve done nothing wrong. I want a baby so I’m having a baby. And he doesn’t even know that I lied about having friends. “Because of the account I lost?”
“Do I look like I give a damn about your job?” His voice is too loud for the cab of the truck.
“I’ve been trying since the day you showed up to be good enough for you.
To show you I’m not who you think I am, and now you tell me that not only am I not good enough, but you’ve been out scouting men—based on some fucked-up criteria—with my help—” He pauses for impact and it works.
I hate how he makes me sound. “To have a baby with. Not just any baby though—” He points a finger in the air. “A perfect baby.”
Now I’m incredulous. “And what’s wrong with wanting a perfect baby?”
“What’s wrong with wanting a perfect baby?” He clenches his fists. “People aren’t perfect, Reese!”
“I know people aren’t perfect,” I argue. “But I can do the best I can to make sure I have a healthy baby with every advantage. There’s nothing wrong with that and has nothing to do with you. Just because I’m making sure there isn’t some weird trait or genetic—”
I cut myself off but it’s too late. I know what I’ve said even without meaning to.
He was mad before, but the hurt on his face right now is so much worse.
“Finish it,” he grits out.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“C’mon, Reese,” he sneers. “You’re the expert on knowing what makes people perfect. Genetic what?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He scoffs. “Sure as shit sounded like it to me.”
At this, I am livid. A switch is flipped and the world goes red.
“I’ve never once said Addie isn’t perfect the way she is,” I argue. Over whatever bullshit he tries to say, I add, “And you don’t know me.” Every word wants a fight. “You’re the one following me around like a lost puppy I don’t want. And what I do is none of your business. I’m leaving. In months.”
He smacks the steering wheel. “Why?”
I rear back. “What do you mean why? What else do you think I’d do?”
“You stay!” He shouts it like it’s the most obvious option there is. “Or were you really going to let Addie and me fall in love with you then just walk away because we aren’t good enough?”
My blood rushes a little faster in my veins at what he’s saying.
Maybe I’ve thought of it in snapshots, but this is a real question.
And he doesn’t get to assume I’m going to stay without asking me what I think.
Or act like me choosing what’s best for a baby is a bad thing. “You can’t fall in love with me.”
He lets out a mirthless laugh. “You don’t get to control who I fall in love with.”
“Oh!” Now I laugh. “Yes I do, Gavin. I get to control everything, remember? Especially when it comes to me. And I’ll be damned if some achievemephobic is where I relinquish that control.”
He might want to strangle me. “I’m guessing that’s something that’s not as good as claustrophobic.”
I smile sweetly. “The fear of excellence.”
“The fear of—” He snaps his mouth closed, rage making a vein bulge on his forehead. “Because I’m happy with what I have?”
“Because you’re happy with mediocrity!” Up until now, I’d warmed up to this part of him.
Seeing him be so happy despite all he’s lost and hasn’t achieved.
I was almost smitten by his contentment with his simple life with Addie.
But any progress I made there is as dead as we are, because all I can think about right now is punching him again.
All I can see in the blurred periphery of my rage is his dream shed he doesn’t live in, money he’s turned down, the degree he didn’t get, and excellence he doesn’t know how to choose.
His fists clench midair, and he squeezes his eyes shut for two seconds. “You are too damn smart to be this fucking stupid.”
I tug at the handle at the same time Gavin locks the door.
“You’re kidnapping me?”
He rolls the windows down a crack. “Wouldn’t want you to get scared.”
He smiles his fuck you, and I flip him off.
“Fuck the woman with a heart made of ice?” He scoffs. “Pass.”
“Oh.” I suck in a sharp breath. “Better than yours made of Greg’s precious glass.”
That was low, even for me, but he doesn’t flinch. “Better than chasing perfection that doesn’t exist and refusing to see what’s right in front of you because it doesn’t look the way you think it should. You can’t even admit what you want!”
I’m shaking. More than I was when we were trapped in that closet. “You don’t know anything about me. Anything. Especially about what I want.”
He scoffs. “Okay.”
That okay is a piece of rage bait if there ever was one, and I willingly bite into it. “You really want to play this game?”
“I’ll name the first one,” he chides. “Reese Conway wants a genetically perfect child to control like everything else in her life.”
At my scowl, he holds his hands up like don’t shoot the messenger.
“That is not what I’m doing,” I growl out. “And I’ll tell you what I don’t want, because that list will be far easier for your uneducated brain to comprehend. I don’t want someone who’s so work shy they can’t follow through on their dreams or turns down money that could make their life easier.”
He growls—good. “Everything’s not about money!”
“And I don’t want someone who judges me for starting a family by any means necessary.
I don’t want someone who tells stupid jokes or thinks they can tell me to stay somewhere.
I’m not a dog. I’m a woman. A smart fucking woman.
” It takes three tries to unbuckle my seat belt.
“And I don’t want you. Unlock the door.”
As soon as he does, I fling the door open and spill out of the truck.
He follows suit, right on my heels as I stomp through Mom’s yard. “Reese.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Reese!”
I spin to face him, my fist clenched. “What?”
His chest rises and falls with the same rage trapped in me. “Want me to tell you what I want?”
I laugh. “I’d rathe—”
“To make you happy.”
His tenderness trips me up.
This was easy when he was yelling—shouts and heated words make for a cakewalk on a battlefield—but the softness of his voice levels me, and my next words come out shaky and soft. “And how the hell do you see that happening?”
He’s the closest he’s been to me all night. Close enough he could hug me or kiss me or both. He hasn’t shaved in a day and there’s stubble across his jaw.
“You let me love you.”
All the oxygen leaves my lungs, and I so badly want to say okay. But I cannot. Not with the fresh reminder of every difference between us that we just shouted at each other. I’m going to have a baby and go back to Chicago, just like I came here to do.
My “No” cuts the night like a knife. “You are a young dreamer with no follow-through who doesn’t understand me, and we are nothing.”
His mouth opens—I’ve hurt him. Good. Now he knows how I feel. Maybe he’ll take a hint and leave me the hell alone.
I muster all the control I can and eliminate the emotion from my voice.
“I’m having a baby because I want a baby—I want to be a mom.
Me. Even though I wear expensive shoes and make a lot of money and am doing it differently than everyone else, this is what I want.
Maybe my heart is made of ice, but someday my child will thank me for doing whatever I had to do to get them here.
And they’ll love me. Not you.” Fuck my eyes for crying.
“And I don’t care what you think, and I’m going back to Chicago.
And I am happy. Even if I’ve never been to Big Mini Putt Club or had a single neighbor visit my condo. ”
I swipe my cheeks then turn away from him.
Now he knows it all—I have nobody—and as I jog the rest of the way to my mom’s house, he doesn’t chase me or call my name. I knew he wouldn’t.
Mom meets me at the door—she’s holding a paintbrush—with a worried look on her face. “Ree—”
I hold up my hand and shake my head. “No.”
I trudge up to my room, and for the first time ever, let Joshua Jackson watch me cry.