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He held up a bag. “Dinner.”
“I don’t think—”
“For three,” he said, cutting her off. “In case you have company.”
“I’m alone,” she said as her suspicions soared. “And I’m not hungry.”
He raised both brows. “Are you sure?”
Fiona fought the impulse to close the door. She didn’t want to be nice to him. But she wanted to know more about her daughter, and he was the key.
“You can come in.” She stood to the side and allowed him to cross the threshold.
He wore beige cargoes and a black golf shirt, and she couldn’t stop herself from checking him out. Okay, so the man had a nice body. She wasn’t a rock. She was a perfectly normal woman reacting to a good-looking man. She wasn’t about to beat herself up about it.
“Thank you,” he said and walked past her. “Where do you want this?” he asked as he motioned to the bag in his hand. “Chinese. A bit of everything because I wasn’t sure what you liked.”
“The kitchen,” she replied as she shut the door and then frowned as Muffin, the traitor, jumped up and down excitedly by Wyatt’s feet, demanding attention. “This way.”
He patted the dog for a moment before following her. When they reached the kitchen, Fiona stood on one side of the small square table and waited for him to take his place on the other side. She needed something between them.
She watched as he unloaded half a dozen small containers from the bag, then pulled out two sets of cutlery and a couple of serving spoons and grabbed two beers from the fridge. “Only light beer, I’m afraid.”
“No problem.”
Fiona placed everything on the table and scraped a chair across the tiled floor. “How did you know I’d be home tonight?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t. I took a chance. It’s a school night … and I figured you’d stay in.”
Fiona pushed both beers toward him and he disposed of the caps quickly. “Actually, I didn’t work today.” When he didn’t respond, she explained. “I wasn’t much good for anything after our conversation yesterday.”
He pushed a beer back toward her. “That’s honest.”
“One of my many flaws,” she said and took a small sip. “I have plenty. I often blurt things out before I think about what I’m saying. And I have a bad temper.”
His blue eyes shone brilliantly. “Really?”
Fiona started opening the tops of the cartons and when she was done scooped a dumpling out of one of them with her fork. “Big surprise, huh?”
He grabbed a carton of noodles. “So, is there a boyfriend or significant other in the picture?”
She looked at him and colored beneath his penetrating stare. “Just me.”
“Good,” he said and piled food onto his fork. “More noodles for us.”
Fiona was tempted to smile. There was a casual, easygoing way about his mood and she liked it. Too much. She didn’t want to think about him that way. He was her ticket to her daughter, and she had to keep her head on straight. Imagining anything else was nonsensical.
“Wyatt …” She lingered over his name and discovered she liked the sound of it rolling around on her tongue. “What are you really doing here? I know it’s not to share Chinese food or inquire about my love life.”
He placed the fork on the small cardboard container. “I was concerned about you.”
Fiona’s skin tingled. “There’s no need to be,” she assured him. “I’m fine. I’m always fine.”
“So you’re fine?”
He was smiling at her, and Fiona experienced a strange dip low in her belly. Really low. She marshaled her wits. “So what have you decided to do about Cecily?”
He looked at her. “After our conversation yesterday, I thought it was more about what you wanted to do?”
I want to see her.
“I don’t really know,” she said instead. “I thought I did. I thought I knew how I’d react if this moment ever came. Instead I’m completely unprepared. In my mind, when I played this moment over and over, Cecily was an adult and came to find me on her own. Then I could have faced her as an adult. But she’s a child and I know I have to be the strong one … like I should know exactly how to respond and react. But I don’t,” she admitted. “Part of me is overjoyed. The other part …” She paused, waited and couldn’t believe she was exposing her most vulnerable thoughts. “The other part almost wishes you’d never come here.”
The air crackled as she waited for him to respond. “You are strong, Fiona. Anyone can see that. But I don’t want you to have any illusions,” he said directly. “Cecily wants this reunion—but she’s a kid and at the moment is caught up in the excitement of the prospect of reconnecting with her birth mother. Once the dust settles and the novelty passes, the questions will start. And perhaps the blame. Are you ready for that?”
No, I’m not. She knew what questions would come. But she wasn’t about to admit that to the man in front of her. “Are you saying I can see her? That you approve of me?”
Wyatt wasn’t sure what he was feeling. He’d read the investigator’s report and could easily come to the conclusion that Fiona Walsh was a good person. She was a schoolteacher and had friends in the small community. Was it enough? She seemed suitable to connect with Cecily. But he’d been wrong before. And he couldn’t be sure what Fiona intended, either, despite what she said. He knew what Cecily wanted, and that didn’t make the decision any easier. She was as headstrong as they came, particularly on this issue. But there was bound to be fallout—and he didn’t want his niece, his family or Fiona paying a heavy emotional price.
“I think … I think you’ll do what’s right for Cecily.”
“I will,” she said solemnly. “You have my word. My promise.” She stalled for a second and then spoke again. “What’s she like?”
“She’s terrific. Cecily’s a nice kid, but she doesn’t hold back. She says what she thinks, blurts out whatever is on her mind and has a temper to match her red hair.” His mouth flattened in a half smile. “Sound familiar?”
She nodded, and Wyatt saw her eyes shining just a little bit more than usual. “Do you have a picture?”
“Of Cecily? Yes,” he said and took out his smartphone. He pressed a couple of buttons and passed it to her.
Silence stretched between them. Food and beer were forgotten. She blinked a few times and drew in a deep breath as she stared at the picture on the small screen. The resemblance between them was unmistakable, and Wyatt knew that seeing her daughter’s image for the first time was difficult for her.
“Thank you,” she said and pushed the phone across the table. “Can you send me a copy of that?”
“Sure.” Wyatt popped it back into his pocket. “Have you any questions?”
“Hundreds.”
He grinned and reclaimed his fork. “Fire away.”
“Does she like school?”
“Yes. She’s a good student.”
“She has friends?”
“More than I could count.”
She nodded. “Is she happy?”
“Most of the time. She struggled after Karen and Jim died. But with a lot of love and support, she pulled through. She’s strong, gutsy.” Wyatt watched Fiona’s eyes shadow with a hazy kind of sadness. It twisted something inside his chest. Made him want to offer … what? Comfort? Get a grip. “She’s a lot like you.”
Fiona laughed. Brittle. Uncertain. “I’m not gutsy.”
“I’ve read the file, remember?” he said and then wondered if mentioning it was wise. She didn’t react and he decided to push deeper. “Why have you moved around so much?”
“Habit.”
Wyatt’s brows shot up. “That’s not it. Tell me why.”
She speared another dumpling and slid the carton across the table. “Looking for roots, I guess.”
“Did you find them?”
She ate the dumpling, and when she licked her lips, his heart smashed in his chest. I definitely have to stop looking at her mouth.
“I found Callie and Evie, my two best friends,” she explained. “And I like this town. I enjoy my job and my little house.” She glanced around the room. “Plus I can have Titan nearby.”
“So, no boyfriend?”
Her lips curled up. “Didn’t we cover that already? I’m single.”
“Happily?”
She stopped tossing her fork through a carton of spicy chicken. “Who’s happy about being alone?”
She had a point. Although since he’d broken up with Yvette, Wyatt hadn’t wanted to pursue anything serious with anyone. He’d dated one woman since then, and that had faded before it had really begun. He wasn’t in any kind of hurry to lay his heart on the line again. He doubted he ever would be. “Better to be unhappy alone than miserable with someone else.”
“Spoken from experience?” she asked.
He shrugged the question off. “Old news.”
She swapped cartons. “You know things about me. It’s only fair for you to share a little, don’t you think?”
Wyatt grabbed the spicy chicken, took a bite and then washed it down with the beer. “I was engaged. It didn’t work out.”
“Do you miss it?” she asked. “Being with someone, I mean? Just belonging, having somebody to talk with, having someone who gets you?”
“My relationship with my ex-fiancée wasn’t that romantic.”
She frowned. “But you loved her?”
Nothing he said was going to get him away from Fiona’s inquisitive gaze. “I guess.”
He knew it didn’t sound all that convincing. But he wasn’t convinced he actually had loved Yvette. There’d been attraction and a certain compatibility, sure … but love? It was a nice idea, but did it really exist?
“Did a number on you, did she?”
Pretty, smart and intuitive. “You could say that.”
“At least you’ve had the courage to try,” she said in between a mouthful of noodles.
“Have you ever been close?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’m always the best friend.”
“What?”
She smiled. “You know, the best friend. There’s the girl who always gets the guy … and then there’s the ever-faithful best friend standing on the sidelines. That’s me.”
The best friend. Who was she kidding? She made herself sound about as exciting as an old shoe. Ridiculous. When he could feel the vibration of her through to his blood. Her skin was as clear as a camellia flower, and that hair … He suddenly had a startling image of it trailing across his chest.
Wyatt cleared his throat and drank some beer. “I suppose we should talk about Cecily.”
She looked up. “That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” he replied, choosing his words. “Before I agree to anything, I need to know if you really want to connect with her. Or if you feel ambivalent or like you have no other choice because it’s what Cecily wants. If that’s the case, believe me, I’ll leave tomorrow and you’ll never hear from me again until you’re ready to make the next move.”
Panic quickly filled her eyes. “No … don’t do that.”
Wyatt didn’t respond. He waited. She had to make a decision. There were no acceptable half measures. Fiona Walsh was either in or out.
“I want …” She stopped, paused, took a long breath. He waited some more for her to speak again. “I do want this,” she said finally, and Wyatt didn’t miss the way her eyes glistened. “I want a chance to explain why I gave her up.”
“And the hard questions?” he shot back. “Because she’s going to ask them and you need to be ready.”
“I will be.”
Wyatt wasn’t sure. Something was amiss; he felt it through to his bones. There was something she wasn’t telling him. He pushed the food aside. “Fiona, about Cecily’s father—I think there are things you’re not saying.”
She shook her head quickly. Too quickly. “There’s nothing. He’s dead. He can never hurt her.”
Wyatt immediately picked up on her words. “Did he hurt you?”
Fiona’s eyes fluttered. “I didn’t mean that. I meant … I meant he’s dead and won’t ever be a part of her life.”
“And that’s all?”
She nodded. “That’s all.”
Caution rattled around in his head, but he stopped the interrogation. “Okay, I’ll talk with Cecily when I get home. We’ll work something out. Cecily’s welfare is my priority, so you understand that any initial contact will be supervised?”
She nodded. “Of course. I’d like to write her a letter, if that’s okay with you. There are some things I’d like to say to her, and I think a letter might be a good way to start. I’ll understand if you need to read it before she does.”
Her lips glistened and looked delicious, and Wyatt’s libido took serious notice. “Sure. I’ll text you my address.” He pushed the beer aside. “I should probably be going. I have an early flight in the morning.”
She stood up, and he lingered for a moment before he got to his feet. Suddenly, leaving didn’t seem like such a great idea. Stunned to realize how much he enjoyed her company and wanted more of it, Wyatt remained by the table and stared at her. The air between them grew thicker, hotter, as though some kind of seductive force had blown into the room.
She was closer now, barely a couple feet away. Close enough to touch if he reached for her. His fingertips tingled at the thought.
