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“I was in the middle of the Atlantic—”
“Don’t try to tell me you were cut off from all communication, Patrick.” Kate threw up her hands and spun away from him, away from his touch. If she didn’t put some distance between them, she would strangle him. “Everything you did—everything you said—was posted on the race Web site every day.”
“I didn’t write that,” Patrick said in protest. “I was sailing the boat. The sponsor put some guy on board with a satellite phone. He did all the updates.”
“What about before, then? The race took three weeks. You called me when you first got to France, but you didn’t leave the dock for weeks after that. You could have let me know you were all right, or asked me how I was doing. Did you even think about me once while you were gone?”
“I did. Honest.” Patrick faced her squarely. “But it’s crazy before the race. There’s never enough time to get everything done. Something always goes wrong at the last minute.”
“There were photos of you on the boat, on the docks and at lots of parties, Patrick.” She shot him a glare. “You looked really busy with a beer in your hand.”
Patrick ran a hand through his hair. “Katie, I—”
“I never even crossed your mind, did I?” She searched his eyes. What she saw there deflated her anger, filling her with sadness.
Patrick fell silent, his face somber now. Finally, he raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “I’m sorry. I should have called more.”
Kate sighed. The apology only depressed her. She had handled this poorly. She had let anger take control, when she should have been calm. Of course, she had never planned to have this conversation with Patrick, but that was no excuse. It was time to end this once and for all.
“Yes, you should have, but that’s beside the point.” Kate rubbed a hand over her forehead. “It was over between us when you left. I—”
“It was?” His laugh was short and sharp. “We spent every night together for the last month. Did I miss something?”
Kate flushed, remembering all too well the passion they had shared. “I should have known it after the first week you were gone, when I didn’t hear from you again. When I saw what a good time you were having,” she continued, ignoring his interruption.
“I’m sorry, Kate.” Patrick reached to take her in his arms. “We can start over.”
“No, we can’t.” She stepped out of range.
“Sure we can.”
“We had an affair.” She sat on the stool and leaned an elbow against the table, shoulders slumped. “I thought it was more, but three months of silence taught me a lesson. It was just an affair.”
Kate met Patrick’s eyes. The gray had somehow turned to silver again, hiding his thoughts. That clear color was the perfect camouflage. Like water, it reflected its surroundings, never revealing what lay beneath.
“So what do you want?”
Kate swallowed hard. The words she had to speak were painful. “I want you to leave. I’ll stay here and work, and we’ll both get on with our lives.”
“No, it doesn’t end like this. It’s too good between us.”
Kate stood and faced him. This was possibly the hardest thing she had ever had to do. More than anything, she wanted to go to him and press herself against his strong body. She wanted—ached—to feel his arms close around her as he held her tight. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t just think of herself. Not anymore. She stiffened her spine.
“We had a good time, Patrick. But that’s over.”
He looked at her silently, his expression a carefully controlled mask. Some indefinable emotion swept through his eyes, turning them a dark and stormy gray. “I can’t believe you mean that.”
“Believe it. While you were gone, things changed.”
“I know that.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His tone was flat and hard. “That change is exactly what we need to talk about.”
The color drained from Kate’s face. She closed her eyes and felt almost dizzy. When she opened them, Patrick was watching her intently.
“Who told you?” she asked.
“Shelly. I saw her down at the coffee shop twenty minutes ago.”
Kate wrapped her arms around herself and stared out the window on the summer afternoon, then back at him, not knowing what to say.
“When were you going to tell me, Kate?”
“I wasn’t.”
“What?” He shook his head slowly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I am the father, aren’t I?”
Kate’s temper rose at his implication, but she tamped it down. “Yes, Patrick,” she said with a slight snap in her voice. “You are. Technically.”
“Technically?” he repeated. “You make it sound like I was just a convenient sperm donor.”
Kate winced. “That’s not what I meant at all.”
“Then what did you mean?”
She sighed. “Look. I didn’t intend to get pregnant, but I was—I am—happy that it happened. I’ve always wanted to have a child and now I will.”
“Great! So what’s the problem? We’re having a baby. I’m going to be a father. Break out the cigars!”
“No, Patrick. I’m having a baby.” He opened his mouth, but before he could protest, she continued, “I’m having this baby, and I don’t think you should be involved.”
“I don’t see how I can be any less involved.”
“I meant…” Kate paused and took a deep breath. He was making this much harder than she had planned it to be. “My baby is going to have a father. But it won’t be you.”
“It’s a little too late to make that choice.” Patrick’s tone was dry as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I am the father.”
Kate shook her head. “Not in that way.”
“Oh? So who is the father in that way?”
“I’ve got a list of possibilities, but I—”
“A list! And I’m not on it?” With a laugh, he leaned against the workbench again. “What kind of joke is this?”
“It isn’t a joke.” Kate could feel her face flush, but she kept her chin high. “Face it, Patrick. You would not make a good father. I’m looking elsewhere.”
“You can’t make a decision like that on your own, Kate. You aren’t the only one involved here.”
“You’re right,” she agreed softly. “There’s someone else to think of now. I want what’s best for the baby. That is not you.”
His silver eyes darkened like a storm rolling in from the sea. “You have no idea what kind of father I would be. And you don’t have any right to deny me my child.”
She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin higher. “Patrick, you’re never here. A child needs two parents. Two. Are you willing to give up racing so you can be that kind of father?”
“Just because I like to sail doesn’t mean I can’t be a good father.”
“Then you’ll give up racing?”
“I don’t have to give up racing to be—”
“Yes, you do.” Kate spoke right over him, ignoring his protest. “This baby needs you here to hold her and love her. She needs you to tuck her in at night, to worry when she’s sick, to catch her when she takes her first steps. She needs you here, Patrick, not out in the middle of the ocean. Or in some foreign port forgetting she exists.”
“I wouldn’t forget my own child,” he said harshly.
“So you say. But when you race, you seem to forget all kinds of things.”
“How do you know anything about it, Kate? You’ve never even been out on a sailboat.”
“Whether I know how to sail or not is not the point.” Kate was exasperated now, losing control of her temper again. “We’re talking about whether you’ll be here for this child or not.”
He glared at her, but Kate wasn’t about to back down. She knew what it was like to have a father who was never around. Her baby would not suffer the same fate. Not if she could prevent it. She would protect her child from that pain, even at the expense of her own heart. Kate turned away from him and felt the heat of the furnace on her face. Usually comforting, this time the blaze fired her anger and unhappiness. She needed to get away from Patrick. If he wouldn’t leave, then she would; Kate moved to the door.
Patrick followed and grabbed her by the arm. When she jerked free, he slipped his arms around her. “Please, Kate. Don’t run away. It’s my baby, too.”
She wriggled in his grasp. “You won’t be the kind of father a child needs. You won’t be here. You’re just a sperm donor.” She didn’t hesitate to use his words against him.
When she tried again to break from his embrace, one of his hands slipped over her abdomen, onto the soft bulge there. Kate stopped struggling. They stood still for a long moment. Kate could feel his breath in her hair and his heart beating against her back.
Slowly, Patrick’s other hand slid to her abdomen. He gently cupped the slight swelling where there had once been a flat expanse of skin. Kate didn’t stop him. The shield she had erected against him slipped a little as he touched her. This was the father of her child. No matter how she tried to stop it, having him stroke the life they had created brought a lump into her throat.
He spun her around in his arms and raised her shirt. After gazing at her pregnant belly for a long, silent time, his eyes met hers.
“How long?” he asked.
“Four and a half months.”
He put a hand on her stomach again, spreading his fingers as if to encompass all that lay beneath the surface. The back of his tanned hand was dark against her pale skin.
“Can you feel anything yet?”
Kate nodded. “She’s pretty active. At first it was like having a butterfly trapped inside, but now it’s like she’s dancing.”
“She?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s a girl?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t want to, either, but I don’t like saying ‘it’.”
“I am the father, Kate.” He glared at her. “Don’t take that away from me.”
With a jerk, she pulled back, tugging her shirt down over her stomach. “It’s not about what I want or you want. It’s about my child.”
Patrick locked his eyes on her. “Our child.”
“Her happiness is all that matters to me. I don’t think you’re willing to be that unselfish. I’m not sure you can be.”
“You won’t even give me a chance, will you?” Patrick thrust a hand through his long hair. He paced away from her across the studio, holding one hand to the nape of his neck. He stood with his back to her for a long minute, then dropped his hand and turned around. “I didn’t get you pregnant and then just walk away.”
“I know that.” Kate took a deep breath. “Look, for me, everything’s changed.”
“You talk like it’s been years. It’s only been three months.”
“Three months without you. Alone. On my own, with a child to think about. My life is different now, Patrick.” She placed a hand over her abdomen where his had rested. “I don’t think you’re capable of giving me what I need or what a child needs. And, honestly, I can’t afford to give you the chance to hurt me again. Or the baby.”
“Kate, I—”
“No, Patrick. I’m tired and I don’t want to argue about this anymore.”
“We need to—”
Kate put up a hand. “No, not today.”
He clenched his teeth. “This morning I found out I was going to be a father. Now you tell me I’m not. I need time to think about this. We both do. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Kate shook her head. She imagined he wasn’t going to let this lie. He was a stubborn man. She also knew that he wouldn’t win. The baby trumped every argument he could make. He wouldn’t be there as a father for her and nothing less was acceptable.
“Not tomorrow. I have an appointment.”
“With who? Your doctor? I’ll go with you.”
“No.” Kate felt a flush creep up her cheeks.
She turned away and began to rack her tools on a Peg-Board panel hung across from the worktable. The loose mandrels clanked together as she gathered them up and put them in a cabinet drawer beneath the board. Carefully, she poured the two dishes of glass frit back into their jars and put them in a rack at the end of the table. She picked up the paintbrush she had dropped earlier and put it in a jar of cleaning fluid. With a rag, she wiped the smear of paint off the table. Patrick watched her closely, but she refused to meet his gaze.
“So you’re meeting one of my replacements.”
Kate spun to look at him, wide-eyed. “Who told—” She stopped abruptly when she saw his face. He had been guessing, but her reaction had confirmed it.
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Damn it, Kate. I can’t believe this.”
Keeping her flushed face averted, she put away the glass rod he had fidgeted with and screwed the lid on the jar of paint. She swished the brush in the cleaner and dried it with a rag.
“Don’t believe it, then, but there’s nothing else to say. I’ve made my decision.”
“This is crazy.” He stalked to the door and wrenched it open. “This is not over. Not by a long shot.” He strode out of the workshop, slamming the door behind him.
Kate jumped at the sound, then plunked herself down on the stool with a sigh. The baby moved restlessly inside her. Soothingly, she stroked the small bulge.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Mama did the right thing.” Kate let out a hiccupping sigh as tears ran down her cheeks. “It’s over now. It’s all over now.”
Chapter Two
