“Uh huh.” Bridget stuffed the last cookie into her mouth and then talked around it. “Uncle Sam, do you know my dad?”
Sam’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped. “Uh . . . yeah, I do. At least, I knew him before, when he lived in Burton.”
“Is he nice? Do you like him?”
Sam glanced at me. A mix of expressions crossed his face. “Yes. Yes, he’s very nice. He’s a good man, and you should be proud to have him as your father. He loves you very much.” My brother grinned at me, and I knew he meant to be encouraging. “But you have lots of people who love you. Your mom, of course, who’s been here for you every single day of your life, and Aunt Meghan, who’s the coolest aunt ever—” He winked at his girlfriend, who rolled her eyes. “And me. I’ve loved you since the day you were born. Even though you screamed at night and kept me awake when you were a baby.”
I stood up. “True that. Okay, let me make this call. And then someone’s going to get me some more cookies, since some little piggy ate them all up.” I tickled Bridget under her arm as I walked past, dialing Flynn’s number to the sweet accompaniment of my daughter’s laughter.
THE LAST TIME I’D driven down this driveway, I was eighteen years old and thought I had life by the balls. I remembered that day with crystal-clear high-def precision: we’d graduated earlier in the day, and I was meeting Ali at the farm so we could talk to Sam, let him know that we were leaving town. Together. Thanks to our newspaper advisor, Mr. Wilder, I’d secured an internship with a photographer in New York, and we’d planned that Ali would go to college up there. We’d both work part-time, and that combined with the money I’d been saving would see us through until I starting making money by taking pictures.
I was walking on air that day as I’d pulled my old Chevy Chevette around to the back of the house, like I always did. I took the steps to the kitchen door in one leap and gave a cursory knock before I threw open the screen and went into the kitchen. When I spotted Ali sitting at the table, the grin on my face got even bigger and brighter . . . until I got a good look at her face.
My world started to crumble to pieces at that moment.
Today, though . . . today was different. Today I drove my Audi A7—okay, yeah, it was a rental, but I could’ve had one of my own, if I ever stayed in one place long enough to need a car. And today I wasn’t nervous about the idea of talking to Sam Reynolds. I wasn’t that boy anymore, the one who was stupid in love with a pretty girl. Now I was a man who knew love like that didn’t last.
The old farmhouse was right in front of me as I rounded the last bend in the driveway. Ali was sitting there on the porch, curled up in a chair I was pretty sure had been there when we were in high school. It was a weird kind of been-there, done that; I couldn’t count how many times my girl had been waiting for me, right in that chair, when I’d come by on a weeknight for a study date. She’d wave and blow me a kiss as I drove up, and then meet me at my car, throwing her arms around me as soon as I climbed out of the driver’s seat. I could almost feel the sweetness of her body pressed against me, soft and promising, and her scent filling my senses.
With no little effort, I pushed that image from my head, reminding myself that the same girl who’d greeted me with such love had broken my heart and denied me my own child. That was what I had to keep front and center. I couldn’t let her get under my skin again. Not ever.
I pulled up to the side of the house and turned off the car. I got out and slammed the door, hesitating just a minute to make sure I was ready. I needed to keep it all together and remember I was here for Bridget. For my daughter.
Fuck.I had a daughter. It’d been hitting me today, over and over. Like someone had taken the life I thought I had all figured out and turned it upside down. Funny how just one small piece of information could do that. Yesterday, I’d been Flynn Evans, photo-journalist. Well-known in certain circles, with my name mentioned among the up-and-comers in my field. Opportunities coming out my ears. As footloose and fancy-free as a guy could be in the early twenty-first century.
Today, I was a father. The word still felt foreign. I didn’t know how to deal with kids. Shit, half the time I could barely stand to be around my nephew Graham. And a girl? How the hell was I going to talk to her? What did I have to say to an eight-year old female?
“Flynn?” Ali had come down off the porch and stood leaning about the brick balustrade alongside the steps. “You okay?”
I straightened up. “Yeah. Just making sure the car’s locked.” I angled my body slightly and pulled the clicker out of my pocket.
Ali raised one eyebrow. “I think it’s safe out here. No one’s going to bother your car.”
“Just habit, I guess.” I managed a tight-lipped smile. “I’m used to living in the city, where you lock anything you want to see again.”
“Oh, sure.” She nodded, but I was fairly certain she wasn’t buying my excuse. Whatever. I didn’t have to justify my actions to Ali Reynolds. “Well, you don’t have to be nervous, you know. Bridget’s really excited to meet you.”
“I’m not nervous.” I frowned. “Why would I be?”
Ali crossed her arms, throwing her boobs into prominence.Damn.Some part of me wondered if she’d done it on purpose. I’d always been a sucker for this girl’s rack. I dragged my eyes back up to her face as she spoke.
“I don’t know, Flynn. I thought maybe today’s been a tad traumatic for you. It wouldn’t be unusual for any guy to be a little on edge.” She pushed off the wall and pivoted to climb up the porch steps. “But clearly you’ve got it all under control. Come on in. Bridge is upstairs.”
I followed her, pointedly not looking at her perfect little ass swaying inside her tight faded jeans. “Uh, Ali.” I coughed, trying to clear out the crack in my voice. “How did it go when you told her about me? Was she okay?”
Ali stopped just before opening the screen door. She looked back at me, studying my face as though trying to decide how much to tell me. “She was fine. Actually, she was . . . really great. Just a warning, though she’s thrilled with the idea of having a grandmother. And a cousin. So I hope you’re planning to tell the rest of your family about the new addition, because it’d crush her to find out she can’t meet them.”
I nodded. “No worries on that front. I told Mom before I came over here. And Reenie told Iona.”
Panic flittered across her face. “Do they hate me, too?” She spoke low, worry in her voice.
I sighed and rubbed my chin. “No. Mom was . . . surprised. And I think a little sad that she didn’t know until now. But she’s happy about it. She said a new grandchild is always reason for celebrating, and I’m pretty sure by the time I left, she was getting excited about buying Bridget clothes.”
Ali smiled a little. “Good luck with that. This kid lives in jeans and sneakers. But maybe a grandma would be able to change her mind.” She reached for the door handle but paused again before opening it. “What about Iona?”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “She told Maureen that she’d suspected it for a while, but she figured that there was no way you wouldn’t tell me. Or Reenie, at least. I think she’s happy Graham’ll finally have another kid in the family, so close to his own age.”
“Yeah, they’re only a few months apart.” This time, she opened the door and went inside, holding it for me as I came behind.
