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“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. Yes. I mean, dammit …” He hissed out a breath, pivoted on his heel, turned to face her again. “Look,” he said in a tone so disgustingly, glibly reassuring it made her teeth ache, “I’m simply trying to expedite things.”
“By dragging me to Dallas.”
“It’s where I live. Where I practice law. I have commitments …”
“You have a life in Dallas.”
“Yes. Exactly. And—”
“And I have one here. You can’t simply—you can’t simply—”
“Did you think we were going to do this long distance? You in New York? Me in Texas? Did you think I was going to be a—a part-time husband and father?” His mouth twisted. “I don’t know what your childhood was like but I grew up with one of those.”
“I didn’t grow up with any, and I—and I—”
“And you what? Grew up just fine anyway?” He took a step toward her, came so close she had to tilt her head back to meet his angry eyes. “Maybe you did. I sure didn’t. And I’m not about to do the same thing to a child of mine.”
Sage opened her mouth, then shut it. She wasn’t going to lie to him or to herself.
“You’re right,” she finally said, “I didn’t, either. Grow up just fine, I mean. But—”
“But, what? Don’t you want more for our child? I sure as hell do.”
Sage stared at him.
Everything he’d said made sense.
Of course she wanted a different life for her child. For their child. But—but—
She sank down on the sofa.
This was all happening too fast. It was all too new. She’d only just got used to being pregnant and now there was a man in her life. Not just a man. A powerful, demanding man, intent on doing the right thing because it was, well, right, which was wonderful, it was amazing …
Except, what she wanted from him was—was—
“Sage.” He squatted down beside her. “Sage, look at me.”
She shook her head.
She didn’t want to look at him, not
when his voice was suddenly so soft, when he was taking her hands in his and bringing them to his lips.
“Sweetheart,” he said, and she looked into his eyes and saw all the things a woman could possibly hope for in their indigo depths.
“Caleb.” Her voice broke. “it’s—it’s too much. It’s—it’s like getting on what’s supposed to be an easy ride at the amusement park and—and having it turn into the world’s biggest, baddest, fastest roller coaster.”
He laughed softly.
“I’ve been called a lot of things, honey, but the biggest, baddest, fastest roller coaster is a first.”
She laughed, too, but he knew she was trying not to cry, and it tore him in pieces to see it.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I should give you more time. In the best of all worlds, we’d do this slowly. Get to know each other. Go out to dinner. Take in a couple of movies, me yawning through a chick flick, you rolling your eyes while Tom Cruise risks his neck in the hundredth version of Mission Impossible.”
