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She wasn’t that shut-down woman anymore...
“I wanted to discuss my access to the baby after it’s born.” Standing by the grill, with tongs in hand, Greg glanced over at her. His tone was conversational. His stance was not.
He could have been saluting someone with those tongs, as stiffly as he stood.
She didn’t want to discuss his topic. It was one she’d been particularly avoiding.
He’d mentioned a nursery earlier. And she didn’t think he’d been talking about hers.
“You’ll have legal visitation rights,” she said now. “That’s a given in the state of California.” Reminding herself that just that afternoon they’d decided they were parenting as a united front, together, remembering how right that had seemed, how glad she’d been, she walked over to lean against the L-shaped sink portion of the outdoor kitchen. Watched him flip steaks. Bent down to get herself a bottle of cold water out of the little refrigerator she’d been keeping stocked since he’d been in her home and she’d known he was using the pool.
She got a bottle of it for him, too. Set it on the counter by the grill.
Because they were doing it together.
“DNA paternity testing established your legal rights,” she said, althou
gh she knew he was as privy to that information as she was. He’d wasted no time after that day’s conversation to put them to the test.
And if she was going to make this work, to avoid an attraction to him ruining everything, she had to keep the conversation strictly professional.
He knew she didn’t want her child to have two homes—a fact she’d stated when he thought the child wasn’t his. When he’d shown no interest in being a part of the baby’s life. It seemed forever ago—when it had only been a couple of months.
And she knew he wasn’t asking about his legal rights. “I’d like us to have one set of rules to serve as solid boundaries against decision-making, so that as he or she traverses the world, there’s a solid set of understandings to guide him. Or her. Responsibilities, expectations, rewards and punishments should be unchanging from parent to parent.”
“You’re okay, then, with the baby staying with me sometimes during the week and on at least two weekends a month?”
Of course, she wasn’t. But she had to be.
She wanted her baby to have its father in its life. To know and love Greg. To have Greg’s love and care. His supervision. And his energy, too.
His fairness.
His ability to listen openly and have an ear to understanding.
She knew she had to tell him she was okay with it, but no words came out.
“Let me ask you this.” He jumped into the silence. “If you could take our situation and write the future, what would your script look like?”
She looked over at him. Still didn’t answer.
“Just gut thinking, what would it be?” he asked.
“That you’d stay in your suite and we’d both parent the baby in the same home.”
The words had come out so quickly. As though they’d been hanging there waiting for a chance to be said. And yet...as badly as she wanted to know he wasn’t leaving, the solution left her empty, as well.
“But that’s exactly what I did to Wood,” she quickly added. “I let my needs keep him in that suite and left him no room for a life of his own.”
“Funny, for a guy who had no chance for a life of his own, he’s sure doing a good job having the one he created.”
Greg’s tone held no humor. His direct look into her eyes held challenge.
What was he...
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said. “So, you want me to believe Wood never went out on dates? Never slept with another woman? The whole time the two of you shared this house? Because as I recall, you told me early on in our association that Wood had his own life, just as you had yours.”
“Well, yes, he did... I mean, I didn’t know who he was with, or even when exactly, but I know he dated. And some nights he didn’t get home until the early morning hours. It wasn’t like we sat around and talked about our sex lives. Other than to acknowledge that we were free to have them...”
