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“So, that’s a no then?”
I started up the stairs. Ginger backed away from me and kept her eyes downcast. She wouldn’t even look at me. Fuck!
“Malcolm, let me pass.”
“Can you just wait a damn minute. Just talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Like hell there isn’t.” I pointed to her suitcase. “Is this how you always plan on handling things? Packing up and running away?”
“You said I had a choice. This is the one I’m making.” Her voice cracked. She took a breath. “Can I go or not?”
“Fuck!”
I ran my hands through my hair, squeezing my dreads together, trying to come up with something to say. I drew a blank. I glanced up at Ginger. She stood back against the wall, her hands clutched her suitcase. This was bullshit. One sentence. One fucking sentence had her running for the hills.
“Baby…” I sighed and pressed my thumbs to my eyes. When I looked back up at her, she was watching me. She held my gaze for a fleeting moment then turned away. “I love you, Calida.”
I turned and headed back down the stairs and headed toward the formal living room at the front of the house. The very room that started it all. The one where I professed my love for her in no uncertain terms. Now I used it as a hideout so she’d have plenty of room to leave without worrying I’d try to stop her. Every part of me wanted to do just the opposite. Everything in me said make her stay, to force her to listen to my explanation so she’d understand. But holding her hostage when she wanted to go wouldn’t help matters.
I sat in one of the stiff wingback chairs waiting for the sound of the door chime. My ability to stay put waned with each passing second. The sound came. I gripped onto the arms of the chair, needing something to keep me in place.
Last night she told me she loved me. Today she left. That was one hell of a turnaround in less than twenty-four hours.
I stood and peered out the large picture window. Ginger’s red SUV backed down the driveway. Hollow. Disbelief. She drove away. I turned and kicked the chair. It slid across the hardwoods until it hit its mate. I punched the air as I stalked down the hall back to the family room.
“No. No. Fuck this. She’ll talk to me.” Even if I had to have the whole damn conversation through the intercom at her place, I would explain myself to her.
I headed to the stairs and took them two at a time. I had reached the top when the door chimed again.
“Malcolm.”
I stopped. She came back? I slowly made my way back down. Ginger stood chewing on her bottom lip while twirling the ring around her finger.
“You forget something?” Why the hell would I ask that?
She shook her head. “Dr. Carr would think my actions…” she paused, looked down at the ring, and started mumbling to herself. She looked back up at me. “What I’m trying to say is that I’ve worked…I’m working at trying to change my go-to reactions. Hearing you call me tainted…”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, that’s what I heard. Me and my son. Because as much as you want to pretend to be his father—”
“Pretend? I’m not pretending anything.”
“You know what I mean.”
I stepped forward. “Do I? Because we are having some shitty communication right now. And I one hundred percent own that I fucked up with my choice of words.”
“Yes, Malcolm, you know what I mean,” she continued on as if I’d not said anything. “You’ve stepped up, put yourself in that father role for him, and that’s great. He adores you, and I hope your feelings toward him have been genuine.”
“They are. There’s no reason for you to doubt that. Family is a hell of a lot more than just DNA. I think of Shawn as my son.”
She gave a faint smile that was gone as quickly as it appeared. “I want to believe you. I see how you are with him, but your words cut deep. They tapped into my own doubts and insecurities about myself and about Shawn.”
She looked down and ran her hand across her stomach. Her head began to nod, and she reached up to wipe tears from her face. I stepped closer. Ginger moved back.
