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Harper laughed. “Grandma wanted me to stay in Connecticut where she could keep an eye on me. She blamed college for my mom’s flighty ways. Said her parents should never have let her leave home at that age.”
“You said your grandma is your dad’s mom, right?” James clarified.
“Yeah. She’s the one who brought me up after dad died and mom left.” Harper swallowed. “I guess I should tell her about the baby. She deserves to know.”
“Not if telling her will hurt you.”
“It’ll confirm what she already thought about me. That I’m turning out to be just like my mom. Pregnant before marriage. Except I’ve one upped her and managed to get pregnant without even being in a relationship.” She lifted a shaky hand to her brow.
He frowned. “Seriously? What kind of people think like that?” He tried to imagine his mom reacting like that to the news, but it was impossible. She never judged him or told him he was worthless. Her love was always unconditional. “Is your mom still in Connecticut?”
“No. She hasn’t lived there since I was a baby. She moved to Boston with husband number two, and then when that went wrong she married number three in London.” She shook her head.
James wasn’t sure what to say to that.
“I can see your wide eyes.” Harper grinned at him. “Why not widen them a bit more, because she’s on marriage number eight. She’s New England’s Liz Taylor.”
This time he laughed. “She sounds like a character.”
“She likes being looked after, and she loves weddings. I think she probably went a bit crazy after my dad died and left her with a newborn baby and no money at all. His trust fund went back to my grandparents.”
“He didn’t leave any money to you?”
Harper shook her head. “No. My grandma controls everything. And when I left I told her I didn’t want any of it.” She shrugged. “She thought I’d be back within a year. Maybe two. But here I am, nearly ten years later, and I haven’t asked for a dime.” She rolled her shoulders back, her eyes glinting.
So that’s why she hated accepting help. From the moment she was born she was taught support always came with strings.
“How about you?” Harper asked, as though she was sick of talking about her life. “Have you told your parents?”
“Not yet, but I plan to. Now we know everything’s looking good I guess I should let them know.”
“Will they be upset with you?”
He laughed. “No. They’ll be ecstatic. Mom loves kids. She absolutely adored Jacob. She’ll be so excited, she’ll probably go crazy.” He looked down at his coffee cup. “They’ll want to meet you.”
“They will?”
“For sure.” He nodded. “How do you feel about that?”
“Um, I don’t know,” she said. “I guess it would be okay. As long as you promise they won’t call me a tramp, or even worse, ‘just like your mother’.” She rolled her eyes.
He laughed. “Since they don’t know your mom, I’m pretty sure you’re safe. And they won’t think you’re a tramp any more than they’ll think I am. They’re big supporters of women’s rights.”
She smiled at him. “I like the sound of them.”
Yeah, well he was pretty sure they’d like her, too. That thought was strangely comforting. Weird how quickly he was getting used to this situation, to being a co-parent with a woman he barely knew.
You?
?d like to know her, though.
He took a sip of coffee, ignoring the voice in his head. As far as he was concerned it was talking crap anyway. The lines between the two of them were already so blurred they were almost non-existent. He didn’t need his damn libido to kick in, too.
Co-parents. That’s all they were and he was perfectly happy with that. Less emotional. Less messy. Less chance for him to get hurt again.
12
Harper looked around the basement, a smile playing at her lips. It had taken a few days to move all her dresses and equipment but everything was finally in the right place. James hadn’t lied about his basement being perfect. It took up practically the whole footprint of the house, and the generous floor space had allowed her to set up separate zones. Her designs were in one part of the room, on a large table that was already down here, and her sewing table was in the other corner, along with a wall of shelves where she’d been able to put her rolls of fabrics and hundreds of threads.
