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“Maybe we could hold off until we find out what gender the baby is,” he suggested. He bent down and picked up another pot of paint, this one a sunny yellow. He unscrewed the top and dabbed at the bright liquid with a foam brush.
“I’m not sure I want to find out first.” I grabbed another pot, this one a soft minty green. “I thought maybe the surprise would be worth it.”
“You don’t think it would drive you crazy not to know?” he asked.
He stepped closer to the wall and painted a neat square of the bright yellow. It reminded me of daffodils or a yellow duckling. Something warm bloomed in my chest at the thought of our baby, sleeping peacefully in a cute duckling-themed bedroom.
“No,” I said. “I like the idea of finding out when the baby is born.” I leaned forward and dabbed a spot of pale green next to the yellow. “What do you think?”
Denton turned to me and smiled. He was so handsome that it made my heart ache, even unshaven and wearing old jeans and a worn University of Minnesota t-shirt. The soft fabric clung to his round muscles, defined and strong. The same muscles that flexed and bunched under my fingertips this morning. I itched to feel them again.
Before he could answer my question, a soft knock sounded from the foyer downstairs.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” I said when he flashed me a confused expression. “All my stuff has been delivered.”
“I’ll check on it, then.” He screwed the lid back on the little pot of paint and strode out of the room while I leaned forward to fill in a little more of the pale green swatch.
“Marcie?” Denton called. “Can you come down here?”
His voice sounded a little strained, and my belly tightened with nervousness. Please, God, not more needless drama. I set the paint on the floor and hurried down the stairs, two at a time.
On the other side of the door, hair dampened from the Seattle rain, stood my dad. I skidded to a halt at the base of the stairs and eyed him cautiously. He looked tired and sad. In one hand, he held a big gift bag, with brightly colored tissue paper poking up out of the top.
“Daddy,” I said nervously. “Is everything…I mean, are you okay?”
“Why are you here, Clive?” Denton said bluntly, folding his arms over his chest.
Dad winced visibly at Denton’s harsh tone, and I stepped forward to push Denton to the side, knowing he was just being a protective papa bear.
“Come inside, Daddy,” I said gently. “You’re all wet.”
“I brought you this,” he said as he crossed the threshold. He held out the gift bag, his fingers shaking slightly. “It’s for the baby.”
I swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat as I accepted the bag. It was heavy and shockingly full. “Let’s go to the living room and see what you brought.”
An awkward silence descended as we filed into the living room and sat down. As he sank down next to me, Denton grabbed my hand and held it tightly, his fingers warm and comforting, like an anchor against the terrible anxiety that he must have known churned in my belly.
Dad looked down at his feet, then sat up to look straight at me. I was shocked to see tears lining his bright green eyes, the exact color of mine.
“I’m so sorry, pumpkin,” he said, his voice shaking. “For how I treated you. Both of you.”
I stared in shock. “You’re…sorry?”
He nodded. “Denton came to see me—”
“Wait, Denton came to see you?” I parroted, as I twisted and looked over at Denton, who merely shrugged. “Are you serious? When did this happen?”
“Last night,” Denton said carefully. “After you fell asleep. I was going to tell you about it a little later, but I thought you needed a little more time.”
“Don’t be annoyed with him,” my dad interrupted. “He and I needed to have a conversation between the two of us. And he was…he was right about some things.”
I sighed. “What things?”
Dad pushed his thick hair away from his face. “I treated you like you did something wrong. Something dirty. But really, I was mad at Denton and I don’t like the age difference. And that’s onme, not you.”
A tear welled up in my eye and I brushed it away. “Are you still angry with me?”
He shook his head, and I saw that his own eyes were reddening. “No, absolutely not. I might need some time. But I’m not angry with you. And I…”
