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Saying goodbye a short time later, Cath almost breathed a sigh of relief as she headed from the restaurant. Trace caught up with her.
“I’ll ride back with you,” he said. He studied her for a moment. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Not so good,” she said, walking quickly.
She just wanted to get home.
The doorman had a cab waiting and Cath gratefully slipped inside, scooting over so Trace could also ride.
Once the door was closed and the car pulled away from the curb she relaxed and leaned her head back.
He took her hand, surprising her.
“Tired?” he asked, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.
“Yes.”
The silence stretched out for a moment. Cath was horrified to feel tears filling her eyes. They slid down her cheeks. She turned her head toward the window hoping Trace wouldn’t notice. But he was too astute.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “I know my father can be overbearing, but his bark is worse than his bite. They’re trying. This all was a complete surprise to them.”
“It wasn’t that. They are entitled to know their grandchild. It’s just an accumulation of things,” she said, reaching up to brush the tears from her eyelashes and cheeks.
Trace thrust a clean handkerchief into her hand. “Such as?”
She glared at him.
“My whole life is changing. And your parents don’t like me,” she said.
She wiped her eyes again with the handkerchief, wishing she would stop crying. It had to be hormones. Or at least a portion could be due to hormones.
“My parents don’t run my life,” Trace said. “My father is a hard man to live up to. We won’t be seeing much of them. They live in Portland. And his schedule is hectic enough that they rarely travel. My guess is the next time my mother will be down is when the baby’s born. She will love the baby. As to liking you, how can anyone tell after one ninety-minute meeting?”
“And how did they deal with Cynthia?”
“They were always cordial.”
Cath made a face and leaned back against the cushion and looked out the window at the passing scenery. She recognized the neighborhood. They were almost at her apartment.
So his mother was cordial to Cynthia. It didn’t sound like a very good relationship. And at the time, they’d thought Trace’s wife was part of the family for the long haul.
How much less would they give to someone who wasn’t even married to their son?
“You made it sound like we have some kind of relationship. Like we might even move in together. They have a totally erroneous idea of what’s between us.”
“And what is the truth?” he asked. “We have a lot in common, get on well together and we’ve made a baby.”
“That’s because you made it sound like we’re in love.”
What would she do if he leaned over and said he was in love with her? Heat flooded her body at the thought.
“I thought Cynthia and I were in love, until I found out she deliberately forced the issue of marriage, letting me believe the baby was mine. If that’s love, I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“Don’t worry, this is not a repeat.”
She dried her eyes as the tears finally stopped. She balled up the soggy handkerchief and continued to gaze out the window for the few minutes remaining of the ride.
“What is it you want, Cath?” he asked in a low voice.
