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“For years I believed . . . I thought . . .” He shook his head, feeling ridiculously inarticulate, as he tried to clear his mind and formulate his thoughts. So much rested on what he said here and on how he said it. “I didn’t think I would ever be a father, Olivia. I’d resigned myself to that, and . . . but here she is. So perfect. So absolutely, gut-wrenchingly beautiful, and against everything I’d ever thought possible, she’s mine.”
“No. She’s mine,” Olivia corrected him, her voice steady and cold, and he flinched in response to her words.
“I was okay with not having children. I’d had more than ten years to come to terms with that fact . . . but I’m not okay with it anymore. I have a daughter. I want to get to know her. To spend time with her.”
“You have a daughter? How sure are you of that? What if you decide tomorrow that’s she’s not yours again?”
He deserved that; he knew he did. He absorbed the blow and gritted his teeth as he fought back the resultant swell of pain. “I know she’s mine.”
“How? You said you didn’t have tests done. Why are you suddenly so certain?”
Did she know about the accusations he had aimed at Harris? Greyson couldn’t be sure. He peered at her closely, not certain how to respond to her questions. He felt like he’d been dumped in the middle of a minefield and a step in any direction could lead to catastrophic consequences.
“I just am.”
“That won’t cut it, Greyson. We might as well stop talking right now if you’re going to continue dissembling.”
“Just . . . something Harris said,” he said, still hedging, but at least this answer was within the same realm as the truth.
“What did he say?”
“He, um . . .” Greyson lifted his fist to his mouth and cleared his hoarse throat before continuing. “He said she had the birthmark.”
“And that was enough for you?” she asked in disbelief. “You couldn’t check that before coming into the room that day and blowing my life, and what was left of our marriage, to hell?”
It wouldn’t have mattered, not when he’d thought his own brother was the father. But telling her that now would only make things worse. Greyson was staggered by the breadth of his stupidity. Everywhere he turned, he was confronted by yet another one of his dumb mistakes. So many missteps and bad decisions.
“Let’s leave that for a moment and go even further back,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, and his stomach roiled, knowing where she was going next. Yet again, he had no excuse. Nothing but sheer selfishness and stupid masculine pride.
“How could you marry me believing you were unable to have children? Don’t you think that was something I deserved to know before I made my decision?”
Libby couldn’t tell what Greyson was feeling. His face remained completely expressionless. He was the most frustrating man, and it made her want to scream. How dare he come in here with his half truths and his prevarications? Did he think she was so stupid that she was incapable of seeing through his deceptions? He might have a killer poker face, but she knew when he wasn’t being honest. And she was getting sick of it.
“I have no excuse, other than I wanted you too badly to risk losing you.”
“Yeah, no. That’s definitely not gonna cut it,” she said with a disbelieving little laugh. “I have no idea what alternate universe you’re from, Greyson, but that’s not how relationships work. You should have given me the opportunity to make my own decision. Stripping me of that power was almost as bad as accusing me of cheating months later and rejecting your own child. You’re lucky I’m willing to talk to you at all, because quite frankly, you don’t deserve any face-to-face time with me. I should have let my lawyers deal with this, but I’m affording you more respect than you deserve and way more than you ever gave me.”
“I know.” That was it. Just two words, emerging on the quietest of voices. It suddenly occurred to her that he hadn’t uttered one word of apology for his actions four months ago, and she wondered about that. Was he too proud to apologize?
“Why did you want to marry me?” she asked suddenly, remembering the way he had pushed for marriage. He’d asked her often; it had been flattering how eager he had seemed to marry her. “I know it wasn’t because you loved me. But I thought you—” She stopped speaking abruptly, not about to embarrass herself by admitting she’d hoped that he would eventually come to care for her in a more romantic sense. She shook her head and continued with something a little less revealing, “At first I believed it was because of that broken condom, that you thought I was pregnant. But then two months passed without any sign of pregnancy, and you were still asking, and I wondered if it was out of some sense of misguided duty.”
