Daughter of the Spellcaster. Maggie Shayne
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you believe me, then?”
Long pause, then he nodded. “I believe you.”
“And you can believe me about this, too. There is no way Bahru will ever be more involved in our child’s life than her father. Not unless that’s the way you want it to be.”
His doubts thinned. Her honesty had never been a question to him. She didn’t lie. His tension eased a little. “Thank you for that,” he said.
“I’m not finished yet.”
He gave her a half-genuine smile. “I didn’t think you were.”
“Am I talking too much? I am, aren’t I?”
“You always talked too much. I’ve missed the hell out of it.”
She averted her eyes all of a sudden. Had she felt what he had just then? That old familiar unnh, right between the belly button and points south? “Besides,” he went on, “you’re one of the smartest people I know. So please, keep on talking.”
She got a little pink-faced at the compliment, but then something else replaced embarrassment in her eyes. Sympathy. Like she could feel the unexpected heartbroken sensation in his chest. Like she knew how he was hurting right then. Like she could see it in his eyes, but even more, like she could feel it.
“All right, I will.” Her voice came out more softly than he’d heard it since she’d come back into his life this morning. Maybe softer than he’d ever heard it. “I just have one piece of advice for you today. Don’t let things outside yourself control the way you live your life. Not your father, not all he put on you—the businesses, the money—”
What a notion that was. Not to let the 3000-ton weight on his back knock him flat. If only that were possible.
“And not me,” she added, compelling his attention. “Not even this baby. You need to make up your mind what you honestly, truly want and then do it, no matter what it is. You want to keep being the spoiled, rich playboy? Then go ahead. Let the boards of directors run the companies, cash your checks and bag a different supermodel every night of the year. You want to be involved in your daughter’s life? Then figure out a way to do that. That’s all you can do. It’s all you’re supposed to do. Life should be lived, Ryan. Relished. Not spent enslaved to ‘I shoulds.’“
He looked at her face, her beautiful face, the one he’d missed way too much, and wondered how she ever got to be so smart.
“As for me, I’m gonna catch a cab to Port Authority and a bus back home, because I had no idea how much I’d miss Havenwood. This has all been… too much.”
He drank in the sight of her for a long moment. “I have a better idea.”
“Really? And that is?”
“I’ll drive you home. How ‘bout that?”
She gave him a quizzical look, like a puppy who’d just heard an odd noise.
“Maybe I’ll stay awhile,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.
She dodged his mouth with an elegant dip and a bob, and wound up standing a foot away. She looked scared. “I said you could be in our child’s life, Ryan. Not in mine.” Turning, she headed for the exit. “She’s due in February. You can come and visit then, if you want.”
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