Be My Babies. Kathryn Shay
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separation made Simon glad. It must be because it meant she was moving on with her life and wasn’t planning to go back to her old one. For Gil and Jenna, of course. “Will he sign them?”
“I hope so.” He could see the sadness in her eyes. This was hard for her.
“If I knew the situation,” he found himself saying, “I might be less wary.”
“I’m ashamed to talk about it.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m ashamed of some things about my past, too.”
Lily laughed, a bright sound that filled the office. He liked it. A lot. “Are you kidding? Gil, Jenna, the whole town think you walk on water.”
“I’ve gone under a time or two.” He shrugged. “But I don’t like to talk about those things, so I really shouldn’t ask you about your private life.”
She bit her lip. Her vulnerability struck a chord in him. She was determined and strong, too, a combination that was far too appealing to him as a man.
“I’ll tell you about it, Simon. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t share this with Jenna. It’s not pretty.”
“All right, I won’t.” He watched her. “And I won’t judge, Lily. I promise.”
“Thanks.”
And then she told him her story.
THE MINUTE LILY WALKED into Simon’s house she felt a sense of well-being. Her modern three-story back in Westchester County, with its soaring pillars, high ceilings and acres of windows, was a showplace, but it had never, ever felt like a home, as this one did.
The floors and trim around the doorways were done in warm wood in the foyer and in the rooms on either side. Off to the right, a fireplace stood guard in a living room filled with comfortably upholstered earth-toned furniture. Splashes of whimsy were everywhere, in colorful pillows and throws and frames. So different from her expensive, hard-edged modern furniture, these sofas and chairs beckoned you to curl up on them. On the other side of the entrance was a dining room, again with light oak furniture and padded chairs. The aroma of beef coming from the kitchen completed the homey picture.
“Lily!” A rumble on the stairs followed the shouted greeting. “You’re here.”
Gil had let them in unannounced.
“Hi, sweetie.” They hugged, and Lily held on to the girl an extra second. Her hair was damp, as if she’d just washed it with rose-scented shampoo.
“Hey, what am I, Princess? Chopped liver?” Gil accepted a second hug warmly.
“Oh, Grandpa Gil. You know I love you.”
“Mmm. Me, too.” As Jenna took their raincoats and hung them up, he asked, “What’s that I smell?”
“Your favorite. Pot roast. Dad says you can have some, but not a lot. ‘Cuz of your heart.”
“Did you make dinner?”
“Mostly.” This from Simon, who walked down the hallway, wearing an apron that read, Kiss The Cook.
When Lily’s first thought was that that sounded like a great idea, she chided herself. But he looked so good wearing a red shirt beneath the apron and jeans that fit his butt like a glove. She admonished herself for the wayward thoughts and the perusal.
“Welcome to our home, Lily.”
He was looking at her differently, too. Ever since she had told him last week about Derek, he’d been nicer. Kinder. Sweet, really. She’d begun to like Simon McCarthy, and she thought she was making headway in getting him to like her, too. Though something niggled at her.
He was concerned about Gil and Jenna, if she left town abruptly, but there was something else that was bothering him, too. Usually, she got the feeling at the paper, when she wanted to try something new. He’d shut down and become cold or distant. Not now, though. He was smiling with genuine warmth.
“You have a lovely house.”
“Daddy did a lot of the work on it.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. My pride and joy.”
“Marco Martini and I helped,” Gil put in. “Then, we all worked on my kitchen. The old codger’s wanted to buy my house from under me for as long as I can remember, so he was trying to rack up some points.”
“And you’re not selling, of course.” Simon started down the hall. “Come back and sit.”
They followed him to the back.
The family room flowed into the kitchen and was demarcated by a rug that bumped up against the ceramic tile. A bank of windows faced the wooded backyard. Off the kitchen was an enclosed porch, its screens open, despite the rain outside. “This is gorgeous.”
“Thanks. We like it.” He took the wine they’d brought with them. “Want a glass?” he asked Gil.
“If Lily doesn’t mind.”
“I made you tea, Lily,” Jenna said. “The kind you brew with a ball.”
“Go ahead, have the wine. I’ll help.”
Gil said, “I’m going to beat Jenna at cards.”
Lily followed Simon into the kitchen while Gil and Jenna went into the family room.
“Can I have some wine, Dad?” Jenna called out from there.
“I’ll pour you a sip or two.”
Curious about the indulgence, Lily cocked her head as Simon got her a mug and took wineglasses out of the cupboard.
“It takes the mystery out of drinking,” he explained quietly. “Hopefully, as a result, she won’t feel the need to experiment outside of the house.”
Lily’s hand went to her midsection, which was just rounding a bit as her fifth month got into full swing. “I wonder if I’ll ever know what to do with these babies.”
He gave her the mug. “You will. A lot of it’s instinct, but I read child-rearing books, too.” He poured wine for the rest of them.
As Lily got her tea, she said, “Thanks for having us for dinner. Too bad your sister couldn’t make it.”
“She’s a busy lawyer. There’s only Sara and Mac Madison in the firm, and they have clients from all the neighboring towns.”
Lily knew Mac. On Gil’s advice, she’d met with him a few weeks after she’d arrived. He’d filed for her legal separation.
“I’d like to meet Sara. In any case, I appreciate your having us for dinner.”
A silence. Then, “We have Gil over all the time.”
Oh, no. She’d never thought of this. “You haven’t had Gil to dinner since I’ve been here. It’s been more than five weeks.”
“He’s been busy with you.”
“I’m sorry I interfered. Did you mind?”
“The truth?”
That’s what he’d said at the paper that day last week. She nodded.
“Yeah, I minded some. But Gil needed time with you.”
“It won’t happen again, Simon. I won’t come between you and Gil.”
His face shadowed, and there it was—that feeling Lily got, that her words, or sometimes her actions, meant more to him than what she’d intended.
They joined Gil and Jenna in the living room. “What are you playing?” Lily asked.
Simon shook his head. “Poker.”
“Yeah, Grandpa Gil taught me how.”
Gil