The Bachelor's Baby Dilemma. Sheri WhiteFeather
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around, the water framed behind him. “Ivy. Ivy Ann Quinn.”
“That’s pretty. I like the way it sounds.”
“Ivy Ann is from a book about a princess Meagan read. All little girls should be princesses, right?”
“Definitely. But they don’t all have to be beauty queens.”
“You were Miss Teen Los Angeles when we were going out.” He said it softly, as if he were taking a romantic trip down memory lane.
To combat the gentleness in his voice, she replied, “I was always Miss Something-or-Other.” Her mom had forced her into competitions at a very young age, and if Candy didn’t win, she got pushed even harder. “Big bouncy hair, frozen smiles and glittery ball gowns.” She winced at the image it created in her mind. “What a nightmare.”
“But you still worked your tail off to make your mom proud.”
“What can I say? She relished that environment. She also loved bragging about her tiara-topped daughter to her friends.” To emphasize her point she made a crownlike circle with her hands, lifting it ceremoniously onto her head.
“I was guilty of bragging, too. Telling my buddies how hot my Miss Teen girlfriend was. But I shouldn’t have done that, I suppose. Especially since I knew how much you hated being in those pageants.”
She lowered her hands. “I hardly ever admitted that to anyone.” But she’d confided in him. She’d trusted him with her secrets back then. “You were good at listening.”
“And now you’re listening to me talk about my problems.”
“You just need to settle into the idea of being an uncle.”
“I certainly never expected it to happen like this, with Meagan being a single mom.” He shrugged. “But marriage doesn’t make much sense to me anyway.”
It shouldn’t have made sense to her, either. But Candy wanted to get married again someday. She wanted to get it right next time. “Some couples are happy. Dana and Eric are.”
“Then they’re lucky. Because I don’t think it works for most people. After Ella died, my dad had the nerve to tell my mom that he’d never loved her.”
Feeling as if she’d gotten the wind knocked out of her, Candy clutched her middle. After she’d miscarried, Vince had said the same thing to her.
After a bout of silence, he said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laying my mom’s old troubles on you. What’s done is done, and she’s gone now.”
Yes, his mother was gone, but Candy remained, affected by what he’d said. But before her emotions got the best of her, she lightened her mood, rather than dwell on things that couldn’t be undone.
She felt especially better when Tanner glanced over and smiled. He just had that way about him.
“Ready to show me the rest of the place?” he asked.
“Yes, of course.” Together, they headed for the main house, with Candy returning his smile.
As the tour continued, Tanner tried to fix his attention where it should be, but he was having trouble concentrating on what Candy was saying. Something about the house being built in the 1930s? About it being a renovated bungalow with three bedrooms and two full baths?
Mostly he was noticing her. She’d always reminded him of an exotic creature, with her long-limbed agility and catlike wariness. She was beautiful, but she could be skittish, too.
They’d dated for six months. They’d been inseparable but they hadn’t gone to the same high school. She’d attended an all-girls academy, an environment that made her shy around boys.
As a beauty queen, she’d hidden behind the persona she’d created. But she was different in real life. Even now, he could see fragments of the girl she’d once been: the awkward manner in which she tugged at her clothes, the way she broke eye contact.
He couldn’t help but be intrigued by her. Her chestnut-colored hair was sleeker than it used to be, worn straight and falling softly to her shoulders. Her clothes were simple: a fitted T-shirt paired with black leggings—or whatever those impossibly tight things were called. Her lean, athletic shape wasn’t hard to miss. And with her being a yoga instructor, he suspected she was beyond flexible. But she’d always been able to get into bendy positions. In the talent competition of the pageants, she used to perform modern dance.
The girl with the sugary name.
He used to call her all sorts of silly things: gumdrop, taffy, peanut brittle, gummy bear, lollipop. But his favorite had been cotton candy, especially when she wore pink. Did she still wear that color? Or had she outgrown it? Seventeen years had passed. A lifetime of memories.
She led him through the back door and into the kitchen, and he suspected that this was her prized room in the house, with its butcher-block island and bright white appliances. An antique cart in the corner was crowded with spices, pots and pans, old salt and pepper shakers, and other culinary knickknacks.
No doubt she liked to cook. It even smelled like cookies. It appeared as if a candle was creating the fresh-baked aroma, but it still struck him as homey, with the desired effect being the same.
She definitely seemed domestic. Even at a young age, she’d been marriage-minded. Back when they were together, she’d been determined to save herself for her future husband. She’d thought it was a romantic notion. And now she was divorced.
He wondered about the type of guy she’d married and what had gone wrong, but he sure as fire wasn’t going to ask her, no matter how curious he was.
His thoughts continued to be scattered as Candy walked him all over the house, pointing out architectural details and decorative features.
Once they were in the second guestroom, she said, “This could be Ivy’s nursery. It’s already painted in pastels.” She motioned to the walls. “Lilac trimmed in yellow.”
He checked out the color theme, and she smiled, quite sweetly, as if she was picturing the baby snuggled up in this room. Seeing her expression gave him comfort, reminding him of how special she was. “Did I ever thank you for being there for me? When everything happened?”
“You were my friend. My boyfriend. I wanted to help you through it.”
“I know.” Behind her, the light from a set of etched glass windows was bathing the potential nursery in a warm glow. “But I just wanted to clarify that if I didn’t tell you how much it meant to me then, I’m telling you now.”
“You don’t need to.” She kept her voice soft. “Really, you don’t. But I appreciate it.”
“I don’t want to go backward in time. But ever since Meagan asked me to become Ivy’s guardian, I keep sliding into the past.”
“And now, of all things, you run into me.”
“It’s strange, isn’t it? Especially since we have a friend in common that we didn’t even know about.”
“Did you tell Eric that your sister is in prison and that you’ll be taking care of her baby?”
He shook his head. “That wasn’t something I was inclined to mention while we were getting caught up. I probably should have, though. You can tell him if you want to. You’ll probably talk to him before I will. Or you’ll talk to Dana or whatever.”
“Does Meagan know that you’ve been thinking about Ella?” she asked.
“No. I couldn’t say that to her. It wouldn’t be right to burden her with it. And if it’s crossed her mind, she hasn’t said anything to me about it, either. But I think she made peace with what happened to Ella a long time ago. She talks about our sister as if she’s an