Their Baby Blessing Page 6

  “Invited. Sort of.” She tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. “It just slipped out before I could think about what I was saying.”

  “That’s rather out of character for you, isn’t it?” Laramie’s voice carried a teasing lilt.

  “I know,” Skye groaned. “What am I going to do?”

  “About...”

  “Gage. Here.” Skye pushed to her feet, abandoning the magazines on the couch cushions. “More than I want him to be.”

  There. She’d said it. Somehow honesty had done little to ease the familiar anxiety snaring her in its grasp. She crossed to the fireplace and collected the plastic Little People Connor had abandoned on the brick hearth before bath time, then swept them into the woven basket doubling as toy storage.

  “I’m confused,” Laramie said. “You don’t want him here at all, or just not at Connor’s party?”

  “Letting him watch Connor, even for a few hours a day, was a difficult decision. It was so unexpected, the way he showed up, claiming this connection to Connor. Then when we saw him at the diner, Connor was giving me a fit, and I—I thought he might be happier if Gage was here for the party tomorrow.”

  Oh brother. It sounded even more ridiculous when she said it out loud.

  “So what are you worried about? Sounds like a thoughtful gesture to me.” Laramie slapped a green bow on the gift wrapped in green-and-yellow paper with a tractor pattern. “Do you think it’s going to be awkward or something?”

  “I’m just—” Skye gnawed on her thumbnail. “What if Connor gets too attached to him?”

  Understanding flashed across Laramie’s features, as though the proverbial lightbulb had illuminated in her mind. “Connor? Or you?”

  Skye shot her a pointed look. “This isn’t about me.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Positive.”

  Mostly.

  Sure, he was handsome and if she wasn’t careful, those hazel eyes might be her undoing, but she could handle herself. She frequently crossed paths with attractive men when she called on physicians at their offices to pitch a new pharmaceutical product. Keeping Gage at arm’s length wasn’t an issue.

  It was Connor she was worried about. Everything about his life was one big holding pattern. Including Gage. What happened when he started working full-time? Or if McKenna came back and undid all the stability she and Mom had worked hard to establish for Connor? In her effort to help, was she only causing more harm long-term by allowing another person into Connor’s world who might not stick around?

  “Connor is very young, and he’s been through a lot but he’s also resilient.” Laramie drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I’ve worked with a few kids at school who endured childhood trauma and are delightful, well-adjusted teenagers.”

  Skye valued Laramie’s opinion. After growing up in Merritt’s Crossing, then coming back after college to teach language arts at the high school and coach volleyball, Laramie had more insight into the resiliency of kids than she did. Still, worry niggled at Skye like a foe she couldn’t conquer.

  “I—I want some reassurance that this isn’t going to wreck him.” She stacked the wrapped gifts on the hearth.

  “Have you prayed about it?”

  No. She swallowed back a snarky response and avoided Laramie’s gaze.

  “Skye—”

  “I know.” She held up both palms in self-defense. “You don’t need to go there. I’ve heard it all before.”

  “Maybe you need to hear it again,” Laramie said gently. “Listen, I know you’ve had a rough time lately. Between a difficult breakup and all your family has endured, I don’t blame you for being anxious about the future. Or having trust issues.”

  Skye’s limbs itched with the need to move, and her gaze darted around the room for something else to clean. To straighten. While she welcomed her bestie’s advice on almost anything, the trajectory of her insight into Skye’s now-dormant relationship with the Lord was most certainly not welcome.

  Laramie didn’t understand.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Laramie said, “and you’re partially right—I don’t fully understand what it’s like to have dated a controlling man.”

  “You’re right, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” Skye spotted a neglected animal cracker under the recliner in the corner and knelt to retrieve it. Short of leaving the room, she couldn’t ignore the rest of what Laramie had to say, though. She sank back on her heels and forced herself to look at her friend.

  “I know God loves me, Lare. He is all that He claims to be in His word.” Her voice wobbled. “But sometimes I just can’t figure out what He is doing. My dad was not a perfect man, but why was he killed in a terrible accident? And Connor—he’s just a baby. Why does he have to grow up without a father? And why did my uncle—”

  “Wait.” This time Laramie held up her hand to interrupt, her eyes coated in a fresh sheen of moisture. “We are not alone in our struggles. God is with us for every horrible second.”

  Emotion tightened Skye’s throat. Slowly, she shook her head. “I don’t believe that’s true.”

  “God is big enough to handle your doubts and your questions,” Laramie said. “Don’t be afraid to bring them to Him.”

  She turned away, intent on finishing her clean sweep of the cozy living room, while she willed fresh tears not to fall. God did still love her, but He seemed to have forgotten her and her family. Just like her dad’s shortcomings had caused an ongoing dispute. That was why it was up to her to make sure Connor’s needs were met. He didn’t have a father, either, and she’d do everything in her power to protect him.

  * * *

  After church and an epic shopping trip to the big-box store on the interstate, Gage returned to his apartment with groceries and three bags full of gifts for Connor. Once the groceries were put away, he moved to the living room and spread his haul across the glass-topped industrial metal coffee table. A stuffed elephant, four books, a container of small rubber ducks for the tub and one large red plastic barn.

  Yeah, he might’ve gone a little overboard. Skye would not be happy with him if he showed up with his arms full of gifts.

  He winced at the mental image of her flashing him a disapproving look. Not that he wanted her to be displeased, but standing in the toy aisle, all he could think about was how much he wished Ryan was there to celebrate Connor’s first birthday, so he’d loaded everything into the shopping cart.

  Rubbing his hand across his jaw, he tried to narrow his selection to one gift. It wasn’t easy, but he eventually picked the red plastic barn. When he’d visited for dinner, he’d noticed a small container with a half-dozen rubber farm animals. Maybe as Connor became more mobile, he’d progress to playing with the animals and the barn together.

  Gage tucked the rest of the gifts back into the bags along with the receipt and stowed them in his coat closet. He’d return them on his next trip. At the store, he’d also spent a ridiculous amount of time in the wrapping paper section, temporarily paralyzed by the options. Honestly, the whole process of wrapping a gift felt daunting. He didn’t have much experience. Once or twice as a child, he’d done enough chores for a neighbor to scrounge together a few bucks to buy his mom a gift. Even then, he’d had to make do with a brown paper grocery bag, markers and tape he’d “borrowed” from school to wrap it.

  The hazy memory provoked an unexpected ache of loneliness. His mom had done the best she could—he knew that now. But her addiction often overpowered her, and people let her get by with flimsy excuses and empty promises. The ache in his chest deepened at the painful memories of all the birthdays that passed uncelebrated. No cake, no ice cream and definitely no gifts adorned with festive wrapping paper.

  On one particular birthday, he’d rushed from his bed in their double-wide trailer, his bare feet skimming across the grungy
shag carpeting, hoping with everything in his nine-year-old self that she’d remembered. That this birthday would be different.

  Mom had stood at the counter in their tiny kitchen, wearing her faded bathrobe and smoking a cigarette. Only a bright yellow Mylar balloon with a smiley face waited for him.

  Hey, baby. Happy birthday.

  If he closed his eyes, he could still hear her raspy voice. Still feel the remnant of the hurt and disappointment. Man, he’d wanted to pop that stupid balloon.

  He’d spent the next three birthdays in different foster care homes, and by the time he and Mom were reunited, he’d known to keep his expectations low. Dad was out of the picture, and he had learned the hard way that he couldn’t count on her, either.

  Gage stood and crossed to the closet again, retrieved the new stuffed elephant and carried it back to the living room. As long as he was around, Connor would never experience a birthday like that. What was wrong with a little excessive giving? The poor kid didn’t have a mom or a dad. Surely Skye would understand if he brought something on behalf of Ryan.

  Skye.

  He couldn’t ignore all the ways she’d crept into his thoughts since he’d seen her and Connor with that guy at the diner. He’d probably be at the birthday party today, too. Gage gritted his teeth and reached for the gift bags and tissue paper he’d bought instead of wrapping paper. Even though he didn’t have a right to care about who she spent time with, it bothered him that they’d looked so comfortable together. It bothered him even more that she’d managed to get under his skin and make him jealous.

  He groaned and ripped the plastic off the tissue paper. Get a grip, dude. Skye was not interested in hearing his opinions about what was best for Connor.

  While he’d given himself that same pep talk multiple times, the message didn’t seem to be sinking in. Or else he was too stubborn to admit he’d have to accept that other people—other men—would be involved in Connor’s life, as well.

  But he didn’t have to like it.

  The first sheet of fragile paper tore in his big hands, and he crumpled it in disgust and tossed it on the cream-colored carpet. Wasn’t there a YouTube video for this? He picked up his phone and scrolled until he found help in the form of a video tutorial. Somehow the woman made it look effortless.

  Finally, he’d wrestled the tissue paper and gifts into both bags, and it was time to leave.

  Outside, wisps of feathery clouds were brushed against a pale blue sky and sunlight reflected off the white snowbanks. He set both gift bags gently on the passenger seat and started his truck. Again, his gaze landed on Ryan, staring back at him from the photograph. Grief tinged with remorse crept in, and Gage hunched forward, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel.

  This was really happening—Connor’s first birthday. Without Ryan or McKenna.

  If you hadn’t been so careless, maybe things would be different.

  The harsh words knifed at him. Even though he’d conjured them on his own, they stung as if spoken aloud. It was true. His actions had deprived a sweet baby of ever knowing his father. There weren’t enough birthday presents in the world to make up for that. The weight of the guilt almost made him want to go back inside and skip the whole thing. His throat constricted, and he swallowed hard, determined to gain control of his emotions.

  He couldn’t stay home. Not just because he had gifts to bring. Ryan would want him to be at Connor’s party.

  Gage straightened, whispered a prayer for strength and made the short drive to the Tomlinsons’ neighborhood. As he approached their house, he counted five vehicles parked on the street, although none looked familiar. Easing his truck to the curb, he turned off the engine and stared at the front door. Man, he wasn’t great at parties. The small talk, standing around and balancing a plate of food, trying to pretend he was having a good time—anxiety rippled through him.

  C’mon. Don’t be a wimp. You’ve got this.

  He grabbed the gifts, climbed out of his truck and strode toward the front porch. Honoring his promise to Ryan meant participating in Connor’s major life events, even if that made him uncomfortable. He wiped his clammy palm on his jeans and then knocked softly, in case Connor was still napping. When the door swung open, he expected Skye, but a vaguely familiar guy greeted him on the other side.

  “Hey, come on in. You must be Gage.” He grinned and stepped back. “Skye’s told me a lot about you. I’m Drew, by the way.”

  The guy from the diner. Great. Jealousy slithered in and took up residence. He forced a cool smile and shook Drew’s hand, trying to mentally smother the ugly emotions. He hated the thought of competing for Connor’s attention, and even worse, he hated acknowledging that he was jealous of another guy being involved in Connor’s life. It was going to be a long party.

  * * *

  Skye dunked the glass mixing bowl in the hot soapy water and reached for the sponge.

  She needed a minute. A minute to scrub something until it sparkled. A minute away from Gage and his big shoulders and hazel eyes and smooth voice that kept reeling her toward him like an invisible thread.

  Gage had arrived at Connor’s party less than fifteen minutes ago, and already she was hiding in the kitchen, stalling while Drew chatted him up.

  Honestly, what was she—twelve? Her skin flushed at the thought of her family and friends watching her try to ignore him for the rest of the evening.

  Through the kitchen window, headlights illuminated the gathering darkness as a car approached and then slowed at the end of the driveway. Skye sucked in a breath and the bowl slid from her hands, landing in the dishwater with a clunk.

  McKenna?

  All day, Skye kept a close watch on her phone, flinching with every chime and notification. Wouldn’t McKenna at least acknowledge her son’s first birthday? No calls, texts or instant messages had arrived yet. Skye had scrolled through McKenna’s social media accounts, too, but her cousin hadn’t posted anything.

  The car sped up and disappeared around the corner.

  Deflated, Skye released a breath and leaned against the counter. A hollow ache filled her chest. She hadn’t realized until this moment how much hope she’d invested in McKenna coming back in time for Connor’s birthday.

  “Everything okay?” Gage’s deep voice enveloped her.

  “Trying to clean up a little before we serve dinner.” She tried for a smile, but it wobbled and did not go unnoticed.

  A ridge formed in his normally flawless brow. “Anything I can do to help?”

  In his gray sweater with the sleeves pushed up to reveal chiseled forearms, and his athletic frame filling the space between the counter’s edge and the wall, her pulse ratcheted up a notch.

  Quick! Assign him a task.

  But her mouth was dry, and her eyes wandered from his gold-flecked gaze to the hint of a five o’clock shadow hugging his jawline—

  “Skye?” His eyes searched her face. Without warning, he reached up and gently grazed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. For a hot second, she longed to lean into his touch. The warmth of his gaze pulled her in, making her forget how much it had cost her the last time she’d let down her guard.

  Warning bells chimed in her head and she quickly stepped back.

  “Sorry.” He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “You had soap on your face.”

  “I—I need to make sure my brother brought his camera.” It was a lame excuse, and only half-true, but she had to put some space between the two of them. She let her gaze dart around the kitchen, avoiding eye contact.

  “Your brother?”

  “The guy who answered the door. Didn’t he introduce himself?” She lifted a platter of deviled eggs from the counter and willed Gage to move out of her way.

  “Yeah, I just...didn’t make the connection.” His smile was tight as he reached for the platter. “Can I carry that for you?�
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  “Put it on the table, next to the coleslaw.” Instantly, she regretted the bossiness in her tone. “Please.” She tacked on the word as an afterthought, flung halfheartedly toward his retreating back. Even in dark-washed jeans and a sweater, Gage’s impressive stature—no doubt honed from his years in the navy—was hard to ignore. Since he couldn’t see her, and she was blocked from her family’s line of sight as well, Skye allowed herself to admire him—just for a second.

  Until he pivoted and caught her staring.

  Busted. He arched one eyebrow and then set the deviled eggs on the table.

  She slipped around the corner and into the living room, where Uncle Milt and Aunt Linda had just arrived. She’d never been so happy to see her mother’s sister and her husband.

  “Thank you so much for coming,” Skye said as Aunt Linda carried a large casserole pan toward the dining room table. “I’ve been thinking about your barbecued pulled pork all day.”

  “We wouldn’t miss it, sweetie.” Aunt Linda lowered the pan to the table, then glanced around the room. “Now, where is that adorable baby?”

  Right on cue, Connor giggled, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. In his blue jeans and red T-shirt, he sat in the middle of the floor, babbling happily to Skye’s younger brother, Jack. Much to her surprise, he’d decided to come to the party after all. Mom had been convinced he’d find a reason not to. In his crisp, white button-down with the pearl snaps, Wrangler jeans and cowboy boots, he looked...good. As if he’d tried to impress someone. But who?

  Skye glanced to the sofa where Laramie sat between her parents, her gaze riveted on Jack, as well. Huh. Interesting. They’d definitely have a few things to discuss later.

  Connor held out a red bow he’d managed to rip from one of his gifts prematurely, and Jack took it, then set it gently on Connor’s head. When it slid off, more belly laughs ensued.