But she couldn’t do it. She just slapped the towel down, rolled her pants up, and said, "No. No, I don’t. But you’re getting a bit personal, don’t you think?"
Cheryl handed Damien the printed photos and cleared her throat. "As far as your question, I think you’ll need to discuss any concerns of that nature with your OB/GYN." Then she looked at Mandy with a smile. "And it’s none of my business, but I think it’s great to see how involved your husband is in your pregnancy. So many fathers aren’t interested at all."
Mandy felt slapped. Her cheeks went hot and she sat up abruptly. Damien wasn’t her husband. He wasn’t even her baby’s father. And he was far more supportive and interested than the man whose DNA was running through her daughter.
"We’re all done here. Rest room’s the last door on the right. Congratulations on a daughter." Cheryl left them alone.
Mandy pulled her shirt over her sticky stomach and stood up. She felt shaky, hot.
"Damien – "
"I’m sorry," he said at the same time.
"No – "
"I’ve completely overstepped. None of this is any of my damn business, and instead of just supporting you, I’m pushing you. Embarrassing you. I’m sorry." His lips were pursed, his hand clenching the ultrasound printout at his side. In the dim lighting of the room, she couldn’t see his eyes, but she could feel his hurt. Feel him pulling back.
Which she didn’t want.
"No. Don’t be. I’m the one who should apologize. I’m being ungrateful. Here you’ve rearranged your schedule and everything."
"I don’t want your gratitude." The words were low, but angry.
Mandy stared at him, forgetting about putting her shoes back on, forgetting about her urgent need to use the rest room. When she looked at him, she saw what she hadn’t been able to admit to herself. She saw what she wanted. Him. With her. In a forever kind of way.
"What do you want?" she whispered.
"I want what I can’t have." His nostrils flared.
"How do you know you can’t have it?" She was dangling on the edge of offering it. Throwing all rational actions aside and following her heart.
"Because life doesn’t give you what you want, all in one perfect package." He reached out and handed her the photos. "There are no happy endings for me. I can only take, not give."
"You’re wrong." Mandy stepped into her shoes, intent on following him as Damien headed for the door. He had to understand how much he had already given her.
"No. What would be wrong would be to selfishly mix you and your daughter up in the mess that is my life." He grabbed the door handle and turned to her. "You have no idea how truly fucked up I am, Mandy."
"Tell me. Trust me." What she wouldn’t give to take away that pain etched on his face.
"And have you see how ugly I really am on the inside? I don’t think so."
He walked out of the room.
But Mandy knew right then, right there, that she wasn’t going to let him walk away from her as easily as Ben had.
She loved Damien, and he was going to know it.
Chapter 19
Damien rolled his carry-on bag through the hotel lobby and dialed his cousin George on his cell phone.
"Hello?"
"George, it’s Damien." Damien headed toward the elevators, tucking the room key into the pocket of his jeans.
There was a long pause. "Well, I’ll be damned. Aunt Becky always says you’re still alive, but we never believe her anymore."
Damien grimaced. "I’m still alive. And I’m in Chicago." For the first time since the charges had been dropped.
The cab ride from the airport had been surreal, strange. He had expected to feel homesick, to feel pain, to have memories of Jessica bombard him. Instead, he had felt strangely detached. And the feeling wasn’t going away.
"No shit? You on business? How long you here for? My mom didn’t say anything about you coming to town."
"I haven’t told anyone yet." It had been an impulse. He had walked out of that hospital after Mandy’s ultrasound appointment, come home and stalked around his apartment for an hour, then had called and booked a flight. It was eight P.M. central time the same day, and he was in Chicago.
That hadn’t been in his plans when he’d woken up that morning. But seeing Mandy’s baby, it had brought everything up inside of him. It had made him want.
It was everything he couldn’t have, but something told him it was time to deal with a few issues from his past.
So here he was. "I want to sell my house, George. Can you list it?"
George was a realtor, five years Damien’s senior. He had a thriving customer base and was the smooth talker Damien had never been.
"What house?"
The elevator finally opened, and Damien entered. He pushed the tenth-floor button. "The house in Wheaton."
"You still own that?" George sounded amazed.
Oh, yeah, he still owned it. That house had been his gift to Jess, a wedding present. He hadn’t been able to afford it at the time, but they had scraped the money together when Jessica had gotten her first post-law school job. He had thought the house was great, a two-story colonial with black shutters and a bunch of flower beds. Jessica had loved the house at first, too, until she realized how much upkeep it took.
The flowers he’d loved so much, she had seen as unruly and extra work.
Damien rubbed his eyebrows. "I’ve been renting the house."
He hadn’t been able to deal with it after Jess had died. He’d asked his father to find a tenant, and he’d gotten the hell out. His in-laws had packed up the furniture and were storing it in their basement.
"How long have you had the house? Do you know what condition it’s in?" George shifted into professional mode.
"I bought it six years ago. I don’t know what condition it’s in, but my dad’s been keeping an eye on things, and the same couple has been living there for three years. No pets, no kids."
"If it’s in good shape, we should be able to get quite a bit more for it now. It was a young house, if I remember it right."
"I don’t care what price you get for it as long as I don’t lose money, and as long as I don’t have to deal with it." That sounded a little more revealing than Damien intended. He quickly added, "So how have you been, George?"