Daddy On Call. Judy DuarteЧитать онлайн книгу.
contributed.
His complexion, while more fair than Leilani’s, still bore evidence of her Hawaiian roots. His hair was brown and lighter than hers, but not by much.
Luke didn’t find anything revealing, other than a pair of green eyes—which were sizing up the adults who stood gawking at each other in the doorway.
“Your mom and I used to be friends a long time ago,” he explained to the boy—his son? “I’m Luke Wynter. What’s your name?”
“Danny.”
Luke nodded. “And let me guess. You’re probably about…eleven years old.”
“Yeah.”
“I must be psychic,” Luke said, “and I’m guessing that your birthday is in April.”
“Hey, you’re pretty good. It’s April tenth.”
Reality was closing in on him in a cold, hard rush. And he’d be damned if he knew what to do about it.
Leilani had some explaining to do.
“I came by to ask your mom if she’d like to go to dinner with me.” Luke’s gaze traveled from the boy to his mother. “But now that I’m here…I don’t think I’ll give you that much of an option, Leilani. We need to talk. At dinner or outside.”
She didn’t respond right away, but needless to say, she’d been blindsided to see him standing at the door. Just as blindsided as Luke had been when Danny answered his knock.
“Is your car parked in the garage?” she asked.
“Yes. Just outside the elevator.”
“Give me a few minutes. I’ll ask Aunt Addie to look after Danny, grab my purse and meet you down there.”
“All right.”
Then she slowly closed the door, leaving Luke to head for the garage.
The place where he used to wait for her when they were teenagers and her aunt hadn’t approved of him.
The soles of Luke’s loafers crunched on the oil-stained concrete floor as he paced the underground parking garage, where the dank odor of gasoline fumes and exhaust was an unwelcome reminder of days gone by.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long.
When Leilani exited the elevator and joined him in the garage, he opened the passenger door of his Ford Expedition and gestured for her to climb inside. Then he headed west, toward the ocean, where the air was fresh and clean.
Leilani, who’d not only grabbed her purse, but had changed her clothes and put on some lipstick, sat beside him as sober and quiet as a cloistered nun.
The seconds stretched between them like a rubber band that had seen better days, and he waited for the snap. The sting. But apparently they were both hesitant to broach the subject they needed to discuss, the questions he wanted answered.
Did you bear my child?
Why didn’t you tell me?
Where do we go from here?
He wanted to press her, yet needed time to assimilate the possibility, the ramifications, the future.
But it was the past that came to mind, the memory of the first and only time they’d made love. The night they’d conceived a child.
It had happened at the beach one moonlit evening in July, when their kisses had gotten too hot to ignore, their passion too strong to deny. She’d wanted it nearly as badly as he did, and he’d been nervous and afraid. He’d feared that he would hurt her somehow and worried that she’d regret it afterward.
Leilani had been a virgin, and although Luke had already slept with several girls, he’d come to realize there was a big difference between sex and making love.
He’d never experienced anything as sweet as running his hands along her body and claiming her as his own. He’d taken his time and tried to make it special for her. Special for both of them, he realized, because he hadn’t been blessed with anything as innocent or as emotionally moving since and doubted he ever would.
She’d cried afterward, which had torn him apart, but she’d sworn everything was okay, that she was just overwhelmed by it all. While removing the condom, he suspected it might have sprung a slight leak, but hadn’t wanted to frighten her or cause her any more tears. So he’d kept his mouth shut.
More than ever, he’d been filled with the need to protect her forever. But forever hadn’t been in their cards. And days later, when her brother died, he’d realized how lousy he was at looking after anyone other than himself.
After pulling into a parking space at the side of the restaurant and shutting off the ignition, he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Is Danny my son?”
She glanced down in her lap and fiddled with the garnet ring, then caught his gaze. “Yes.”
The simple answer bombarded him with shock, hurt and anger, but he fought the urge to respond. He was afraid of what he might say or offer.
Leilani had enough to hold against him. A misguided comment now might open a Pandora’s box of emotion, so he merely nodded, then climbed from the vehicle, realizing his life was becoming complicated in ways he couldn’t quite grasp.
Before he could open the door for her, she exited and headed for the entrance of the small restaurant that had become a favorite of locals.
Once inside, he asked to be seated on the patio and away from the other diners. The hostess obliged, escorting them to an outdoor table, where he caught the heady scent of a sea breeze and could see and hear the waves crash upon the shore. It was cool tonight, but portable heaters stood ready to keep them comfortable.
He was neither hot nor cold, yet his nerves were raw and he was as skittish as a stray cat in a rock-filled gunnysack being hurled off the dock.
Since Leilani wasn’t quick to offer any explanations or a confession, he brought up the subject himself. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She didn’t respond right away, nor did she need to.
The whole Kami thing elbowed into the forefront, settled over them and provided the answers to all his questions.
She’d been too angry with him at first, too devastated by her loss. But he also suspected it had something to do with the grandparents who’d raised her, a conservative minister and his wife who lived on a small Hawaiian island.
“I know we didn’t part on good terms,” he said, “but that’s not the point. You shouldn’t have had to go through a pregnancy alone.”
“I didn’t. My grandmother was with me. And she was very supportive.”
“That’s not the same.” Luke had a ton of experience in obstetrics now. Back then he would have been scared spitless, but he would have done right by her. “You should have called me.”
“It crossed my mind,” she admitted. “But I decided it would be easier not to.”
“Easier for who?”
“Me. My family.” The wind whipped a strand of hair across her face, and she tucked it behind her ear. “And for Danny.”
“Why?”
“You were prone to trouble back then. And you gave me no reason to believe you would be responsible or that you would be good daddy material.”
She had a point. And he wasn’t sure that he was daddy material now. But that didn’t mean he wanted to leave a kid of his to fend for himself, without any paternal influence or guidance. And like it or not, he had fathered a child. A son who’d spent the first eleven years of his life with a single mother.
“Besides,” she added, “you didn’t want to be a father.”
He