Having Adam's Baby. Christyne ButlerЧитать онлайн книгу.
Then with a blink, the emotions vanished.
“Responsible for what, Fay?” His features hardened as he slowly walked toward her. “For another member of my unit getting killed?”
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Fay forced herself to look him in the eye. “That was wrong. I shouldn’t have said that.”
The stiffness in Adam’s posture eased. “You showed up two months ago determined to say what was on your mind. I listened, but that doesn’t mean I agreed with you. Your words were coming from a place of anger and grief. I understood that.”
“I wasn’t looking for your understanding.” The pain flared to life again inside her. “I was looking for—”
“Someone to blame. Yeah, I figured that out…afterward.”
After they’d made love.
He didn’t say the words aloud, but Fay knew exactly what he meant.
“It’s been a rough year,” he continued, his voice softer, “for you and the Coggens. You lost your husband, they lost their only son. And I lost my best friend.”
Fay thought back to the first couple of weeks after Scott’s funeral. She’d just begun to crawl out of her haze. She had to. Bills had to be paid, her business required her attention and Scott’s parents, devastated at the loss of their only child, needed care. Finally needed her.
Then the house of cards Scott had so carefully constructed over the years to hide his misuse of their personal finances started to collapse. The second mortgages on their house, credit cards she never knew he had.
Not to mention what he’d done to his family’s business.
A wave of exhaustion washed over Fay. A sudden desire to lean against Adam’s chest, to feel the strength of his arms, filled her. To have someone take care of her for once.
Instead, she moved past him and sank into a chair at the dining room table. “You have no idea what we—What I’ve been through.”
“You’re right. I don’t.” He turned and faced her. “But somewhere between blame and the next morning, we found—Dammit, I don’t know what we found.”
She could feel him staring at her. Don’t ask me, please, don’t ask.
“Do you?”
She closed her eyes, and despite the silence, knew he’d walked to the table as a crisp clean scent that clung to his skin teased her nose. “Do I what?”
“Do you know what happened between us?”
Fay didn’t have any idea how she was supposed to view those wonderful hours she’s spent in Adam’s arms. Guilt swamped her, and she swayed between remorse and pleasure remembering what they shared that night.
What they created that night.
How often she’d dreamed of that night happening again.
“It was an escape.” Again, the words rushed past her lips before she could stop them. “A break from the real world, a moment we took … to block out our grief.”
Stillness filled the air. She opened her eyes and found Adam’s hands curled tight around the back of the chair he stood behind.
“Do you still blame me?” he asked.
Fay opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. Even now, she struggled to comprehend what Scott had done. Laying blame on her husband didn’t do any good. The rationale she’d held on to for months was if Scott had never joined the service, he never would’ve been in Afghanistan, he wouldn’t have died and …
And what?
Her life would’ve gone on as before? Is that what she really wanted?
Fay didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. Being this close to Adam was so confusing. Blaming him had been the constant she’d clung to as her world fell apart. Confronting him had seemed right. But since then, even before she found out she was carrying his child, the lines between right and wrong, blame and acceptance, had blurred.
She needed to get out of here.
“Fine, whatever. I guess we both should move forward.” He released the chair and stepped away. “So, to totally switch gears, you never did tell me what you’re doing in my house and how you got my security code.”
“I’m here to clean.”
His eyes widened. He was surprised. As surprised as she’d been when she’d answered the phone that morning at her shop to find out why Elise Murphy had called. “Your mother hired me to spruce up your place, from the cobwebs in the rafters downward, before your homecoming. Next week.”
“My mother’s been dragging my dad on a tour of the western half of the U.S. for the past two months.”
“Yes, and because she wasn’t here to do it herself, she asked me.” Fay stood, dug the set of keys from her pocket and laid them on the table. “She gave me the code and told me to get the keys from Laurie, which I did. Good thing for you I’m just about done, except for that mess.”
He reached for her when she started to turn, taking her arm. His hand, big and strong, yet gentle in its hold, slowly slid downward.
It was the first time he’d touched her since …
His thumb swept across the inside of her wrist, and she wondered if he could feel the pounding in her pulse. She raised her gaze to his.
His eyes darkened. “You’ve really been coming here and cleaning?”
“Considering the condition you left this place in, it was needed.” She pulled from his grasp. “You’re lucky you have such great parents.”
“I didn’t have time to clean up before I left. Remember?”
Oh, she remembered.
Walking in that first day had taken her breath away. Seeing the blankets still on the floor caused the memories of their lovemaking to rush back to her.
Waking in his arms, the emotional onslaught of shame over what they’d done and the unrelenting truth of how much she wanted him again. Grabbing her clothes. Racing to the bathroom to get dressed. Adam stepping out of his bedroom in his camouflage battle dress uniform.
The regret she could read on his face.
She’d tried to put the memories out of her mind as she worked, reminding herself she was getting paid for this job. More than that, she was doing a favor for Alastair and Elise Murphy. Adam’s parents had been so nice to her over the last six months. There’d been no way she could’ve said no.
“Well, I guess your mom’s idea worked for both of us.” Fay crossed the kitchen and pulled out a broom and dustpan from the pantry. “You’ve got a sparkling home, and I got some much-needed cash.”
“My mom is paying you?”
Fay didn’t look at him as she bent to sweep up the remains of the pot. “What’s wrong with that?”
“What about your shop? Are you still open for business?”
Six days a week. The pregnancy was making her more tired than she’d ever been in her life, but taking it easy wasn’t something she could afford at the moment. “My shop is just fine, but a little extra money never hurts.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you strapped for cash?”
“No.” Surprised at how easy the second lie she’d told today fell from her lips, she dumped the broken pieces into the trash. “This was just a side job, and now that you’re home, there’s no need for me to come back.”
“Fay—”
“I need to go.” Her control over her wayward emotions faded fast. She had to get out of here before she burst into tears. Or worse. Walking