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More heavy silence settled between us. Each of us had so much emotion needing a voice, but neither of us could find the words.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Gordon.

I’m sorry doesn’t come close. This kid is so unexpected, but she’s here to stay.

I know that sucks for you. I do. If you’d knocked up another woman during our breakup, I’m not so sure how charitable I’d be. ”

He swallowed. “I get you didn’t intend this. I understand you didn’t cheat.”

“But it still hurts.”

“Yeah. It hurts.” His gaze lowered to my belly, hidden under the oversize T-shirt, and then back up to my face.

“I’m sorry. You deserve a much less complicated woman than me. You really do.”

He pulled his shoulders back. “I expect complications from you. I might not like them, but I know they’re part of the package.”

“This complication is a whopper.”

“It is.”

“I care a lot about you, Gordon. I’ve even used the l word.” A sigh shuddered through me. “I understand we won’t survive this as a couple, but I’d like us to at least be friends.”

He swept back his bangs with his hand. “Have you told the baby’s father about your pregnancy?”

“No. One can of worms at a time.”

He rattled change in his pocket. “Are you going to tell him?”

I nodded. “I must, Gordon. It wouldn’t be fair to the kid not to.”

“Roger isn’t father material, Daisy.”

“I know. But the kid has his DNA. And DNA is kind of important, especially when you don’t have access to it.”

“DNA doesn’t make a parent.”

“I know. But DNA is an important piece of the puzzle. I should know.” How could I make him understand? He could trace his family back to the Revolutionary War. “Terry has yet to return my emails or phone messages about my birth father.”

“I thought she didn’t know anything about him.”

“She has to have more information.”

“Whoever the guy is who got Terry pregnant, he’s not your dad.”

“I know. I have a great dad. The best. And a great mom. But this guy is a piece of my DNA puzzle. I’d thought I could live with pieces missing, but since the kid, I want to know what’s lurking in the genetic family tree. Whoever this dude is, he’s part of the kid.”

“What are you going to do if Roger wants in your life?” Jealousy had crept in between the words, and it pleased me.

I wanted Gordon to want me. I wanted him to say the l word back. I wanted him to hold me and tell me it would all work out. That we would work out. “Roger will not be back in my life.”

“What if he does?” I glimpsed the tenacity that had allowed Gordon to rise in the financial world.

“It’s irrelevant. I don’t want Roger back in my life. Period. End of story. He was an unfortunate waste of time that wouldn’t have happened if I’d been remotely sober.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

I pressed fingertips to my head. I’d been so full of energy a half hour ago, and now fatigue weighed heavily on my shoulders.

The kid chose that moment to do a full somersault in my gut. The sudden move had my eyes widening and my hand slipping to my stomach.

Concern widened his eyes. “You all right?”

“The kid moved.” I wasn’t sure what made me reach for his hand, but I did.

I unfurled his fisted fingers and laid his palm flat against my rounding belly.

His touch warmed my skin and sent my heartbeat racing.

For a moment we just stood there, both of us shocked to be so close and touching in such an intimate way.

The kid had been touchy about moving on command, and I didn’t expect her to jump to action now. She was difficult, like her old lady. But every so often I stepped up to the plate and helped when no one expected it. I hoped the kid would take pity and do the same for me now.

And she did.

She kicked hard against my belly and the palm of his hand, as if she wanted him to know she was also a part of this conversation.

“Did you feel that?” he said. No missing the amazement in his voice.

“Oh, yeah. The last kick caught me right in the ribs.”

His hand remained on my stomach. “Has she been moving much?”

“Once, a few days ago.” I liked the feel of his warm hand on my belly.

It felt right and so natural, like this was what a million other couples had done millions of times before.

I wanted to kiss him. To celebrate the child.

But I didn’t dare. This sweet moment rested on a shaky foundation of surprise and politeness, not of a shared child or a bright future.

As if reading my thoughts, Gordon pulled his hand back, curled his fingers into a fist at his side, and straightened. “I’m glad she’s all right.”

“Thanks.”

Silence settled between us, and for a moment the awkwardness rose again. Gordon cleared his voice. “Are you going to call Roger?”

“More like email. And honestly, I’d rather deliver the news via the internet, give him a chance to scream and rant, and then talk to him over the phone.”

He drew in a breath. “You don’t have to tell him, Daisy. I know Roger. He’s a dick.”

That jostled free a laugh. “You don’t have to tell me. I know. But I need to tell him.”

“Why?”

“Like I said before, it’s all about DNA. The kid has a right to know.”

He shook his head. “The child has a right to a family. Parents who love her.”

My hackles rose. “I intend to give her a family.”

“How? You’re barely making it now. A baker works long damn hours. Where’s a kid going to fit into the mix?”

Raising my chin, I swallowed my doubts. “There will be a space for her. Rachel said she’d help.”

“Have you told your mom and dad?”

“Not yet. They’re out of town with the twins. I’m going to tell them when they get back.”

“I’m surprised your mom didn’t pick up on this.”

“I’ve been living in large T-shirts and wearing aprons all the time. And she’s been busy with Dad. He’s been back and forth to the heart doctor.”

“Is he doing all right?”

“Yeah. He says he feels great. It takes more work to keep him on track, health-wise.”

“The baby is going to be a shock.”

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me. I can list all the ways I’ve effed up because I didn’t control my reproductive system. But the problem is not going anywhere.”

He studied my face as if trying to peel back layers. “You couldn’t have done this two years ago. You’d have taken a different route. An easier solution.”

“I’d like to think I’d have gone through with the pregnancy even then, but you’re right. I don’t know if I could have done it.”

“As much as it pains me to know Roger was the man to get you pregnant, I know you’ll be a good mother, Daisy.”

Before I could think, my eyes welled, and I was swiping away tears. “Thanks, Gordon. That really is sweet.”

He paled. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

My laugh sounded sloppy. “I’m a bit emotional these days. Moody.”

He arched an amused brow. “You, moody? I can’t believe that.”

Laughter made me cry more. “Would you give me a hug? I know it’s messed up between us, but I could use a hug.”

He hesitated a moment and then opened his arms wide.

I stepped into his embrace and hugged my arms tight around his body.

Carefully, as if I were made of china, he held me close.

I inhaled his scent, savoring the subtle blend of soap and the faint aroma of bike oil.

I’d not realized how deep my loneliness had burrowed.

Having him hold me now threatened to make my knees buckle.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

“I’ve missed you.” The words all but rushed past my lips as if refusing to be stopped or censored.

“On the bike trip when you didn’t call, I could feel trouble. And then when you told me about the baby, I was so angry.”

I nestled my face close to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not angry at you. I’m angry the baby’s not mine. When we were together, you weren’t ready for us to have a baby, but I was.”

I sniffed back tears. “Our timing has been one disaster after another.”

He pulled back, cupped my face in his hands, and kissed me on the lips.

He tasted sweet and salty and better than he’d tasted before.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the lips.

I could be ham fisted with words and had a talent for messing up the right line.

But I could pour all my unspoken feelings into a kiss.

I hoped I could show him how I wanted him and not Roger. I pressed my body against his.

Instead of pulling me deeper into his arms, he broke the embrace and looked me directly in the eyes. “Don’t tell him, Daisy.”

For a moment I blinked, my lips left swollen and parted. A moment passed before my brain clicked back online. “Don’t tell Roger?”

His hands slid to my shoulders, and his fingers tightened as if he held on for courage. “Don’t tell Roger. I’ll help you with the baby. I’ll be the father. We’ll pretend Roger never happened.”

I didn’t pull free, also knowing I didn’t have the courage in this moment to stand alone.

What he was saying ... the solution he offered .

.. would fix all my problems. I’d have a partner.

The kid would have a real dad. I’d have a safety net.

The cost for this very perfect life would be to deny the kid its DNA.

Sweep Roger and all his chromosomes under the rug and forget.

Forget him.

Tears welled in my eyes. “I want to give you what you want right now. God, how I want to give this to you.”

He frowned. “But you won’t.”

Emotion clogged my throat. Why was love so hard? “It’s not about what I want. I need to think about the kid.”

Frustration deepened the frown lines on his forehead. “That’s who I’m thinking about.”

“I know. But information like this doesn’t stay buried forever. We might think we’d be fooling the kid, but it would come out. Somehow.”

“Who else knows about Roger?”

“Rachel knows the story.”

“She’ll keep the secret.”

“Secret.” Such a little secret now. Barely consequential.

But it would grow with each passing year.

The baby would notice she didn’t look like Gordon.

She might realize they didn’t have the same sense of humor, or their ears were shaped differently, or her hair was too curly, like Roger’s.

She’d eventually ask, Who do I look like?

And then I’d have to look her in the eye and lie.

“That’s no way to parent. I know your heart is in the right place, but one day the kid is going to put two and two together. She’s mine, after all, and curiosity is buried deep in her DNA. I must be honest with her about how she was made.”

“Why?”

“To lie about where she comes from is as good as saying she’s not good enough.”

“Daisy, that’s bullshit. You’re reading far more into this.”

“I was the adopted kid. I know how it feels to be out of step.”

“You were abandoned at age three. You suffered trauma. From day one, this kid will have real parents who love her.”

I traced his jawline with my thumb. “I really believe you’d love her like she was flesh and blood.”

“I would.”

“I can’t lie to her. I must tell Roger. I can’t keep secrets, because they come home to roost. One day the kid would put the pieces together and resent the hell out of me and you.”

He stepped back and rubbed a tense hand against the back of his neck. “You are saying no to me.”

“I’m saying yes to being honest with my kid.”

“Your kid.”

“She could be ours.”

“With pencil-dick Roger in the mix.” His eyes narrowed. “You know why the son of a bitch went to China? Yeah, he took the job over there because he’s running from a hell of a lawsuit. The guy lied more times than I can count.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Shit, Daisy, if your goal was to pick the biggest piece of slime to go down on, then you found him. Great job.”

His verbal sting had me racing from hurt, past annoyance, and straight to really pissed off. “Why don’t you stop while you’re behind and leave?” Sad eyes darkened with anger.

“That’s always your solution, isn’t it, Daisy, to kick someone out or run. You never stay and fight.”

“Fight for what? More insults?” My voice reverberated off sunny yellow walls.

“Stand your ground and don’t be such a coward. People do get mad at each other without running.”

“You aren’t mad.” My voice rose. “You’re being an ass. You insulted me, and yet it’s my fault I want you to leave?”

He jabbed tense fingers through his hair. “Look, I was over the line, but I have a right to be angry.”

“You don’t have a right to speak to me the way you did!”

The saloon doors slammed open, and Jean Paul appeared in the doorway, casually holding a hammer in his hand. He looked at Gordon, his gaze menacing. “Is there a problem?”

I stepped back from Gordon, my hands trembling as I held them up. “I’m fine. We were having a fight.”

“Yes, I could hear,” Jean Paul said. “I imagine you’re keeping your sister awake.”

Gordon shoved out a breath. “Go back to your kitchen and let us finish.”

Jean Paul didn’t move. “I think not.”

“Daisy,” Gordon ground out.

I understood Gordon was hurt and upset. He’d offered what he saw as one hell of an olive branch, and I’d all but slapped it out of his hand.

But I didn’t take rejection well on a good, nonpregnant day, and his reckless words still rattled painfully in my head.

“Go, Gordon. This is not the time to have this kind of conversation.”

“When is the best time?”

“I don’t know if there’s a best time. But I can’t stand here and be insulted.”

“Look, I am sorry.” His brusque tone didn’t help his case.

“So am I. We’re two well-meaning people who can’t seem to get it right.”

“You’re giving up?”

“Right now, yes. My life is eggshells, Gordon. I don’t have the reserves to look after your emotions, the baby’s, and mine. I barely have enough for the kid and me.”

His lips flattened. “Fine. Have it your way.” And he turned, fists clenched, and stalked out of the shop.