Page 75 of Child of Mine

“Please, Miss Bella,” the older of the two girls chimes in. “We won’t stay up too late.”

Bella considers for a moment—or at least pretends to, it’s hard to tell—before giving in. “All right. Run upstairs and pack a bag for the night.”

I put Ribsy on his leash so he won’t be tempted to follow the girls inside and chase the cats, and then let him do his business on a light pole or two while Cal and Bella work out details. By the time I’ve put Ribsy back in my truck, the three girls are getting settled in Cal’s car. I blow a kiss to Lilah as they drive away.

Left alone with Bella, I feel as awkward as I did back in junior high when I was a pimply-faced, skinny kid. On the one hand, everything seems so perfect. We get along great, we have a great kid, and we’ve had some great sex. I’m trying to convince her that I’m fully on board with being Lilah’s dad. Today was idyllic. I could sign up for more.

But she seems determined to be self-sufficient, and it’s not like I have a great track record myself. I’m not even sure if I’ve ever been in love. The way my mom and dad used to look at each other… I’ve never felt close to a woman like that. I’ve had glimpses of it with Bella. Not just in bed, though sex with her is definitely more mind-blowing than it’s ever been with anybody else. It’s the little moments. When I catch her private smile and she lets me in for a moment. When I make her laugh. When I surprise her with a cup of coffee at work, just the way she likes it. The fact that each of these little connections just makes me want more.

Maybe that’s love?

“Henry?”

“Uh, yeah?” She’s staring at me, and Ribsy is pawing at the car window. Shaking my head, I say, “Sorry, lost in thought.”

“Oh. Well, if you’ve got too much going on, then—”

“Wait. What did you say? Did you ask me something?”

“I just wondered if you wanted to get dinner.” She shrugs, and her cheeks flush. “After what happened with Ben the other night and seeing Cal just now… I feel like we need to get our story ready for prime time, as it were. We might have to tell people at work soon about you and Lilah.” She pauses to search my face. “But we can talk on the phone or whatever later if that’s better.”

She turns abruptly and walks toward the house leaving me at a crossroads of indecision, confusion, lust, and longing. How is this woman’s mind still so hidden from me? Does she really not feel any of the things I’m feeling? Or is it that she’s afraid of something? I don’t want to lose her by pushing, but if I don’t catch her now, it’ll feel like I’ve given up.

“Bella!” I shout just as she opens the front door. “Yes.” When she turns, there’s a hairline crack in that facade of hers. “Yes. Let’s have dinner.”

Chapter 15

“Last week onPrivate Hospital: Things have come to a head for Matt. The realization that he’s Tricia’s father has stirred his memory. Jim urges Mandy to marry him, but she says she’s made too many mistakes in the past. Meanwhile, Betty gets a difficult diagnosis.”Soap Opera Land, August 1989

BELLA

This may not be the right time, but even though I gave Henry an out, he insists on doing dinner. I don’t want to talk in public, for obvious reasons, and my mom is having some friends over, so Henry’s apartment is the only option.

And the riskiest,Izzy says.

In all the good ways,Quinn counters.Can we please sleep with him just one more time?

You sound like Lilah,Izzy grumbles.You should know by now that whining doesn’t work with her.

Whatever,Quinn says.I just don’t see why you’re so against this man.

I hate to admit it, but I kind of agree,Izzy says.He’s being so good with Lilah. Maybe you should give him a chance.

He’s saying something about needing to feed Ribsy anyway as he turns onto Storrow Drive. “Did you feel like anything in particular?”

Oh, just your hands everywhere, Quinn says sweetly.

It takes me a moment to realize he must be talking about food. “Oh, no. Whatever you want is fine.”

“Well, if you don’t mind leftovers, I’ve got some tuna casserole.”

This makes me laugh. “Seriously? Did your mom mail it to you or something?”

A hand to his chest, he moans. “You wound me! You don’t think a grown man can mix up frozen peas with mushroom soup and a can of tuna?”

“All I care is, does it have potato chips on top?”

“It wouldn’t be tuna casserole if it didn’t,” he says with the smile that gets me every time.

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