Page 59 of Emergency Engagement
Maybe she was in shock, because Savannah fought an urge to laugh at the incongruity of Sinclair standing there in her high heels and racy black dress, now accessorized with flaming skull oven mitts and a piping hot pie. She didn’t give in to the impulse because of a strong fear that if she unleashed her emotions, she’d soon be sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m not in shock. I’m just—” She splayed her hands on the worn surface of Sinclair’s antique pine table and searched for the right explanation. “Tonight went about as poorly as it could have, but screaming and crying won’t improve anything.”
“And pie will?”
“They call it comfort food for a reason.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know how comforting a frozen apple pie from the gas station food mart is going to be.” She placed the pie on a trivet in the middle of the table alongside two forks, took off the oven mitts, and sat down across from Savannah. “Chances are it’s not going to stand up to your homemade version, but my options were limited, given it’s Christmas.”
“How bad can they screw up pie?”
Sinclair handed her a fork and then dug into the domed center of the flaky crust with her own. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Savannah dug in as well. They spent a moment blowing on thesteaming forkfuls.
Sinclair inhaled. “It smells good.”
“It does. Looks pretty good, too.”
They took bites at the same time.
“Oh my God.” Sinclair’s face fell. “Worst pie ever.” She took another bite, as if she couldn’t believe what her taste buds were telling her. “It’s a crime against pie. It’s crap.”
“It is,” Savannah agreed around a mouthful of dry, hard apple chunks, synthetic, gloppy filling, and a crumbly sawdust crust. She swallowed and, to her horror, burst into tears. “A-and I’m the worst mom ever, because I’m feeding my baby crap.”
Sinclair was at her side immediately. “You’re not the worst mother ever.”
“I am.” Crappy gas-station pie was a ridiculous trigger, but now that the tears had started, she couldn’t seem to stop them. “What if I’ve just ruined pie for this baby forever?” She tossed her fork down. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I can’t do this on my own.”
“You’re not on your own.” Her sister took her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “You willneverbe on your own. You’ve got me. Mom and Dad, Beau’s parents—“
“M-mom and Dad are so horrified they can’t even look at m-me.”
“They’re in shock—angry and disappointed you lied to them—but they’ll forgive you. They love you, and they’re going to love their grandchild. As for Beau’s parents, let Beau deal with them…at whatever point he pulls his chickenshit head out of his ass.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“He will.”
“Were you not just cursing him out thoroughly to his partner on the phone an hour ago?”
“Yep. And I’ll curse him out to his face, next chance I get. But Ialso know he cares about you. He told you so himself.”
“The situation has changed. That’s not good enough anymore. This baby needs a father who loves it freely and unconditionally. Not some emotionally resistant man who meets his legal obligations but refuses to get too close.”
“Give him a little bit of time to get his head straight. Your getting pregnant is his worst nightmare come to life. What if something happens? What if history repeats itself? All he’s focused on right now are the risks. He can’t see past them, so he’s trying to close himself off. The thing is, his walls were already starting to crumble. He couldn’t hold out.”
“He’s held out pretty well for the last three years.”
Sinclair folded her hands on the table and tilted her head to the side. “No. He hid out well for the last three years. He blockaded his heart and nobody got past the barriers until this Thanksgiving, when he lowered them enough to trust you with a problem and ask you for help. He let you into his life—not for the right reasons, and certainly not with the intention of falling for you—but he let you in. Now he cares for you, and I hope he loves you. He just needs to grow a pair and figure it out.”
“I can’t wait forever for him to figure his shit out. I have to start making plans now.”
“Wait a little while, Savannah.”
She folded her arms and stared at the floor. “Why should I?”
“First, because you’re in love with the man. Second, he’s the father of your child, so he’s always going to need a way back. Don’t go to Italy without talking to him.”
Savannah ran her hand over her stomach and accepted reality. “I’m not going to Italy.” The words were surprisingly easy to say.
