A Different Blue Page 53

Wilson nodded again, but his face was troubled and his grey eyes morose. He leaned in and kissed my forehead, and I smelled peppermints and aftershave and had to steel myself against the desire to breathe deeply, to pull his scent around me like a warm blanket. I sensed his unrest, as if he disagreed with everything I had said but didn't want to hurt my feelings. I wondered if it was the fact that he would be an uncle to my child, to Tiffa's child. He would be one of the layers of love I was so painstakingly constructing.

“So what's next, Blue? Where do we go from here?” I didn't know what he referred to exactly, so I took him literally.

“Tomorrow I have to tell Mason.”

“Well look who's here. Couldn't stay away, could ya?” Mason crooned, looking down at me from his open door. He was silhouetted in the light from his little apartment over the garage. I had called him, telling him I was outside and needed to talk to him. He snapped his phone shut and began walking down the stairs, his swagger pronounced. He obviously thought I wanted to do something more than talk. I held my purse in front of me, not wanting him to get an eyefull until I was ready. I heard a door slam. Wilson rounded the corner. So much for him staying in the car.

“Where the hell have you been, Blue?” Mason reached the bottom of the stairs at the same time Wilson reached my side. Mason's eyes strayed to Wilson and a dark look passed over his features. “Thought you'd trade me in for this uppity pansy?”

“I'm pregnant, Mason. It's yours,” I shot out, not wanting to make small talk. I needed this over and done as soon as possible. I moved my purse to the side so he could get a good look at my stomach.

Mason's eyes shot to my belly and back to my face. I wasn't obviously pregnant if I wore the right clothing. I'd made sure to wear a fitted T-shirt with slim white capris so there was no doubt.

“Oh, that's rich!” Mason howled, running his hands through his hair, and I immediately felt bad for him. I didn't blame him for being outraged. It was a major sucker punch, and I knew exactly how he felt; I'd felt the same way several months ago. He pointed at me, his finger only inches from my face.

“You show up here after almost six months, and lay this on me? No way. Uh uh! I'm not buying it.”

“Not buying what, Mason?” I challenged. I tempered my sympathy with the need to accomplish what I'd come for.

“How do I know the kid is even mine, Blue? I sure as hell wasn't your first, and I definitely wasn't your last. If I recall, Adam here was in the picture around that time, too.” Mason eyed Wilson sourly. Wilson just shook his head and crossed his arms. The Adam thing just wouldn't go away. It did no good to try to deny or explain anything.

I shrugged, not arguing. It was better if Mason doubted me. He would make less of a fuss. I handed him the summons Jack's brother had prepared.

“I didn't come here to make trouble, Mason. I didn't come here to fight. I want to give the baby up for adoption. This explains termination of rights. You need to show up at court on this date, sign on the dotted line, and you're done. You never have to see me or my big belly again.”

Mason glanced at the paperwork and for a minute I thought he would rip it in two.

“I gotta work. I can't make it.” He scowled, tossing the paper aside. It fluttered to the ground, and we all stared at it, waiting for someone to make a move. After a second, I stooped to pick it up.

“I understand,” I said, sweetness dripping from my voice. “You're definitely gonna want to hold onto that job. Because if this adoption doesn't work out, I'm going to file a paternity suit and sue for child support.” I kept my face blank and my eyes innocently wide.

Mason swore, and Wilson bit back a grin. He gave me a thumbs up under his folded arms. His grin faded when Mason proceeded to call me an F-ing whore.

“Watch yourself, chap,” he bit out, and Mason eyed him warily, most likely recalling the kung fu from their last meeting.

“You aren't getting a damn dime from me, Blue.”

“Show up on Thursday, and I never will,” I pressed the paper against his chest, holding it there until he reached up and grabbed it, wrinkling it in his fist. “See you, Thursday.”

I turned and walked away, not glancing back to see if Mason watched or Wilson followed. I slid into the passenger seat of Wilson's Subaru and fumbled for my seatbelt, needing to feel secure, needing to reassure myself that I was safe. Safe from Mason's anger? From his palpable sense of betrayal? Maybe. I just knew I felt scared and inexplicably sad. Wilson climbed in beside me and started the car. My hands shook so badly that the clasp slipped and ricocheted back against the window, smacking the glass with a sickening crack. Wilson leaned over and pulled the seat belt across me and clicked it without comment, but I felt his eyes on my face as he pulled away from the curb.

“You're shaking. Are you all right?”

I nodded, trying to swallow the shame that filled my mouth and made speaking difficult.

I could feel Wilson's eyes on me, studying my profile, trying to peel back my mask. I wished he would just let it go.

“Do you love him?” The sympathetic query was so unexpected that I laughed, a harsh bark that held little resemblance to mirth.

“No!” That was easy. “I'm embarrassed and I'm ashamed. Love has nothing to do with it. It never did.”

“Does it make it easier . . . not loving him?”

I pondered that for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. It does. I'm just glad he didn't offer to make an honest woman of me.”

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