Connor crouched in front of Julia. “What do you want to do? There is another angle to this. You don’t need to be a biological parent to make a good mother or father. You’ve met my stepfather. He loves me, and he has been a damn sight better parent than my real father. Talk to Ryan. Tell him what you’re feeling. Maybe this is a chance to start afresh.”
“But he’s away on tour all the time, and I have the club to run. Neither of us knows anything about children. Our work schedules don’t fit with children.”
“Julia, you’re just making excuses,” Connor informed her bluntly. “Talk to him, tell him everything. Lots of parents work at demanding jobs and still have great kids.”
Maggie sent him a silencing look and grasped one of Julia’s hands. She squeezed it tightly. “No one ever said it would be easy, but you can make it work—if you want. Do you love Ryan?”
Julia gave a jerky nod, not having to consider her answer.
“Then it’s simple. Don’t wait until the morning,” Maggie said. “Talk to him now. Listen to what he says and ask questions. We’ll drop you off at his apartment if you want, but don’t leave this until the morning. It will be that much harder if you stew all night.”
The stupid lump in her throat kept growing and wouldn’t disperse, no matter how many times she swallowed. She croaked, “Okay.”
“Promise?” Connor persisted.
Julia gave a tiny nod. “I’ll do it.”
“I’ll tell Susan you’re leaving. She’ll take care of the club.” Connor turned to his wife. “Meet you both out front.”
Half an hour later, Julia stood at the door of Ryan’s inner city apartment.
“Don’t make me come and buzz the apartment for you, Julia,” Maggie said, her tone faintly threatening.
Julia flipped her friend off and squared her shoulders. She pressed on the buzzer. Only then did she hear Connor drive off. They’d been right to wait. Her friends knew she was behaving like an idiot, and the temptation to run might prove appealing. She’d promised Connor she’d tell Ryan everything, even her fears that he’d no longer want her now that he’d learned the truth.
“Yeah.”
She identified the tinny voice as Caleb’s. “It’s Julia.”
When she reached their apartment and tapped on the door, it flew open. Caleb glowered at her.
“About time,” he snapped.
“Can I come inside?”
In one of the rooms to their right, she heard a child crying. “Is Ryan in there?”
Caleb’s mouth was tight with anger. “Kid’s crying for his mother. Heartless bitch.”
Julia followed the heart-wrenching sobs and found herself in a small bedroom, only big enough for a single bed. Her gaze darted straight to the child who sat in the middle of the narrow bed. His inky black hair was tousled, curls sticking out on one side of his head while the rest of his hair plastered to his scalp. Tears rolled down his red cheeks, his cries tearing at her. He was little and obviously confused.
Ryan stood by the bed and glanced up when she entered. Frustration and fatigue lined his face.
“Ryan,” she whispered.
“Julia.” His tone was cool, his expression cautious.
“How long has he been crying?”
“Ever since we arrived home from the club,” Caleb said from the doorway.
“Why don’t you get us a drink of some description?” she said to Ryan. “I’ll see if I can settle him.”
Ryan hesitated.
“Go,” she said, turning her attention to the boy. He stared at her with big, blue eyes. Ryan’s eyes. Her mouth rounded in surprise. The boy was a miniature of Ryan, and so obviously his son. The hair. The pale blue eyes fringed by dark lashes. The same shaped face. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
He took a noisy breath and stared at her. Finally he gnawed on his bottom lip. Julia could see he was trying to work out who she was.
