“What’s to talk about? I’m pregnant, you’re the father.” Her eyes widened. “Do you think I… that there was another man?”
“No. Christ, Hope, give me a minute here. My life is about to change, I need to come to grips with that.”
“Yourlife’s about to change?”
Newman winced as she screeched the words at him.
“You’ll pay for support and see the child, but that’s it. It’s me whose life will change.”
“No.” Newman shook his head. “We need to—”
“If you even mention the word marry, I’m punching you.”
Newman realized now was not the time to have any discussion. They were both still off-balance. Both saying irrational things.
“We need to discuss this, but not now. Now we need time to adjust,” Newman said as calmly as he could. It didn’t calm Hope.
“You can’t fix this, Newman. You can’t apply your logic or make it all better! Mr. Do-Good can’t make this better, or go away.”
“I know that!”
She was angry. Angry and terrified. And Newman felt the same, and he could add numb to that.
“I need to go.”
“Where?” He grabbed her again.
“Away from you. I need to think.”
“Don’t leave Howling.”
She stopped fighting him, her eyes wide as she looked at him.
“Do you believe so little of me, that I would run with your child inside me?”
Did he? Was he that untrusting of her, or women in general? He didn’t think so. Newman had always believed he loved women. She didn’t wait for his answer. Shrugging out of his grasp, she ran away from him, and he let her. Newman then simply sat where he was on the grass, put his head in his hands, and tried to form a rational thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
He gave himself two days of thinking. Two days with no interruptions. His friends had tried, but he said he had work. What he was doing was thinking. He’d thought about his plans. Especially the find a woman to live his life with, marry, and then start a family plan. Then there was his ideal for that woman. Elegant, poised, well-dressed. Hope was the exact opposite.
Walking into the Howler Newman found Noah at the bar. “Hope on, bud, or out framing up yet another Redwood for the perfect shot?”
“She’s in. She and the legend that is John Finch worked this morning. She’s out back now, taking a break. You sweet on her or something? This is the second time you’ve come in here asking.”
“Or something,” Newman said, then moved out the back to where he knew there was a small room set up for the staff to take their breaks.
She was sleeping on the table when he walked in, head pillowed on her hands. Her face was turned his way and he saw the fatigue in the smudges beneath the eyes. He felt a tug of something inside him. Not sure what, he moved closer. Dropping to his haunches beside her, he touched her cheek. Her eyes opened slowly, and the brown depths were unfocused from sleep.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” He touched the lock of hair that had fallen over her cheek. Pushing it aside, he leaned in and kissed her softly. “You doing okay?”
“Just tired.” Her voice was soft and unused.
“I hear that happens in the early stages.”
