He fixed her a cup and joined them at the table, sitting across from her.
“Thank you,” she said before taking a sip. The little mewl that passed over those pink heart-shaped lips stirred him in other places.
Great job, Wilde! Way to keep it in check.
“You are convinced that you’re not the father,” Carys started after a furtive glance toward Kit.
“I’m absolutely sure.” No question.
“May I ask how?”
“How old is she?” he asked.
“Three months.”
“And how long does it take for one of those things to cook?”
Carys’s eyebrow shot up. “Forty weeks if the pregnancy goes to full term.” Her finger absently traced around the rim of the mug as she studied him, head tilted to one side.
He performed a mental calculation. “So, basically, a week more than nine months.”
“That sounds right,” she said. “I don’t have personal experience to draw from, but it checks out with my mental math.”
“For me to be the father, I would have had to have sex with the mother almost exactly this day last year.”
Kit coughed at the outright mention of sex.
He glanced her way. “Forgive me for being direct.”
Her cheeks flushed and she giggled. “I’ve heard worse. You just caught me off guard.”
Turning his attention back toward Carys, whose crimson cheeks were sexy as hell, he said, “I’m certain that I didn’t father a child because that would require having sex with a stranger not long after I buried my wife. I got to know one person during that time, but believe me when I say nothing came of it.”
Carys brought her hand up to cover a gasp. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“Now you know.” He didn’t normally shout his business from the rooftop. Blaize wasn’t exactly the sharing type.
Kit’s girlish smile wiped from her face. “I thought she left you.”
He shook his head. Now his private business was out there for anyone to see. Great.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kit asked.
“Lynn had been sick for a while.” He shrugged. “It was something we were going through.”
His wife had been fiery, opinionated, and almost wholly unpredictable. The first time he’d drummed up the courage to call her after a week of texting, the phone shook in his hands.
Lynn had been beautiful and carefree. She’d been the opposite of the women he’d gone for in the past. His exes were country down to their souls. Lynn was adventure and excitement. Falling for her hadn’t taken but a minute.
As they got to know each other, he uncovered a different side to her—serious and more calculated. A side that thought about every move intensely before making it. The dual sides of her personality had thrown him for a loop at first. But he’dalready fallen for her and figured he would never be bored loving someone like her.
The truth had been a little more brutal when the first diagnosis came. Bipolar disorder wasn’t something he was familiar with, but Lynn’s highs and lows along with her risk-taking behavior made more sense to him once he educated himself on the disorder. Lynn was charismatic like no one he’d ever known on the highs, and she hit rock bottom on the lows.
Blaize and her doctor had gotten his wife on a good regimen with her meds. Life began to resemble something that looked a lot like normal. He’d let himself wonder if the two of them could think about starting a family together. Until the worst diagnosis came the next year. The one that was rarely survivable. The one there was no good medication for. The one that hit hard and fast. They’d tried everything they could think of to slow the illness down and wipe it out. Looking back, he’d tried. Lynn had gone along with whatever he said. The experimental drug didn’t work, nor did the clinical trial. Traditional Chinese medicine had no good answers. Acupuncture was a bust as well as half a dozen other far-fetched therapies. No amount of yoga, hypnotherapy, or Reiki could fix her.
They ran out of options. But Lynn had given up almost the day she’d learned about her illness. Part of him still resented her for it.
He looked up and realized he had two pairs of eyes trained on him, waiting for his response. “What good would it have done to bring anyone else down?”
