The Baby Project, page 15
“Don’t go,” she said, grabbing onto his leg. Nice one. Very dignified. The words had jumped from her throat of their own accord. “It’s too dangerous.”
He lifted his head. Something in his eyes sparked. Defiance, maybe? No one told Grant Wilbanks what to do. No story was too dangerous, no destination too remote.
“I’ve covered dangerous stories before, Liz. This is my opportunity to get this conflict on the map. Allow people to see the humanitarian crisis firsthand.”
“I see.” She’d like to tell him she understood, but she didn’t. Plus, he had yet to say anything significant about her news. Their baby.
“Liz,” he said, a pained expression in his eyes. He held her hands, but she knew in her gut it wasn’t to celebrate but rather to keep breaking whatever it was he had to say gently. She pulled her hands away. Let him get on with it, for God’s sake. “They want me there at least six months. It’s not the kind of job for a man who has a family back home.”
“Are you saying…” Her voice trailed off. He was preoccupied with life and death. They were sending him somewhere dangerous. But could he possibly be rejecting her? Their child?
If he was, he’d damn well have to say it in his own words.
“What exactly are you saying, Grant?”
“I-I don’t know. I’m thrilled for you, really I am. I care for you very much. But if you’re looking for someone who can settle down and live here with you in this town, that’s not me. It never was me.”
“If there was no baby…were you going to tell me the same thing?”
He reached for her hands again, but she moved them off the table. “You’re asking me if we could do a long-distance relationship. Perhaps we could. But a child needs someone steady and constant. I don’t want to be a father like my father was to me—popping in and out of my childhood at random, then off risking his life and losing it.
“I…think it’s better to continue on with your original plan. Raise your child without any interference.”
“Interference?” Two month ago, yes, that was what she’d wanted. Before she’d fallen in love with him all over again. “Everything you’re saying…all your talk about going off to save the world, how dangerous your job is—it’s all excuses. The truth is, you’re more frightened of being a husband or father than going into a godforsaken war zone.”
“I never told you anything but the truth,” he said. “I never wanted a serious involvement.”
“Silly me. And here I thought loving me was enough to change that. But I see it’s not. I’m just sorry I believed you were actually capable of it.” She pushed back her chair. It screeched against the ancient linoleum. “Good thing you’re leaving. You’re right. It’s far better for me to raise a child by myself anyway. It’s what I’ve wanted all along.”
Which was a lie.
She couldn’t believe he was rejecting her. She was alone just like the night she spent in that dead quiet train station in Nairobi. Except now he was also rejecting their child.
…
A baby. She was going to have his baby. How was that even possible after all she’d gone through? How could it have happened the normal way?
It was different when he’d donated a sample in a test tube. When he’d been doing her a favor out of compassion.
This was an entirely other kind of game. He wasn’t able to give her what she really wanted—someone to stay with her and love her and raise a child with her.
A child. Their child.
Panic welled up within him. He’d been a loner his entire life. He’d taken risks that no one else would take because it all mattered very little to him. No one, except for Dottie, had loved him, or cared about what really happened to him.
He had no fucking idea how to be the man she needed him to be.
Besides, this next assignment—it was dangerous in a way that made him uncomfortable. How could he make promises to anyone when things were this risky? He thought of himself as a child, waiting expectantly for his parents to return. But they never did.
It would have to be as it was in their initial agreement. He’d given her what she wanted, and she’d been okay with doing things on her own. Making love to her and getting his feelings entangled…that was a mistake. One that was not too late to rectify. It could go back to how it was before. A woman like her, so independent and headstrong, who had carried through with a plan that would enable her to raise a baby entirely on her own…she’d come to see that was still the best way.
Plus, he had a job. Obligations. She’d understand that. He could no sooner ask her to give up her job as she could his.
He made the mistake of looking into her eyes. And the moment that he did, all his words lodged in his throat. Like a clog of too-dry pancakes. He saw the pain, the hurt he’d caused her, and he had to look away.
“I made a mistake,” he said. “I never wanted to leave anyone behind. Get feelings tangled up in all this.”
She started to cry.
“I’m sorry,” was all he could say, and got up and left the room.
Chapter Fourteen
Grant had never seen so many recognizable faces at the annual press club dinner, which took place a few days after he’d arrived back in DC, in a swanky hotel downtown. He’d spent the last few days in meetings and being briefed for his new assignment.
The event was the Academy Awards of the press world, and he was being honored with an award for his work in Kenya, the reason he was here just a few hours before his flight left for overseas.
But as the dinner was served and the speeches went on and on, Grant realized one thing. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the award. He kept looking around for…something. Once he saw a woman with long, dark hair wearing hoop earrings toss her head and turn around…and he thought it was her. Out of the corner of his eye, he believed he’d seen her several times, even though the very thought that she would be here was insane.
He wanted Liz to be sitting right at his side. To share his award. To meet his colleagues. To laugh at absurd people. To share in his world. He’d made that impossible by letting her believe everything between them came down to nothing but a sperm sample. Not long ago, he might’ve been able to accept that. But she’d changed the way he thought about…everything.
Now he felt like shit. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Kept seeing her stricken face after he told her he couldn’t afford to be tied down. A loud, booming voice sounded behind him, pulling him from his thoughts and causing him to turn around.
“How are you, son? Congratulations on the award.”
Vance Walker. The best damn professor he’d ever had, and his nemesis. His father’s nemesis. Also the man who once told him he’d never amount to anything.
Vance had been an A-list colleague of his father’s in his own right and at one time they were best friends. But Vance had turned into a harsh critic. The two men had a falling out and never spoke again.
Grant had met him at NYU where he taught for years in the school of journalism. He was the most dynamic and esteemed professor there, and of course Grant had tried to please him but had never been able to. Grant had always felt that Vance took out his frustrations about his father on him.
He was taller than he remembered, befitting of his legendary status in the world of journalism. Still lean and fit. His hair had turned white, though, and he had more wrinkles on his face, which on a man like him served only to make him more powerful and interesting looking.
Vance offered his hand. “Where are you stationed these days? Haven’t seen you on the news recently.”
Grant took his hand, more out of politeness than any true desire to shake it. In his opinion, the man had been too much of a pain in the ass to warrant a genuine handshake.
“I’m shipping out tomorrow to Somalia,” Grant said. “To cover the refugee crisis there.”
“Is that right? Those fools have got you doing that, eh?”
“The news still needs covered, Vance,” Grant said drily. “Regardless of the danger.”
“There’s a difference between covering the news and sending lambs to slaughter,” he said. “You remind me a lot of your father.”
Grant raised his brows. This should be interesting. “How’s that?”
“Bold. Not giving a shit about the danger. It’s what got your parents killed, you know.”
“It’s easy to pick on the dead. They can’t fight back.”
“Hear me out, son.” Vance rested a hand on his shoulder. It was everything Grant could do not to step aside and let the hand fall.
“You’re misunderstanding me,” Vance said.
“I don’t think I misunderstood years ago when you called me a slacker and an underachiever. I’ve spent most of the past ten years of my career trying to prove you wrong.”
“And you’ve achieved the highest rank a television journalist can. Your face is known around the world, and your reputation for excellent journalism precedes you everywhere you go.”
Grant suppressed rolling his eyes. Great to hear, but it all came ten years too late.
“I admit, I had some major disagreements with your father, and maybe I was harder on you because of it. But if I called you a slacker, it was because you were wasting your talents. It was my way of shaking you, waking you up. You were one of the most talented writers I’ve ever seen.”
Grant’s intake of breath was audible. He couldn’t help it. Writer?
“You told me I’d never amount to anything. That I’d never be the great journalist my father was. You told me my papers sucked.”
“That’s because you showed up hungover every Monday and flirted with all the girls instead of paying attention in class.”
“My whole life has been about applying myself, trying to get myself to the same caliber as my father.”
“You’ve surpassed your father, Grant. Just be careful you don’t piss all your hard work away.”
Grant frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Your father was a lot like you—driven. But he wanted one thing. Success. He would’ve done anything to get a Pulitzer, including bring his wife into a war zone for the sake of a story. Except that time he didn’t get out.”
“You’re calling my father foolhardy.”
“I’m saying your father started out wanting to do what was right, but fame and fortune did things to him. At some point, it became about the prizes and the accolades, not the stories. It’s what got him killed. I know what they’re trying to do to you, Grant. Don’t let them offer you up as a human sacrifice for their ratings. There’s bravado and then there’s craziness. Know the difference.”
“Why should I believe you? You weren’t even on speaking terms with my father when he died.”
“I loved your father. Even though we had our disagreements, I don’t believe they would’ve been permanent if he hadn’t died. That’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. Maybe that’s why I feel obligated to try and save his only son.”
Grant’s head was spinning. He had a million questions. He didn’t know whether to trust him or not.
Vance finally dropped his hand from his shoulder. “Think about what I said. I’d like to sit down with you some time and have a real discussion about your dad, share some photos. When you’re ready.”
Ready? His whole life he’d been begging to know more about his father.
“He’d be proud of you. We all are. I’m sorry that I misguided you all those years ago. I didn’t want you to waste all your spectacular talent.”
Vance turned away. Grant seemed to have lost the ability to form words. “Hey, Vance,” he said.
Vance swiveled around, one brow lifted.
“I-I’d like that. To come sit and talk with you.”
Vance smiled a wide, white smile. “Then Godspeed,” he said, giving a little salute before he turned back and disappeared into the crowd.
Grant was so lost in thought he was a little startled by another pat on his back. “You ready to board that plane?”
It was Pierce. “Bright and early, boss.”
“You’re a good kid, Wilbanks,” Pierce said, balancing a drink in one hand. “Bet you’re eager to get back to some real reporting, eh? Out of Podunkville for good.” He looked him up and down with a sharp gaze that missed little. “Nervous about shipping out?”
“A little, yeah,” Grant admitted. Immediately he regretted it. Pierce was not one for sympathy and it was always a mistake to admit weakness. Some part of Grant couldn’t stop hoping for the kind of relationship Pierce had with his father—warm, affectionate, mentoring.
He was a sick bastard to see Pierce as a father replacement, and he knew it.
As if to prove it, Pierce laughed.
What the fuck?
“Be safe,” Pierce said, slapping him on the back. “And just remember, if you’re having any reservations, there are ten more young bucks behind you waiting for the opportunity.”
Pierce chuckled again and left in search of other company. But Grant didn’t think his words were funny at all.
…
If Liz could handle med school, she could handle making a fruit salad, regardless of her inadequate kitchen skills. She’d invited her family over to finally see her place and to tell them the good news…and she was still going to follow through with the plan. All the food was bought, and, besides, what else was she going to do if she didn’t have them over besides ugly cry all day?
She was the queen of using busy to shut out her problems. Even though tomorrow and every day after loomed like a big black hole threatening to suck her right through it, she refused to think ahead. She would somehow focus on getting through today.
She needed her family. And it was about time she told them that. Except within the first five minutes, she sliced her finger cutting pineapple and by the time she realized it, she’d bled all over half of it and had to toss most of it out. Then she burned the bottoms of the chocolate chip cookies that she’d baked from scratch because her mind was wandering instead of paying attention to the timer. Wandering to a certain tall, good-looking Brit who’d turned her life upside down in a mere matter of weeks. Already she missed him doing what he always did—making coffee first thing every morning and handing her the first cup, watching him as he sat at the kitchen table, intently scanning all the online news outlets as they ate breakfast together.
Waking up without him was unbearable, not that she’d managed to sleep much anyway. She missed the way he pulled her into his big, warm body every morning and held her, nuzzled her neck, told her good morning, making her laugh with his teasing—well, she felt it all acutely.
Liz couldn’t help wondering that if it weren’t for the pregnancy, would he have tried to work things out? Would he have suggested a long-distance relationship? A child had made his decision all or nothing.
And he’d chosen nothing.
Maybe she’d asked too much of him too quickly. Maybe she’d imagined a side of him that he was capable of becoming that he couldn’t even see himself. She’d done that with Parker, hoped he was more than he was, thought that he could change. That experience alone should have taught her that you can’t change people. They have to change themselves. Especially Grant, who’d been so adamant from the beginning. So determined not to love. Even in her anger and sadness, her heart ached for him.
She should never have let down her guard. She’d vowed never to trust a man again and look what had happened.
A baby. That’s what had happened. She would never, ever regret that. Funny how a few short weeks ago she’d been fine with raising a child on her own. Now the thought broke her heart.
The reality of ruined fruit salad and burned cookies in front of her had Liz rushing to clean up the mess in her kitchen. At least it was impossible to ruin chicken strips marinating in salad dressing. Wasn’t it?
She made sure she watered Dottie’s flowers and the plants that were sprouting up in her garden. New, fragile growth. It had once reminded her of her relationship with Grant. But now it was just sad. He wouldn’t even be here to see the blooms.
Even though she kept having to stop and wipe her leaky eyes, she managed to set the table on the porch and put drinks in a cooler and she even put some fresh flowers she’d bought at the store in a little jar in the middle of her kitchen table.
Her family showed up right at six, her sisters and mom and Jenna walking in first, chatting and laughing like it was any ordinary day. But, oh, it wasn’t. How would she ever be able to pretend to everyone that it was?
“Wow,” Maddie said, looking around at the new furniture. “This is amazing.”
“Adorable, Liz,” Cat said. “Your place is simply adorable.”
“I love it,” Jenna said. “Well done.”
“I always knew you had it in you,” her mother said, lightly fingering the daisies on the table. “It truly looks like a home.”
“It was Grant,” Liz said. Bad mistake. Saying his name made her tear up again, and she bit her bottom lip hard to try and stop. “He made me go shopping. He helped me pick everything out. And he got me to slow down some to enjoy it.”
She tried to use the anger deep within to help her keep it together. He didn’t want me. He didn’t want his own baby. But try as she might, Liz couldn’t paint him as an ogre. He was just…damaged. Too damaged to accept love. And that broke her heart even more.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” her mom asked, coming to her side.
Grief and heartache combined to make Liz feel like crap, causing her to lean on one of her brand-new armchairs.
“Are you okay?” Maddie asked. “You look a little green around the gills.”
“I’m pregnant. But it’s too early to even be sick. I’m just…heartsick.”
Her mom and sisters stared. Jenna gasped. Her mom, always the voice of reason, recovered first. “Why don’t you sit down properly in that chair? Cat, will you bring some water?”
“I’m fine,” Liz said. “Grant left. He’s gone back to Africa. For good.”
