Marriage On The Cards. Susan Carlisle

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СКАЧАТЬ end of the line. But he had heard Mackenzie suck in her breath when he asked the question, followed by silence. For him, he already had his answer. Hope was his daughter.

      “Mackenzie.” Dylan repeated the question, “Is Hope my child?”

      Mackenzie stared in the direction of Hope’s room, grateful that she had gone to bed early. “I...” She whispered into the phone, “I don’t think that we should discuss this over the phone.”

      “You’re probably right,” Dylan agreed. “You pick the place and time and I’ll be there.”

      “I can meet after work tomorrow.” Mackenzie pushed herself to a stand. “But I don’t know where we should meet.”

      “Let’s meet at my place.” Dylan’s forehead was in his hand, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

      Mackenzie pressed her back against the wall and crossed one arm tightly over her midsection. “I’ll get my friends to watch Hope. I can be at your place around six-fifteen, six-thirty.”

      “I’ll see you then.” Dylan opened his eyes. “Good night, Mackenzie.”

      “Good night.” Mackenzie touched the end button and slowly slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. She wrapped her arms tightly around her legs and rested her forehead on her knees. From the moment she had held Hope in her arms at the hospital, she had felt, like a splinter under her skin, this day would eventually come. And now that it had, she felt undeniably shell-shocked and strangely...relieved.

      But with the relief came another strain of uncertainty. She prayed for Hope’s sake that Dylan wouldn’t reject her. But what if Dylan decided that he wanted to play a larger role in Hope’s life? She had raised Hope on her own for ten years. It had always been Mackenzie and Hope against the world. And she knew she was being selfish, but she liked it that way.

      When Dylan ended the call, he started to straighten up the condo to keep his body busy and his mind occupied. He moved restlessly from room to room, cleaning surfaces and pounding pillows into submission. He wound up back in the kitchen and began to unload the dishwasher even though the housekeeper would be there in the morning. One by one, he put the glasses in the cabinet, setting them down hard and then shutting the cabinet doors a little bit more firmly than he normally would. Finished with the chore, Dylan tried to push the dishwasher drawer back in, but it caught.

      “Dammit!” Dylan rattled it back into place and then with a hard shove, slammed it forward. He lifted up the dishwasher door and shut it, hard. Stony faced, he leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Still frustrated and restless, Dylan headed down to the beach and once his feet hit the sand, he started to run. He was grateful for the cover of the night. He was grateful that there were only a few souls on the beach with him. He started to run faster, his feet pounding on the hard-packed sand. Pushing his body harder, pushing himself to go faster and farther than he had ever gone before. His lungs burned, but he didn’t let up. His leg muscles burned, but he didn’t let up. He didn’t let up until his leg muscles gave way and he stumbled. His hands took the brunt of his body weight as he fell forward into the sand. Fighting to catch his breath, he sat back, and dropped his head down to his knees. He pressed his sandy fingers into his eyes and then pinched the side of his nose to stop tears from forming.

      He’d never wanted to be a father and he’d worked damn hard to make sure it never happened. That he never had a slipup. He had been vigilant all of his sexual life to make sure that he never got anyone pregnant. Even if he had been dating someone for a while, even if he saw them take the pill every day, he always wore a condom. But the one time he didn’t—the one time he didn’t—he’d gotten caught. And now, he had to face the one fear he had never intended to face: Was being a bad father genetic?

      * * *

      “I’m here.” Mackenzie pulled into a parking spot a couple of doors down from Dylan’s condo. She was on speakerphone with Rayna and Charlie.

      “Mackenzie—you’ve got this,” Charlie said.

      “And don’t forget—” Rayna began.

      “Rayna,” Mackenzie interrupted her. “Please, please, please don’t give me another spiritual affirmation. I just can’t take it right now.”

      After a pause, Rayna said in her “let’s meditate” voice, “I was just going to say—don’t forget that we’re always here for you, anytime, no matter what.”

      “Oh. Sorry. Thank you,” Mackenzie said. “I’ll be by to pick up Hope after I’m done.”

      Mackenzie hung up with her friends and then got out of the car. She stood by her car for several minutes, staring at Dylan’s condo, before she forced herself to get the show on the road. Stalling wouldn’t help. She needed to face this conversation with Dylan head-on and get it out of the way.

      Mackenzie took a deep breath in and knocked on the door. This time, unlike the last time she stood in this spot, Dylan opened the door seconds after she knocked.

      “Come on in.” Dylan stepped back and opened the door wider.

      Mackenzie walked, with crossed arms, through the door and into Dylan’s world. She noticed, more so than she had the first time she was here, how neat and organized Dylan’s home was. His home was sleek, expensive and masculine: the ultimate bachelor pad. It was a sharp contrast to her 1930s Spanish-style Balboa Park rental with an interior decor that was cobbled together with flea-market finds and garage-sale bargains. The lives they lived, the lives they had built for themselves, couldn’t be more different.

      “Can I get you something to drink?” Dylan stood several feet away from her, hands hidden in his front pockets. He looked different today. The boyish spark was gone from his eyes. The features of his face were hardened, his mouth unsmiling. Today, he seemed more like a man to her than he ever had before.

      “No. Thank you.” Mackenzie shook her head, wishing she were already on the back end of this conversation.

      “Let’s talk in the den.” Dylan slipped his left hand out of his pocket and gestured for her to walk in front of him. “After you.”

      Mackenzie waited for Dylan to sit down before she said, “I’m not sure where to begin...”

      “Why don’t we start with an answer to my question.” Dylan was determined not to let this conversation spiral out of control. He had always been known for his cool head and he wanted to keep it that way.

      “I think you’ve already figured out the answer to your question, Dylan. But if you need to hear me say it, then I’ll say it,” Mackenzie said in a measured, even voice. “Hope is your daughter.”

      Instead of responding right away, Dylan stood up and walked over to the large window that overlooked the ocean. He stared out at the waves and rubbed his hand hard over his freshly shaven jawline. With a shake of his head, he turned his back to the window.

      “I’m just trying to wrap my mind around this, Mackenzie. It’s not every day that my friend’s sister turns up with my kid.”

      “I understand.” Mackenzie wished that she could stop the sick feeling of nerves brewing in her stomach.

      “How long have you known that she’s mine, Mackenzie?” Dylan asked pointedly. “Have you always known...or did you think СКАЧАТЬ