not.”

What a mess.

“Drink up,” Carleen insisted.

And Sable did as she was told, figuring she had nothing else to lose.

An hour and two espresso cups later Sable was nursing a bruised heart and a sore head. The constant low roar of vintage engines, as entrants in the classic car show rumbled down the street, didn’t help the latter. The almost empty bottle of liqueur had a lot to answer for.

Including the words Not pregnant. Not living with a guy. Not in a relationship flipping and twisting inside her head.

“You know what my problem is?” Sable asked, expecting no one to answer.

“Where do you want to start?” That from her mother.

Bear shot Mercy a look and she held her hands up in surrender. Then he looked back at Sable and said, “Tell me.”

“I go about things all backwards.”

“What things?”

“My career, for one. I started out on a high—gallery show, prize money, fame—and only then did I have to work like crazy to earn a reputation.”

“Right.”

“And then, there’s...the other thing. If you love someone, you don’t ask them to have your baby first. You ask them if they’ll have you.”

The one time she would have liked for her mother to perk up with a sharp comment, Mercy remained all too quiet.

Sable licked her dry lips. Leaned towards Bear and, voice low, said, “But I couldn’t do that. Because I didn’t come back here for him.”

“Please.” Now her mother perked up.

While Bear said, “But you just said you loved him.”

“What? No, I didn’t!”

“Yeah, you did,” said Carleen, most helpfully.

Bear gave her a soft smile. “You said, and I quote, ‘If you love someone, you don’t ask them—’”

Sable flapped a hand at Bear till he stopped talking. Till the café was deadly quiet.

“She did,” said Mercy, “didn’t she?”

Sable’s breaths were suddenly hard to come by.

“Sable,” said Mercy, waiting for her daughter to look her way. “Answer me this: if you had to choose, right now, would you pick Rafe, or Rafe’s child?”

Bear sucked in an audible breath and held it. Mercy looked so hard into Sable’s eyes there was no hope of faffing her way out of the question. While Carleen began singing “Stand By Your Man” under her breath in what amounted to a gorgeous singing voice.

Sable’s voice shook as she said, “You told me my whole life never to believe a man is more important than my dreams.”

“No,” said Mercy, pointing a finger Sable’s way. “I told you to figure out what those dreams are, before you even think about finding yourself a man. Unfortunately we had to move in next to Rafe Ruddy Thorne. And that was it. One look and you were a goner.”

A muscle car revved its engine as it ambled slowly down the street, the noise shaking the windows.

Rafe, Sable thought, her heart now thundering so loudly she could barely hear herself think. Rafe had been her dream. Wanting a child, a backyard, a home, that had all come later, when she’d begun believing that life might actually be possible, with him.

And yet she’d pushed him away.

So as not to hurt him. Because she thought he was better off without her. When she hadn’t stopped to ask what he wanted. What he now thought was possible.

“Quick, I need Janie’s number.”

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“Really? You want me to say it out loud? Fine. I’m going to enlist her help in doing whatever it takes to show Rafe how much I love him. And want to be with him. For ever and ever. If he’ll still have me.”

“Hallelujah.” That was Bear, his voice hitching with emotion.

A beat later, maybe two, Mercy sighed. Then she called out Janie’s mobile number by heart.

Thank you, Sable mouthed as she held her phone to her ear.

Sable gave her mother a big kiss on the cheek, before she waved to Bear, who was swiping a tear from his cheek, and bolted out of the door.

It took Janie another hour to open The Barn, move some exorbitantly expensive vehicles, find the keys to the VW and drive into town, giving Sable time to drink copious amount of water.

She sat in the passenger seat, running a hand over the dimpled dash, the old junkyard seats, wondering how she hadn’t realised—seeing it kept under a protective cloth next to Ferraris and Lamborghinis and Mustangs that were near priceless in value—how precious it was to him.

Because she was precious to him. Even after what she’d done. Even after how she’d left. He’d held a flame for her. And he’d forgiven her.

Only now she realised, she had never forgiven herself.

It explained why she’d let herself fall into such one-sided relationships. Why she’d convinced herself Rafe was better off without her. Why she’d been so ready to push him away at the first hurdle.

Because she loved him so much she only wanted the very best for him.

Never stopping to wonder if she might be the best for him!

She wasn’t perfect. Mistakes would be made. Differences navigated. Disagreements hashed out. And bad things might happen, to them and theirs.

But she loved Rafe. Deeply, wholly, ferociously. So much it expanded to encompass the people around her. Bear and Stan and Janie and this town. This beautiful, charming, crazy little town.

They hit Laurel Avenue, right as one of the McGlinty boys was cordoning it off, sending any traffic on a detour. A detour away from Rafe.

Sable wound down the ancient window. Squeak-squeak-squeak. “Fred? Ed? Let us through!”

“Can’t, Ms Sutton. Mumma said we need to start putting out the cones for her parade.”

Squeak-squeak-squeak. Janie wound down her window too. “The parade is tomorrow afternoon, you goose!”

Fred—or was it Ed?—blanched. “But Mumma—”

“Let ’em through!” Carleen and Mercy stood outside Bear’s, holding one another up.

“Thanks, Carleen!” called Sable.

Carleen lifted a fresh bottle of Pumpkin Spice liqueur in salute.

Janie shot Sable a grin. “What happens during the Pumpkin Spice Festival stays—Nah, who am I kidding? Whatever happens today will go down in town folklore for ever.”

The McGlinty boy hopped to it, moving traffic cones

Вы читаете Brooding Rebel to Baby Daddy
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