“I’m sorry.”
Tired eyes searched his face. “Why?”
“For lying. For—”
“Not why are you sorry.” Her eyes flashed with impatience. “Why did you lie?”
“It’s a long story, Mom, and the whys don’t change anything. Can’t we just leave it at sorry?”
“No. I don’t think we can. We’ve left too much at sorry these last few years, and this is where it’s gotten us. You’ve lied. Savannah’s lied on your behalf. Her parents are hurt, and angry. Under the circumstances, your father and I have plenty of time for a long story. Come inside, sit down, and start at the beginning.”
Apparently he didn’t have much choice. He let her pull him into the house and drop him in a chair at the end of the kitchen table. His father slid a mug of coffee in front of him, along with two aspirin, and took the chair to his left. His mother took the one on his right. He opened his mouth—to say what, he didn’t know—but the whole story came spilling out. By the time he got to the part about waking up on his sofa with a staggering hangover and the note from Hunter, he was emotionally exhausted and unable to meet their eyes.
His father sat back in his chair and let out a long, slow breath. “Now that you know your mother’s going to be fine, we can revert back to the natural order of things, where the parents worry about the kid. Not vice versa.”
“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Oh, yeah. You’re fine,” his father observed. “What about Savannah? What about the baby?”
“I’m handling it.”
“How? By running away?”
“I’ll answer to her for that—”
“I expect you will.”
“Look, last night took me by surprise, and I’m not proud of how I reacted, but the bottom line remains. I can’t deliver the happy ending, okay? I don’t have it in me.” But he might have a panic attack in him. His throat felt tight, and someone had parked a backhoe on his sternum.
“Beau,” his mom interjected. “You’re spending so much of your energy stifling your emotions you don’t know what you have in you. And you’re so determined to avoid getting hurt, you don’t see you’re doing more damage than God, or fate, or luck ever could.” She took his hand and squeezed, as if she could wring something out of him. “How do you feel about Savannah?”
He shook his head. Speech was out of the question.
His mom rubbed his hand. “Thanksgiving Day, when you told us you and Savannah were engaged, I was really happy to hear the news, but on the drive home I admitted to your father I had concerns. I saw two people with a lot of chemistry between them, and some easy affection—I think that’s one of Savannah’s gifts—but no real emotional connection. I told Trent I thought you two were in lust, not love. But I had hope because chemistry and affection had gotten you to the point where you were willing to take a chance on something deeper. I staked a lot on that willingness.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll reimburse you and Savannah’s mother for the dress.”
She waved the comment aside. “I’m not talking about financial stakes. Here’s the thing, a week later, when we had dinner together, I saw two people in tune to each other. While I discussed my upcoming surgery, she sensed your anxiety and reached for you, and you held on to her. Took comfort from her touch. That night I said to myself, ‘Aha. It’s not all fun and games. He’s fallen.’”
He shook his head. The weight on his chest paralyzed him. “I can’t—”
“You already have. Done deal, Beau. The only question is whether you’re brave enough to face up to your feelings and strong enough to convince Savannah to trust you with hers. I believe she’s at Sinclair’s, if you want to find out.”
His heart pounded like a Code 3. His lungs couldn’t seem to pull in enough air. But even in the midst of a full physical meltdown, one terrifyingly clear thought lodged in his mind. His mom was right. He hadn’t meant to. God knew he hadn’t wanted to, but he’d fallen in love with Savannah, and she was going to have their baby. He’d gone all-in weeks ago, whether he liked it or not.
His mom patted his hand and stood. She padded out of the kitchen and returned a minute later holding a large box in her arms. “This is for you. Merry Christmas.”
He got up and took it from her. “What is it?”
“A couple good things came out of my cancer diagnosis, one being I finally organized all our boxes of photos into albums. I thought you should have these.”
“More naked baby photos?” His smile felt weak.
“Among others. I hope you’ll look through them when you get some time. Share them with Savannah.”
He lowered his head to accept her hug and kiss.
His dad said, “Good luck,” and then he was back in the Yukon, staring out the windshield at the slate of gray sky, wondering how the hell to go about begging Savannah’s forgiveness for his behavior last night. How could he convince her to trust him? Beyond “I’m sorry” and “I love you,” nothing sprang to mind. His mom had nailed it. He was years out of practice doing stuff like talking things out and explaining his feelings. You’re gonna have to get better at it, starting now.