Was it his imagination or did she flinch, her eyes dimming.
“It’s…difficult. I’m reeling. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”
Care? A wimpy damn word. Of course, he hadn’t offered her much better. “I’m relieved to know her father isn’t a stranger. That’s good news for Fleur’s security.”
Glenna rested a gloved hand over his. “Broderick, I’m sorry you’re hurting over Fleur not being yours.”
“How do you know I’m not relieved?” he asked with a tight bravado he was far from feeling.
“Because…” She angled sideways, her cheeks and the tip of her nose pink from the cold air. “I could see it in your face, then and now. You’re attached to her.”
The baby wasn’t the only one who’d become important to him. Seeing Glenna now, remembering what they’d shared, hurt like hell. Because he knew it was over.
“Who wouldn’t?” he admitted, thinking back to the way the baby giggled. To all the innocence and trust in her alert eyes. “You’re an incredibly capable woman. I believe you have this covered. You can handle parenthood without me.” Though his words were dull and hollow, he attempted to smile at her encouragingly.
One of her eyebrows shot to the sky. Then he saw her features school themselves into boardroom neutrality.
Her chin trembled, before it tipped with strength. “I’m overwhelmed at the reality of being her mother. I can’t deny that. And I have to admit that I’m tempted to ask for all the help I can get.”
She was actually still considering coparenting with him? “But you don’t trust me. Your husband hurt you. He betrayed you again. It doesn’t matter what I feel. If you can’t trust me, then there’s no way a relationship between us will work.”
Her forehead furrowed. “Don’t put this all on me. You’re the one who had the practical, no-emotions proposition. And now that I’ve accepted, you’re ready to run. Or fly away. I can see it.” She gestured to the plane.
“You’re suddenly a mind reader?” Well, she was in a way, but realizing she read him so well only made him even more frustrated.
“Broderick, I don’t know what you want from me.” Her voice sounded weary, defeated.
As much as he wanted to take her up on the offer of seeing what they could be to each other, to help in a future with Fleur, he realized now that if he couldn’t have it all with Glenna, it wouldn’t be enough. He didn’t want just an affair or a partnership for the baby, or for her to move in with him. He wanted her love.
But she loved a man who’d betrayed her, who’d damaged her heart quite possibly beyond repair. Broderick knew what it was like to live with the pain of loss and how it could damn near cripple a person’s emotions.
They’d both suffered enough.
“Glenna, we’re just torturing each other, dragging things out. This conversation is leading nowhere good.”
The world pushed too hard on Broderick today. Fulfilling Glenna’s prophecy, he practically ran to the plane. Slamming the door behind him, he took to the skies. Didn’t care where he was headed.
So long as it wasn’t here.
* * *
Glenna’s thinly constructed scaffolding of emotional coping mechanisms began to give way as she watched the seaplane fade from view.
Broderick had left her.
Left her.
The realization tore at her already frayed nerves, slowed her heartbeat. How could he leave her without a real explanation?
Already, today had been too much. Her world had tilted when the receptionist called her name. The truth of her late husband’s infidelities had crashed into her.
Somehow, she’d foolishly held out a sliver of hope that when she walked out on the dock to talk to Broderick, things would be okay. She’d make peace with him, at least for the moment. Doing that had been hard as hell on the heels of realizing Gage’s betrayal, but she’d tried. And Broderick had literally run away from her. God, it hurt.
Too much.
Her heart ached, and she felt the melancholy in her bones.
“Come fishing with me,” a rusty masculine voice demanded.
Jack Steele?
She turned to find that, sure enough, Broderick’s father stood a few steps away. She hadn’t even heard him walk across the planks of the dock.
His request more than stunned her. She spun on her heel. Jack stood in a heavy flannel shirt with two fishing poles. She blinked, taking him in, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Excuse me, sir? You want me to do what?”
“Girls can go fishing, too. My daughters learned early and I expect you to bait your own hook.” He extended a sleek blue fishing rod in her direction.