I open the door, expecting a box, but instead find my heart falling through my body and crashing to the floor. A tall man with blue, blue eyes and thick dark-red hair is standing on my porch, wearing jeans and a light blue T-shirt that matches his eyes. His short red beard is streaked with golds and auburns. He’s strikingly beautiful, and I want to kick him in the nuts. “Mason?”
A thousand thoughts race through my mind. He’s here. Why’s he here? I can only think of one answer. He knows.
“You can’t have him! He’s not yours,” I blurt out, and try to slam the door in his face, but he uses his foot to block me. “Your name isn’t even on the birth certificate, and I’ll run before I ever let you touch him.”
Mason pumps his hands in the air. “Ginnie, calm down,” he says, sounding genuinely concerned. “I’m not here to take him or do anything to hurt either of you.”
“Why are you here? Speak before I stab you.” I thrust my menacing dishtowel at him.
“I just want to talk and see how you’re both doing. His name is Marus, right?” he says with a hint of I-come-in-peace in his tone.
“I call him Russ. Marus Olivier Angelico.”
“It’s a nice name.” He stares warmly into my eyes.
Why’s he doing that? I don’t trust him as far as I can throw a rock, which isn’t very far. My arms are exhausted from all the late night feedings and working my glass off.
“May I come in?” he asks politely.
“Um…” It does me no good to turn him away when he’s got all the money in the world and lawyers at his beck and call. I’d better find out what he wants.
Glaring up at him, I step aside and allow him to pass, closing the door behind him.
Mason enters my living room and eyes the piles of boxes. “So. Colorado, huh?” he says like we’re old friends.
I’m not sure how he knows, but I don’t care. “Why are you here, Mason?”
“I wanted to see you before you left.”
“Why?” I snap.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he says, like he doesn’t get my hostility.
“Mason, I’ve worked really, really hard to make sure he’s going to have a good life. So if you’re worried that I’m going to be asking you for money or child support or anything having to do with your family, then don’t. The last thing I want is for him to get anywhere near the McMillans.”
“Ginnie, I told you I’m not here for anything and that includes getting assurances you’ll never darken my doorstep or ask for anything.”
“Then why the fuck are you here?” I blurt out, tipping the emotional scales toward hysterical. Russ is everything to me, and I’ve been fearing this moment since I found out I was pregnant. Mason has to know I don’t want him anywhere near my life. Otherwise, I would have contacted him.
“Is everything okay?” Olivia appears on the stairs.
Mason gives her the nod, speaking calmly and courteously. “Ginnie is less than excited to see me, like you warned.”
“You were in on this?” I seethe in Olivia’s general direction.
Her face turns a guilty shade of red. “He came to see me last week and ask how you were doing. The whole baby thing just slipped out. I’m sorry, okay? But please hear him out.” She turns and runs up the stairs. “You won’t regret it!” she yells from the second floor.
Oh, you’d better start looking for a place to hide, girl, I silently boil.
I look at Mason, who’s taken a seat on my cellophane-wrapped sofa, with apologetic, concerned eyes. I’m not buying any of this nice-guy act.
“Fine.” I throw my arms to the sides. “I’m here. I’m listening. What do you want, Mason?”
“As your best friend in the entire world will tell you, when you get the chance to ask her, I have been through a lot.”
“So?” I had your fucking baby after you broke my heart and decided to return to being a selfish dick.
“So,” Mason clears his throat, speaking sincerely, “I wasn’t in a good place when everything happened. I pushed you away. I may have even blamed you. But…”
“But?” I fold my arms over my chest.
He stares at my chest for a moment, fixated on the abnormally large size of my jugs.
“Yes, I put on weight, most of it in my breasts. It happens when you’re lactating, so get over it.”
He gulps and clears his throat, avoiding eye contact with my milk maids. “I’ve been working very hard. Therapy. Reflection. Soul-searching. And you were right. Mason McMillan was not a very happy man. His family hated him. His sister tried to kill him. She may have even beaten him daily for a month inside a remote cabin and told him he’d suffer for the rest of his life if he survived the hell she put him through. Which he did. Then she took mercy on him and dumped him on a country road in Pennsylvania, hoping to never see him again, because she finally realized that between the frozen lake and her efforts to fuck him up, he couldn’t even remember who he was.”