More Than She Expected Read online

  Not at all what he’d been expecting. “What?”

  “Well, the thought crossed my mind. It seems to be the thing these days, doesn’t it?” she said, and Tyler hid his smile, even as he caught the chuckle from the black woman across the room from them. “Not that I would have minded, not in the least. People can’t help being who they are. As long as you’re a good person, what the hell do I care who you sleep with?”

  Hugging that bright pink purse, she touched Tyler’s wrist again. “And it’s so much better now than it was in my time, thank God, when everybody knew but it was all hush-hush. So silly. And sad. Anyway,” she sighed out, “I finally asked Laurel one day, point blank, if that was the case. She laughed and said no...but that’s when I first saw it. The sadness in her eyes. And as her old girlfriends all started getting married, asking her to be in their weddings, I saw that sadness a lot. Not that anyone else would have probably noticed, but it broke my heart. Because it was exactly like when day after day would go by, and her father wouldn’t call....”

  Tyler glanced away, his own chest constricting.

  “I had such a wonderful childhood,” Marian said, shaking her head, “with parents who doted on me. And my marriage... Sometimes I can’t believe how blessed I was, even if it didn’t last as long as I would have liked. So it’s sometimes hard for me to relate to what that poor girl must have felt when she realized her parents’ marriage was a sham, that her father had only stuck around out of duty, but he didn’t love her or her mother. And then to repeat history, in a way, with this Barry person... Such a shame.”

  Tyler frowned. “I don’t understand. She said it was pretty...casual.”

  Marian looked at him. “Did she now?” Huffing a breath, she turned away. “Not that I’m surprised she’d try to shield her heart. Because believe me, honey, she was head over heels with that man. And I don’t care if I’m not supposed to tell or not, it’s the truth. Still might be, for all I know...it’s a forbidden subject these days. Between her and me, at least.”

  “But...she told me she knew he didn’t want kids—”

  “And she did. Does. Yeah. And what does it say about her that she loved the dirtwad enough to sacrifice that for him? A word clearly not part of dirtwad’s vocabulary.” She shook her head, then sighed. “He didn’t get himself fixed on a whim, after all. Although I don’t suppose anyone would.”

  “So...the baby really was an accident.”

  Marian laughed. “Oh, honey—half of all babies are ‘accidents,’ happy or otherwise. And my granddaughter decided to roll with the punches, God love her. The man she loved, however, was having none of it.” Her mouth twisted. “And the saddest thing of all is that I set her up with the bastard.”

  Tyler’s brows sprang up. “Really?”

  “Yep. He’s the son of one of the gals in my book club. I’ve known her forever...she’s a doll. And Barry seemed plenty nice the one time I met him when he came to take his mother to lunch.” She opened her purse, took out a tin of breath mints. Popped one in her mouth, offered the tin to Tyler. He shook his head, no. “I had no clue about the vasectomy, of course—his mother and I aren’t that close. I knew he had two kids from his previous marriage—God knows Norma showed me pictures often enough—but how many men have second families these days? Plenty. To prove they still got it, or something. And he was educated, smart, not bad looking...the whole package. A nice boy, she could do a lot worse, I thought. And he and Laurel certainly seemed to hit it off....”

  She squeezed shut her eyes, then opened them again. “And if I hadn’t meddled, kept my nose to myself, none of this would’ve happened. Not that I’m not thrilled about being a great-grandma, I don’t mean that. But I certainly never meant for Laurel’s heart to get broken in the process.... Oh!” she said, poking Tyler as a white-coated, middle-aged Asian gal pushed through the swinging doors. “Maybe that’s us!”

  “Mrs. McKinney?”

  Marian was instantly on her feet. “That’s me! So are we going to have a baby tonight?”

  The doctor laughed. “No, thank goodness, since your granddaughter’s not due for several weeks yet. I really didn’t think she was in labor when she came in, but it seemed wise to monitor her, just to be sure.” Smiling, she clasped the chart to her chest. “And as I suspected, she was only having upper abdominal contractions, probably brought on by the heat and being on her feet too much. And Junior’s head is pressing against her spine, which is causing the backaches. Nothing really unusual, to be honest. Although I will say...”

  Dark eyes swung between Tyler and Laurel’s grandmother, then back again. “You might want to keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t overdo things for the next few weeks. To keep her more comfortable, if nothing else. And don’t let her try to convince you she doesn’t need someone to help out—which she probably will if her time here is any indication—because she does. You want her strong and healthy and rested for when she does this for real.”

  “Got it,” Marian said, and the doctor smiled.

  “Otherwise, both mama and baby are doing great, so I think we’re good to send her home.” She briefly touched Marian’s shoulder. “Laurel’s getting dressed, she’ll be out shortly.”

  And indeed, before the doctor disappeared down the hall to the nurses’ station, Laurel came through the doors, looking more chagrined than anything else.

  Tyler, however, felt like somebody’d reached inside his head and rearranged his brain. First off, he was mad that she’d essentially lied to him about her relationship with this Barry person, even though he knew that was stupid. She could tell him anything she wanted, or not, what difference did it make? It wasn’t like they had a relationship or anything, she didn’t owe him squat. But what made him even more mad, was that the jerk was apparently all Whoops, sorry about getting her pregnant, like he figured since he didn’t want her to be pregnant, it was somehow okay for him to pretend she wasn’t? That it never happened? That the kid—his kid—didn’t exist? Then to hear her grandmother talk about how Laurel had always wanted a husband and kids—

  No, maybe Tyler couldn’t see himself as a family man. But that didn’t mean he didn’t understand how other people would want that. Or that he didn’t feel like Laurel had gotten a raw deal.

  Hell, in her position? He’d probably fudge the facts, too.

  Just like he had, come to think of it.

  Laurel wearily accepted her grandmother’s hug, then loudly exhaled. “Well, that was a spectacular waste of time. Nothing like being a big ol’ party pooper.” She looked at Tyler, and more stuff happened in his head. Like...he cared what happened to this woman, maybe. “I feel terrible—”

  “Yeah, I’m sure Kelly will never forgive you,” he said. “’Cause she’s real self-centered like that.”

  She gave him a little smile then looked down at her feet, stuffed again in those stupid shoes. “I cannot walk another step in these things, they are so coming off—”

  “Not on this floor, they’re not,” Marian said. “Do you have any idea how many germs are in hospitals?”

  “But— Oh!” she said as Tyler swept her up in his arms. “Tyler! For heaven’s sake, I must weigh five million pounds! I’ll give you a hernia!”

  “Get her shoes,” he said to Marian, who immediately complied with his request, tugging first one, then the other off and stuffing them inside her purse.

  “Let’s blow this joint,” the old gal said, and started for the exit. Tyler followed, feeling like some hero in a movie. Especially when, on another gasp, Laurel linked her hands around his neck—for security, probably, since he might’ve been bouncing her a little—then stared at the side of his face.

  “Really?”

  He hoisted her slightly as they all marched through the automatic doors, people gawking and/or grinning at them as they passed. “You got a problem,” he said as they trekke
d toward the car, parked in the open-air lot, “take it up with management.”

  With a little hiccup, Laurel laid her head on his shoulder, surprising the crap out of him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “No problem.”

  Except it was. A helluva lot more than he’d ever let on. Because being a hero—or at least, playing one as he carted this woman across St. Luke’s parking lot—was so not part of his skill set.

  Chapter Six

  It was almost dark before Laurel finally convinced Gran to leave, she’d be fine. Five minutes later, in her nightie and robe, she passed out in the übercomfy, ancient armchair that as a kid had been her fave place to curl up and read, next to Gran’s picture window in her living room. So God knows what time her phone rang, startling her awake. As well as her sweet little parasite, who walloped her a good one in her bladder, making her need to pee. Drat.

  Muttering not nice words, she checked her phone. Tyler. Who, before she could mumble hello, said, “Room service.”

  “Again?”

  “Blame Kelly. They had a crapload of food left over—in part because three of us weren’t there to eat it—”

  “Really? You’re pinning this on me?”

  “—so she made me come over and take some. And told me to take it to you, pronto. And she was gonna check with you to make sure I did. God, she’s worse than my brothers. And Boomer and I are standing on your porch, by the way.”

  “It’s...” She blearily peered at her phone. “Late.”

  “So?”

  Sighing, Laurel heaved herself to her feet—because she’d become one with the chair, not because she was pregnant—and trudged to the front door. The instant she opened it, many pounds of joyous dog exploded into the living room, spinning in circles before planting his wriggling butt on the floor in front of Laurel, grinning like a goon.

  Laurel tried to lean forward to pet the beast, except her bladder had other ideas. On another sigh she straightened, then started for the potty. With only the briefest glance at the bulging bag in Tyler’s hands.

  “Good God. How much is in there?”

  “Enough to last you at least until tomorrow morning.”

  “You are so dead,” she said, continuing her trek. A couple minutes later she returned, much relieved, somewhat awake and, yes, starving. Tyler was in her kitchen, again, laying out another feast on her table. Like a panting, drooling sphinx, Boomer lay on the tile floor, totally oblivious to Laurel’s entrance, so intent was he on his master’s every move.

  And now that Laurel was awake, she was every bit as fixed on Tyler’s actions as the dog was, a shiver skittering over her skin at the memory of being in his arms, against that chest, and hunger of another kind reared its nasty little—okay, not so little—head. Yes, yes, he’d only been doing the good guy thing and all that. But still. It’d been nice, for a moment there, to feel safe, and cared about. To pretend.

  “Honestly, you didn’t have to do this.”

  “One word—Kelly. And besides, what did you have for dinner?”

  “Food. And I sent my grandmother home because I couldn’t take the hovering. But at least she’s family... What’s that?”

  He held up a largish, square container. “Wedding cake. Need I say more?”

  On a defeated sigh, Laurel sank onto one of the kitchen chairs. There were many things she could resist, but cake was not one of them. Or cookies. Or pie. Chocolate silk, especially—

  “So Kelly tells me she’s throwing you a shower?”

  He set a plate of food large enough to feed Iowa in front of her, as well as a chilled bottle of water, then sat across the table with his own.

  “She would like to throw me a shower. I haven’t decided yet whether that’s a good idea.”

  Chomping on a chicken leg, Tyler frowned, then took a sip of his water. “Because...?”

  “Because it just feels...” She picked up one of the kebabs, slid off a shrimp and popped it into her mouth. “Pushy.”

  “Yeah, that’s Kelly, all right—”

  “I didn’t mean her! I meant me! I’d feel like...” She blushed. “Like a charity case.”

  “Then you need to get over yourself. I mean, did it occur to you how happy it would make her, to do this for you? For the kid?” he said, waving the chicken bone at her belly. “She also said...”

  He stuffed a bite of potato salad in his mouth, then got up and walked out of the kitchen. She and the dog looked at each other, then followed suit, to find Tyler standing in front of The Room. He flicked on the overhead.

  “This gonna be the nursery?”

  “Yes. And one day I might even pick a color. So I can paint it.”

  Tyler glanced at her belly, then walked over to the half dozen paint samples on the bare windowsill. He picked one up, a dusty blue. “The light sucks, for sure, but...” He splayed the other samples, tapping the yellow for a moment before holding out the blue. “Yeah. This one. We’ll go get the paint tomorrow morning, I’ll start on it soon as we get back—”

  “Says who?”

  “Me. And the E.R. doctor.”

  “She told you to paint the baby’s room?”

  “She told your grandmother and me you’re supposed to take it easy for the next few weeks. Because you don’t want those contractions to start up again, right? And Kelly said you told her you’re having trouble making decisions, and I don’t, so...”

  He waggled the chip. “Since it was already in here, I’m gonna assume you didn’t hate it. Right?”

  “No, of course not, but—”

  “And you’re gonna let Kell give you that shower, and let people bring you food and crap, and do all the stuff for you the baby’s father should be doing....”

  He jerked away, his mouth set in a hard line as he put the swatch back down, and Laurel’s heart knocked in her chest. “Ty? What’s this all about?”

  His shoulders lifted with his breath before, with a glance, he brushed past her to return to the kitchen. She found him slouched in the chair, his arms crossed over his chest, one leg jutting out underneath the table. “Your grandmother...she got to talking, while we were waiting. In the E.R.”

  “Oh, God,” Laurel said, taking her seat again, as well. “I’m almost afraid to ask... What did she say?”

  “That you were serious about whatshisname. Barry. That you still might be.”

  “Thanks, Gran,” she muttered.

  “So she was right?”

  After a moment, she nodded.

  “So why’d you tell me—”

  “That it was casual? Oh, I don’t know...maybe because I didn’t want to come across as some brokenhearted sad sack? But...yeah. Corny and pathetic as it sounds, I’d given him my heart. Since, to be blunt, I wouldn’t have given him anything else otherwise.”

  “And then he abandoned you.”

  The coldness underlying his words almost mitigated the pain they caused. But not the anger.

  “I told you, I knew going in Barry didn’t want children. And I’d accepted that. True, when I found out I was pregnant, I hoped he’d change his mind...but he didn’t. And yes, that hurt. Like holy hell. So I had a choice—suck it up and move on, or infect myself, and my baby, with a bunch of negative feelings. No matter how justified,” she said when Tyler opened his mouth again.

  “So, what? You simply decided you didn’t love him anymore?”

  “What I decided was not to let my feelings lead me around by the nose. That I was stronger than they were.”

  “So if he was to show up tomorrow and say he’d changed his mind, would you slam the door in his face?”

  How often had she asked herself exactly that? At least in the beginning, before hope gave way to logic. Even so...

  “For Jonathon’s sake? No. Probably not.
”

  Tyler got up again, his hands shoved into his back pockets as he walked over to the uncovered patio door, facing the dark yard.

  “He is Jonny’s father,” Laurel said. “And after everything you said, I’d think you of all people would be on board with that.”

  “Meaning you’d forgive him?”

  “It’s called moving on, Tyler.” He looked at her over his shoulder, his expression clearly saying he wasn’t buying it. Not that she blamed him. “Look, I have no trouble owning my serious error of judgment—one I hope to God I never make again—but I’m dealing with the consequences as best I can. And Barry...he has to sort through his own junk. I can’t do that for him. Would I let him back into my life? I don’t know, to be honest. I obviously thought he was a good person at the time or I wouldn’t have gotten involved with him.”

  “And you still think he’s that person?”

  “Considering his current state of asshattery, you mean? I think he’s scared and angry and...I don’t know. But somebody has to be the grown-up here, and it looks like I’m it. And all I can do is take things one day at a time.”

  When he turned back to the window, his jaw clenched, Laurel pushed herself out of her seat and came close to gently lay a hand on his back, the muscles taut underneath his gray T-shirt. She knew so little about him, really, other than what she’d seen—his generosity and kindness, a protective streak a mile wide, a bone-deep goodness at complete odds with his conviction that he’d been a pain in the butt as a kid. So she could only guess that whatever was causing the obvious torment she heard in his voice, saw in his body language, about a subject that—to be honest—had nothing to do with him, stemmed from something in his past.

  And she ached for him.

  Dammit.

  Laurel rubbed the space between those rock-hard shoulder blades, just for a moment, then lowered her hand to his, forcing their fingers to braid. As his gaze veered to hers, Boomer came up and swiped his tongue across their entwined hands, then returned to the table and sank onto the floor with a groan. Tyler’s eyes followed his dog, one side of his mouth curled up. It was so obvious how much he cared about that dog. How much he cared, period, she thought as annoyance shunted through her, that she cared, too. More than she wanted to. And heaven knows more than she should, since it wasn’t as if she didn’t have enough garbage of her own to deal with without trying to pick through someone else’s.