Valentine's Secret Child

He framed her face, lifted his mouth from hers. She stifled a cry, to be losing such a kiss.

Oh, she didn’t want this lovely intimacy to be over. She didn’t want this magic to end.

His palms were warm against her cheeks, his fingers so gentle at her temples. “I used to think I would go after you,” he told her. “That I would find you, that we could try again. But then, as time went by, I decided it was better, wiser, to let the past go….”

“Oh, Mitch. I know. I understand.”

“But tonight…seeing you again, being with you again…”

“Yes. Exactly. Oh, I do know.”

He took her shoulders. “Okay, this is crazy. But I don’t want tonight to end. Do you think…is it possible that you could go with me, tomorrow?”

The question stunned her. She echoed, stupidly, “Go with you?”

“It’s wild, I know. But wild doesn’t have to equal impossible. All night, I’ve been thinking about how I might talk you into coming with me. I was thinking, what if I endowed that shelter of yours, gave them a big grant? Lots of money. You think it would be enough that they could do without you for a few weeks?”

“Oh, God.”

He rubbed her shoulders, soothing her—and, oh, this was terrible. Why hadn’t she told him an hour ago, two hours ago?

“Hey,” he said. “Okay, maybe it’s not possible. But well, I thought I’d at least give it a shot.” His wry smile broke her heart.

Oh, to be able to simply say yes. To go with him, just pack a bag and take off, to follow this sudden, rekindled magic wherever it took them…

But who was she kidding? That couldn’t happen. Even if she could somehow manage to take a few weeks off from the center with zero notice beforehand, there was DeDe to consider.

DeDe. His daughter.

The child she had yet to tell him about, though telling him had been the whole point of the evening.

Time was up. She knew it, accepted it. She’d stolen her little impossible fantasy, though she had no right to do it, though it only made this moment when the truth was upon her all the more painful.

He scanned her face, a frown forming between his brows. Something was very wrong and he was seeing that now. Still, he tried to play it light. “Okay, okay. I said it was a wild idea. Too wild, I guess. But a guy needs a fantasy, now and then.”

“A…fantasy… Oh, Mitch.” She took his big hands between her own. “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve been trying all night, and failing miserably. I’m just so…attracted to you.”

He looked at her sideways, with a teasing half grin. “And that’s bad?”

“No. It’s not. It’s wonderful. Too wonderful. I didn’t want it to end. I wish I could go with you, I swear, I do. I’m flattered and thrilled that you would ask me and I…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, God.”

“What? What’s gone wrong? I’m glad you still feel it for me. I feel it, too. I thought I’d made that clear. I thought we had something going here. Something good. Damn it, Kelly. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I…”

“What?”

“When we broke up ten years ago?”

He nodded. “Yeah? What about it?”

“I was, um, pregnant.”

He went absolutely still for a second or two—and then he moved, but only to pull his hands free of her hold. “What did you say?”

She prayed for the sidewalk to open under her feet, to just swallow her whole. “Oh, please, Mitch. Don’t look at me like that.”

He shook his head. “Pregnant? But you never said—”

“No, I didn’t. Because I didn’t know then. I didn’t miss a period for two weeks after I left for Fresno with Tanner. And then it took me another few weeks to face the possibility, to admit what might be happening to me. When I finally took the home test, six weeks had gone by since we split up.”

“All right.” Now his voice was flat, devoid of expression. His eyes were shuttered—against her. “So. What happened then?”

“I tried to find you….”

“And you didn’t. Got that. And then?”

“I…” She bumbled on, making a complete hash of it. “Seven months later, I had a baby.”

He flinched as if she’d struck him. “No.”

“Yes. I had a baby. Your baby. I had a little girl.”

Chapter Four

“Oh, Mitch,” she cried, moving toward him as he moved back.

He put up a hand to ward her off. And he spoke much too calmly, “You’re joking, right?”

“No. No, of course not. I would never joke about something like this. I have a daughter. Your daughter. She’s nine years old now. Her name is Deirdre. After your sister. We, um, we call her DeDe.”

“DeDe,” he repeated. “DeDe…”

“Mitch. Listen. Please don’t be angry.”

His gaze burned right through her. “What the hell kind of game are you playing?”

“No game. I swear to you. It’s not a game.”

“You sat there at that table with me, you told me all about yourself—except for one thing, the most important thing….”

“I’m sorry. I told you. It was…so great, to be with you again. I started enjoying myself. I…” She wrapped her arms tightly around herself against the night chill and tried to stand tall—and to keep her voice low and reasonable. “Look. I know I blew it. I should have told you right away, the minute I got to the table, I should have—”

“Try ten years ago. That’s when you should have told me.”

“How could I tell you then? I didn’t know myself. And then, when I did come to find you, you were gone. You took off without leaving me any way to get in touch with you.”

“You should have looked for me.”