Angie ached to hug her, but David was there, holding Lauren’s hand. “It’s not impossible to go to college with a baby.”
“A two-month-old?” Lauren’s voice sounded old and far away. It echoed and faded, as if she were throwing the ugly words down a well.
Angie closed her eyes. Any answer to that would be a lie. Angie knew already what Lauren was sure to discover: day cares that took two-month-olds were rare. And certainly expensive. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing softly. This was like being on a sinking ship. She could feel the water rising. “That’s a problem,” she said at last. There was no point lying. “But you’re a strong, smart girl—”
“A smart girl would have done things differently,” Lauren said. Her eyes filled with tears again, though she was trying to smile. She looked up at David, who nodded down at her encouragingly. Then she looked expectantly at Angie.
For a moment no one spoke.
Angie felt a chill slide down her spine. All at once she was afraid.
Lauren let go of David’s hand and took a step forward. “Take our baby, Angie.”
The air rushed out of her. She felt her lungs shake with the force of it. “Don’t,” she whispered, using her hands to ward off the words.
Lauren took another step. Closer. She looked so young. So desperate. Tears swam in her eyes. “Please. We want you to adopt our baby. We’ve been talking about it all day. It’s the only way.”
Angie closed her eyes, barely hearing the tiny, mouselike sound that escaped her lips. She couldn’t go back down that dream road. It had almost killed her last time. She couldn’t think about filling her empty, empty arms again with …
a baby.
She couldn’t. She wasn’t strong enough.
And yet. How could she possibly walk away from this?
A baby.
She opened her eyes.
Lauren was staring at her. The girl’s pale, full cheeks were streaked with tears. Her dark eyes were bloodshot and swollen. The letter from USC was right there, a piece of paper that could change lives …
“Please,” Lauren whispered, starting to cry again.
Angie’s heart seemed to cave in on itself, leaving her feeling empty inside. Lost. There was no doubt in her mind that she had to say no to this baby. And no way on God’s green earth she could do it.
She couldn’t say no. Not to Lauren, and not to herself. But she knew, deep in her slowly crumbling heart, that she was doing the wrong thing, even as she said softly, “Yes.”
“There is something wrong with you today,” Mama said, pushing the glasses higher on her nose.
Angie looked away. “Nonsense. I’m fine.”
“You are not fine. Jerrie Carl had to ask you for a table three times before you answered her.”
“And when Mr. Costanza asked for red wine, you handed him the bottle,” Mira said, wiping her hands on her apron.
Angie shouldn’t have come into the kitchen. Like a pair of hyenas, Mira and Mama sensed distress, and once alerted, they tended to move together, following, waiting.
“I’m fine.” She turned and left the kitchen.
Back in the busy dining room, she felt less obvious. She did her best to function. She moved slowly, perhaps, but given her state of mind, any movement at all was a triumph. She smiled blankly and tried to pretend that everything was okay.
The truth was, she couldn’t feel much of anything at all. For the past twenty-four hours, she’d kept her emotions in a locked box into which she dared not peek.
It was better not to see. She didn’t want to look too closely at this Faustian bargain that she and Lauren had struck. It would take them on a terrible journey, this deal; at the end of it there would be broken hearts on the side of the road. Angie felt as if she’d sealed herself into a small, dark room.
She went over to the window and stared out at the night. The bustling sounds of the busy restaurant faded behind her until she couldn’t hear anything beyond the beating of her heart.
What now?
It was the query that had kept her up all last night; the first thing on her mind this morning.
Her emotions were a tangle of hope and despair. She couldn’t find a place from which to begin the unraveling. A part of her kept thinking, A baby, and with it came a swelling in her heart that was almost unbearably sweet, but on the heels of that thought was always the other one, the darker, Lauren won’t be able to do it.
Either way, there would be heartbreak. At the end of this road lay a terrible choice: Lauren or the baby. Angie could, at best, have one or the other. At worst, she could lose them both.
“Ange?”
She gasped and spun around. Conlan stood behind her, holding a dozen pink roses.
She’d forgotten about their date. She tried to smile, but it was weak and desperate and she saw a frown dart across his forehead. “You’re early,” she said, laughing a little too sharply, praying it was true. It usually was.