She remembered him and his friends at the diner where she worked after school. How his friend Josh had mentioned seeing Ethan with her. As clearly as if it was happening right now, in front of her, she recalled Ethan’s discomfort. He’d said she was a piece of ass—but not anyone he could be interested in. He’d denied her, had denied them. She’d heard every word.
Maybe if she’d been older she would have understood why he’d said what he did. Or if he’d been more mature or stronger, he could have stood up to his friends. Instead he had hurt her and she’d reacted. She’d walked over to the table, picked up the chocolate milk shake she’d brought him only minutes before and thrown it in his face. Then she’d walked out. She’d quit her job, packed a bag and run away to San Francisco.
Three weeks later, she’d figured out she was pregnant.
She’d returned to town, prepared to tell Ethan, only to find him in bed with someone else. She’d run again. This time she’d been determined to make it on her own. But five years ago, as Tyler had been getting ready to enter first grade, she’d decided to make another attempt to tell Ethan. Which had led to the conversation with his wife and the letter telling her that he didn’t want anything to do with her and his son.
None of this made sense, she thought. Ethan was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. He wouldn’t just forget about his own child. Unless he really hadn’t been told. Which meant his wife had kept the information of Liz’s visit from him.
“Liz?” His voice was low. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” She pushed to her feet. “At the risk of repeating myself, Rayanne never told you that I came to see you?”
“That’s right.”
“You never wrote me a letter.”
“No.”
“So you don’t know about any of this?”
“Any of what?” he asked.
She sucked in a breath. She’d known there was a good chance she would run into Ethan again. Or his wife. Or both. But she’d never imagined anything like this.
“I came back to see you five years ago,” she began. “No, I came back a few weeks after I left, but you were in bed with Pia.”
“What?” He stiffened. “I didn’t…” He half turned away, then faced her again. “It’s not what you think.”
“I thought you were both naked and in bed,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “It doesn’t matter. Screwing around with Pia isn’t the point.”
“I didn’t screw around.”
“No? Then your intense and meaningful relationship isn’t the point, either. I came back to tell you that I was pregnant. When I saw you in bed with Pia, I took off. I was too hurt, too angry. You’d denied me in public and then slept with one of the girls who delighted in tormenting me.”
She squared her shoulders. “More irrelevance, right? The point is, I always wanted you to know. So I showed up here five years ago to tell you about Tyler. I spoke to Rayanne and told her. Then I got a letter from you saying you didn’t want anything to do with me or Tyler and to stay away from town.” A letter apparently written by Rayanne.
Ethan stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. Emotions flashed across his face. Disbelief, confusion, anger.
“Tyler isn’t your husband?”
“He’s my son. Your son. He’s eleven. And he’s here.”
CHAPTER THREE
ETHAN HEARD THE WORDS BUT THEY made no sense to him. Son? As in a kid? An eleven-year-old boy who was his?
“You never told me.”
The words came from him, although he couldn’t feel himself speaking. He was still trying to make sense of the information. A baby? No. Not a baby. A child. His child.
“I did tell you,” Liz reiterated, putting her hands back on her hips, looking as if she was prepared to take him on. “I just explained that. I’ll admit I didn’t make much of an effort when I came back the first time, but the whole naked-in-bed-with-Pia was more than I could handle. I came back a second time.”
“Stop.” He glared at her, anger growing. “You’re lying.”
“I told you—I still have the letter. I can have my assistant send it overnight. It will be here day after tomorrow.”
He knew there wasn’t a letter, mostly because he’d never written one.
He turned and walked back to the gate, before facing the house again. Liz stood silhouetted in the glare of the porch light. He’d been so damned happy to see her. He’d wanted to come talk to her. Now this.
“How the hell can you stand there and tell me I have an eleven-year-old son I’ve never known about?” He stalked toward her, fury growing. “You didn’t bother to tell me that you were pregnant? What gives you the right?” He swore.
“I did try to tell you,” she countered. “You were too busy screwing Pia.”
He grabbed her arm. “I don’t care if I was burning down the entire town. You were pregnant with my child, and I had the right to know.”
She jerked free. He let her, mostly because of how he’d been raised. It was the right thing to do.
“I cared,” she snapped. “I cared a lot. You were supposed to love me. You convinced me it was safe to love you back. You took my virginity, then let someone call me a whore in front of all your friends.”
“None of that matters.”