“Hi, Katie,” he says.
I take two steps back. “Cole, what are you doing here?”
“Is that how you greet the father of your child, Katie?” he asks. He steps toward me and I force myself to hold my ground, even though I really want to throw up. “It’s nice to see you looking so healthy and relaxed.”
“How did you f-find me?” My voice betrays me with a slight warble, so I clear my throat.
“I followed your dads,” he says. He shrugs. “It was pretty easy.” He takes my chin in his palm and tries to force me to meet his eyes. I look everywhere but at him, until he squeezes my chin so hard it hurts. “I can’t believe you thought you could go without leaving me a forwarding address.”
“I just needed some time–”
“Time’s up,” he says, clapping his hands in my face. “It’s time to go home. I already packed your things.”
A pain clenches across my belly. “What about the kids?”
“I packed their things too.”
I close my eyes tightly.
“What’s the matter, Katie?” he taunts. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”
I step back and he lets me go. I feel like a mouse caught in a maze. No matter where or how I turn, he’ll catch me. I’m certain of that.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I turn toward the kitchen on wobbly legs.
He sits down on the couch and puts his feet on the coffee table, then cups the back of his neck with his palms. He knows I’m trapped. “Who was that man?”
“What man?” I pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink.
“The one who just brought you home,” he clarifies. He’s being friendly. Too friendly.
“Oh, that’s Jake. His dad owns the cabin. He was working on the roof next door.”
“What were you doing with him?”
“He gave me a ride up from the shore. That’s all.”
“Should you be taking long walks in your condition?” He lets his eyes fall on my belly. “That’s my baby in there. I hope you’re taking care of him.”
I try to laugh it off, but vomit crawls up my throat. I swallow fiercely. “The baby is doing great. Only two more weeks. Are you excited?”
“To hold my son?” he asks. “Of course I’m excited.”
A knock sounds on the door of the cabin. My heart jumps into my chest.
Cole takes his feet down off the coffee table. “Who is that?”
“I don’t know. Do you want me to get it?” I know I need permission to answer the door.
A knock sounds again, this time more insistent.
“I don’t think they’re going to go away,” I warn.
He nods. “Answer it.”
I walk to the door and open it all the way. I can run from here. I can run like hell. “Oh, hi Jake,” I say, trying to be cheery.
Cole fills up the space behind me, and lays a hand on my hip. The other he puts on my shoulder, where he squeezes so hard tears form in my eyes.
“Hey, you forgot your sandals,” Jake says. He looks from me to Cole and back, his brow furrowing. Then he sticks out his hand. “I’m Jake,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”
“Who are you?” Cole inquires.
“I’m an old friend of Katie’s. I’m staying with my dad up at the big house.”
“Swanky,” Cole says. He doesn’t look toward the big house on the hill. He just stares at Jake, until he finally takes Jake’s hand and shakes it.
“Yeah,” Jake says. “Swanky.” He looks hard at Cole. “Your name’s Jeff, right?”
I wince. Cole hates to be compared to my husband. “No,” Cole bites out. He doesn’t say any more, but his hand slides under my hair to cup my nape. He squeezes painfully. “Have you known Katie long?” Cole asks.
Jake smiles. “Only eighteen years or so.”
“So you two have been catching up.” Cole’s hand grows ever tighter, until I can’t stand it and I step away. Cole reaches for my hand and grabs it instead. Then he pulls me in to his side and wraps his arm around me. “That sounds nice.” He glares at Jake. “You had better run along. I haven’t seen my girl in a while. We have some catching up to do too.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jake says easily, nodding his head.
“Oh, wait, Jake,” I say, stalling. It’s not fair to Jake. Not fair at all. “I have that pie dish your mom left here the other night.” I go to the kitchen and rumble around in the cabinet until I find a dish that will work. Then I walk back to the door where Jake is waiting. “Cole, his mom makes the most amazing pie. You would love it.” Jake’s eyes search mine, so I avoid his gaze. “Will you tell your mom thanks and that the pie was delicious?”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, of course. She’ll be thrilled you liked it.” He waves the dish at us as he turns to leave.
Then the door closes and I’m left alone with my worst nightmare.
31
Jake