The next morning, Lucy opened her eyes and the magnitude of what had happened last night came rushing back like a punch to the gut. She bolted upright in bed and pressed her hands to her face.
Oh, my God, what did I do?
She had told Zane that she’d been in love with him her entire life. That was what she’d done.
Sure, Zane had provoked it by asking her to marry him, but—Gaaah!
She squeezed her eyes shut, as if she could obliterate the nightmare. Because that was what it was—the stuff that nightmares were made of. Only, this was real. It hadn’t happened in a bad dream. It had played out in living color between her and the only man she had ever loved.
She ran her fingers through her mussed hair, tugging a little too hard. She couldn’t blame her slipped filter on the pregnancy hormones because she knew it wasn’t the truth. She wasn’t going to use this pregnancy as a crutch, an excuse for saying and doing things she shouldn’t have done.
Instead, she tried to convince herself it was no big deal, that given the present circumstances, it was something he needed to know. Didn’t he need to know she loved him? But it didn’t make her feel any better. Because no, he didn’t need to know that.
Major TMI.
It wouldn’t change anything. Well, the only thing it might do was make life more difficult. It was as if something had possessed her and ripped the confession right out of her heart.
No, enough blaming everything else. She had betrayed herself by not having better self-control.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh. God. No.
Again, she covered her face with her hands, pressing her fingers into her eyes. How could she ever face Zane again?
She wasn’t sure which was worse—having to face him, or worrying her confession might have sent him packing. She wouldn’t be one bit surprised if last night’s episode of True Confessions: Lucy Spills the Goods had inspired him to hightail it back to the airport and hop on the next flight to Ocala.
But she knew him better than that. Of course that wouldn’t be the case. He wouldn’t run. Besides, they hadn’t offered him the job yet. Still, they would soon enough, and if he needed one more good excuse to add to all the reasons he wanted to leave Celebration, surely her blurting the L word would be all the reason he’d need.
She took a deep breath and let her hands fall from her face. She tried to blink away the blurriness caused from pressing so hard. Once she could see straight again, she realized the world was still turning; the sun had risen and was shining in through the spaces between the white plantation shutters, casting light and shadows, just like it did every sunny morning.
Obviously, life would go on despite her deep mortification. She resisted the urge to lie back in her bed and pull the pink-and-white duvet over her head. There was no time to wallow. She had a Picnic in the Park meeting and she was going to be late if she didn’t get up and get a move on.
The situation was what it was, she thought as she padded on bare feet across the hardwood floors, into the en suite bathroom. She braced her hands on the counter and forced herself to take a good, hard look at herself. There was no taking back the words. No changing what had already happened. So she might as well get over it. She would need to figure out what kind of damage control she should implement so that they could move on accordingly. She wasn’t going to marry a man who didn’t love her and Zane would have to come to terms with that.
But for now, she had a meeting she needed to prepare for. She turned on the cold water and splashed her face. Even the bracing tap couldn’t wash away the memory of Zane standing there, one cool cowboy. After her confession, he’d stood there stoically for a moment, and then, without missing a beat, he’d acted as if he hadn’t heard her. He’d simply repeated his original suggestion that she take some time to think about getting married and they’d talk about it later. Then he left.
That was it. On the surface, it seemed like it hadn’t even fazed him. After he’d gone, she’d stood there for a few minutes wondering if he’d even heard what she’d said. But of course he had. She’d blurted it loud and clear and now he knew.
It was simmering underneath and that was what made it worse. It would’ve been better if he had acted shocked or repulsed—okay, maybe not repulsed. That would’ve been worse. But some kind of a reaction would have been better than none at all.
Did he think by not acknowledging what she said it would simply go away?
Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
Maybe she should borrow a page from his playbook and pretend like it hadn’t happened. Pretend like she hadn’t made a total fool of herself, that she hadn’t said anything at all.
If only.
She grabbed her toothbrush and squeezed out a pearl of toothpaste.
No, the only way to handle this would be to face it head-on and...and then what? Dissect the fact that she loved him and he didn’t return her feelings? What more was there to say? She understood. She didn’t need to make it any more painful than it already was.
Loving someone wasn’t a heinous act.
I love you.
Boo. Hiss. You terrible person. How dare you love me?
In fact, if he had a problem with it, wouldn’t he be the jerk?
But Zane wasn’t a jerk. He’d never been a jerk to her. Not even when he’d told her they needed to just be friends. Even then, he’d been warm, and tender, and concerned about her. And he had been the one to first reach out in friendship, proving that nothing had changed between them.
Even though everything had changed.
She continued the mental pep talk as she brushed her teeth.
Plus, he was the one who had suggested that they get married. Of course, he had basically acknowledged that it would be a loveless marriage—and in his eyes, that was the beauty of the arrangement.
Then she had to spoil it all by saying “I love you.” Ugh. Great. Now the song “Somethin’ Stupid” would be stuck in her head for the rest of her life.
She rinsed her mouth and toothbrush and returned the brush to the rack. As she showered and got ready for the day, she decided the best plan was to do nothing. She’d give Zane some space. Maybe her great revelation would make him think twice about the proposition he’d presented last night.
As she sat at her dressing table, she pulled up her music streaming app on her phone and found the Frank and Nancy Sinatra version of “Somethin’ Stupid,” the song that had earwormed its way into her brain since she’d inadvertently quoted it earlier. She wallowed in how perfectly the lyrics fit her situation as she put on her makeup. For balance, next she played “I Told Ya I Love Ya, Now Get Out.” It fortified her.
The reality that had been swimming in her subconscious, just below the surface, came up for air: it wasn’t supposed to be like this. In the past, when the going got tough, she’d always fallen back on her daydreams. In those fantasies, Zane had loved her. He would look at her and say, “It’s you, Lucy. It’s always been you.” And then he would kiss her, they’d get married and they would live happily ever after.
But the reality of the situation was that Zane didn’t love her. He was willing to marry her out of obligation.
She supposed she could take a chance that he might grow to love her—maybe she had enough love for both of them. But what would happen if the right woman came along and he did fall in love with someone else? He would be saddled with her and their child. Given all that Zane had gone through growing up, she didn’t think he would cheat—he probably wouldn’t leave her, either. But what kind of life would that be, stuck in a loveless marriage? Stuck with someone who you liked a whole lot but just couldn’t love? It wasn’t his fault. The heart wanted what the heart wanted. It wasn’t as if he could reprogram himself to feel different.
But at the same time, she was only human and she couldn’t help but fear being the one who was in love...the vulnerable one. The thought of such a lopsided relationship made her feel sad and sick. She’d experienced morning sickness enough to know the difference—this was what it felt like to be heartsick in a hopeless situation. For a hopeless romantic to have her fears of being unlovable validated.
The best thing she could do would be to do nothing. She would let Zane come to her, and when he did, she would tell him she’d had a chance to think about things, but she hadn’t changed her mind.
Surely, he wouldn’t argue with that, would he?
* * *
The Picnic in the Park event committee met in Central Park in downtown Celebration for a walk-through. Lucy was a visual person and she wanted to see the area where the community picnic would take place to get a better idea of where the games, tents and stands would go. They needed to make sure they had plenty of parking for those who were driving in, but they still needed to reserve an adequate amount of space for the fireworks and the food-truck brigade that was gaining a popular following in Celebration.
“How many tables do you think we need for the hot-dog eating contest?” Mary Irvine asked. “Last year Pat Whittington complained for a good six months that he didn’t have enough elbow room and that’s why he didn’t win.”
“Pat Whittington is a sore loser,” said Sandra Riggs. “His not winning had nothing to do with whether or not he had enough elbow room. Maybe he should stop complaining, and stuff more food down his gullet. If nothing else, it would shut him up.”
Sandra and Mary laughed. Lucy could see that this could digress fast, so she quickly steered them back on task.
“That’s the reason I’ve asked people to sign up for all of the contests by the end of the day on July 1,” said Lucy. “That way we’ll have a better idea how much space we need for each event and we won’t have to push people together.”
Judy Roberts frowned. “You know we’ve never done it that way before...” She slanted a knowing look at Mary, who pursed her lips and raised her brows. “Word on the street is people think preregistering for the games sucks all the fun out of it.”
Judy shrugged. “There. I said it. It needed to be said. I’ve been on this committee for as long as Picnic in the Park has been around and that’s just not the way we do it.”
Carol Vedder put her hands on her slim hips. “If you’ve been on the committee that long, Judy, how come you’ve never wanted to step up and chair the event?”
Carol looked smug. “There. I said it. It needed to be said. You always have such good ideas, but you never want to do the work to get them done.”
Judy blanched, and even though Lucy could have hugged Carol’s neck for saying exactly what she was thinking, she did her best not to appear as if she was taking sides.
“It’s okay. I appreciate everyone’s help and all opinions are welcome,” said Lucy. “Even so, I’m going to try out preregistering this year. If it doesn’t work, the committee can always do away with it next year.”
“I think it’s a good idea to ask people to preregister,” Carol chimed in. “It will make things so much easier for the volunteers on the day of the event.”
Carol beamed at Lucy and suddenly Lucy wondered what the woman was up to. Carol could be just as challenging as the rest of the long-standing committee members. Why was she being so nice? What was she up to?
She knows you’re pregnant.
The thought sprang into her mind unbidden. It was ridiculous. There was no way Carol would know. Just like Juliette, who knew her much better than Carol, hadn’t known. Lucy had gone all the way to Dallas to purchase the pregnancy tests and she’d taken care to dispose of them in a public Dumpster when she’d been out of town on business. Besides, if Carol knew, she would undoubtedly be too busy broadcasting the news to anyone who would listen to be this nice.
Bottom line: there was no way Carol could know. Lucy forced herself to shake off the ridiculous thought and wrap up the meeting. Sure enough, as soon as they were finished and heading toward their cars, Carol caught up with her.
“Lucy, darling,” she chirped. “Do you have a moment?”
Lucy’s blood ran cold. There was no way she could know. She stopped and smiled. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“Are you seeing anyone these days?”
Lucy took a steadying breath. “Why do you ask?” She took special care to infuse sunshine into her voice so that she didn’t sound defensive.
Carol smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Because if you are unattached, I have somebody special I would like you to meet.”
Oh.
Ooh.
What in the world was she supposed to say to that? She was in no position to meet anybody. She was in no position for anything that would make her life more complicated than it already was.
“I am sort of...seeing someone.”
“What do you mean sort of? Either you are or you aren’t.”
“It’s complicated,” Lucy said.
Boy, was that ever the truth. It couldn’t get much more complicated than this—she loved Zane, but Zane didn’t love her. Zane wanted to marry her, but she didn’t want to marry Zane. And the cherry on top—she was pregnant. Nobody in his right mind would want to date a woman who was pregnant with another man’s baby.
“Oh, honey, why do so many nice girls like you allow themselves to be in situations that are complicated? Isn’t that just another way of saying a guy is afraid of commitment? I’d say if he’s so complicated that he can’t recognize a good catch like you when you’re standing right in front of him, he doesn’t deserve you. I want you to meet my nephew, Luke. He will treat you right and he’s a good-looking guy. A veterinarian. Lives in Houston. A good catch. Just like you.”
Carol wiggled her brows and fished a photo out of her wallet.
He was, indeed, a good-looking guy. Even so, Luke might be the catch of the century, but he wouldn’t think much of her when he found out she was pregnant.
Talk about complicated.
That was when something clicked into place—it really didn’t break her heart to know that other men would find her unappealing, or even damaged, after they found out she was having a baby on her own.
She didn’t care. She really didn’t care. And it was the most freeing feeling she’d had in ages.
Her baby would be family and as far as Lucy was concerned the love of her family was all she needed.
Her phone dinged, signaling an incoming text from Zane. Her heart leaped at the sound of his special text tone, but she left the phone in her purse. She’d look at it when she got in the car.
“Carol, I’m sure Luke is a wonderful man. And I appreciate you thinking of me, but I have too much on my plate right now with work and the picnic committee. I’m sure you understand.”
“Honey, just meet him. That’s all I’m asking. I’m not saying you have to marry him.”
This time Lucy’s phone rang. It was the ringtone she had assigned to Zane. Thank God nobody knew her assigned rings. “I have to take this, Carol. I’ll talk to you later.”
Lucy turned toward her car before the woman could say anything else.
She waited until she was a few feet away before she answered Zane’s call.
“Hello?” Her heart was beating like mad. She took care to keep her voice low.
“Hey, it’s me. I need to see you tonight. May I come over?”
Just like that. As if nothing had happened last night. She should’ve said no. She should’ve told him to leave her alone. The words to the song “I Told Ya I Love Ya, Now Get Out” played in her head. Because he wouldn’t be popping in like this once he moved to Ocala. And even though the words and her empowerment song were in her head, she said, “Sure. I’ll be home after six.”
* * *
“Why have we never dated?” Zane asked as he stood in Lucy’s kitchen helping her chop the vegetables he’d brought her from the crate that Mrs. Winters had brought him from her garden.
Lucy’s head jerked up and she looked at him as if he had just started reciting the words to a Dr. Seuss book.
“Because you never asked me out.” She sounded a little irritated, or maybe she was just perplexed. He seemed to have that effect on her these days.
When he’d handed the vegetables to her in the rumpled brown paper sack, they’d seemed like a very inadequate peace offering after the run-in he’d had with her last night.
He would’ve given anything for her not to hate him. Anything.
Anything except his love, which was the only thing she really wanted and the one thing he wasn’t able to give her, because he was incapable of falling in love. He had no doubts now, because if anybody was worth loving, it was Lucy.
Even so, he couldn’t lie to her. She deserved better than that.
But she’d seemed pleased with the vegetables and maybe even glad to see him—or at least willing to see him. And she had invited him to stay for dinner.
“Why have you never asked me out?” she countered. “Oh, wait, I know. Because you were too busy putting the moves on Bambi and Bunny and Bimbo—sometimes all at the same time—to fit me in.”
“I never dated anybody named Bambi or Bunny or Bimbo.”
“Yes, you did, because that’s what I called them.”
“Remind me to not let you choose the name for our baby.”
“I will choose a lovely name for our child.”
“We will choose the name,” he said. “Luce, we’re in this together.”
The joking fell silent and the only sounds in the kitchen were the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board. She had put him to work chopping the tomatoes, carrots and a cucumber for a salad that would go with the spaghetti and turkey meatballs she was making for dinner.
Now was as good a time as any to finish saying what he had come to say. But damn if he wasn’t nervous. What the hell? When was the last time a woman had made him nervous? But he was. Dry mouth. Racing heart. Overthinking.
Get over yourself, man.
He set down the knife and turned to face her. “Obviously, I’ve gone through periods of my life where I was looking for a different kind of woman. Different than you, I mean.”
Her right brow shot up in a way that made him a little crazy.
“You keep digging yourself in deeper, don’t you?” She was goading him. “At this rate, by the end of the night you’ll probably be pretty close to six feet under. So, how am I different from your usual cast of fluffy woodland pets, Zane?”
But it was a good kind of crazy, one that, if he hadn’t been so dense, might have made him realize a long time ago they had something good. That she was a good kid...er, woman. A good woman. Lucy may be a few years younger than him, but she was most decidedly a woman now. He had to keep an iron grip on his willpower so as not to let his gaze fall to her oh, so womanly curves, which were making him more than a little crazy, too.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t care about the past, Lucy. The past doesn’t matter. I care about now and what I came here to say is that I think we should try dating.”
She scrunched up her face as if it was the most distasteful suggestion she’d heard in a long time. It wasn’t the way he thought she’d react. Why should he be surprised when she always kept him guessing?
Not even twenty-four hours ago she’d told him she was in love with him. He knew better than to bring that up, but damn it all to hell, she was more confusing than any woman he’d ever met. She was like a riddle he couldn’t figure out. A challenge that both thrilled and scared him to death.
The last thing in the world he ever wanted to do was hurt her. And he’d done that already. He’d let her down by letting this happen. He’d wanted her in the worst way the night they’d hooked up. He should’ve been stronger. He should’ve been strong enough for the both of them. Strong enough to walk away. If he had, then they wouldn’t be where they were right now.
A strange feeling washed over him, because the more time he had to get used to where they were right now, the more it didn’t seem like such a bad place.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“I said I think we should try dating.”
“Other people? I think you’ve already established that.” Her face fell and she turned back to the stove and stirred the spaghetti sauce.
“Lucy, I’m talking about us. I think you and I should try dating. Each other. You and me.”
She didn’t turn around. She just kept stirring the sauce. One of those sassy, old-fashioned songs from the ’60s that she liked so much played in the background. Something about windmills and the mind. Whatever that meant.
Finally, when he couldn’t take her silence any longer, he said, “Will you say something? Please?”
He saw her shoulders rise and fall, but she still didn’t turn around. So he walked over to her, bridging the distance. He wasn’t sure if he should touch her. He wanted to, but that was for purely selfish reasons. No, it wasn’t. He wanted to comfort her, but he was afraid that, again, his good intentions would lead them straight into hell.
“Lucy, look at me.”
She raised her hand to her face before she turned around to face him. He could virtually see her stiffening resolve.
“You want to date me? Why?”
Now she did look truly irritated.
“Because you and I need to get to know each other on a different level. I mean, we know each other well. In some ways, you know me better than any of the past fuzzy woodland creatures, as you called them.”
“Fluffy woodland pets,” she amended. Then she shrugged. “Although if you think creature is a better word, then go for it.”
She rolled her eyes and chuckled a little, but it was dry and humorless. Still, he could sense that she was softening. He understood her hesitation. In fact, all day long it was all he could think about. She was all he could think about. Her and her earnest declaration of love.
Lucy loved him. How could he have missed that? How could he have been so completely blind to something that now seemed so completely obvious? After he’d left her, he’d sat with the newness of it most of the night. Even when sleep had found him, and it had come in fits and starts, he would wake up with the echo of her words in his head. And every time he closed his eyes he would see her heartbroken face, as if it had been imprinted in his mind.
More than anything, he wished he could return her feelings. But even though he cared about her—more than he’d ever cared about any woman he’d dated—he couldn’t ever recall a time when he had been in love.
He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar. And telling Lucy he was in love with her would have been a lie. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try. That didn’t mean he couldn’t treat her like the woman he wanted to marry. Like someone he could...love.
“You and I have sort of been all over the place. We grew up together. We’re friends. We made love—”
She cringed, closed her eyes and made a face, but he wasn’t sorry he’d said it.
“Lucy, we did. There’s no sense in trying to sugarcoat it or pretend like it didn’t happen. We did and it was great. And now we’re having a baby. But I think we need to back up a little bit. We need to start over and build our relationship from the ground up. Even if you won’t marry me, we need to know each other on a deeper level so that we can successfully coparent. That’s why I think we need to try dating each other and getting to know each other as a man and a woman. So what do you say, Lucy Campbell—will you let me take you out on a date?”