At eight-thirty, Lane stepped gingerly into the diner, careful not to yank the door and clang the bells at the top. Mandi stood behind the counter. The fat bald guy was there, too, as usual. Only a few other customers. Lane took a booth close to the counter. He’d sit there all night if he had to. He’d follow her out to her car and home if he had to.
Forcing his shoulders to relax, he tried not to look pissed – even though he was. He’d called every day for two weeks and she hadn’t so much as sent a text telling him to f-off.
He watched as she picked up a tray and headed to the dining area. He knew the precise second she saw him. She paused long enough to shoot him a cold glare then started walking again. As she passed his table, she slowed.
“I’m not waiting on you, and I’m not talking to you. Period.”
Before he could muster a response, she moved on, leaving him fuming over what to do next, and probably looking like a fool. A few minutes later the other waitress, Kendra, appeared at his table.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
Lane clenched his jaw. “Cup of coffee, please.” He glanced at his phone. Almost time for her break.
Kendra set a mug down in front of him. “Anything else?”
“No, thanks.” He sipped the coffee and watched Mandi. His heart clutched. She looked stressed. And that was probably his fault. Or not. Being pregnant could make her tired. He groaned inside. Was she going to stand on her feet all night five or six nights a week while she was pregnant? Work two jobs? Guilt flooded through him. That couldn’t be good for her or a baby. He could help. If she’d let him. If she’d even give him a chance to offer.
He craned his neck to see around the fat dude. Where the hell was she? Surely she hadn’t split out the back door. His heart sank. Of course there was a back room. She’d probably go eat in a closet to avoid him. He stood up and approached the counter.
“Can I get you something?” Kendra asked.
“I wanted to see Mandi. Is she on break?”
“Yeah, she is.”
“Could you get her for me?”
The woman’s gaze dropped to the counter. “Nope. Sorry.”
Lane gaped at her, then remembered to keep his cool. He flashed Kendra a friendly smile. “Could you tell her I’d like to talk to her, please? Name’s Lane.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Lane’s face went white-hot. “She told you that?”
“Uh-huh.”
The man on the stool swiveled then, apparently taking an interest in the conversation. “Sounds like no to me,” he said without looking up.
Lane ran a hand across the back of his neck, considering his options. The last thing he needed was to get into a public brawl at Jimmy’s. Fine. He’d wait her out. He went back to his seat. When Mandi finally returned to the dining area, she looked everywhere but at him. Damn it, she had to know she was making it worse. His blood pressure rose every time she walked by and looked the other way.
“Mandi, I want to talk to you,” he hissed when she passed his table. She walked on. At that, he rose again and planted himself on a stool at the bar.
She did look at him then. For a split second, he thought he saw pain, maybe regret, in her eyes. His voice softened. “Mandi, please. Let’s talk.”
“Go away.”
The fat man swiveled again, and this time he regarded Lane with dark, unfriendly eyes. “Boy, are you hard of hearing or just plain stupid? This lady does not want to talk to you. I suggest you move along.”
Lane lingered a minute to see if Mandi would intervene, change her mind, but she stood behind the counter with a cool, detached expression on her face. This obviously wasn’t going to work. Turning, he tossed down a couple of bills for the coffee and strode to the door. God, she was stubborn. He knew there was no point hanging around there. She’d have Carl and the fat guy walk her to her car. But he’d be waiting at home for her.
Lane spent almost two hours nursing a few beers at a local bar. And fuming. Just before eleven, he drove to The Meadows. Parking the BMW behind her place, he got out and perched on the steps. She wouldn’t see him until she was already there.
At eleven-thirty, he got up and stretched his legs. What the hell was she doing? For God’s sake why wouldn’t she hear him out and get it over with? At midnight, worry whispered through Lane. Was she sitting somewhere watching him, waiting for him to leave? Did she spend the night with a friend? Her parents were already gone, but had their house sold? He couldn’t remember. And he had no idea where it was, anyway.
He got in his car and drove back to the diner. Her car was gone. Heart pounding, he drove back to The Meadows. Her place was dark, and her car was missing. Pushing his seat back, he closed his eyes, and settled in to wait. At dawn, Lane woke, cramped and sore. He unfolded his legs, and looked around. Mandi hadn’t come home last night.
So now what? DataPlus? Another waiting game? This was ridiculous. He could check into a hotel and try again, or get in his car and go home. He pulled out his cell phone and sent a text. A long one. Even if she didn’t respond, maybe she’d read it. Deciding that was the best he could do at the moment, Lane started the car and pointed it toward Austin.
**
Mandi forced herself up and showered, then flopped back onto the bed. She hoped Lane had gotten the message. She couldn’t do this again. When her phone chimed inside her purse, she groaned. Who would call this early in the morning?
Lane. With a heavy sigh, she stared at the phone. Maybe she should humor him. Let him say his mind. Whatever he felt was so important. Maybe then he’d go away and leave her alone so she could have this baby with some peace and quiet. She opened the message. And it took only a second for tears to fall. Her shoulders shook as she read.
“Mandi, I’m sorry,” it began. “You wanted to tell me, and I didn’t listen. Now I want to listen and you’ve changed your mind. I get that. I know I let you down. I’m sorry. You said the baby isn’t mine. I honestly don’t know what to think about that. But I do know, if there’s a chance that it is, I want to help. I hope you aren’t afraid to see me. I told you before, I’d never hurt you. I’m leaving town, so don’t worry that I’ll be bothering you. Please call me.”
Mandi pressed her fingers to her head. She could understand that he’d think the baby was his. God knew they’d had sex enough. But why couldn’t he believe that she’d become a surrogate? She wasn’t the first person to ever do it. Okay, it was unusual. So what? If he’d listened to her, he might’ve learned a thing or two. At least he’d offered to help, to share the responsibility if he’d knocked her up. That was something, she supposed. But it didn’t quite make up for the fact that he’d accused her of something devious. That he thought so little of her character. That, she couldn’t forgive so easily.
But she had to end this stress. The Oslands were paying her to deliver a healthy baby. Tonight, she’d call. Or at least respond to the text.
She carefully locked the door to her parents’ house, and tossed her things in the car. Hopefully the real estate agent wouldn’t notice anyone had been there.
Thank God for Friday. She needed the night off. Whether it was the effects of pregnancy, the shots or something else, her muscles ached. By five o’clock she couldn’t even remember finishing that last job. Her mind was mush. She gave a quick “see you later,” to Leah and headed for her car.
At home, she slammed a skillet onto the stove, and fixed a high-protein dinner of eggs and bacon, then forced herself to face Lane. She couldn’t handle a call, but she’d send a short text. Curled up on her bed, she re-read his message, then took a deep breath and began typing.
Lane, please understand this isn’t about a baby. It’s about you not trusting me, you thinking the worst of me. If you were the father, I would tell you. Tears fell then, as she realized she’d want to tell him. She honestly wouldn’t have minded if they’d accidentally screwed up – if the baby inside her belonged to her and Lane. She picked at the loose strings on the bedspread. He’d be a good dad.
Oh, God! She was crazy. The man didn’t deserve these good thoughts. Didn’t deserve her high regard. She sat up straighter, and jabbed hard at the tiny keyboard, finishing the text message. We don’t need to talk. You just need to accept that it’s over.
There. That was it. The end. From now on, she would focus on two things only – having this baby and getting into college. She was kicking Lane Whitmore and everything else to the proverbial curb.
**
Lane couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out with a buddy to simply hang out at a bar. He’d been too wrapped up in work and a certain woman to contact his friends. But tonight he needed this. Dan had offered to drive, and Lane immediately agreed. He planned to arrive back home completely shitfaced. Maybe stay that way all weekend.
“So where you been?” Dan asked as soon as the first beer arrived.
“Northtown. The armpit of Dallas,” Lane told him.
“The hell. What’s going on?”
“Big redevelopment project. I put in a proposal.”
“Yeah? Any luck?”
Lane took a long pull on his beer. “Don’t know yet.” He almost hoped he didn’t get it. Then he could wash his hands of bumfuck Northtown for good.
It took a few more beers to get to the topic foremost on his mind.
“You seeing anybody?” Dan asked.
His stomach clenched. “Nah. Just broke up with someone. What about you?”
“Becca off and on. She can’t make up her mind. She’s afraid I’ll tie her down, want her to domesticate and start popping out babies.”
Lane nearly choked.
“So why’d you break up?” Dan asked.
Lane shrugged. “She lives in Dallas, but wants to move to California. Don’t see that working out.” He reached for the bowl of snack mix sitting on the counter, but his hand stilled as his fingers found a round pretzel, and the image of Mandi sucking them off of her fingers the night they went dancing slammed into his head. He dropped the pretzel, and ordered another beer.
And Dan asked more questions.
As the alcohol numbed Lane’s brain, it loosened his tongue, and he started talking about Mandi. Blabbering. Probably too much information, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Needed to unload. Unload and move on. “She was great for a while, though. Cute. I liked her.” A lot. He liked her a lot.
It took him a minute to realize Dan had gone silent, and was staring at him, a dumbfounded expression on his face.
“What?” Oh, hell. What did he say?
Dan shook his head. “Dude, I gotta tell you, this sounds like bad news.”
Lane waved him off. “Forget it.”
Dan leaned in, his face only inches from Lane’s.
“Listen to me. Here’s some advice. Do not walk, my friend. Run. Run fast, and don’t look back.”
Lane swiped a hand over his face, Dan’s words ringing loud and clear in his foggy head.