His heart pounding, Nigel contemplated what to do for a moment. Then, he stood back and held the door open wide. As Callie stepped over the threshold, he noticed the sling Marshall had mentioned, which explained why she was wearing the jacket over her shoulders. Marshall had suggested that maybe Callie had fallen, but these injuries looked more serious than that.
“What happened?” Nigel asked, indicating her injury with a jerk of his head.
“A fender bender. Nothing serious.”
“You…you seem cold,” Nigel found himself saying. “Would you like some tea?”
“That sounds great. Whatever you have.”
Nigel closed the front door, then made his way off to the right where the kitchen was. Old habits died hard. He didn’t particularly want to offer Callie tea, as if she had come on a social call, but she was shivering, and Nigel could hear his mother telling him that you should always offer your guests a drink.
Guest…Callie Hart was hardly a guest.
As he turned on the flame beneath the kettle, he paused at the counter and closed his eyes. And then he pinched himself to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming.
He wasn’t.
Glancing over his shoulder, Nigel looked at Callie, who was now standing in the living room. She had her good arm wrapped around her body. She was looking around the house with interest, obviously taking in all the changes.
“I hardly recognize the house,” she said. “These hardwood floors are beautiful. Are they original?”
“Yeah. Once I ripped up the carpet, I found those floors. I refinished them.”
“Beautiful. And I love these upscale light fixtures.”
“Thanks,” Nigel muttered, wondering why she was talking about the house. “What kind of tea do you want? Orange pekoe, something flavored?”
“Orange pekoe is fine.”
Nigel opened the cupboard and took down the box of tea. He got a tea bag and put it into a mug as the water warmed.
“I assume you did all the work?” Callie said.
“Yeah.”
“I really like how you opened the place up by knocking down the wall that used to be between the living room and kitchen.”
Nigel said nothing. Just gritted his teeth. As if he expected Callie to be here after all this time, complimenting him on the renovations he’d done to the house.
As the kettle began to boil, Nigel watched Callie move toward the pictures on one of the walls. She seemed to take a keen interest in the photo of him in his police uniform on his graduation day.
“Do you live here alone?” Callie called out.
Nigel didn’t answer. Instead, he poured boiling water into the mug. Then, leaving it there to sit, he went back out to the living room.
“Do you live here alone?” Callie repeated.
“If you don’t mind, Callie, I’d like you to get to the point of why you’re here,” Nigel said instead of answering her. “Because I don’t understand why, after all this time, you’re here at my house.”
He saw something flash in her eyes. And he got the distinct sense that all her chatter had simply been a way to break the ice, to ease the tension.
“Maybe you should sit down,” she suggested.
Nigel groaned his frustration. “Are you here to apologize, Callie? Because for the life of me, that’s the only thing that makes sense. You came back to town for your aunt’s funeral, and you’ve been attacked by a bout of conscience. Well, guess what—you’ve shown up ten years too late.”
“You’re angry,” she said.
For some reason, the comment irked Nigel all the more. “You’re damn right I’m angry.” Pausing, Nigel drew in a slow breath. “I mean, I was angry. But what happened was a long time ago.”
“I know.”
It hurt to see her, he realized. More than it should given how much time had passed. Suddenly, he didn’t care if she had that cup of tea. He was ready for the visit to be over.
“You know what, Callie—there’s no need to apologize.” If she was truly sorry, it wouldn’t have taken her ten years to show up at his door, so any apology she gave him now would ring hollow.
“I’m not here to apologize.”
That got his attention. One of his eyebrows shot up. “Then why are you here?”
“Because I need to tell you something. Something I should have told you a long time ago.” Callie drew in a deep breath. “Nigel…when I left Cleveland…” Her voice trailed off.
He studied her, wondering what on earth she had to say. Surely she wasn’t going to tell him that she regretted leaving, that she wanted him back.
The idea was laughable. But the fact that she was here meant hell had already frozen over, so anything was possible.
“You’re here, Callie,” he said. “Just spit out whatever it is that you have to say.”
“When I left here, I was pregnant,” she began slowly, not looking into Nigel’s eyes.
Nigel was confused. “I don’t understand.”
“When I left Cleveland, I was pregnant,” she repeated, her eyes now meeting his.
“What are you saying? That you were seeing someone else? Is that why you left without an explanation?”
“No, I wasn’t seeing anyone else.” Callie spoke emphatically. “What I’m saying is…I was pregnant with your baby.” Nigel saw her chest rise and fall with a shaky breath. “Nigel, you have a son.”
Seconds passed. Seconds in which it seemed as though a bomb had gone off, shattering his world.
In fact, he was certain that Callie had not said what he thought she’d just said. It didn’t make sense. If she had been pregnant with his baby, surely she wouldn’t have taken off without telling him.
“What did you say?” he asked. He needed to be sure.
“I was pregnant, Nigel. I…I had your baby. A boy. He’s here with me—”
“You’re telling me I’m a father?”
Callie nodded. “Yes. Your son’s name is Kwame.”
The simple words hit Nigel with the impact of a kick to his stomach, so much so that he exhaled all the air in his lungs in a huge gush.
“I have a…” Son? He couldn’t even say the word, it was that unbelievable.
