boy glanced at her. “I kn-kn-know.” The empty spot left by the tooth he’d lost last week winked up at her. Then he looked back to Matt. “I stutter.”
Matt’s brows dipped deeper. “Hmm. You didn’t stutter just then. Are you sure you stutter?”
Danny laughed out loud. Honey hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d heard her son’s unbridled laughter. He took a big spoonful of cereal and chewed. Milk dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. He caught it with his fist, then went back to eating his cereal.
“Use your napkin, Danny.” She handed him the white linen square.
“So, tell me about this play. What’s your part?”
Danny swallowed. “A t-t-tomato.”
As Danny expanded on his debut into the world of “Farmer Jones’s Vegetable Garden,” Matt listened raptly to every word.
Honey suddenly felt invisible. And she wasn’t at all sure she liked that feeling. In fact, she knew she didn’t.
Danny had just finished relating the play’s grand climax, describing how all the vegetables came on stage for their final bow, when a horn sounded out front.
“Danny, the bus is here. You can tell Uncle Matt more later.”
Jumping up, Danny grabbed his knapsack and turned back to Matt. “You’ll be h-h-here when I g-g-get home?”
“Right here,” Matt assured him, then smiled a smile that Honey hadn’t seen in over seven years.
Danny beamed from ear to ear, first at Matt, then at his mother. It was like looking at a smaller version of Matt. For the second time that morning, she needed the chair for stability.
Glad for an excuse to escape Matt and his smothering charm, she walked Danny to the door and down the front steps of the house. She leaned down and straightened his collar while offering her cheek for a goodbye kiss. With a sigh and rolling eyes, he obliged, leaving a milk smear on her skin. As she straightened and wiped it off, she noted Danny waving to the dining room windows. Turning, she found Matt, curtain pulled back, watching Danny climb aboard the yellow-and-black bus.
MATT NEVER TOOK HIS EYES off the bus as it moved down the driveway, the sound of exuberant children’s voices spilling from the open windows.
“My son.” The words slipped from his lips experimentally.
Suddenly, a gut-wrenching ache seized him. The pain nearly doubled him over. He’d missed six years of Danny’s life. She’d stolen it from him, and he could never, ever get it back. He curled his hands into fists and drove one against the window frame to still the agony that sliced through his chest and ate deep into his heart.
He wanted to go after Honey and demand to know why she’d never told him, but he was afraid of what he’d do. Instead, he took deep breaths until the ache eased and he could stand upright again. Through the curtain, he could see Honey, her back to him, her gazed centered on the spot where the bus carrying their son had last been visible through the line of red oaks bordering the drive.
How could a woman he remembered as being sweet and sensitive have done something so cruel? Then he recalled how, seven years ago, she’d professed to love him, then barely waited for him to clear the town line before she’d married his best friend and cousin. Sweet and sensitive hardly fit Honey Kingston.
His mouth set in a grim line of determination, Matt strode from the room, determined to learn the truth. His angry steps ate up the distance between him and the woman who had betrayed him, not once, but twice, and in the cruelest way possible.
Careful not to alarm her of his approach, he walked up behind her, then laid his hand on her shoulder. When she seemed to ignore him, he spun her to face him.
“Come inside. We need to talk…about our son.”
Chapter Three
Honey looked around Amanda’s large, Victorian living room. Almost two years ago, this room had held her sister, Emily, Honey’s soon-to-be brother-in-law, Kat, and all their wedding guests. Now the same room suddenly seemed much too small to hold just Honey, an irate Matt and all the unanswered questions hanging in the air about the small boy who’d just climbed on the school bus.
Honey glanced cautiously at Matt. Though she’d known that she’d have to deal with this issue from the moment Amanda had announced that Matt would be coming to live with them, she’d fought against it. Now she couldn’t sidestep it any longer. Oddly, the idea of finally letting go of her secrets almost came as a relief. She’d only held on to them to protect Danny and his grandmother from heartache.
Logically, despite the fact that Matt had walked out on her, he had not walked out on their son, since he had no knowledge of his existence. Although her personal opinion of Matt Logan wouldn’t win him any awards, deep down, she knew he would not have deserted Danny had he been given the choice. And Danny should not be deprived of his father’s love because she and Matt had their problems, problems that in no way involved Danny. However, even after she divulged all that Matt would demand he be told, there was one more stumbling block that she knew Matt wasn’t going to be happy about.
Whether she liked it or not, the time had come to do what she’d tried to do seven years ago, and whether or not Matt would believe she’d made that attempt remained to be seen.
Squaring her shoulders, she faced him. “What do you want to know?” Her voice quivered. Damn! She hadn’t wanted to let her apprehension show. She cleared her throat, hoping that he’d read the crack in her voice as physical, rather than emotional.
“Everything. Start at the beginning.” Matt stood just inside the closed door, waiting, one hand on the door frame above his head, the other thrust deep into the pockets of his jeans, pulling the denim tight across the lower front of his body.
Tearing her gaze away from temptation, Honey took a deep breath and swallowed. The trembling in her legs made the need to sit apparent, but she stood, refusing to give him even that much of an edge. She cleared her throat. “You’re right. Danny is yours, not Stan’s.”
Matt cursed softly and covered the space separating them in three long strides. “I hardly needed that confirmed. I have school pictures of me that could easily have been taken of Danny. The kid’s a miniature of me. How long did you expect to keep me in the dark?”
“I didn’t expect any such thing.” She glared at him. This was hard enough without his sarcasm. “Do you want to hear this or not?”
Taking a seat on an overstuffed chair, Matt leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands tightly in front of him, as if by immobilizing them he could harness the anger tightening his shoulder muscles and blazing from his eyes. “Go on. I’m anxious to hear your excuses for keeping my son’s existence from me for almost seven years.”
Grateful for the support of a sturdy piece of furniture, she dropped onto the sofa. “You have no right to judge me on this, Matt. You walked out, not me. I would have told you, if you’d been here.”
Matt leaned back. He couldn’t fight her on that score. Neither could he tell her why he’d walked out. How could he tell her that he’d run like a frightened rabbit because his father thought him a
