pulled in where she pointed, stopped the car and took the key from the ignition. “Who lives here?”
“Come on,” she said, as if that were any kind of answer. A moment later, she was up and out and headed around the front of the vehicle.
Against his own better judgment, he got out, too, and followed her up the curving walk to a red front door. She rang the bell.
As chimes sounded inside, he heard a dog barking and a child yelling, “I got it!”
The lock turned and the door flew open to reveal a brown-haired little girl in pink tights and ballet shoes. The dog, an ancient-looking black mutt about the size of a German shepherd, pawed the hardwood floor beside the girl and barked in a gravelly tone, “Woof,” and then “woof,” again, each sound produced with great effort.
“Quiet, Candy,” said the child and the dog dropped to its haunches with a sound that could only be called a relieved sigh. The child beamed at Hayley and then shouted over her shoulder, “It’s Aunt Hayley!”
Aunt Hayley? Impossible. To be an aunt, you needed a brother or a sister. Hayley had neither.
A woman appeared behind the child, a woman with softly curling brown hair and blue eyes, a woman who resembled Hayley in an indefinable way—something in the shape of the eyes, in the mouth that wasn’t full, but had a certain teasing tilt at the corners. “Hey,” the woman said, wiping her hands on a towel. “Surprise, surprise.” She cast a questioning glance in Marcus’s direction.
And Hayley said, “This is Marcus.”
“Ah,” said the woman, as if some major question had been answered. “Well. Come on in.”
The kid and the old dog backed out of the way and Hayley and Marcus entered the warm, bright house. The woman led them through an open doorway into a homey-looking living room. Just as at Hayley’s place, a lighted Christmas tree stood in the window, a bright spill of gifts beneath.
“Can I take your coats?” the woman asked. When Hayley shook her head, she added, “Well, have a seat, then.”
Marcus hoped someone would tell him soon what the hell he was doing there. He dropped to the nearest wing chair as the kid launched herself into a pirouette. A bad one. She stumbled a little as she came around front again. And then she grinned, a grin as infectious as her mother’s—and Hayley’s.
“I’m DeDe.” She bowed.
“Homework,” said the mother.
“Oh, Mom…”
The mother folded her arms and waited, her kitchen towel trailing beneath her elbow.
Finally, the kid gave it up. “Okay, okay. I’m going,” she grumbled. She seemed a cheerful type of kid and couldn’t sustain the sulky act. A second later, with a jaunty wave in Marcus’s direction, she bounced from the room, the old dog limping along behind her.
Hayley, who’d taken the other wing chair, said, “Marcus, this is my sister, Kelly.”
It occurred to him about then that the evening was taking on the aspect of some bizarre dream: Hayley having his baby. The kid in the pink tights. The decrepit dog. The sudden appearance of a sister where there wasn’t supposed to be one.
“A sister,” he said, sounding as dazed as he felt. “You’ve got a sister…”
Hayley had grown up in foster homes. Her mother, who was frail and often sick, had trouble keeping a job and had always claimed she wasn’t up to taking care of her only daughter. So she’d dumped Hayley into the system.
“Oh, Marcus.” Hayley made a small, unhappy sound in her throat. “I realize this is a big surprise. It was to me, too. Believe me. My mother always told me I was the only one. It never occurred to me that she was lying, that anyone would lie about something like that….”
“Ah,” said Marcus, hoping that very soon the surprises were going to stop.
The sister, Kelly, fingered her towel and smiled hopefully. “We have a brother, too….”
Hayley piped up again. “I just found them back in June—or rather, we all found each other. When Mom died.”
His throat did something strange. He coughed into his hand to clear it. “Your mother died….”
“Yeah. Not long after I moved back here. I met Kelly and our brother, Tanner, in Mom’s hospital room, as a matter of fact.”
“When she was dying, you mean?”
“Yes. When she was dying.” Before he could decide what to ask next, Hayley turned to her sister. “Could you get the letter, please?”
Kelly frowned. “Are you sure? Maybe you ought to—”
“Just get it.”
“Of course.” Kelly left the room.
Marcus sat in silence, staring at the woman who was soon to have his child. He didn’t speak. And neither did she.
It was probably better that way.
The sister returned with a white envelope. She handed it to Hayley, who held it up so that he could see his own address printed neatly on the front. “Tell him, Kelly.”
Kelly sucked in a reluctant breath and turned to Marcus. “I would have mailed it to you, as soon as the baby was born.” She held up two balloon-shaped stickers, one pink, which said, It’s A Girl and the other blue, with It’s A Boy.
Hayley said weakly, “You know. Depending.”
Marcus looked at the envelope, at the long-lost sister standing there holding the stickers, at Hayley sitting opposite him, eyes wide, her hand resting protectively on her pregnant stomach.
I’m going to wake up, he thought. Any second now, I’m going to wake up.
But he didn’t.
Chapter Two
Hayley despised herself.
She’d blown this situation royally and she knew it. She stared at her baby’s father in the chair across from hers and longed only to turn back time.
She should have told him. In hindsight, that much was achingly clear. She should have told him back in May, before she broke it off with him, before she quit her job as his assistant and slunk back to Sacramento to nurse her broken heart.
No matter his total rejection of her when she’d told him she loved him, he’d deserved to know. No matter that when she dared to suggest he might think again about them getting married, he’d given her a flat, unconditional no—and then, when she hinted they ought to break up, since they were clearly going nowhere, he’d agreed that was probably for the best.
No matter. None of it. She should have told him when she left him that he was going to be a dad. If she’d told him then, she wouldn’t be looking across her sister’s coffee table at him now, seeing the stunned bewilderment in his usually piercing
