The Runaway Bride. Patricia Johns

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The Runaway Bride - Patricia  Johns

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there, little guy. What’s your name?”

      “Share?” Ike held up the sodden cracker.

      “Mmm.” She pretended to take a bite. “Yummy.”

      That seemed to be the response that Ike was looking for, because he grinned and shoved his cracker toward her again.

      “Share?”

      Ike had smiled—not just a hint of a one, a real smile. Liam wasn’t going to cut it, was he? This kid needed a mom who knew how to play his games, how to coax an honest smile out of him. He’d had Ike for a month already, and he still hadn’t managed that.

      “What’s his name?” she repeated, looking up at Liam, her expression still softened by her game with Ike. She was beautiful, and he was irritated to be noticing that right now.

      “This is Ike,” Liam said. “I’m his legal guardian.”

      “Oh.” She frowned, seeming to be adding it all up. “So, he’s your late wife’s son...”

      “We were estranged,” Liam said. “She moved out three years ago, so Ike is hers...and no, I’m not the dad.”

      “So it’s complicated, then,” she confirmed.

      “Yeah, you could say that.”

      “Do you know who his father is?” she asked, running a hand through the boy’s hair. Ike leaned his head into her hand.

      “Yep,” Liam said. He wasn’t ready to get into that with Bernadette. The last thing they needed was a posse of lawyers from New York descending upon them. What Liam needed was some time and space to keep thinking. Lucille followed his lead and remained silent.

      Color rose in Bernadette’s face, and she shrugged. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry. He’s a sweetie.” She paused, then looked at Ike a little closer. “Did you say Leanne Wilson?”

      Liam suppressed a sigh. This was what he’d been waiting for—for her to connect the dots.

      “That’s right,” he said.

      “I’d hate to suggest something untoward—” She winced. “There was a woman caught up in a scandal with my cousin Vince.”

      “That would be her,” Liam said. Leanne had stayed out of the news, but the couple of times that Liam had talked to her, she’d mentioned how hard it was to have her silence purchased. The lawyers had swarmed her, and she’d been worried about all the papers she’d signed.

      “So Ike—” Bernie looked down at the toddler more pointedly. “Ike is Vince’s son?”

      Liam didn’t need to answer, because when she looked up and met his gaze, she heaved a sigh.

      “Obviously, Vince didn’t acknowledge him,” she surmised. “And he wouldn’t.”

      “Has he done this before?” Liam asked. “Get a woman pregnant and pay her to keep her mouth shut?”

      Bernie shot him a tight smile. Liam had doubted that she’d admit to any of that. Senators had to keep big secrets if they wanted to stay in their jobs. They were all silent for a few beats.

      “I think I’d count as an aunt, then, wouldn’t I? Sort of...” She ruffled Ike’s hair. “I’m technically a second cousin, but I think he could call me Auntie.”

      Liam exchanged a look with Lucille. This was quickly getting into dangerous territory. He didn’t know what he wanted to do exactly, but he didn’t want a Morgan bonding with Ike, getting attached.

      “We’d appreciate it if you could be discreet,” Liam said.

      “What do you want?” Bernie asked. “Money? For Vince to acknowledge Ike as his?”

      Money? That was what she thought of when she saw an orphaned child? But then, she came from a different world. He was worried about keeping the kid out of the foster system. She seemed more worried about lawsuits.

      “I don’t need anyone’s money,” Liam retorted. “Nor do I want it. I’m doing just fine. But I’d like a bit of time to think this through. I want what’s best for the kid. I have no intention of making anyone acknowledge him if they don’t want to.”

      In fact, he hadn’t even considered that option. That would make little Ike nothing more than a pawn. The boy needed a family to raise him with love, not to treat him like a problem to be solved, a political liability. The kid needed a childhood—sprinklers in summer, sleds in winter, maybe even a dog—not to be known as a politician’s illegitimate child.

      “Sorry...” She sighed. “I get this is difficult.”

      “You have no idea,” Liam muttered.

      “Well, we all seem to want the same thing,” she said. “A bit of quiet so that we can think.” Ike tugged at Bernie’s dress, and she picked him up and cuddled him close. “I just ran out on the wedding of the century, and my family is furious. You’ve got this little guy to consider. So maybe we can agree to discretion all round.”

      “Deal,” Liam said.

      Could he trust her? He didn’t have a whole lot of choice, but of one thing he was certain: Ike needed to come first. If that meant he ended up with his relatives, or if he stayed with Liam, the priority had to be what was best for this little boy.

      He’s not yours, Liam reminded himself. But without Leanne, this boy needed someone tough enough to look out for his interests, and Liam would be that person. There was no way he was tossing this kid into the foster system or into a family of political jackals. Even if Bernie seemed sweet right now, he wasn’t fooled. She came from a different world than he did, where the Morgans were near the top of the food chain, and ordinary Joes like him were nothing more than scenery.

      Ike put the last of his cracker into his mouth, followed by his thumb. And for the first time since he’d arrived, the little guy looked comforted as he rested his head on Bernie’s shoulder.

      * * *

      THAT EVENING, BERNIE sat on Lucille’s couch in a borrowed bathrobe, since the clothes she’d packed were more fitting for a Caribbean honeymoon. At least she had a few outfits to wear, and she was mildly proud of herself for having had the forethought to dump Calvin’s suitcase in the parking lot when she made her escape. It was strange, the things that felt like victories now, like saving her tears for when she was alone on the highway.

      If she hadn’t found Calvin halfway down Kimberly’s throat, she’d be Mrs. McMann... Instead of sitting on her aunt’s faded couch, she’d be strolling down a moonlit beach with a handsome husband. She hadn’t been head over heels in love with him, but she had loved him. She wasn’t some kind of heartless robot who married a man for nothing more than political ambitions. She’d been willing to build on the love they had, and hopefully as the years passed, their feelings for each other would have grown and deepened. Apparently, he hadn’t been able to wait.

      How long had he been cheating? She’d known that Calvin had been quite serious about Kimberly before they were introduced, but he’d assured Bernie that it was over—completely.

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