followed her into the kitchen and grinned when he noticed the number of open cookbooks.
Maryellen’s gaze followed his. “Mom told me that the people with the most cookbooks are the ones who cook the least. That’s certainly true in my case.”
“I’m easy to please.”
Maryellen hoped that was true. “I’m not much good at this, so if dinner isn’t up to par, I hope you’ll take into account that I don’t do this often.” The serving dishes were already out, and she quickly transferred everything from the stove to the table.
“Katie’s already eaten,” she said, standing at the table with her hands on the back of her chair, fingers clenching it tightly.
Jon put his daughter back in the bassinet and joined Maryellen. She’d placed the flowers in a crystal vase; they provided a cheery accent and perfectly complemented her pale-yellow table linens. He opened the bottle and poured them each a glass as she jumped up to put on some music. When she finally sat down across from him, she offered him a shy smile. She was an emotional mess; if he said one derogatory thing about this dinner, she knew she’d burst into tears.
Jon served her and then himself, although by this time she had no appetite.
“I was surprised you came,” she said, not meeting his eyes. When she’d issued the invitation for New Year’s, she wasn’t at all sure he’d accept. For some reason, it seemed important to start this year off right, and for Maryellen that included a good relationship with her baby’s father.
“I’m surprised I did, too,” Jon confessed.
That stung. So much for flattering her ego or reassuring her. “Why did you?” she asked.
Jon glanced up, grinning sheepishly. “You seemed so sincere. I guess I wanted to be with you more than I wanted to stay away.”
That was as confusing as his original comment. She thought about pressing the issue, then decided against it. “Thank you for the photo album. I love it.”
“I liked your gift, too. No one’s ever knit me socks before.”
“Did they fit?”
He nodded and pointed down at his feet with a smile. “Wearing them now.” She smiled back. As he reached into the middle of the table for a dinner roll, Maryellen automatically passed him the butter.
“I wish you could’ve been with us at Christmas, but you had other plans, and I understand that,” she said, watching him for any telltale sign that would indicate where he’d been and with whom.
To her disappointment, Jon didn’t comment.
They ate silently for a few moments and then Maryellen put down her fork. She couldn’t swallow another bite. “I wanted you to come tonight because…because I feel I owe you an apology—for the way I behaved when I learned I was pregnant.”
His eyes, flashing with amusement, flew up to meet hers. “I like it when you apologize. Remember the last time?”
Maryellen had forgotten how they’d ended up kissing….
“Anyway, you don’t owe me an apology,” he assured her.
But she did, and she had every intention of saying what needed to be said. “Then I owe you an explanation.”
He shook his head. “It isn’t important.”
“It is to me.” Maryellen’s voice trembled slightly. She should probably wait until after dinner, but the need to explain felt like a rock on her chest. She wouldn’t be able to enjoy any part of their evening until she’d unburdened herself to Jon.
“I think you know that I was married while I was in college.” She set her napkin on the table and picked up the wineglass. Her hand tightened around the stem as she took a long sip of the spicy Gewürztraminer—coincidentally one of her favorite wines. It had a calming effect on her. “Clint and I got married for all the wrong reasons.”
“Everyone has regrets,” Jon said gently.
“Some people have more than others,” she whispered, unable to look at him. “Clint and I were careful, but I was pregnant at the time.”
“So the pregnancy’s the reason you married him?”
She was ashamed to admit the truth. “I married him because I’d convinced myself I loved him and that he loved me. He didn’t want the baby. He thought it best to terminate the pregnancy.”
Jon was silent as he leaned back in his chair.
Unable to remain sitting, Maryellen stood and walked into the living room, stopping by Katie’s bassinet. She peered at her sleeping baby, tears trickling down her cheeks. Impatiently she dashed them away.
There would be other pregnancies, other babies, Clint had told her, but the timing was critical. Maryellen had listened to him. She went against every dictate of her heart, and she’d regretted it from that moment on. For years she’d struggled with the guilt and the shame of what she’d done. What she’d never admitted to herself or to Clint, until it was too late, was how much she’d wanted her baby. She didn’t blame her ex-husband. She was the one who walked into the clinic. The one who’d signed the consent form. She accepted full responsibility.
“Maryellen,” Jon said, coming up behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “It’s all right—there’s no need to say any more. I can figure out what happened.”
“Can you?”
Jon turned her and brought her into his arms.
“I didn’t want you to know I was pregnant last year,” she said, her face buried in his shoulder. “I was afraid you’d react the way Clint did.”
“I’m not Clint.”
“I know. You’re nothing like him. I know that now.” What she didn’t know was anything about his past. Even now, more than a year later, she’d learned very little—just fragments of his history. Small bits of information he’d let drop now and then. Every time she pried into his life, he pulled away from her, both physically and emotionally. Maryellen had come to rely on him in so many ways, she couldn’t bear to risk that withdrawal, so she kept her questions to herself.
She slowly raised her eyes to Jon’s, fearing what she’d see. Instead of condemnation and repulsion, she saw understanding and love. If he’d judged her harshly, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. When she saw his love, her reaction was instinctive.
She kissed him.
It’d been weeks since they’d last touched, since she’d been in his arms. Maryellen hadn’t truly understood how much she’d missed him—everything about him—and the moment their mouths met, she lost control.
Jon’s reaction was immediate. He splayed his fingers in her hair and their kisses became passionate, full of desperation and need. When he broke it off, he had to catch his breath. Maryellen clung to him, her own breathing labored.
“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” he said
