"I was young and stupid." She waved a dismissive hand for emphasis. "I was thinking with my emotions rather than my brain."
Boston nodded. "And when you grew up?" he pressed, spreading his arms to encompass the room. "You couldn't have gotten this far without growing up at least some. There's been ten years to tell me about her. So, what's your excuse now? Why didn't you get a hold of me when you weren't so young and stupid and emotional anymore?"
Because she couldn't risk the chance he'd try to take her baby away.
Ellie would've regretted ever meeting Boston Kincaid if it weren't for the fact he'd given her the most precious gift in her entire life. Cassidy was her reason for getting up in the morning. Without her daughter...
She shook, not even wanting to think about that possibility.
"What are you so upset about, anyway?" she grumbled, trying to turn the tables on him. "You didn't have to drop any of your precious dreams, did you?"
He straightened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, just look at you." She motioned to his clothes. "I can see you're successful. Do you think you'd have gotten 44
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any of this, that car out there, or your...your whole way of life if you'd stayed here and become a daddy? You wouldn't have been able to go off to law school..." Ellie paused and eyed him. "You did go to law school, didn't you?"
Wouldn't that be the kicker if he hadn't. He'd caused their breakup so he could go off to Yale and not have any disturbing ties left behind. And she'd lied about his daughter so he could do just that. Wouldn't it be one big ironic joke if he hadn't even bothered?
But obviously, he had. His jaw hardened as he glared.
"What's your point?"
"If I had kept you here," Ellie explained calmly. "If I hadn't lied to you, then you wouldn't have any of this today, Boston.
Instead, you'd be some miserable man who blamed everything on me for tying you down and keeping you from your dreams. Well, I refused to be the scapegoat for all your problems. So, yes, I lied. And if it wasn't for that lie, you wouldn't have anything you have today."
"What are you fishing for, Ellie? A thank you?" He let out a bitter laugh. "Don't hold your breath. You kept my child from me."
"A child you didn't want."
Shock froze every muscle on his face. "Says who?"
"Says you. You told me you didn't want the baby."
"The hell if I did."
"You did," she insisted. "You said you weren't ready to be a father. You said—"
"Oh, my God," he yelled. "I was upset. I was afraid. Of course, I didn't feel ready. And don't you dare tell me you 45
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did. We were both scared out of our minds. Christ, Ellie, that didn't mean I wanted out. I never wanted out of the situation."
Ellie shook her head and wrapped her arms around her waist as if she were cold. "I just...it seemed like a good way to let you go with a clear conscience."
Boston stared thoughtfully a moment. Then he nodded as if he understood. But a second later, he exploded.
"That's the biggest pile of horse shit I think I've ever heard. Let me go? You had no right. If I hadn't wanted to stick around, I would've left at the first of it. Did you think I wouldn't want to know my own child? Did you think... Oh God."
He turned away, and she knew he was once again trying to control the onslaught of emotions rushing through him.
Running his hands through his hair, he glanced her way.
"Damn it. Damn it. I'm so mad at you, I can't even..."
He shook his head and turned away again, setting his hands on his hips.
"I have a daughter," he said to no one in particular as if he wanted to test the sound of that reality on his lips. "I've had a daughter for nine years and ten months, and I wouldn't know her if I ran into her on the street. I don't know the sound of her voice. I don't know what she looked like when she took her first step or if she..." His voice broke and he glanced over his shoulder to glare at Ellie. "How could you take that away from me?"
Her whispered answer was, "You said you didn't want her."
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"You know I didn't mean it like that," he spat out, his voice growing again. "We were both screaming things we didn't mean back then."
"Kind of like how we are right now?"
"No. Right now, I mean everything I'm saying. I'm pissed as hell. You turned me into a...a delinquent father."
She wrinkled her nose. "Delinquent?"
"Neglectful," he restated, sending her a dry look. "Falling down on one's duty. It's a violation of the law to neglect your own child. You've caused me to break the law... for years."
"Oh, brother." She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you're definitely a lawyer now, aren't you?"
"Damn it, Ellie," he exploded.
"Boston," she cut in before he could go off on one of his self-righteous tangents. "I made a decision I thought was the best for all three of us—"
"Well, it wasn't the right one," he roared. "You never should've goddamn lied to me. You never should've..."
The words died on his tongue, and he froze. His face drained of color as his eyes drilled into a spot behind her.
Already knowing what, or rather who, she was going to find, Ellie whirled and gasped, bringing her hand to her heart.
" Cassie!" she wheezed in a high voice.
The raven-haired child rooted in the kitchen entrance stared at Boston with wide, frightened blue eyes before swiveling her gaze back to Ellie. She was a beautiful girl, tall for her age, the second tallest in her class. Slim with tanned, golden skin and the perfect face, she'd inherited Ellie's nose, 47
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chin, and mouth and Boston's intelligent blue eyes and inky black hair.
"Mom?" she said in a wavering tone as she dropped the gym bag hanging off her shoulder and skittered the last few feet to Ellie's side, once again glancing cautiously toward Boston. "What's going on?" she asked, seeking comfort by snagging Ellie's hand.
Ellie opened her mouth and turned to Boston as if looking for assistance. But her heart dropped into her knees when she took in the vanquished features on his face. He looked completely lost and exposed, a vulnerable train wreck.
Honestly, she couldn't blame him. This was his very first encounter with his daughter, and the girl gaped at him as if he were an axe murderer. Biting the inside of her lip, she fought back the instant guilt. But, hell. She should've known better than to engage in a yelling match with him when she knew full well Cassie was expected home any moment.
"Who is he?" Cassie asked, her voice shaking. "Why're you two yelling at each other? What's happening?"
Boston dragged his eyes up to Ellie. His gaze begged for help. For a second, she thought he was going to cry. Ellie gripped her hand around Cassie's small fingers.
"Cassidy Diane," she stated firmly, ignoring Boston for the moment and turning to give her daughter her full attention.
She swiped the envelope off the counter where it had been piled along with all the groceries. Waving it in Cassie's face, she demanded, "Did you write this?"
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The child focused on the letter, and her eyes bulged. In an instant, her fear evaporated. She brightened and whirled around to gape at Boston. "Are you Montgomery Kincaid?"
[Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Four
His daughter was talking to him. Boston couldn't wrap his mind around the concept. A part of him had helped create this tiny person. She was a part of him. Yet everything about her remained foreign.
Cassidy Diane. Diane was his mother's name.
Unbelievable. This child was so...well, she was perfect.
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Absolutely flawless. Boston couldn't stop staring.
He'd been on the verge of a breakdown for a second there.
When she'd originally laid eyes on him, she'd laser-beamed him with a killer glare. Obviously, she was a protective thing.
She definitely didn't like him yelling at her mother, that was for sure. The girl had sidled herself next to Ellie and frostily scowled at him with a courage that was, frankly, remarkable.
So much for a good first impression.
But now...now that she knew he was here because of her letter, it looked like she was going to plow that perfect nine-year-old body against his legs and hug him for the next month. Though that thought was preferable to her skewering him through with a lethal stare, it still scared the bejesus out of him just about as much as thinking she might hate him. He was this girl's father, but he didn't know a thing about her. He had no idea what he was supposed to do.
Should he go to her? Was she expecting him to race over and pull her into his arms, tell her how much he loved her and how happy he was they were finally together?
Apprehension spiraled through him.
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His eyes rose anxiously to Ellie. For the first time since he'd showed up, she actually looked apologetic for putting him through this hell. Turning away, she drew Cassie's arm toward her, commanding her daughter's attention.
"No, he is not Montgomery Kincaid," she said, voice stern and face set so she looked like a disappointed mother. "Now, answer my question. Did you write this letter or not?"
Boston nearly rolled his eyes. Of course she'd written the letter. They all knew she'd written the damn letter. Why in the world was Ellie beating a dead horse?
Instead of answering, however, Cassie pooched her lower lip in displeasure. She looked up at him with the saddest, gravest expression he'd ever seen. "He's not Montgomery Kincaid? Then who is he?"
He was tempted to say that yeah, sure, he was Monty. At that moment, he'd say anything to put that excited gleam back into her eyes.
"I'm Boston," he croaked, sounding like a complete ninny because he wished he was who she wanted him to be.
"Monty's my brother."
His daughter blinked, digesting that news. The slow sweep of those long lashes reminded him so much of Ellie, his guts knotted. God, he did not need a reminder she was half Ellie's too. It brought up all sorts of images of how she'd been conceived, making his chest constrict with a crazy, regretful ache.
If only he'd played his cards right ten years ago. If only he'd been a half-decent person, these two females would be his closest family right now; they'd probably be his entire life.
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They wouldn't be strangers standing across an unfamiliar kitchen and staring at him with similar stares of wary distrust.
"But why didn't he come?" Cassidy asked, tugging Boston back to the situation at hand. She turned expectantly toward her mother. "I wrote my letter to Montgomery Kincaid, not—"
"Cassidy," Ellie cut in, setting her hands on the girl's shoulder and turning her so they were facing each other.
She moistened her lips, and Boston held his breath, realizing this was the moment. She was going to announce the truth. He felt like Darth Vader. A deep voice was going to proclaim, "Luke, I am your father." And little Cassidy Diane Trenton was going to be shocked to her toes.
But instead of confessing his paternity, Ellie said, "Go change out of your clothes. Take your bath and we'll talk about this when you're clean."
Boston exhaled, half relieved, half disappointed.
"But I'm not supposed to take my bath until eight thirty."
Cassie protested, sending a mutinous look Boston's way. "And what about supper? Supper's always at six."
"I think you'll live if we do things out of order for one night."
"But—"
"Right now, young lady," Ellie cut in.
Cassie glared at her mother a moment in protest before she caved and flung her long black hair over her shoulder as she spun away to stomp from the room.
Boston watched her disappear from sight. His eyes felt glued opened as he stared at the spot where he'd last seen 52
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her. His daughter. He'd just met his nine-year-old daughter.
And all he'd said was, "I'm Boston."
God.
His legs gave out and his body sagged. He hadn't realized he'd backed himself against Ellie's cupboards until he reached behind him and caught hold of her countertop for support.
"Boston?"
He looked up, but the closer Ellie stepped, the further away she seemed to get. She reached out like she might comfort him. But she pulled her hand back at the last moment as if realizing what she was about to do.
For a split second, he wished she'd touch him. He ached for some of her sympathy. Hell, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and smell nothing but her hair, soaking up all the comfort he could get. Did she still use that lavender-scented shampoo?
Boston laughed bitterly and wiped at mist that had gotten caught in his eye. There were more important things to ponder here. His daughter was just down the hall, taking a bath.
"She looks just like my mom," was all he could think to say.
Instead of replying, Ellie pulled out a chair and motioned to it. He sat and lifted his face, but she turned away before he was ready for her to leave. She returned seconds later with a glass of ice water. He realized the drink was for him when she set it next to him on the table. Automatically, he drank.
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The water cleared his head as much as it did his throat. He gulped every last drop and closed his eyes when he finally had to lower the glass.
"Are you okay?" Ellie asked, moving another foot away as if he might be contagious. "You look like you're going to throw up."
He kind of felt like he might.
"I..." He tried to tell her he was fine. But the words that came out sounded a lot more like, "I didn't think it'd be like this."
He touched his chest, wondering if he was having a heart attack. "To see her for the first time," he added. "I didn't think I'd feel so...I can't breathe." He tugged frantically at the top button of his collar only to realize it was already unbuttoned.
"What do you say to a nine-year-old?" He didn't know the first thing about kids, especially nine-year-old girls. Sure he had nieces and nephews, but this was totally different. This was his child.
Automatically, he looked to Ellie for help. But as much as he wanted to beg for her comfort, he wanted to keep yelling at her too. She'd lied to him and purposefully kept his daughter from him.
"I need to put the cold food in the refrigerator," she blurted out, snagging his empty cup and moving toward the sink to wash it and set it back in the cupboard.
Boston sat back in his chair, watching her stash her groceries. She'd just turned to a pantry to put away her canned goods when the back door opened. He glanced over 54
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and blinked when a small blond-haired boy strolled inside like he owned the place. Ellie didn't notice him at first, but Boston couldn't take his eyes off the kid.
Who the hell was this? Was he another child of hers, a younger son or something? The idea of Ellie having more children didn't sit well with him, and he wasn't about to explore why. He scowled as he watched the scrawny kid in the thick glasses meander toward the fridge and lug out a gallon of milk.
Ellie finally noticed the boy a second later, or rather she noticed Boston watching him. She turned and jumped half out of her skin.
"Keller!" she yelped. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm...getting...a drink...Mama Ellie." The boy panted, out of breath because the milk was too heavy for him.
Ellie hurried forw
ard and took the carton from his grasp.
"Well, I'm sure you have milk at home, dear."
"But I'm here to see Cassie. We're going to play the new Pokemon game on her Xbox." He tipped his head back to stare up at her and send her a confused look. "Why should I go home to get a drink and then come all the way back, when I can just get it here?"
Ellie sighed. "Keller, Cassie can't play tonight." She glanced toward Boston. "She—"
But the boy had finally caught sight of him too. His eyes bugged. "Holy cow! Who's he?!" He spun toward Ellie. "Oh, wow. Is he Cassie's dad?"
Ellie's jaw began to fall open before she caught herself and snapped her teeth together. Then she groaned. "Of course,"
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she muttered to herself, shaking her head. "I should've known you were involved in writing that letter."
Keller grinned, proud. "Well, sure. I found his address."
Boston and Ellie exchanged a glance. Boston looked surprised. Ellie was merely bone weary. She turned back to the boy and set her hands on her hips, taking on the aggravated mother look. " You found Montgomery Kincaid's address?"
"It wasn't hard." Keller gave a no-nonsense shrug. "All you have to do is pay thirty-nine, ninety-nine on people finders dot com and they just give you the address."
Ellie's mouth fell open. "And how did you pay for that?"
Keller started to look a little uneasy. Dipping his head, he mumbled, "My dad has a credit card on his dresser for emergencies."
"Keller!" Ellie sputtered. "Oh, my God."
But the boy was quick to say, "This was an emergency, Mama Ellie. Cassie was this close to finding her dad." He held up two fingers, stretching them less than an inch apart.
"But— What...how..." Ellie snapped her mouth shut and gaped openly at the boy. "What even made you two think Montgomery Kincaid was her father?" How had they gotten so close?
"It was in the magazine," he answered.
"The...what? What magazine?"
With a roll of his eyes as if he couldn't believe she could be so ignorant, Keller let out a sigh and trudged across the kitchen. He stood on his tiptoes and reached for a pile of magazines sitting in a basket on the counter. After digging 56