would be gone. And their lives would be empty. At least her parents had had two daughters as glue for their relationship.
Considering the other side of the coin, say Mason escaped the worst-case scenario. This was the one she prayed for every night. If she and Dawson had married based on her pregnancy, would all the spark between them slowly die with the realization that the only reason they were together was Mason?
Most nights, Melanie sat up worrying, churning over her guilt. She stressed about Mason growing up never knowing his father, about Dawson’s reaction if he found out about his son, and about whether or not she was being unfair. And it had just felt like this huge no-win situation. Tell Dawson and commit him to a life of worry. Don’t tell him and cheat him out of his son.
How many nights had she lain awake staring at the ceiling? That hamster wheel of questions spinning through her mind? Wishing answers would magically appear?
Working nights mostly after he was asleep, she felt incredibly blessed to have been there for all his important firsts. There would be even more that she had to look forward to, like his first day of kindergarten, his first bike ride and the first book he could read on his own. Based on his taste so far it would be something by Dr. Seuss.
“That about does it,” Dawson said. She hadn’t noticed the little clanking noises had stopped that he’d made while putting away supplies.
Another yawn rolled up and out before she could suppress it. When was the last time she’d been this tired? Having her body beyond the brink of exhaustion was one thing. Her mind, overthinking her circumstance, had pushed this into a whole new stratosphere.
“Think you can get some sleep?” he asked.
“I doubt it.”
“I’ve never seen you look so tired.”
“Comes with the job,” she mused, thankful the mood had lightened at least for now. “Thanks for what you said earlier, by the way.”
His brow came up as he took a seat on the couch. “And that was?”
“For saying I was a good mother.”
“Whatever is going on between us, and believe me, we’re going to talk about this all very soon, doesn’t affect how I think of you as Mason’s mother.” He paused thoughtfully. “I meant every word of what I said. He couldn’t have done better.”
The deep rumble of his voice, the way it poured over her like Amaretto on vanilla ice cream, would cause her knees to buckle if she’d been standing. He’d always had that ability to make her legs turn into rubber.
“It means a lot to hear you say that, Dawson.”
“Come sit over here on the couch,” he said, motioning for her to take a seat next to him.
She did, feeling the heat swirl as their shoulders touched. He still had that effect on her and she should be concerned about that. As it was, she was just happy that she could feel that way for anyone. To say her love life had been a draught since getting pregnant was the understatement of the year.
Walking away from Dawson had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever done. Until sitting next to him on the couch right now.
Dawson urged Melanie to put her head on his shoulder as he leaned deeper into the sofa, tabling his anger for now.
If they were going to coparent, they were going to have to learn to work together. None of that could happen in her current condition and his former state of mind. She was run-down, skittish and exhausted, and he couldn’t help feeling partly to blame. As it was, he’d been throwing a lot of subtle anger at her. Not that he wasn’t still mad.
Right now he acknowledged that it was more important to set his own frustration aside and do what was right for Mason. And that involved making sure his mother took better care of herself.
As soon as he figured out what to do about Sprigs so they could set this ordeal behind them, Dawson would take the necessary steps to ensure that Mason had everything he needed. First order of business would be figuring out an appropriate amount of child support. Melanie was stubborn. She’d argue about taking the money. He could see that it was important for her to feel as though she was taking care of her son.
Dawson could tighten his own belt enough to swing paying her bills.
A noise shot straight through him. He held steady, and that was a good thing, because that small, honking-like-a-duck sound came out of Melanie.
She was asleep on his shoulder and that shouldn’t give him satisfaction.
It did.
* * *
MELANIE WOKE WITH a start and quickly scanned the room. Dawson was pacing in front of the window, holding Mason. The image of him shirtless, with their son against his chest, could melt a glacier in Antarctica. She wouldn’t be able to erase that picture for a long time, and maybe a little piece of her heart didn’t want to. “How is he?”
“His fever is down and he hasn’t coughed again.”
“That’s great news.” Maybe life could be like this? Dawson could pitch in to help share some of the load. His mother was wrong. He looked pretty happy holding his son. “I should change his diaper.”
“Changed it when he woke up. That wasn’t as easy as it looks. On the internet they use a baby doll to demonstrate. This little guy doesn’t hold still.” Dawson seemed pleased with himself.
Melanie had worked so hard at creating a life for herself and Mason without really including others. She’d moved to Houston to get away from Dawson, but that had also separated her from her family and any help they could give. Her sister was busy with college in Austin. Maybe it was time to let someone else in. “Did you get any sleep?”
“No.”
“I can take Mason for a while. Let you get some shut-eye.” She made a move to get up.
Dawson waved her off.
“Not necessary. I don’t need that much rest. Plus, I was doing some thinking. We should talk.” He paused—so not a good sign—and she prepared for the bombshell he was about to drop.
“Mind if I get a cup of coffee first?” she asked, needing to put off the conversation until she had enough caffeine inside her to handle what was sure to come next. A discussion about Dawson in their life, permanently.
“You don’t drink coffee,” he said.
“I need caffeine and I’d kill for a toothbrush right now.”
“You’ll find that and toothpaste in the bathroom. Pepsi’s in the fridge. I had the store manager cut up some limes and there’s ice in the bucket.” He motioned toward the counter. Sure enough, ice and a glass waited.
“Seriously?” Okay, now she knew she was dreaming.
A few minutes later, clean teeth sealed the deal. This felt too good to be real life.
“That’s still how you like it, right?” he asked as she walked into the room.
“Yeah. I just didn’t think—”
“What? I’d remember?”
“That you’d care.” She pulled out the baggy of wedge-sliced limes from the pint-size fridge.
“If you doubted my feelings before, then you don’t need to anymore. I’m ‘all in’ with everything connected to this little boy.” His tone was laced with just enough ice to send a chill rippling down her back. It wasn’t much, not enough for someone who didn’t know him to pick up on, but she knew.
He bounced the baby on his knee and Mason was too happy for her to ruin the moment by shooting a zinger back. Besides, she didn’t want to start a