to return to their earlier acrimony, but she wasn’t about to let him get away with thinking that what had happened between them was all her fault. “You never even bothered to ask.”
His easygoing demeanor quickly vanished, and he went back to being brittle and wary. “There was a time when you and I wanted the same thing,” he said. “I didn’t need to ask.”
Although that wasn’t quite true, Claire didn’t call him on it. She only told him, “We were kids, Nick. We couldn’t possibly know what we wanted then.”
“Hey, speak for yourself,” he countered. “I knew exactly what I wanted.”
“Then maybe you should have taken better care of it,” she replied.
Nick studied Claire in the faint, golden light of the very expensive-looking lamp that shone from the other side of the room. And he tried with all his might to make his heart stop pounding against his breastbone the way it was. Nothing had brought him more happiness back then than taking care of Claire Wainwright. Nothing. And he couldn’t think of anything that would bring him more joy now.
But there had been other things that were more important to her than Nick Campisano. And for that, more than anything else, he couldn’t forgive her. He’d offered to build his entire life around her and the family they would have created together. And for that, she’d dumped him. Because that wouldn’t have been enough for her.
God, she looked incredible, though. Better than he could possibly have imagined. Better than she had ever looked before. The last time he’d seen her, he’d been too stunned and overwhelmed to say anything to her. All he’d been able to do was stare at her from across the dance floor of the Knights of Columbus hall, telling himself to ask her to dance, then cursing himself for wanting to.
By now, they should have been celebrating their tenth or twelfth wedding anniversary. They should have had a house full of rug rats crawling and running all over the place. They should have been worrying about carpooling and school plays and orthodontists and how old Nick, Jr. should be before they’d let him get a golden retriever.
They should have been a family, a great, big, boisterous—and very happy—South Jersey family. Instead, they were both alone. And speaking for himself, happiness—real, honest, genuine happiness—was one thing he’d never quite been able to find.
“I listened to you, Claire,” he defended himself softly. “I just didn’t think you meant what you said. I couldn’t believe you’d think there were other things that were more important than us.”
Her lips parted in what was obvious surprise, but she said nothing, neither to deny, nor to confirm, his allegations. Instead, she only wrapped her arms around herself more tightly, as if she were trying to keep herself from falling apart.
“So, um, what are you going to do about the baby?” she finally asked.
He told himself he was relieved by her question, was glad she was no more willing to revisit the past than he was. Somehow, though, the change of subject didn’t sit well with him. As it had been for so many years, things just didn’t seem settled between the two of them.
“To be honest,” he said, “I’m not sure. I should call Social Services, but there was no answer there earlier, so I’m not too hopeful that there’s going to be anybody there now. And even if there is, with the weather being the way it is, I don’t think there’s much chance that anyone’s going to want to venture out here tonight.”
Claire went pale at his assessment of the situation. “But…but…someone has to make it out here tonight,” she said, clearly anxious.
Nick shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah, well, I’ll give it my best shot, but don’t get your hopes up.”
“But someone has to.”
“Claire, I—”
“They have to, Nick,” she interrupted, her tone of voice bordering on panicked.
Nick grew puzzled at her reaction. Hey, he knew Claire was no fan of kids—of course, that was something he didn’t find out until the day she’d told him to take a hike—but her reaction now was still kind of surprising. It was just a baby, he thought. What was the big deal?
“I’ll make the call,” he assured her. “But in this weather, on New Year’s Eve, no less, I just wouldn’t count on seeing anybody anytime soon. It’d take a miracle to get someone out here tonight.”
“Then get me a miracle,” she insisted. “Now.”
“Why? What’s the big deal?”
She expelled one single, incredulous chuckle. “Because I can’t take care of this baby by myself,” she told him. “There’s no way.”
He smiled, feeling something warm and totally uncalled-for unwinding in his belly. “Hey, don’t sweat it. Even if we can’t get anybody from Social Services out here tonight, you won’t be by yourself.”
She eyed him curiously. “I won’t?”
“Nah,” he assured her. “I’ll be glad to stay here to help you out. Any way I can. All night long.”
Three
Just as Nick had suspected, no one answered the phone at Social Services. Nor was there anyone available at any of the other half-dozen numbers he called in an effort to get someone out to the house, to take the baby off Claire’s hands. The holiday and the snow had sent every available body out to see to situations that were infinitely more pressing than an abandoned baby who was, at the moment, safe and warm, and in the care of both a government official and a medical doctor.
A disenchanted government official and a very anxious medical doctor, yeah, but still…
Nick settled the cordless phone back into its resting place on the kitchen counter and turned to Claire with a shrug. “Sorry,” he said. For some reason, though, he didn’t exactly feel sorry. There was just something about this situation that prevented him from becoming too overwrought. “But that was the last person I knew to call. Looks like it’s going to be tomorrow afternoon at the earliest before anybody can take Sleeping Beauty off your hands.”
They’d moved both baby and basket into the kitchen with them, and now the infant was slumbering peacefully in the middle of the expansive kitchen table—which Nick couldn’t help but notice was quite a bit larger than one person could possibly need. By the soft, pink light of a small, terra-cotta lamp that burned atop the—really big—refrigerator, Claire had made a pot of coffee. While he was on the phone, she had filled a mug for each of them, and now she was clutching hers with a brutal grip, as if it were her last handhold on reality.
As if reading his mind, she muttered “This can’t be happening. This has got to be a dream. No, a nightmare,” she hastily corrected herself. “I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck here with you and a baby until tomorrow afternoon.”
Nick told himself not to take her sentiment to heart, that she was speaking out of panic and fear and nothing more. But it stung to realize that Claire considered spending any amount of time with him and a baby a nightmare. It wasn’t exactly surprising, but it did sting.
“Yeah, well, look at it this way,” he told her, biting back the bitterness that began to pool in his belly again. “Maybe it won’t be until tomorrow afternoon.”
She arched her eyebrows hopefully. “No?”
He shook his head slowly. Then, gritting his teeth mildly, he told her, “No. The way things are going, it might very well be the day after.”
This time her eyebrows shot down in an angry V. “That’s not funny.”
He bit back a disgruntled chuckle. “Tell me about it. If you think I’m any happier to be stranded in close quarters with you than you are to be here with me, think again. I’m the one who got dumped, in case you’ve forgotten.” The one who never stopped loving you,