“Thanks. Bye.”

  He held the door open for her and watched as she jogged down the heated walkway to her little car. “Bye.” He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong, he just didn’t know what. All he knew was that he had just had the best night of his life, and he would do anything to have more nights like that with Lauren.

  Twenty-Five

  No mother likes to pick up the phone and hear the anguished cries of their daughter. She knew that she had to tell Baxter about Tabitha and had planned to do it that morning, but Tabitha was sick. That super hard conversation she had been avoiding would have to wait for a few more hours. Even though she knew it was wrong, she was relieved to put it off a while longer but was terrified of what was going to happen when she told him about his daughter. She sped into town, worrying about Tabby and trying to figure out how to tell Baxter the truth about her.

  What they had was real. There was no denying it. And after Monday, they wouldn’t have the development dividing them like a brick wall. But once she told him… She shook her head; she couldn’t worry about how he was going to react. Her priority was Tabitha.

  Tabitha’s face was pale when she came to the door behind Julia’s mom, Charmaine.

  “Hi, sweetie.”

  “Hi, Mom.” Tabitha’s voice was quiet, but she let Lauren hug her in tightly.

  “Are you okay?”

  “She must have the flu or food poisoning or something,” Charmaine said. “She threw up this morning, I put her pajamas in the laundry.” She handed Lauren Tabitha’s overnight backpack.

  Back at home, Lauren tucked her daughter into bed and heated some chicken noodle soup up on the stove. She left a big bowl of it beside Tabitha’s bed, along with the trash can in case she got sick again. Once she was sleeping soundly, Lauren curled up on the sofa with a book, but her eyes kept reading the same paragraph as she tried to figure out what to tell Baxter.

  Throughout the afternoon, Lauren monitored Tabitha’s temperature and as the day wore on her bouts of vomiting tapered off. She hated when Tabby was sick. It was such a helpless feeling as a mother, and she would give her right arm to trade places and be sick for her.

  As the afternoon turned into evening, the color started coming back to Tabitha’s cheeks, and she was able to keep the soup down. Lauren knew that she had rounded the corner when she asked for her favorite – a grilled cheese sandwich.

  Lauren made them both a sandwich and the two of them cuddled up on the sofa and ate their lunch. Lauren’s phone pinged and she knew before picking it up that it would be Baxter. She had promised to come back to him, but there was no way she could leave Tabitha right now.

  Still coming over? the text read.

  She set the phone down and cleared their plates. She poured Tabitha another ginger ale and herself a glass of wine. Once settled back on the sofa, she typed and retyped her message to Baxter, deleting it and then re-writing a similar version. She finally settled with, ‘not feeling great.’ It was the best she could come up with, and technically it wasn’t a lie.

  “Is all of your homework done for school tomorrow?” Lauren asked.

  Tabitha nodded. “I did it on Friday.”

  “Of course, you did.” Tabitha was Lauren the book nerd’s daughter after all. Lauren smoothed out Tabitha’s hair and kissed her on the top of her head. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

  Tabitha nodded and she handed her the remote. Lauren didn’t see any of the movie as she was lost in thought while she absentmindedly stroked her daughter’s hair. She was periodically brought back to the present whenever Tabitha giggled at the TV. “Mom, could I have some more ginger ale please?”

  Lauren glanced at her watch; it was just past eight. “You know that’s got a lot of sugar in it and it’s late.”

  “Please.” Tabitha’s eyes were huge behind her glasses. “I’m still not feeling good.”

  Lauren knew that wasn’t the case but took the glass and headed into the kitchen. “Only because you’re sick,” she shouted.

  The doorbell rang, it’s loud mechanical chime startling Lauren so much that she spilled the soda on the counter. “Shit,” she muttered.

  “I’ll get it,” Tabitha jumped up from the sofa.

  “No,” Lauren shouted and dropped the can of soda into the sink. For someone who only minutes earlier couldn’t walk to the kitchen, Tabitha was surprisingly fast.

  Lauren stood frozen at the entrance to the living room, the glass in her hand, and the door opening in slow motion. She held her breath, knowing exactly who was waiting on the other side.

  It was him. Baxter turned as the door opened. He smiled at Tabitha and Lauren swore her heart stopped.

  “Hi,” Tabitha said.

  “Hi. It’s Tabitha, right?” Baxter said.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “What are you doing here?” Tabitha asked. Lauren had managed to unglue her feet and walked to hold the door open over her daughter.

  “I heard that your aunt wasn’t feeling good, so I brought her some soup.” Baxter held out a jar of broth.

  “My aunt?” Tabitha said. Lauren’s stomach lurched. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. She reached down and grabbed onto Tabitha’s shoulders to steer her away from the door, but she wasn’t fast enough.

  “Auntie Charlotte isn’t here.”

  Baxter tilted his head and Tabitha turned to face Lauren. “Mom, what’s he talking about?”

  “Go to your room,” Lauren whispered to Tabitha. She shrugged in the way that pre-teens do and headed into her bedroom. Lauren stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind her.

  “I can explain,” she whispered.

  “You’re not sick,” he said. “Your… daughter is sick?” It was both a statement and a question.

  “Yes.” She hung her head and kicked at the piece of ice on her front step with the toe of her slipper.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that you had a kid?” Baxter handed her the soup.

  “I-I-I…” As much as Lauren had practiced her speech to Baxter, the words weren’t coming.

  “You lied.” He took a step back.

  “I didn’t lie exactly.” Lauren reached for Baxter’s hand, but he pulled it away. “I just didn’t tell you the truth.”

  “And there’s a difference?” Baxter’s voice grew louder. Lauren raised her finger, ready to retort, but as the redness spread from the collar of his jacket up his neck couldn’t find the words. “I thought that she was your sister’s kid, and both of you let me believe it.” His eyes flashed and he crossed his arms across his chest.

  “It wasn’t a lie,” Lauren repeated.

  “Classic lawyer speak.” Baxter’s voice was cold. “But why?” he shook his head. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “I couldn’t,” Lauren whispered.

  “Why the hell not?” Baxter’s voice was hard and angry as he backed away from her. Lauren glanced back to the house and then followed him down the stairs. She grabbed Baxter by the elbow and led him to the sidewalk. “I never told you that she was Charlotte’s daughter. You assumed,” she hissed.

  “And I assumed wrong.”

  “You did.” Lauren knew that she was totally in the wrong but didn’t know how to backpedal.

  “It doesn’t make any sense.” He said. “Why would I care if you have a kid? Is that what you think of me? That I wouldn’t be interested in you if you had baggage?” He stepped back from her, and she stepped forward filling the gap between them.

  “I was going to tell you,” she whispered. She tried to take his hand again. “That’s what I was going to tell you this morning.”

  “I still don’t know why you couldn’t have told me this before.” Baxter pulled his hat off his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Baxter.”

  “What?” he snapped.

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

  “You think?” His eyes were narrow, and he stepped to the door of his car. “Lauren,” he began and turned to face her. He sighed and leaned against the door, “I fucking love you.”

  Lauren felt the tears spring up in her eyes. “I love you t—”

  “Stop,” he snapped. “I love you and you lied to me – for no reason at all.”

  The tears were streaming down Lauren’s face and she didn’t move to wipe them away. “There was a reason,” she whispered. She knew deep down that she had lost him.

  “And what reason could there be for you to keep something like that from me?”

  “She’s ten,” Lauren said.

  “So?” Baxter shook his head. “What does that matter? You’re unbelievable.” He shook his head and turned to open the car door. Lauren stepped back and held her breath as he froze.

  “She’s ten?” He still hadn’t turned to face her.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Ten.” She pulled her sweater tighter around her body, the cold finally making its way past her adrenaline. “She’s yours.”

  Twenty-Six

  The blinds in his room were programmed to automatically rise at dawn. Baxter sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. His head throbbed like he had a hangover, even though he hadn’t had a drop. The events from the night before came rushing back to him as he jabbed at his phone to turn off his alarm. He had cycled through a myriad of emotions, and sleep had eluded him for most of the night. He had gone to bed in a rage, woken up in the middle of the night to sadness, but now the rage was back.

  How dare she.

  She lied. She deceived him and she let him fall in love with her without telling him the truth.

  As he brushed his teeth, it hit him. He was a father. That cute precocious little girl was his daughter. He braced himself against the bathroom vanity, gripping the edge of the counter. How could everything have changed so quickly in the last twenty-four hours? He went from being absolutely over the moon in love with a gorgeous woman to an absentee father.

  He hadn’t given her the chance to explain. Yes, it had been immature of him, but what else do you do when someone drops a bomb like that on your life? He had jumped in the SUV and driven away as fast as he could, fishtailing through town. Looking back, he remembered the familiarity of her eyes as Tabitha smiled at him at the Winter Carnival. There was no doubt in his mind, that the kid had the exact same eye color as his, and now that he was looking for it, he could see the resemblance. So, not only had she lied to him, she had robbed him of nearly a decade of his daughter’s life.

  But would he have wanted it? He didn’t know.

  He heard the clanking of the kitchen staff downstairs and the smell of freshly brewed coffee as the executives returned from their day away. Even though it was Sunday, he dressed in his best suit, adjusted his red pocket square, put on a brave face and headed down to meet his team.

  He poured himself a coffee and headed into the dining room, but instead of Barry, Thomas, and Nicole, there was only one person at their conference table. His father, Baxter Caldwell, Sr.

  “Son, have a seat.” His father gestured to the seat adjacent to the head of the table. Baxter dutifully sat down.

  “I wasn’t expecting you,” he said.

  “Barry called me and briefed me on the changes you’ve made to my development.”

  “Yes, I have made some changes. I think that you will see that everyone will ben—” Baxter couldn’t finish his sentence before his dad interrupted.

  “I didn’t approve these changes.” Mr. Caldwell, Sr. folded his hands on the table.

  “The board approved them.” Baxter cleared his throat. “Your board approved them.”

  “So they did.” Mr. Caldwell sat back in his chair and adjusted his tie. “And I just un-approved them.”

  “But, you can’t…” Baxter was shocked. He had been given authority over this project. The board didn’t need his father’s approval. They took instruction from him.

  “I can and I did.”

  “If I could just show you the reports, these changes will benefit Caldwell in the long term.” Baxter set his briefcase on the table, pulled out the reports, and set them down in front of his father.

  Mr. Caldwell nudged the paperwork away with his fingertips. “I don’t care about the bottom line twenty years from now. So, what if a few bears have to move further north if it makes us money today?”

  “It’s not just the bears, Dad. The changes will integrate the local people into the development, not exclude them.”

  His dad scoffed, “Who cares? This development isn’t for them. It’s for people who have money. Caldwell International is known for its extravagance, its luxury, this…” He pushed the paperwork even further away from him. “Goes against everything we stand for.”

  Baxter knew that his dad was a cold, hard son of a bitch, but he had never been so overt about it before. “But if you would just look at the plan.”

  “Son.” Mr. Caldwell’s voice was stern. “I don’t need to look at your damn lefty leaning hippie commune plan.” He leaned forward on the table and gripped Baxter’s forearm. “The name on our office tower belongs to me until I’m dead.” He slammed his palm down on the table. “I made a mistake. You aren’t ready.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, you’re fired.”

  Baxter stepped back, the words reaching out and slapping him in the face. “What do you mean ‘I’m fired’?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.” He shook his head. “You’re just fired from this project.” Baxter’s father stood up and straightened his tie. “Go back to the city. Your assistant has been briefed on your new posting. I’m stepping in to take the lead on this one.”

  “Dad. Come on,” Baxter stepped in close to his father and stared him down. “I’ve been working on this for over a year.”

  “And it looks like you’ve fucked it up completely.”

  “No. I haven’t. This is what’s best for everyone involved.” He jabbed his index finger at the stack of papers on the desk.

  “Except me,” his father growled. “And if you continue on with this plan, there won’t be a company left for you to inherit.” Baxter Caldwell, Senior picked up his briefcase and headed out of the room.

  “Wait,” Baxter said. “What will it take for me to stay on this project?”

  His father raised his eyebrows at him and stepped back to the table. He picked up the report and ripped it in half. “Present the original plan.”

  Baxter sat down and ran both of his hands through his hair. “Can I have a minute to consider, and to consult with Barry and Thomas?”

  “No. A strong executive has to make decisions under the gun. You either take my original plans to the council or don’t bother showing up at all.”

  All the time and all the effort he had put into this. Changing the plan was wrong, he knew it. He also knew that the only thing he had in his life at the moment was his job. His relationship with Lauren had just blown up, and the idea of heading back to the corporate office a demoted man didn’t sit well with him. If he didn’t have his career, his namesake, he didn’t have anything at all.

  He looked up at his father, who had been staring at him. “I’ll do it,” he said. “I’ll present your plan.”

  “I thought so.” Baxter wanted to slap the smug look off the old man’s face. He hated himself. His father strode toward him and Baxter reached out his hand for the file folder. “You’re nothing like me,” he seethed. “You’re going to run Caldwell into the ground.”

  “I already said I’d do it.” Baxter’s hands were shaking, and he clenched them into fists at his side.

  “You’re weak. Just like your mother.” Baxter stepped back, aghast. “Of course, you will do it.” The old man’s eyes flashed. “You’re pathetic. You believed in your changes, but as soon as the pressure was on, you cracked. You have a lot of growing up to do before I put you in charge of anything anymore.”

  Baxter’s mother had been the kindest, sweetest woman. She had died when he was ten years old, but he still remembers volunteering at the animal shelter with her, the two of them walking all of the senior dogs that no one wanted. She was always fighting for the underdog, in that case, literally. She would’ve been proud of the changes he had made to Caldwell Creek.

  Baxter didn’t know if it was from shock, but a sense of calmness washed over him. He handed the folder back to his father. “You don’t have to worry about me ruining your company because I quit.”

  “You can’t quit. You’re a Caldwell.”

  “Watch me.”

  Baxter picked up his leather briefcase and strode out of the room, leaving his father behind.

  He had spent the last ten years trying to prove to that bastard, and all of his cronies, that he belonged, that he was one of them. With the pressure of the position gone, he felt like he was floating as he walked out of the executive mansion. He wasn’t going to have to try for one more second. He wasn’t like them. Al, the driver was waiting in the black SUV and he hopped out when Baxter approached. “Where to, Baxter?”

  “I don’t know,” Baxter said. “But do you mind if I drive?”

  “Not at all, sir.” Al tossed the keys to Baxter and tipped his hat to him. Baxter slid into the driver’s seat, started up the car, and rolled down the window.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Caldwell?” Al asked.

  “Yeah.” Baxter leaned out the window. “Call me Brock.”

  He rolled up the window, stomped down on the gas and headed east, leaving Chance Rapids, Lauren, Caldwell Creek, and his legacy.

  Twenty-Seven

  Throats cleared and wooden chairs scraped on the hardwood floors in the council chambers. Lauren sat in the section reserved for consultants and waited while Mayor Smythe took her seat at the front of the room. The agenda for the meeting was projected on a screen behind the mayor. Up first, the Caldwell Creek project.

  Lauren gulped. Even though she knew that the development was going to adhere to her recommendations, she wasn’t going to let herself relax until the ink was dry on the acceptance of the plan, complete with her conditions. Every time the old wooden door creaked open, Lauren glanced over, expecting to see Baxter. She glanced at her watch. It was 12:59 and he still hadn’t shown up.