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  Delilah was grateful, if a little ashamed, that it was Brandon who managed to speak first. “You said I should call when I’d decided something, so I called.”

  “I meant the phone.” She’d never expected him to show up or she would have stopped crying and washed her face. Even now, she had to wonder what she looked like.

  “Well, I wanted to talk face to face, and I wanted to get you out of your place. So I showed up. You didn’t specify which kind of ‘call’.”

  He looked at her like he was waiting for her to crack a smile. She just couldn’t, so she nodded and sipped at her drink.

  “Okay, let’s talk.”

  Here it was—he wanted to talk. There was going to be a big to-do about whose baby it was, and she just really didn’t want to do this now.

  Brandon apparently did. “Are you going to get an abortion?”

  “No!” She pulled back like she’d been slapped, nearly spilling the drink. She didn’t even need to confess to mess up his couch. She was about to get up and call the cab herself.

  Screw him. She wanted to laugh. Somehow he managed to take the pressure off her to confess. There was no way she was telling this ass what she was. Then her feelings turned on a dime. Somehow that idea only made her feel worse.

  “You won’t change your mind?” He looked straight at her.

  For a moment she didn’t consider spilling the drink, she considered throwing it in his face. He didn’t have to be involved. She’d made that abundantly clear, but the mere suggestion that he wanted her to—

  His hand hooked her arm as she tried to stand and march out. His hold was soft, but she clearly wasn’t going anywhere until he released her. “I take it that’s another ‘no’.”

  “Damn straight.” Still he didn’t let her up.

  “Good.” His breath came out of him like he’d been holding it.

  Delilah blinked. She felt more confused than she was when she watched the lines appear on that pregnancy test. Come to think of it, she hadn’t been anything but confused from the moment she met him. She looked back at Brandon and wondered how he had the power to scramble her so. His expression didn’t change. Delilah still didn’t understand. “I’m sorry?”

  “I said, ‘good.’ I don’t want you to have one, but it isn’t my place to decide for you.”

  At last he let go of her arm and she managed to pull back. That was weird.

  He asked another, point blank question. “Are you going to keep the baby?”

  She answered him in the same dry tone he interrogated her with. “Yes.”

  He nodded, seeming relieved. He looked away as though he was getting his bearings. Then he looked back at her, right in the eyes, like he could see more than she intended him to. “If you decide not to keep the baby, then I want it. Boy or girl, healthy or not, I want it.”

  He still showed no expression, but the words got to her, chipping at walls that shielded her heart. As great a gesture as that was, it wasn’t going to happen. She needed to be clear about that. “I’m not giving this baby away.”

  “Good, but count me in.”

  She nodded. She did admire his determination. Go figure, the man she picked up in a bar one night was better father material than the one she married and lived with for five years. There was no way Delilah could deny this man his child. Though it would cause uncountable complications, she was glad her child’s father wanted to be a part of the baby’s life. He wouldn’t want to be part of hers after he found out about her, but at least her baby would know him. She sat back and waited for the next question.

  It wasn’t what she expected. Delilah began to wonder why she ever thought she could guess what Brandon would say at all. He was truly unpredictable.

  “Tell me why you were still crying when I came in. Was it all just too much?”

  He’d handed her an easy way out, but Delilah still wasn’t ready to take it. She was starting to hate herself for being a chicken. “I was pregnant before.”

  He nodded again, that slow ‘I’m thinking’ motion that he did. “You said you were going to try to keep this one. Did you give the other baby away?”

  “No, I miscarried. I was six weeks along when my husband and my sister died. Together. I watched them die.”

  She could see he was rolling that one around in his head for a minute. But he didn’t judge—or at least if he did, he kept it to himself. “The stress was too much?”

  “I won’t ever know.” She shrugged and pushed herself to tell him, to reveal the next piece of information. She could tell him these facts, it was just a piece of her life, not the whole thing—which she herself was only just now realizing. It didn’t have to define her. Perhaps if she started telling him things—even the painful ones—maybe she would be able to just keep talking.

  “We lived in Malibu, in this tiny house that we built on this property we found. It was up on a hill across the Pacific Coast Highway. It had a great view. I was up there, watching from the window when I saw his car coming up the canyon road to the house. I didn’t know Juliet was with him. He was almost in the driveway and I was so mad about him and Jules. He didn’t live there any more, he’d moved in with her or whatever—he wasn’t with me. He just left me to handle all of it. He showed up at the divorce hearings and that was it. So I sold the house all by myself and I was really mad. I came out to yell at him, to tell him what I thought.”

  Standing now, she jumped to another part of the story, trying to explain how it all went down. Not that there was any way to make her part in it appear better. She had done it, she lived with it. She just wanted him to understand. “The roads are curvy, and someone came around the corner too fast. It was a sharp curve, blind, and the other driver was long gone before David and Jules went through the retainer wall—it was really short and the rocks were loose. They went right over the side. I went down after them. I just ran right down the side of the cliff.”

  Delilah took a deep breath and another sip of the drink. It didn’t help. Brandon merely waited her out. “They went into the river and so did I. I tried to save her. But by the time the paramedics pulled me out of the water, I’d developed hypothermia and the baby died a little while later.”

  In a blink, he was up and his arms were around her. He pulled her close, a tight bear of a hug that didn’t let go. One that said she meant the world to him. And she couldn’t stand it, because he didn’t know what she’d done. She couldn’t accept his sympathy unless he gave it with all the facts in place.

  Delilah pushed her hands against his chest and moved away.

  Her voice broke. “I hated them both, but I tried to save her. She was my sister. Even though I’m confident she worked hard to take him away from me. I guess she succeeded. Somehow I hated him more than I hated her. Maybe just for being so weak.”

  “I’m so sorry, Lilah.” He tried again to pull her close but this time Delilah managed to dodge him before she was tempted to sink into his embrace and just forget the rest of it.

  “She was pregnant, too.”

  She stood up, watching as that fact jumped through the points in his brain connecting up all the things he’d learned.

  “It was his?”

  “Yes.” She nodded as she walked a tight circle as though the action might keep Brandon away. Nothing she did ever kept him away. “The autopsy showed she was almost five months pregnant when she died.”

  “Oh, Lilah.”

  But Delilah turned her face to the wall, so she couldn’t see his sympathy and so he couldn’t see her. She’d hated both of them so much. But suddenly she didn’t. She lost her niece or nephew that day, too and never before had she considered that as another blow to her heart. The baby had always just been a weapon Juliet wielded against her. Not a family member. Delilah never even found out if it was a boy or a girl.

  He was standing, too, when he spoke next. “Did you hate her?”

  How did he do that? How did he see what she was thinking? “Yes. More than anything. Except maybe him.”<
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  This time she didn’t—couldn’t—fight his arms around her.

  His words were soothing, even though they should have made her angrier. He only justified all the mean things she’d felt. But the justification made it easier to start to let go. “Of course you hated her. She was your younger sister, right?”

  Delilah nodded, her back pressed against his ribs. Her head fell against his shoulder, resting there and finally taking some of the strength he offered.

  “She deliberately took your husband, then got pregnant with his child. I’m guessing it was just another blow that she was more pregnant than you.”

  Everything went out of her then. Like a balloon with a hole—in a second it was over. Somehow, Brandon made it okay that she hated Jules. He was the only one who ever realized Juliet had taken something else by being further along. She’d taken the first grandchild, and she’d made Delilah’s early pregnancy trivial. She’d taken away Delilah’s chance of salvaging her marriage.

  How many times had David asked Delilah to try to forgive rather than carry it around with her? He’d tried to comfort, and he’d soothed a little. But he’d never made it okay to be angry. He’d been the source of so much of her anger, it wasn’t possible.

  Suddenly, in that moment with Brandon’s arms around her, she wasn’t so angry anymore.

  Maybe because it wasn’t a fault of her own so much that she harbored all this resentment still. Even against two people who paid the ultimate price for what they’d done. Maybe because someone finally understood, or simply let her be without trying to judge her or fix her. Or maybe it was because there was another baby on the way. Because her second chance had arrived.

  She turned in Brandon’s arms until she was facing him.

  She was going to say ‘thank you,’ but his arms came tighter around her, telling her without words just how important she was to him. In that moment she couldn’t destroy the little piece of serenity she’d found. She didn’t tell him the rest, she didn’t have the energy. She desperately needed just this one more chance to be held by him before he wouldn’t ever offer again. So she allowed herself to sink against him and let him lead her to the bedroom.

  Gently he pulled off her shoes and tucked her under the covers.

  Chapter 30

  Brandon was thoroughly dismayed with the time schedule the world had set for him.

  He left Delilah in his bed the morning after their illuminating talk. She mumbled something sweet and rolled over. It was the second time he’d gotten up and gone to work, leaving her there alone at his place. Nothing special, just a normal day-to-day kind of thing, and he was surprised to find just how much he liked it. He liked the idea of Delilah waking in his room and making herself breakfast in his kitchen or watching her cooking channel on his TV. She could see pastry cream in larger-than-life high-definition at his house. It gave a little more credence to his visions of her moving in with him. Regardless of the fact that his desires were originally fabricated by her spells, they were certainly taking hold.

  But apparently she hadn’t stayed. She called him from her little apartment not three hours later to say that she managed to get an appointment with her doctor and would he like to come with her?

  Brandon wholeheartedly agreed, mapping out the time in his calendar. The only real issue was trying to figure out how he was going to explain this to Dan who still didn’t even realize how involved he was with Delilah. Then again, ‘obstetrician, 1p.m. UCLA med plaza’ pretty much said it all.

  Brandon was caught in his musings, wondering why he hadn’t told Dan what was happening. Was it because he knew the response he was going to get ahead of time and he just didn’t want to deal with it? Was it because he didn’t know how much to say? Dan, Delilah’s a witch and she . . . Or was it because he was avoiding the legitimacy of everything he knew Dan was going to say? But Brandon didn’t get the chance to follow that train of thought. He noticed the date on the appointment, “What? That’s over a week away!”

  He heard Delilah’s resigned sigh across the phone line and he could tell she wasn’t any happier with it than he was. “I know. It was the earliest they had available. And I’m not a high priority.”

  “How are you not a high priority?” That made no sense to him whatsoever. He was pretty certain the harsh pitch of his voice conveyed just that. He was sorry as soon as he’d practically yelled it.

  But, thankfully, Delilah didn’t seem to take offense. “I’m barely pregnant, so if something is wrong there’s not much they can do. There’s not much they can see or test at this point, and I’m not an in-vitro patient. The baby’s just going to grow anyway.”

  Still, he was frustrated. “Don’t they want to be sure that you’re taking good care of yourself? Eating right?”

  Oh, lord, as he said it, all these thoughts came into his head. Things he hadn’t worried about before: Delilah’s health, whether she was on medications, what she was eating and drinking on a regular basis. Could her witchcraft hurt the baby? There was often a lot of burning of various herbs. It probably wasn’t as bad as cigarette smoking, but he really didn’t know.

  Her voice pulled him back to the present. “They handed me off to a nurse who asked a bunch of questions, told me not to drink or take drugs—”

  “Duh.” He interrupted, then let her continue.

  She laughed, “They’re busy. I’m not a priority. I’m not in danger and there’s nothing they can actually do for me now.”

  There was a shrug in her voice. He wanted to know now. “Is there another doctor you could see faster?”

  “Probably, but there may be a reason if an OBGYN is available.”

  “Well, that’s a catch twenty-two.” It was probably a good thing she couldn’t see his hands scrubbing through his hair. He already didn’t like the doctor, just on the principle alone. Even though he knew he was being unreasonable.

  “And this is my doctor. I know her and I like her.”

  Brandon resigned to waiting the week, totally bummed. He wanted an ultrasound now. He wanted to see his baby. His baby. The words tumbled around in his brain, finding a home, and putting a slight smile on his face. His baby.

  He was getting loopy about it and almost missed Delilah’s next words.

  “They did recommend a book.”

  Brandon copied down the title and they talked for a few more minutes before hanging up. He was going to have to confront her about the witchcraft. He’d wanted to wait until she told him. He really needed it to come from her. But his baby needed that discussion to happen now. What if tansy smoke was toxic? Surely Delilah wouldn’t keep drinking the wine so many spells seemed to require? Surely, he could initiate a tough conversation about his child with the woman who was going to be that child’s mother. Well, the witch who was going to be that child’s mother.

  Telling himself she wasn’t going to give the baby some rare herbal smoke cancer before he could talk to her, he took a deep breath and forced his brain back to work.

  At lunchtime, Dan stuck his head in the door, and Brandon agreed to go along if they could stop at a bookstore. Dan caught on when Brandon perused the Pregnancy section comparing titles to the one he had jotted down.

  “What? Who?” Then a layer of relief settled over Dan as though he figured it out. “You’re just picking it up for your sister or something. It’s a gift for someone!”

  Apparently satisfied with his own answer, he stepped back, letting Brandon thumb through the books looking for the one he wanted.

  But Brandon didn’t leave it that way. Was it a bad sign that it was easier to start the conversation with Dan? “Nope, this is my copy. Delilah’s pregnant.”

  The indignation switch flipped back on in Dan. “The same Delilah who drugged you? She got herself knocked up? That’s what it was all about? Sperm thievery! She’s one of those women who wants a baby but the sperm bank isn’t good enough. Although this was really taking it to a new level.”

  Brandon laughed away his partner’s zany
explanation. “No. She’s only a few weeks along.”

  Dan let out some air. “Then maybe it won’t last. I’ll pray for you, buddy.”

  An unexpected jolt of anger struck Brandon. “Don’t.” His voice was low and rough, in accordance with his surprise at the hurt he felt at the thought of losing the baby.

  But Dan didn’t see the pain in the response, his brain had already latched onto another tangent. This time he looked truly horrified. Not the expression Brandon wanted to see. “If she’s only a few weeks along then you guys are still seeing each other. Really seeing each other.”

  Brandon just nodded and took the book up to the check-out line. Dan followed. “Was this planned?”

  “No. Just happened.” Brandon paid and got his receipt and wished the interaction with Dan was just as easy to terminate. For once, Brandon wanted someone to tell him he was doing the right thing. But that wasn’t to be and he knew it. Delilah was hiding things. Dan thought he’d gone off the deep end. And if he told his father there would be discussions of marriage that Brandon was not ready to deal with. If he told Bethy . . . well, his very catholic sister might just go get that dunking stick.

  So he decided not to tell anyone who didn’t already know. At least not for now. Still, Dan pestered him all the way back to the office and through most of the afternoon.

  Brandon put up with the henpecking because Dan was his business partner and his best friend, and truly only had his best interests at heart. Even if he didn’t see what Brandon really needed.

  Delilah went home that night because she had to work the next morning, leaving Brandon with time to himself. Normally he would have found a game on TV, but instead he decided to read. Then he had to choose if he was going to read the pregnancy book or pick up the witchcraft guide. Both seemed truly important to his future with Delilah.

  A future that he still wasn’t sure existed. A future that still hung by a thread. He sat on his couch, staring at the ceiling for a while wondering if there was any way he could push this process along a little. At one point he seriously considered going down to the loading dock at Othello and just hashing it out. But then all those people wouldn’t get their desserts. He had to afford her the same courtesy he’d want. He’d be pissed if she walked into his office one day and slapped all this at him.