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And I have the fleeting thought that maybe she’s saying that because she still thinks of this as temporary. I fight to crush the possibility. Because I don’t want to ruin this moment.
But the silence that follows feels suddenly strained.
“You two seem to be getting along nicely, hmm?” she says, combing her fingers through Gabby’s hair with one hand as the other helps fork a small bite of skillet together for her.
Gabby’s too intent on her food to pay Mel’s question much attention.
“She’s a wonderful kid. I’m happy to have her here.”
The emotion that flashes across Mel’s face is anything but easy to interpret, but I can tell my words have struck some kind of nerve.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “That means a lot.”
Is she thinking of Vinny when she says that? Comparing my reaction to his? That bastard wanted Mel to put Gabby up for adoption—the whole reason she called me, begging me to bring her to New York after she’d agreed to marry him.
I bristle just thinking about it. And wonder if I should say something. But I don’t know what I could possibly say.
Mel takes a thoughtful bite before feeding another to Gabby. And as I eat silently, I can tell her thoughts are a million miles away.
“You okay?” I ask when I can’t stand the silence any longer.
“Hmm? Oh yeah. Totally fine. Better than fine. This food is delicious. Thank you.”
Her words rush from her in a way that tells me she’s not saying everything she thinks. And I suspect it has nothing to do with the meal I cooked—and everything to do with Gabby and perhaps their presence in my house.
Mel’s holding back about something, and once again, my warning signals go off. I wish I could read her better. But those dark eyes hold so many secrets, it’s impossible to find the one I want.
I know her well enough by now, at least, to realize that she’s not being completely open with me. And that, more than anything, makes my stomach knot. After how well our night went last night, I really thought we might have made a step forward.
But now I wonder if we’ll start back at square one every morning. Will we ever actually make progress? Or is my life with Mel going to require that I constantly prove myself trustworthy?
I search her eyes, trying to read what she’s keeping from me, and my heart skips a beat as her lips part to speak.
16
MEL
Come on, Mel. Pull it together. This is how you move forward.
He needs to know.
My heart rate quickens at Gleb’s perceptive question. And I struggle to draw the words from my lips as a long and suddenly painful silence stretches between us. Gabby continues to chew her breakfast, seeming oblivious to the tension that crackles through the air.
After watching Gleb with Gabby over the past few days, and seeing what a caring father he could be, I feel guilty for not having told him the truth. He should know that he’s Gabby’s father. And right here, right now, it feels like the perfect opportunity has presented itself.
He just said how much he likes having Gabby around.
He offered to get a high chair for her.
He’s trying. He’s showing me in every way possible that he’s worthy of my trust.
But fear grips me at the thought of telling him such a massive secret, strangling me until I’ve completely lost my voice. Simply trying to breathe feels painful.
I focus on that, dragging air in through my nose and out past my lips as I work on loosening the knot of anxiety I’ve become over such a genuine, seemingly innocuous statement.
But as I coach myself into telling him, working up the courage to say what I need to say, someone knocks on the front door.
I’m so wound up, it makes me jump, my heart stopping for a beat. “Are we expecting somebody?” I ask, my fear lacing my tone.
