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“When enough information about George Ryan and his corruption was made public for me to understand what cut my family in half, I made a commitment to myself and to them. I don’t bend the rules for anyone, Vivian.”
“Even if I didn’t actually break a rule?” She spit the question out, angry.
“That you could even have considered it…”
“Vivian,” his mother called from behind the two cops she was shooing up to the register. “After you take care of these two officers, close out the register.”
“Of course.” She smiled at the two cops as she rang up their dinner, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He had removed the smile from her eyes. That had been him, and his inability to overlook her past.
“Have a good night, officers.” Vivian closed the register and turned the key. “Are you going to loom over me while I count the money?”
He took a step back. “It is not my intention to loom.”
I just want to be close to you.
He was stupid to be in this situation. He didn’t consider himself a Lothario or Casanova, but neither had he been alone and dateless since his divorce. He was also self-aware enough to realize that he was considered a catch. So, why this woman?
Not why did he get this woman pregnant? They’d had sex, and no birth control in existence was infallible. Not why did he marry this woman? He’d been drunk, maudlin and in Las Vegas.
But why had this woman burrowed under his skin and detached his self-control? Why was this the woman he wanted to be near? Why not an easier woman?
“I should go,” he said, knowing he was running away and unable to stop himself. “I have to be at work early tomorrow morning.”
The sound of Vivian ripping receipt paper against the teeth of the cash register tore at his ears. He wanted to be home, where he could blame missing her presence in his apartment on wishing he didn’t have to take care of the stupid bird.
But she stopped him before he was out the door. “I’m far enough along in the pregnancy for a paternity test.”
“It’s not necessary.” She was correct that he questioned her character, but he’d only questioned the pregnancy in anger.
“I think we both know it is. I don’t want you to be able to throw your doubt at me again.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
KARL WAS READING over his notes when the smell of cigarettes invaded his nose. Greta must have just been outside smoking because it was almost a full minute before his assistant entered his office, following the potent smell.
“How’s your wife?”
Vivian had looked lovely each time he’d seen her at Healthy Food this week. “She’s fine.”
“Which means she’s still living with your mother. Tell your mom thanks for the doughnuts, by the way.”
Greta wasn’t here for anything more than gossip, so Karl ignored the first statement, said, “Okay,” to the second. Then he turned his attention back to the papers on his desk.
His assistant wasn’t dissuaded so easily. “It’s a real shame your pregnant wife is living with your mom.”
How did Greta know Vivian was pregnant? He’d been a fool to think he could keep anything a secret in Chicago. It may be a big city, but between the neighborhoods, churches and close-knit immigrant communities, he might as well have gotten a plane to write a message in the sky. Or had Dan told Mike at the blog CarpeChicago. He knew as well as anyone that eventually all secrets found their way to the glaring light of day.
He flipped his legal pad to read what he’d written on the next page. “My mom just had a heart attack. Vivian is very graciously taking care of her and helping out at Healthy Food.”
Hell, Vivian sounded like a saint when he described her like that. Karl reevaluated his words, then decided against correcting himself. His wife was taking care of his mother and helping out at Healthy Food, a job she had taken on before his mother had known she was carrying the beloved first grandchild. Vivian either had nerves worthy of Captain Cook or had desperately needed a place to stay that wasn’t in Nevada—and wasn’t his apartment. Karl didn’t discount the possibility that both factors had played a role.
