A Vow, a Ring, a Baby Swing. Teresa Southwick

you?” she challenged.

      “Even me.” The answer was automatic. But the truth was, he didn’t need anything from anyone. Not anymore. If he ever did, there was only one person he would ask. Nick Marchetti.

      Their relationship was his most precious possession. He had money now and could buy anything he needed. Nick had been there when Steve hadn’t had a dime to his name. You couldn’t put a price on a friend like Nick. Steve knew how his buddy would take the news of his sister’s pregnancy. Not well.

      He kicked himself for not revealing his incriminating information right away, before Wayne had taken advantage of Rosie. Keeping it under wraps had seemed like a good idea at the time. Steve had figured the weasel would trip himself up and she would give him the heave-ho. In fact Nick had told him she’d dumped Wayne. Obviously not in time. Steve knew he would never forgive himself for that. Although he still felt he’d done the right thing in breaking up the wedding. Letting her know Wayne could be bought off had been for the best. Now she would never have to see the damning pictures. But that didn’t change the fact that she was pregnant and not married. Guilt settled on him like a stone. He was to blame for at least part of it.

      When Mrs. M. had asked him to stop the wedding, Steve knew he could have said no. Rosie was dead-on about that. If he had, she would be married now. It was his fault that she had no husband to give her baby a name.

      He was in way over his head. He had to try just one more time to convince her to confide in her family. “Rosie, you have to tell your mother.”

      “No, I don’t,” she said.

      Stubbornness and sensibility didn’t necessarily go hand in hand, he thought ruefully. “Sooner or later she’ll have to know. Your dad, too.”

      She was pacing in front of the wide, sheer-draped windows. “Then it will definitely be later.”

      “Be reasonable.”

      “All right. How about this? I’ll go on my honeymoon. When I get home, I’ll tell them Wayne is on a business trip. He’ll just never come back.”

      “Your mother knows I paid him off.”

      “Good point.” She started pacing again. “You could back me up when I say that he didn’t take the money.”

      “Your mother would wonder why the check was cashed.”

      “Oh. Right.” She tapped a finger against her lips as she walked back and forth, deep in thought.

      “Come on, Rosie. Didn’t anyone ever tell you honesty is the best policy?”

      She stood still and met his gaze with her own troubled one. “Whoever said that didn’t have to face Flo and Tom Marchetti and tell them she was going to have a baby without a husband.”

      “It’ll be okay. Trust your folks—”

      “You don’t know what it’s like.”

      “No, I guess I don’t.” He didn’t know what it felt like to face parents, period. “I only had to answer to a social worker.”

      “Oh, Steve, I didn’t mean—” She reached a hand out, then let it fall. “I’m sorry.”

      He shrugged. “No big deal.”

      “It’s just that I’ll have to look my parents in the eye and watch their faces. I can’t stand to see ‘The Look.’”

      “They love you.”

      “I know. That makes it worse. The Look only works when it comes from the people you love.”

      “It can’t be that bad.”

      “A flogging would be easier. Bread and water for a month would be a walk in the park. The Look is the ultimate punishment.”

      “What look?”

      “Disappointment” She sighed. “I let them down, Steve. Big time. Nothing I could have done would be worse than this. Their friends, whose sons and daughters have given them legitimate grandchildren, will know that Rosie Marchetti screwed up. My folks will blame themselves, try to figure out where they went wrong with me. They should have been better parents, stricter.”

      “You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

      She shook her head. “That’s what I’ll see in their faces. Their daughter, their best and brightest, is pregnant and has no husband. How can I tell them that? I can’t stand to hurt them that way—” Her voice cracked and she clapped a hand over her mouth and turned away.

      Here it is, he thought. Here come the tears. He should have known she wouldn’t cry for herself, but her family was something else. And he was still the only one there. He curled his fingers into his palms.

      “Rosie, don’t—”

      “I’m fine—” She stopped as emotion choked off her words.

      “This won’t do any good,” he said.

      “I know. I—I can’t help it—” The words were cut off by a strangled sob that shook her shoulders.

      “Damn.”

      He crossed the room in three strides. He put his hands on her arms and turned her toward him. He felt her reluctance to take the comfort he was offering, then her eyes swam with tears and she covered her face with her hands. She seemed to crumple against him.

      Her sweet, soft body snuggling in his arms felt better than he had ever imagined, and he’d imagined it a lot. She was like a sister to him, he reminded himself. He had no right to be aware of her breasts pressed against his chest and the heat that burned through him. He should push her away. How long could he stand having her in his arms without doing more?

      He gritted his teeth. As long as it took, he decided. She needed someone now. Fate had put him there. He would just hold her. That’s all.

      But he couldn’t stop himself from rubbing his hand up and down her back in a comforting motion. He was unable to resist pressing her cheek more firmly to his chest. It felt natural and right for his arms to tug her closer, tuck her softness more securely to his hard length. He took a shuddering breath, then released it. She just needed a shoulder. It was the least he could do. She was his best friend’s sister. But he tightened his arms just a fraction. For himself.

      When her crying subsided to an occasional wet hiccup, he said, “They’ll forgive you.”

      “I know.”

      “They love you.”

      “No doubt about it. And I love them.”

      “They would want to help you through this, Rosie.”

      “Of course they would. But The Look will always be there—in their eyes. I’d do anything—anything—to spare them this disgrace and embarrassment.”

      “Anything?”

      “Short of murder and mayhem,” she said, nodding miserably. “But there’s no solution to this problem.” She sniffled. “I need a husband. But husbands don’t grow on trees.”

      “No,” he agreed. “Not the last time I checked.”

      She pulled back a little and looked up at him, a wavery little smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “They don’t fall off turnip trucks, either.”

      “Yeah, I try never to do that. It’s not the fall that gets you, it’s the bounce.”

      The sound she made was part sob, part giggle, but it was all victory, one that made him feel as if he’d won a marathon.

      As he pulled her back into his embrace, her words sank in.

      I need a husband.

      Then she could face her family and friends without shame. He took half the blame for her situation. He owed her. He owed the family. There