To Be a Dad. Kate Kelly

      She felt the comforting weight of his hand on her head before he ran his fingers down through her hair. “I know you have. You’re amazing, how you always hold it together. But for now, this is the most practical way to cover our living costs. You can put money into the account whenever you want, okay?”

      “I can’t do it. Sorry.” It was bad enough she had to move into his house like some kind of homeless woman. Her pride was still smarting from the shift of being independent to relying on Dusty’s goodwill for a roof over her and her babies’ heads. Her stomach had been queasy all day, and she didn’t think she could entirely blame that on morning sickness.

      “Don’t take it personally, okay? I need to pay my own way. It’s bad enough I’m taking advantage of our friendship and living with you.”

      He rolled his hand into a fist and tapped it on the steering wheel. “Pretty hard not to take that personally. I’m not good enough for you?”

      She covered his hand with hers. “I don’t mean to hurt you, but I’m not budging on this. I need to maintain some control over my life. I’m not taking money from you.”

      He gave a curt nod and backed out of the parking spot. “Have it your way.

      “Remember the winter we were all into sliding on old man MacEachern’s hill, and I broke my Ziffy-Whomper sled?” he asked after driving a couple of blocks. “And even though you really wanted to be in the final race, you loaned me yours?”

      Teressa smiled. “You won, too. I didn’t have a chance. I was too much of a lightweight.”

      “You might have won. My point is, you let me use your sled, and I accepted your help.”

      “It’s not the same. We were kids.”

      “Okay, two years ago. Remember Tania-with-an-i?”

      Teressa rolled her eyes. “Who could forget her?”

      “I went out with her once, and she thought...I don’t know. That I was going to marry her. And you walked into the café with Sarah and Brendon and shoved Brendon into my arms and said something like, ‘Here’s your daddy.’” He laughed. “I never saw Tania-with-an-i again.”

      Teressa scowled out the window. Was she another Tania-with-an-i, hanging on to Dusty when he wanted to be free?

      “You don’t remember?” Dusty glanced at her.

      “I remember.”

      “What’s wrong?”

      “You dated me once, too.”

      “Come on. There’s no comparison. You’re Teressa.”

      “What’s that mean?”

      “Well, you’re...you’re a friend, for one thing.”

      What every woman who took one look at Dusty and his muscles and blue eyes and blond hair wanted to be—a friend.

      Dusty was doing what came naturally to him, being a good guy. How long before he started to resent her and the children? Started? Boy was she in la-la land. He had to have resented her the minute he found out she was pregnant.

      “My point is,” he persisted, “friends help friends.”

      “I got your point, Dusty. I’m not taking your money. But thank you,” she added after a minute.

      They drove the rest of the way to the mall in silence and went straight to the appliance section of a large department store. She headed to the back of the display, where they kept last years’ models, but Dusty caught her hand in his and tugged her toward the front. “I like the flat-tops,” he said.

      “They’re more expensive.”

      “The old ones are harder to keep clean. Pick one of these.” He pointed to a line of midrange stoves.

      Hmm. She ran her fingertips over the smooth ceramic top, tapped out a tune on the digital keypad. Against her will, a little thrill ran through her. She’d never owned a brand-new anything before. Deciding to get serious, she took her time examining each one and questioning the salesclerk. After the first ten minutes, Dusty wandered over to the flat-screen televisions, but she refused to make a decision without him at least looking at what she thought was the best buy. They ended up buying a stove, a refrigerator, a dryer and a bunk-bed set. He’d just bought a new washer and dishwasher in the summer. Against her protests—What did he need a second flat screen TV for? He had a gigantic one at home—he bought a smaller flat screen. She justified the purchases as things Dusty needed or wanted for his house anyway. Except for the bunk beds, but every house could use a set, right? And if she moved out, she’d buy them from him. Not that she mentioned her plan.

      “I’m starving.” Dusty rubbed his stomach as they exited the store.

      “I could eat. The question is where?” She looked around the food court attached to the mall. Nothing appealed to her.

      “There’s a microbrewery over on Staples that’s supposed to serve good pub food.”

      She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

      He frowned at her and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. “Right. No drinking. I forgot. Okay,” he said after a minute, “how about the new Thai restaurant on the waterfront? You like Thai food?”

      She loved Thai food, but all the restaurants on the waterfront were expensive. She hunched her shoulders. “I’m not in the mood for an upscale dining experience tonight.”

      He sent her a sideways glance. “Don’t suppose you’d let me take my friend out to dinner?”

      Her stomach cramped with tension. Living with Dusty wasn’t going to work. She didn’t want to be taken care of. If she had to be in a relationship, she wanted to be an equal partner.

      “Pizza it is, then,” he said when she remained silent.

      “I’m not trying to be difficult,” she said as they pulled out of the parking lot.

      “Right.” By his tense reply she could tell he was fed up. Who could blame him? He’d been a goddamn prince.

      “Would you feel comfortable if a woman paid all your expenses and let you move into her house?”

      He huffed out a laugh. “I wish.”

      “Really?”

      He stopped at the red light and looked over at her. “I get your point. You don’t want anything from me.”

      She lowered her chin. “That’s not it, either.”

      “Then what the hell is your problem?” A car beeped behind them, and he drove through the intersection.

      “My problem is I’ll never be able to pay you back, because for the next twenty years or so, all my extra money will go to raising my children,” she yelled. “And I can’t stand things not being equal between us. I want to be my own woman, live in my own house and pay my own bills.”

      “Fine.” He pulled into the restaurant parking lot and jerked on the emergency brake after turning off the truck. “You can start by paying for the pizza tonight, and I want an eighteen-inch.” He climbed out and walked into the pizzeria, leaving her sitting alone in the dark.

      She stared out the windshield. That went well. Not. She had to get a grip. She wasn’t the only one making a huge adjustment. Dusty’s life had been turned upside down, as well. Truth was he was taking the harder hit of the two. She had to lighten up, and she had to start thinking of him. She slipped out of the truck. After they ate, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

      “I hope you didn’t order anchovies.” She slipped into the booth across the table from him.

      “Pepperoni, green peppers, mushrooms and black olives,” he said.

      She grinned. “You remembered.”