The Late Bloomer's Baby. Kaitlyn Rice

this moment, Callie wanted to convince Ethan to abandon his thoughts of seeing Isabel, and leave. But how?

      She stalled for time by checking Luke’s diaper, and when she glanced up she almost groaned at the gleam in Ethan’s eye. He was watching her in that way. She had to do something, fast.

      She’d pick a fight, but keep it low-key. She didn’t want to upset Luke again or draw the older kids’ attention away from the television—which, she realized in that instant, was silent.

      Callie glanced toward the living room. Roger’s kids were standing just beyond the sofa, gawking at her and Ethan. Had the hushed adult conversation caught their attention, or were the children expecting a fight? Whichever it was, apparently she and Ethan were more interesting than the latest hit Japanese cartoon.

      Smiling at Angie, Callie said, “Josie has Popsicle treats. Want one?” Without waiting for an answer, she opened the freezer and pulled out two red ones—she had neither the energy nor the wits to referee a brawl right now—then she hurdled the gate and strode past Ethan to hand them to the kids. “Eat in here,” she commanded. “And watch anything you want on TV.”

      The markedly confused kids plunked down in their previous places, clicked the television on again and peeled the paper from their treats.

      Callie reclaimed her spot on the kitchen side of the gate. “Go away, Ethan. We have too much bad history. Your being here would…” Her voice trailed off when she noted her husband’s scowl.

      He stepped over the gate, rushed past Callie and caught the diaper bag just before Luke pulled it onto his head. “You have to watch babies this age,” Ethan said as he set the bag in the middle of the table. “Some of my friends have them, and they can get into a lot of trouble.”

      Another calamity averted, by quick-moving Ethan. Callie wasn’t usually so slow, except she was distracted. By Ethan, darn him. After crossing the kitchen, Callie stuck her hand in the diaper bag. She located Luke’s favorite plastic blocks and tossed them onto the kitchen floor.

      Luke ignored them, choosing instead to grasp the knees of Ethan’s jeans to pull himself up. The little devil stood on sturdy legs, opened his mouth, looked at Callie and said, “Mum-mum.”

      Not Mama exactly, but almost.

      Callie opened the freezer door and grabbed another red Popsicle. She unwrapped it and handed it to Luke, who plopped his well-padded bottom onto the floor to examine this new kind of food.

      As her little boy began to create a colossal mess on his face, hands and clothes, Callie returned her attention to Ethan. “As I was saying, we can’t be around each other.”

      “I think we’d do all right.”

      Callie shook her head. “The flood put my sister’s life in turmoil. Our bickering would make things worse. Just go.”

      “I have no intention of fighting with you, Callie.”

      “Believe me, we’d fight.” Callie caught a motion out of the corner of her eye and looked down.

      Luke was banging his goopy snack against Ethan’s shoe.

      Ethan looked, too, but he didn’t react. “Are you still that upset with me?” he asked, and offered Callie one charming dimple.

      She sighed. Her feelings for Ethan were overwhelming, especially with him just inches away, gazing at her through eyes that warmed her faster than any form of external heat.

      But anger was still somewhere in the mix.

      She nodded.

      Ethan eased his foot away from Luke. “Will you be in Kansas for a while or do you have to get back to your job?”

      “I took a leave of absence.”

      “You did?”

      “Josie and I are all the family Isabel has, Ethan. I’m not so detached that I’d stay in Denver while she’s going through something like this.”

      He nodded. “All right. Then I’ll concede for now,” he said. “I’ll try Isabel’s house again. I want to at least offer her my best wishes.”

      Callie hesitated. If Ethan went to the house alone, Isabel would refuse to talk to him. She’d follow the plan.

      But if Ethan mentioned that he’d been inside Josie’s apartment—that he’d spoken to Callie or watched the children playing—Isabel might not know how to react.

      Callie stood up straighter, as if to add oomph to her words by speaking them from a higher plane. “She’s probably at the house by now, but she’s working hard. Let’s not disturb her.”

      Ethan pulled paper towels from Josie’s countertop holder and wiped red slush from his shoe. “If she’s busy I’ll stay only a minute.”

      Callie extended her open palm. After Ethan had deposited the towel there, she held his gaze and tried to look stern. “You can’t go to the house.”

      “Sure I can.”

      “Ethaa-nn!”

      “Callie!”

      She broke the stare and walked toward the sink, intending to toss the towel into Josie’s wastebasket. On the way, she stepped in one of Luke’s slush puddles, slid on one foot and almost landed on her bottom. She gripped the counter and turned to glower at Ethan, whose expression held a glint of laughter.

      She could slap him silly.

      Or kiss him.

      Lord. How could she even think that? She should have learned her lesson when Ethan had left her.

      She had learned her lesson.

      Apparently, recognizing the wrongness of something didn’t stop her from wanting it. But she could resist. Ella Blume had raised strong daughters. And smart ones. Callie could handle this.

      Wiping her sneaker with the same paper towel Ethan had used, she scrambled to think of some indisputable reason for him to return to Wichita without seeing her sister.

      He spoke first. “Look at the bright side. This way, you won’t have to deal with me a minute longer. But you and I should talk before you head back to Colorado.”

      She tossed the towel on the counter and eyed him. “About what?”

      “The marriage,” he said, his face impassive. “We are still married.”

      Yes, they were. If Callie didn’t have an irresistibly cute, diaper-clad reason for shying away from legal proceedings, she would have divorced Ethan a long time ago. But she’d never wanted to draw his attention to her life. She’d done some checking soon after Luke’s birth, and had learned that a discussion of children showed up on most divorce documents. A couple either had minor children or didn’t, and filed papers accordingly.

      Even if she’d lied, stating that she and Ethan had no children, she’d feared that Ethan would show up in Denver for one last talk and get the surprise of his life. Now Callie resisted an urge to check on Luke, who had crawled beyond the table and chairs where she couldn’t see him.

      “I’m surprised you didn’t file for divorce,” Ethan said.

      Callie shrugged. She’d had nightmares about this day. She’d blocked reality, hoping that Ethan would follow in her father’s footsteps and disappear, still legally married but uninterested in active participation. While that might have been a pipe dream, it had worked for her mother. It had worked for Callie for almost two years.

      Why not forever?

      Ethan jangled his keys in his pocket and stepped over the baby gate. Callie couldn’t let him go to the house alone. With Isabel’s phone out of commission, she couldn’t even call to warn her sister about the slight change in plans.

      “I’ll go with you,” Callie said, searching the kitchen floor for Luke.

      “Wouldn’t