Page 86 of Deliver Me

“Hmm.”

“Mia’s pregnant,” he said into the silence that followed.

Something flashed over her face, quickly suppressed and he wondered if she was having as hard of a time processing the news as he’d had when Mia had told him.

He hadn’t been expecting it, though looking back, he probably should have been at least a little more prepared for the possibility. They had been doing the bare minimum to prevent it and Mia hadn’t seemed surprised when she’d come to him with big news and vulnerable eyes.

“Are you saying that you’re …?” he’d asked, his hand fisting in the fabric of her loose pajama shirt.

She’d nodded but her voice was wistful and uncertain. “I know we said it wasn’t something we wanted right now …”

“No,” he agreed, and his eyes were running desperately over her face, his hand tight on her hip. “Not until … You wanted to wait until you were done with school.”

“I know but—”

“And I’m still messed up,” he continued. “Mia, are you … Do you want to … Are you going to keep it?” he asked finally.

Mia’s mouth opened and then snapped closed, and he watched the wave of realization wash over as she remembered Brittany and the loss he’d experienced. “Of course,” she said, pulling him in and holding him tight as a shudder ran through him. “I know I said I wanted to wait but that doesn’t mean I’m not happy.”

“You’re happy.” He’d sighed and wrapped her up tightly in his arms.

It had been a revelation. A reprieve. Maybe even a miracle. She was already planning the time she’d need to take off from law school and the best ways to manage the competing workloads of school and parenthood once she returned.

The least he could do was finally make the trip to see his mother, put into action the plan that he’d been working on in therapy. He needed to do this, so he could be a good father.

Mia was more than happy, she was thrilled, and he knew his mother well enough to know she’d feel the same, even if she was staring at him with narrowed eyes as she contemplated his announcement. She was smart enough to connect the dots about the timing of his visit and he knew she was wrestling with her emotions.

“That’s manipulative, Gabriel.”

“Offering you access to your grandchild?” Her lips pursed and her fingers tightened on the glass she was holding and he held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, it’s manipulative,” he agreed. “Is it working?”

She ignored the question, as close to an admission as Gabriel knew he was likely to get and looked at him over the rim of her lemonade glass. “Have you married Mia?”

“Not yet. I wanted to get everything settled first, be a whole person before I asked her.”

“And when is the baby due?” she asked.

“Not until this winter.”

“Fine,” she sniffed. “Though I maintain that it’s unfair to use a grandchild against me.”

“You’ve never dealt in fairness, Mother, only in results. Besides, he’s a good therapist.”

“What’s he done for you?”

“I’m here,” Gabriel said, looking around at a house he had never planned to come back to. “And it’s helped with the anger and the anxiety and the nightmares.”

“I’m glad,” she said, and he thought she might be. It was always hard to tell with Lilah what was real and what was a careful performance, but there was an uncharacteristic softness in her eyes. She lifted a hand, and for a moment he was almost sure she was going to reach for him, but after a moment of hesitation she let it fall. “I’m glad about all of it, though I hope it doesn’t interfere with Mia’s education too much.”

“She’s been accepted to law school—more than one actually—and the timing could have been better, but we’ll handle it.” He felt a tug of worry, but it was quickly smothered by pride. There was nothing Mia couldn’t do once she set her heart on it and he would be there to help her in whatever way he could. He would be an involved father, a supportive husband. “Besides, what do you know about Mia’s education?”

She tipped her head, regal and condescending. “I wanted to make sure you were adjusting.”

“You couldn’t have kept an eye on me before?” It rankled, even now, and he suspected it always would.

“I made mistakes in your youth, ones I did not intend to repeat once you went to prison.”

“You never even wrote to me …” He trailed off, thinking hard as she stared him down over her fine china. Pieces clicked into place, the impossible odds he’d overcome somehow making more sense. “You’re the reason my conviction got thrown out.”

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