Page 9 of Too Close To Call

I nod and nervously shift my handbag to my shoulder as we walk to our vehicles. “Yeah, but meet me at the garage.”

My hands shake as I try to fit the key into the ignition of my truck. I only have a short time to get my head together before our talk.

It’s been almost six years since the last time I saw Case. I’d just graduated from college and moved back home.

We’d spent the weekend holed up in the guest house where Case lived. Dad still had reservations, but we’d upheld our end of the bargain and we expected him to follow through with his.

Through those four years, we’d continued to keep our relationship secret and I’d graduated with a degree in business. Case had gotten down on one knee and proposed right in front of my dad. The ring he’d slid onto my finger was incredible and just what I would have picked out. It was a simple diamond solitaire in white gold. Nothing big, flashy, or ostentatious. Just a beautiful, meaningful ring I could wear daily.

We knew each other inside and out. We’d grown up together since he came to live with us when he was fifteen. I grin at the memories of our first meeting. We started out as adversaries, which turned into best friends, and then lovers with a promising future ahead of us.

The very next day, in the space of a few seconds, our world imploded. My dad was gone, and I took my grief out on Case. I am not proud of how I dealt with my dad’s death. I have needed to at least apologize to Case, but until now, he’s not been ready to hear it. He’s remained on his island, ignoring any attempt to contact him. I tried repeatedly to see him, to talk to him. Hell, I even went through his manager to get him a message.

I glance in the rearview mirror and cringe. I wish I’d at least brushed my hair and put on some lip gloss after work before I met Carina for dinner. And why didn’t I change out of my dirty jeans and t-shirt that smell of grease and tar from the track?

I pull up to the garage and park. Case pulls in behind me. I have to smile. The Z/28 he’s driving is a hot ride and so like Case.

“We can go inside. Would you like some coffee?” I say, and start for the entrance, but his stilted words stop me.

“No. Just tell me, Tori. Is she mine?” he asks, his voice riddled with emotion.

I open the side door to the garage and switch on the light. I lead him into my office, which used to be my dad’s. I’ve changed a few things. I had to with Daisy spending time here. The shelves of greasy parts have been replaced with bookcases and I added a couch and chair for when Daisy needs a nap. Then there’s Daisy’s office setup. But my desk is the same one Dad used. I couldn’t replace it.

Case stands in the doorway, just as handsome as ever, and my emotions once again play havoc with my heart. I want to run into his arms, and I want him to kiss me and make me dizzy with needing him. Just like it always was with us.

He’s wearing his thick dark hair longer than he used to, and his dark blue t-shirt makes his hazel eyes bluer. His shoulders are broader and I wonder if I run my hands over his chest if I’d feel the same ripple of abs like I used to.

I always kidded him about looking like Kit Harington fromGame of Thrones. He’d say I was a Mila Kunis ringer, but he was so wrong. I look nothing like the striking actress other than the dark hair and brown eyes. There is where the similarity ends, especially now that I’ve had a child and my body is sporting extra pounds. Nothing is as perky as it used to be, and I see myself in the mirror every morning. I know I look tired and nothing like the girl he fell in love with. Back then, I had everything I wanted at my fingertips and I lost it all.

I turn and see his eyes lowered and lingering on my backside. Did I just catch him checking my ass out? Heat rises on my cheeks as I blush. At one time, I would have come back with a snarky observation but the conversation we’re getting ready to have has been too long in coming and much too serious.

I’m nervous and I don’t know where to go. Should we stand or sit on the couch? My gaze goes to my desk. That isn’t a good option, but would give me a measure of separation.

“Let’s sit down,” I offer, and sink onto the brown leather couch. Carina and Daisy wanted a white one. In a garage? I vetoed that selection.

I wait until Case lowers onto the chair, opting not to go for the couch. Everything I need to say suddenly leaves my brain. When I glance up, Case is staring at me and all I can see is the man who took a knee and asked me to marry him. There had been such love and devotion in his eyes then. Not anymore. Now there is only suspicion and anger on his face. With a breath to calm my racing heart, I say, “I’m sorry, Case. I know what you are thinking, but you’re wrong. Daisy isn’t your child.”

His forehead creases and his expression turns furious. “She said she’s five. I’m not an idiot, Tori. I can count.”

Slowly, I nod. I knew this day would come. “Why didn’t you answer my calls or reply to my texts?”

“Is that why you were trying to get in touch with me? To tell me I was going to be a father?” he asks with a disbelieving glare.

Before I respond, I take another calming breath, but still my voice breaks. I wish more than anything that Daisy was our child. “No. I was trying to get in touch with you to explain…so many things. I wanted to apologize and tell you about Dad and explain about Daisy. Case, Daisy is not your child.”

“Come on, Tori. Don’t lie. The timing is right. Was it from the last weekend we spent together?”

He’s looking at me with such contempt that my eyes begin to water and I’m not the girl that cries. I know what I’m about to say is going to hurt. I sit forward and scrub my hands down my face. There’s just no easy way.

“Do you really think I would keep your child from you? If Daisy had been yours, I would have moved heaven and earth to get to you.” My voice falters and I can tell he’s unmoved by my plea. “I have so much to say to you, but I need to know why you never answered me. Why, Case? I even came to see you.”

His lips press together and his fists tighten against the armrest of the chair. I don’t expect the harshness of his reply.

“I did exactly what you told me to do. You said to get out of your life and you never wanted to see me again!” he yells, his voice echoing in the empty space.”

Slumping back on the couch cushion, I deflate. I had said mean and hurtful things—and meant none of them. “Case, you’ll never know how sorry I am. I’m sorry for saying what I did and I’m sorry for accusing you of killing my father.”

His chin tips and he snaps, “But it’s true. I did kill him.”

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