Page 85 of Knocked Up in Alaska

“Don’t worry about that,” Bridget said. “We aren’t looking to return or exchange.”

Once the woman retreated, Bridget stepped closer. “You told us Shay didn’t know about this one.” She stroked a finger over Shayla’s baby-soft hair. “But he did know, didn’t he?”

“I—” She couldn’t get any words out around the lump in her throat.

“He knew,” Bridget went on. “So he came here after his passenger run that morning, ordered, and paid for these rings.” She picked up the band, held it at eye level so they could both see the smooth gold along the inside, where the name Delilah appeared in graceful, flowing script. “And arranged to have the band engraved for the mother of his child.” She put the ring down and offered a small, surprisingly compassionate smile. “Why did you tell us he didn’t know about the baby? Why the lie, Lilah? You’re the most honest person I know.”

The baby in question chose that moment to stretch her little limbs and snuffle her way to wakefulness.

“Because I shouldn’t have told him. Not like I did.” The words came out like a deathbed confession, all choked and halting. “I told him that morning. I knew he had to fly, but I didn’t think about that. When I stared at that test, I only thought about me—my life, my mother, my panic. I didn’t spare a single thought for him. I went directly to your house and dumped it on him. Let him hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. Then I drove off, let him get in the cockpit and go. And I felt so relieved. Relieved. And he…he…”

“He crashed,” Bridget finished for her and put the rings back in the box.

Shayla started to fuss. No wonder. The mommy she was strapped to couldn’t stop shaking. She wrapped her arms around the baby and did her best to gently bounce her so the shaking wouldn’t seem so obvious. Keeping her voice low, she answered, “He died. If I’d just waited. Waited until he’d completed his run and we had time to sit down and talk about the situation, let it settle, and shrink a little, so it didn’t seem so overwhelming. A few lousy hours wouldn’t have killed me, but…” She buried her face against Shayla’s head. “It killed him.”

Bridget sighed. “Oh, Lilah. I was afraid of this.”

“I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t help, it doesn’t change anything, but—”

“No. Stop that. That’s not what I meant.” Bridget’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “I was afraid guilt caused you to lie.”

She looked up to see her friend scrub her hands over her face and let out a hollow laugh. “I should have figured it out long before I finally spoke with the store and learned he’d bought you rings.” She punctuated that statement with another sigh before turning her attention to Lilah. “So, look, Shay’s death…well…it did a number on all of us. Maybe that’s common when someone dies young, or suddenly on account of an accident, but you’re not the only one who hid an ugly tangle of guilt over Shay’s death. Trace second-guessed his fitness to run the airfield after Shay died—second-guessed himself to the point he nearly sold out and walked away—because Shay had cornered him that morning and asked him to get someone else to make the run. Trace was tired of his last-minute asks and told him no. So, of course”—she threw up her hands—“it was his fault Shay died.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Bridget tipped her head. “Is it?”

“Yes. Of course it is. Trace expected him to do his job. That’s understandable. He couldn’t know what was going to happen…”

“That’s true. He couldn’t know any more than I could have known when Shay called me that morning and asked me to do the run for him, because he”—Bridget made air quotes—“‘had someone he needed to talk to,’ and I told him to fuck off because I was too busy with a Watkins nephew right then to feel like covering for him. And then I couldn’t get intimate with anyone for months because I felt so damn guilty for blowing him off.”

Lilah gaped at her. “That’s stupid and unfounded. You don’t have a crystal ball any more than Trace does.”

“My guilt was no more stupid and unfounded than yours.”

Illogical as it might be, she took offense at Bridget calling her guilt stupid and unfounded. “Did you not hear what I just told you? I was selfish and reckless, and Shay paid the price. Clearly, he knew he shouldn’t take the run because he tried to get out of it, but—”

“No, don’t even go there. If he’d come to either Trace or me and said he needed one of us to take the run because he wasn’t fit to fly, we would have done it in a heartbeat. But he didn’t. He told us true. He wanted someone else to take the run so he could talk things out with you. You blame yourself for going to him that morning. You call it selfish and reckless. Let me point out Shay was the crown prince of selfish and reckless, and he took flying by the seat of his pants to a whole new level. He thrived on the unexpected, so torturing yourself for handing him some unexpected news before he jumped into the cockpit is stupid. Especially now”—she tapped the ring box—“when you have tangible proof that he knew exactly how he wanted to handle things. He wanted you to feel secure, taken care of. He wanted you. Both of you.” She tapped the box again. “Is this the gesture of a man running scared?”

“No,” she said softly, almost afraid to admit it. Shayla gurgled “Ooooh,” as if to agree.

Bridget must have thought so, too, because she smiled and repeated, “Noooo. No, it’s not. So let’s put our stupid and unfounded guilt aside once and for all. Shay died because of an unlucky combination of a sudden downdraft and thick fog, possibly compounded by his tendency to trust his gut over his instrument panel. It wasn’t Trace’s fault, and he didn’t need to sell his share of the airfield and step away from the business he loves as penance. It wasn’t my fault, and I didn’t need to swear off sex for the rest of my life as penance—a fact for which I—and I’m sure Archer—remain eternally grateful. And you”—she pointed at Lilah—“don’t need to deprive yourself of the security Shay wanted you to have. These rings show you what he wanted. He wanted to be your partner in this. He wanted to bring what he had to the partnership. Death denied him the chance to get it all in place on his own. Give him this second chance.”

When Bridget put it like that, she felt…almost felt…morally obligated to take what she and Trace offered, but there was one more uncomfortable truth to face.

“Bridget, I don’t know the right thing to do. If Shay had made it back to Captivity that day and offered me that ring once it was ready, I probably would have accepted it. I loved him, and I think he loved me. We weren’t in love, if you know what I mean, but we had love and trust and maybe we could have made it work. But now?” She shook her head. “Now, I could never put those rings on. I feel terrible, but it’s the God’s honest truth.”

Her friend only smiled. Smiled wide, actually. “Of course you couldn’t now. You’re in love with Ford, and that’s okay. It’s fucking awesome…shit…I’m trying not to swear in front of her. It’s awesome.”

The words, and Bridget’s matter-of-fact delivery, sort of smacked her upside the head. Was she in love with Ford? What she felt for him definitely went deeper than affection, trust, and lust. God, yes, she loved him. Whether that was awesome or not remained to be seen, since he never expressed his own feelings beyond not wanting to take advantage of her, which, in love with him or not, made her want to smack him upside the head.

Bridget perhaps mistook her silence for more guilt, because she pushed away from the counter and straightened. “Life goes on, Lilah. Shay’s gone, and it’s normal for you to move on. Your feelings for Ford came after, but they shouldn’t erase Shay from the picture. He wouldn’t want that. Think about Ford. He provided for Mia even when he didn’t expect to have a role in her life. Hell, he didn’t expect her to even know he existed. Shayla’s obviously going to know Shay existed. She’ll know he was her birth father. He wanted to provide for her…and for you. You won’t deny him that, will you?”

For what felt like the millionth time since that night at the Shanahan house, emotions squeezed her throat. She shook her head, then laughed when Shayla proudly and loudly yelled, “Ooooo!”

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Bridget quipped and crossed her arms. “Don’t argue with her, and don’t argue with me.”

Through tears, she reached over and hugged her friend. “I wouldn’t dare,” she whispered.

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