Page 104 of Nobodys Baby But Mine (Chicago Stars 3)

“I don’t want to measure time in days any longer.”

“Well, that’s the way it has to be for now.”

He wouldn’t commit, and she could no longer accept anything less. Tears pushed at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She had to bail out now, while she still retained her dignity, and she intended to do it honestly.

“I’m afraid I can’t handle this anymore, Cal. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—I know you didn’t ask me to—but that’s what happened. I seemed destined to screw up where you’re concerned.” She licked her dry lips. “I’m going back to Chicago.”

He shot up from the desk. “Like hell you are!”

“I’ll contact you after the baby’s born, but until then, I’d appreciate it if you’d communicate with me through my lawyer. I promise I won’t make things tough for you when it comes to visitation.”

“You’re running away.” He glared down at her, clearly on the attack. “You don’t have the guts to stay and work this out, so you want to run away.”

She struggled to speak calmly. “What is there to work out? You’re still going to want a divorce.”

“I’m not in any hurry.”

“But you’re still planning on it.”

“So what? We’re friends, and there’s no reason for it to turn nasty.”

Pain swelled in her chest as he confirmed what she already knew. He didn’t view their marriage as permanent. He was merely marking time. She turned away from him and walked out into the foyer.

He was beside her in an instant. A vein throbbed at his temple, and his expression was stark. She wasn’t surprised. A man like Cal didn’t take well to ultimatums.

“If you think I’m going to come running after you, you’re wrong! Once you go out that door, our marriage is over for sure. You’re out of my life, do you hear me?”

She nodded stiffly and blinked away the tears.

“I mean it, Jane!”

Without a word, she turned and walked from his house.

Cal didn’t stand around to watch her drive away. Instead, he kicked the door shut and stalked into the kitchen, where he grabbed a bottle of scotch from the pantry. For a moment he couldn’t make up his mind whether to drink it or smash it against the wall. He’d be damned before he let her push him into something he wasn’t ready for.

He wrenched off the cap and tilted the bottle to his lips. The scotch burned all the way down. If this was the way she wanted things, then fine. He dashed the back of his hand across his lips. It was about time his life got back to normal.

But instead of feeling better, he wanted to throw back his head and howl. He took another swallow and nursed his grievances against her.

He’d offered her more than he’d ever offered any woman—he’d offered her his damned friendship!—and what did she do? She threw it right back in his face just because he didn’t feel like getting down on one knee and volunteering for a life sentence picking out fucking wallpaper!

His hand clenched around the bottle. He wouldn’t give in. There were lots of women out there who were younger and prettier, women who didn’t see the need to pick fights with him over every little thing, who’d do what he said and then leave him alone. That’s what he wanted. Someone young and beautiful who’d leave him alone.

He took another swig then went into his study where he set about the business of getting seriously drunk.

Jane knew she couldn’t leave until she’d said good-bye to Annie. Neither could she give in to her grief right now, so she blinked her eyes and took big, shuddering gulps of air as she drove to the top of Heartache Mountain. Lynn’s car wasn’t in sight, and she was grateful she could say good-bye to Annie without a hostile witness.

The house looked so different from when she’d first seen it. Cal had painted it white. He’d fixed the crooked shutters and the broken step. As she entered and called out Annie’s name, she pushed away the memory of the laughter they’d shared while they’d worked.

When she reached the kitchen, she saw Annie through the screen door. She was sitting outside in the sun snapping green beans from a pottery bowl on her lap. As Jane watched the rhythmic motion of Annie’s gnarled fingers, she wanted to take the bowl from her and snap the beans herself. Bean snapping was one task that hadn’t been influenced by technology. It was performed exactly the same way now that it had been hundreds of years ago. It suddenly seemed to her that snapping those beans would bring something solid into her life, a link with all the women who had come before her, all the women throughout history who’d snapped beans and survived the heartache of men who didn’t love them back.

She bit her lip, then stepped outside. Annie turned her head. “ ’Bout time you decided to stop by.”

She sat down in the tubular lawn chair next to Annie and regarded the bowl that rested in her lap on top of a piece of newspaper to collect scraps. At that moment, its contents seemed precious and utterly necessary to her well-being. “Can I do those?”

“I don’t like waste.”

“All right.” Her hands trembled as she took the bowl. With utmost concentration, she bent her head, pulled out a bean, and carefully snapped off the ends. Apparently she didn’t take off too much because Annie didn’t criticize. She let the ends drop into her lap and focused on breaking the beans into bite-sized lengths.

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