Missy was Emma’s secretary/assistant/friend who’d recently come through a horrible divorce from an even worse man and was trying to get back on her feet. She never felt as though she was doing enough to repay Emma for helping her, so she was always looking for extra duties and frequently offered to watch Amanda Jane. They were friends, and Missy never tried to correct Amanda Jane when she wanted her dolls to be firemen rather than beauty queens.
Gina agreed and hung up.
Then it hit her. This was happening. This was real.
That sounded so stupid when she stopped to think about it, but when she’d signed the paperwork to set all of this in motion, it had seemed like some diaphanous thing that wouldn’t have any more impact on her life than a changing breeze.
But it would.
It had.
She thought about him at that corner table in the Bullhorn. The restaurant she’d worked at since she was fourteen.
Gina remembered him coming in for scraps, hungry and tired. She’d snuck him the leftovers as best she could. Until the Old Man had caught her. Then she’d washed his car to pay for them. But that hadn’t mattered back then.
She smiled, thinking about how horrified Reed had been when he found out she’d had to pay for what he’d eaten and how he’d asked the Old Man for a job himself. And he’d done really well for about two years.
Until the drugs.
Her smile melted into a frown.
Gina wasn’t ready for this.
Amanda Jane looked up at her. “Gina-bee?”
She inhaled carefully, filling her lungs slowly, feeling them expand, and when she exhaled she tried to push all of her fear out with her breath. “You want to go visit Miss Emma?”
“Okay.” The girl cocked her head to the side. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m nervous.”
“About what?”
She didn’t want to tell her, but Gina didn’t really have a choice. Reed would want to see her. “About you meeting your daddy.”
Her eyes widened. “He wants to meet me?”
“I’m sure he will.”
“What if he doesn’t like me?” Her voice was suddenly as small as she was.
“Of course he’ll like you. What if you don’t like him?” Gina tapped her nose with the tip of her finger and Amanda Jane giggled. “Actually, I’m sure you’ll like each other fine.”
“What if we don’t?”
“What if you do?” She grinned. “Get ready. Bring your travel bag.”
Amanda Jane scurried off to do as Gina had told her. Sometimes Gina wished she could bottle that excess energy and borrow a little now and then. She yawned.
Soon, she wouldn’t have to work two jobs and go to school. She could just be with Amanda Jane and study.
The idea was so foreign...
And it wouldn’t just be with Amanda Jane, either.
It would be with Reed, as well.
She’d be his wife.
They’d been friends once, but she imagined this would be a cold marriage. One of separate rooms, separate lives.
This wasn’t at all what she’d imagined for herself. She thought someday, she’d find someone to love. Someone who’d love her.
She supposed she had that, only in a different way. She had Amanda Jane. This was about her, not Gina. She could do this for her.
REED PANICKED.
Amanda Jane was his daughter.
What did he know about being a father? Nothing.
Reed had been so sure that when the paternity results came back before the hearing, it would solidify the foundations of his world, but instead, it had shattered them.
Not because he didn’t want Amanda Jane, but because he did. This was his secret hope and desire—part of it, anyway. Before things had gotten bad, he’d dreamed of a world where he had a family, a real family. Not just someone who got a check every month because she’d managed to bring him squalling into the world. Someone who loved him, wanted him for who he was.
But Gina wasn’t it. Maybe Amanda Jane was. Gina only wanted his money, and while he couldn’t blame her, it cut him. Because in his pretty fantasy world, Gina had been by his side.
His fingers curled into fists and he took a deep breath.
Why had he said he wanted to meet with Gina and her lawyer tonight?
Probably because he knew that he’d do this to himself. The sooner everything was set in stone, the harder it would be for him to screw it up.
He could do this.
He had to do this.
Reed changed into another suit and tie, the raiment almost like an armor. The expensive clothes shielded him from so many things, kept the boy who still feared he wasn’t good enough safe inside that money-green shell.
He met Gray in front of Emma’s office. A few kids sat on a park bench outside of the theater waiting for a ride, and the Corner Pharmacy’s light had just flickered off. Several couples filed out carrying to-go cups with their signature Green River—a soft drink much like a lime soda.
It was such a pretty veneer, this small town with its quaint bed-and-breakfasts, brick sidewalks and cheery Americana. He remembered how much he used to hate it. It had taken on some goliath proportions in his mind. He’d blamed the town itself for his predicament, as if it had been the town that had pushed him and his mother to the outside.
Not her own actions.
Or his.
Standing there, he realized that Gina had it just as bad as he had, but instead of letting that push her to the margins, she’d dug in her heels and made a place for herself.
A home.
He wanted that for himself and for Amanda Jane.
Reed exhaled heavily. He knew he’d do anything to have that, and to make sure Amanda Jane kept it.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, man.” Gray shook his head. “It’s like you were standing there lost in it.”
“I think maybe I was.”
“I can’t believe you grew up here.”
“Not in this part of town.” Reed managed a half smile.
“It must be cathartic to come back here and be able to buy the whole town if you chose.”
Reed considered. “I thought it would be, but it’s not. There’s something about Glory that can’t be bought. The people here, the town itself, has to give it to you.”
Gray arched a brow. “Yeah, I think I’ll stick with the big city, thanks.”
“Wait until you have some of the apple pie. You might change your mind,” Reed teased.
“Apple pie. That’s exactly what this place is like. Everywhere I look, it’s all wholesome sweetness. It doesn’t seem real.”
“It is and it isn’t.” Reed shrugged. “People here still have their problems. Everyone does. But they choose to insulate themselves with community.”
And that was what he’d hated most as a kid, that he was part of what they’d