Without another word, she turned and strode away from him and out through the door. Wyatt stared after her through the glass windows, watching the way her hair bounced as she walked, suddenly mesmerized by the stiffness in her shoulders and the gentle sway of her hips.
He only let out a breath once she got into her car and drove off. Wyatt grabbed the folder and closed it. Nothing in the report had prepared him for that exchange. He’d expected … what? That she’d be so grateful to reconnect with Cecily she wouldn’t put up any kind of resistance? That she’d be compliant and agreeable to everything he suggested or wanted? Right now he didn’t know what to think. Had he scared her off? Did she actually want to meet Cecily? Fiona Walsh had gumption and he liked that about her. She wasn’t a pushover. She was strong. He’d give her some time to settle into the idea, and then he knew he had to ask her straight out if she wanted to meet Cecily. Wyatt pulled his cell from his pocket. Glynis picked up on the third ring.
“Change of plans,” he said.
“Which means?” his assistant asked.
“Cancel my flight for tomorrow.”
There was a moment’s silence. “I see. Do I rebook?”
“I’ll let you know.”
Glynis tutted. “How long are you staying?”
Until I fix this. “I’m not sure,” he said and ended the call.
Fiona couldn’t drag herself to work the following morning and called in sick. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. She did feel genuinely unwell. Her head ached. Her heart ached. She never took time off. She kept herself in good health and loved her teaching job.
I just can’t face all those happy little faces today.
She blamed Wyatt Harper for it, of course. Since he’d entered her life, she’d become an emotional mess. Crying … for Pete’s sake, she never cried. When she opened the front door to Callie that afternoon, it took all her strength to not collapse in a heap at the other woman’s feet.
“I was worried when the kids said you weren’t at school today,” she explained as she crossed through the door. “With good reason by the look of things.”
Fiona sniffed and pushed up the sleeves of her dressing gown. “I’m sick.”
Callie’s perfect brows rose sharply. “Try again. And this time include what it has to do with that tall drink of water you were talking with yesterday.”
Fiona hesitated for a microsecond. But this was Callie, her best friend and one of the few people she trusted, and the only person she’d told about her teenage pregnancy. “Remember how I told you I had baby when I was fifteen?”
Callie’s eyes popped wide. “Absolutely.”
Fiona quickly explained how she’d agreed to a closed adoption and who Wyatt Harper was.
“Are you sure he’s telling the truth?” Callie asked once they were settled on the sofa, each with a coffee cup between their hands.
“Yes. He has Cecily’s birth certificate and he says she looks just like me.”
Callie looked at her over the rim of her cup. “Did you ask to see a picture?”
Fiona shook her head. “No … I wasn’t sure I could bear seeing her photograph. In case I never get to see her for real. Does that make sense?”
Her friend nodded gently. “So what are you going to do about it?”
Fiona shrugged. “I’m not sure. That’s to say, I’m not sure what he’s going to do about it.”
“You have rights,” Callie said. “She’s your child.”
“A child I gave away. Wyatt Harper is the one with all the rights. He’s her legal guardian. He’s who her parents entrusted to care for her.”
“But you said she doesn’t live with him?”
“She lives mostly with her grandparents. But from what he said, I’m guessing they’re a close-knit bunch. He runs the family business, and his parents are retired, so they’d have more time to look after her. His younger sister lives there also.”
“Must be a big house.”
“It’s a hundred-acre property,” she explained. “His father runs a small herd of Wagyu cattle—his mother dabbles in showing orchids. They’re squeaky-clean and look like the perfect family.”
“And he’s what, thirtysomething and single and now a part-time parent to a teenage girl?” Callie rolled her big eyes. “Nothing is that perfect.”
“He seems like one of those annoyingly self-sufficient men who can handle everything. I’m sure one little teenager wouldn’t bring him down.”
Callie smiled. “He is very nice-looking. Not that you’d ever be swayed by a handsome face.”
“Er … no.”
“Maybe you should see a lawyer?” Callie suggested. “I mean, he hasn’t contacted you since yesterday—for all you know he’s gone back to Sydney.”
“I don’t think so. He wanted something and he didn’t get it. I don’t think he’s the kind of man who retreats easily, and I didn’t exactly leave him on friendly terms.” She smiled when she saw her friend’s look. “Yeah, I lost my temper.”
Callie’s expression softened. “So, how do you feel about it? I mean, how do you feel about reconnecting with your daughter after so long?”
Fiona sucked in some air. “Confused and shocked. I always had hope but I tried not to get swept away with the idea of meeting her one day. It was too painful. But now it’s a reality … and I’m scared. Because I’m still the person who gave her away.” She expelled a heavy breath. “What must she think of me?”
Callie made a reassuring sound. “You were young—not much older than she is now. She’ll understand once you explain. She’s come looking for you, Fiona. That’s a positive sign.”
Fiona hoped so. But she had doubts. Reservations. What if Cecily didn’t understand? What if all their reconnecting did was to upset her daughter? She didn’t want that. Cecily had lost her parents, and Fiona didn’t want to do anything that might add to her pain.
When her friend left about ten minutes later, Fiona, tired of looking like a washed-out rag, took a long shower. Once done, she finger-combed her hair, changed into comfy sweats and fed the dog. She had some assignments to grade and curled up on the sofa with her work and a fresh mug of coffee. She was about halfway through her pile of papers when Muffin started growling and rushed toward the front door after the bell rang.
When she pulled the door back, she found Wyatt Harper standing on the other side of the screen.
“Hello,” he said casually, belying the sudden awareness that swirled between them.
She stepped back on her heels and ignored the way her heart seemed to be beating a little faster than usual. “What do you want?”
He held up a bag. “Dinner.”
“I don’t think—”
“For three,” he said, cutting her off. “In case you have company.”
“I’m alone,” she said as her suspicions soared. “And I’m not hungry.”
He raised both brows. “Are you sure?”
Fiona fought the impulse to close the door. She didn’t want to be nice to him. But she wanted to know more about her daughter, and he was the key.
“You can come in.” She stood to the side and allowed him to cross the threshold.
He wore beige cargoes