Because he didn’t know how.
His parents hadn’t given him the emotional tools to be successful in a romantic partnership. His father had ruthlessly controlled all feelings good and bad, preferring to navigate through life’s up and downs with logic. Kyle’s mother on the other hand was a fearful, anxious woman who loved her son almost too much. Trapped between an emotional storm and an impassive granite wall, Kyle had stopped expressing how he felt and let everyone think he was okay all the time.
His teammates in school and then in the major leagues called him the Iceman because he was always chill. But it was a mask, not a true representation of how he felt. No matter how relaxed and unaffected he looked, inside he seethed with doubt, desire and sometimes disappointment.
But thanks to his father’s tutelage, Kyle’s first reaction to everything life threw at him was to slide on his aviator sunglasses and summon an enigmatic smile. No matter what the stakes, how bad the loss or how well he pitched, he was the Iceman. Even after his first no-hitter, he’d given only a sly smile to the mass of reporters who’d come to interview him in the aftermath.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Kyle said and meant it, but he knew he didn’t always behave the way she needed him to.
Sometimes it was as if what made him so happy in their relationship was the exact thing that caused him to regress back to the self-protective behaviors he learned in childhood. He retreated from strong emotion instead of owning it. These last few months since he’d thought he lost her to Hunter had been some of the worst of his life.
Instead of reaching out and telling her how afraid he was to lose her, he’d shoved down his fears and made it seem as if he was okay. But he wasn’t okay. In fact, he was a mess, which was why he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion about her feelings for Hunter.
While Melody checked in with the receptionist, Kyle glanced around the waiting area, seeing women in various stages of pregnancy. This was really happening. He was going to be a father. Time to step up and take care of the mother of his child. Whatever that meant.
“I think we should get married,” he said as she took a seat beside him.
Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all. It makes sense. I don’t want to be a part-time father and we are good together.”
“Good together?” She looked at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “We’ve barely spoken to each other these last few months. Neither one of us is very good at communicating how we feel.” Like Kyle had, she regarded the other expectant mothers in their various stages of pregnancy. “I don’t think we’re ready for marriage.”
Although her answer frustrated him, Kyle reminded himself that it wasn’t always going to be like this between them. He would find a way to make things all right again.
“So we work on our communication,” he said, hoping she grasped how determined he was to make things work.
“How are we going to do that?”
“We’ll go see a couples counselor. Someone who can teach us how to express ourselves in a positive way.”
Her stiff posture highlighted her discomfort. “I don’t know.”
“Look,” he said. “We might have been able to walk away months ago, but things have changed. And I’d like to point out that while we’ve hit a rough patch, I don’t see either one of us calling it quits.” He chose to ignore that not ten minutes earlier she’d suggested they break up.
“I agree we should make an effort to be friends again for the sake of the baby.” She looked flustered and unsure what she planned to say next. “But marriage is a huge leap.”
“Let’s table that for now.” Now that he’d suggested they marry, he was convinced it was the best idea. He didn’t want to be his child’s part-time father. “We’ll have dinner tonight and talk about it.”
She shifted on the cushioned chair as if it was made of hard plastic. “I can’t tonight. I’m working late. Nate has given me until the fifth of December to finish my album.”
“Good for him. You’ve been working on it on and off for a year. I know you’re a perfectionist, but at some point you have to let it go.”
And maybe then he’d be able to refocus some of her attention on their struggling relationship. He knew her music was important to her, but there had to be a way for her to be a success in her career and still have room for her personal life.
“I know, but it’s my first album and I want everything to be the best it can.”
He understood her quest for perfection. As a teenager he’d spent hours learning how to place a pitch over the center of the plate. The familiar repetition of wind up and throw allowed him to forget his troubles and focus on the here and now. Watching Melody get lost in her songwriting process, he’d recognized the same need to make something flawless and beautiful.
“And yet you won’t know how good it is,” he said, reaching for her hand, offering her both support and encouragement, “until you put it out there.”
She squeezed his fingers and gave a little laugh. “Or how much people are going to hate it.”
“Stop channeling your father. If the man knew good talent when he heard it, he wouldn’t have run his label into the ground.”
“You’re right, but it’s hard to ignore all the times he told me to stick with the violin because I didn’t have what it took to be a songwriter or a singer.”
Kyle wondered what it would take for her to believe she deserved to be successful. He’d tried to reassure her, but often felt as if she couldn’t accept his uplifting words because he didn’t have any musical cred.
“And yet you’ve proved him wrong so many times,” he reminded her. “This album is going to do great. You’ll see.”
“You’ve always supported me and I really appreciate it.”
The warmth in her eyes aroused a pang of longing so acute he almost couldn’t breathe. Damn. He missed her.
“Melody?” A blonde woman in pale blue scrubs appeared in the doorway.
Melody practically sprang to her feet and shot him a worried look. “Are you ready for this?”
Kyle gave her a reassuring smile as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Absolutely.”
* * *
Melody followed the nurse into the patient room. Kyle’s broad shoulders and strong presence filled the small space. He sat beside her in attentive silence while the nurse took her blood pressure, frowning over its elevated status, and asked routine questions. She answered automatically, trying to ignore the doubts that flickered on the edge of her awareness brought on by his shocking proposal.
What was he thinking to ask her to marry him without forethought or fanfare? Not that she needed a whole huge production made out of getting engaged, but it would’ve been nice to be proposed to in a romantic setting by a man who adored her instead of in a clinical setting by a man who just learned the day before that he was going to be a father.
I think we should get married.
His blunt declaration had been more practical suggestion than impassioned plea. Once the shock faded, her first impulse had been to hit him. How dare he presume she would agree to marry him because she was pregnant? And then tears had threatened and she’d had to grip the edge of her chair to keep from bawling her eyes out in reception.
“Your blood pressure is a little high,” the nurse said, glancing at her with a thoughtful look.
“I’m nervous about the ultrasound,” she lied. It was the conversation with Kyle that had