The Baby Battle (12 page)

“While you were pregnant?” Steph asked, freezing with a bite of sweet and sour pork midway to her mouth.

“Could we please focus on Olivia? Dane and I are old news.”

Olivia said, “I’d just as soon focus on my fried wontons.”

“Comfort food is all well and good,” Steph pointed out, “but at a time like this, you also need a plan.”

“For what? Tag and I have already decided to raise Flynn jointly. If I go back on that plan, it will mean losing my child fifty percent of his life. I’m not prepared to do that.”

“You really think it could come to that?”

“What other solution is there? I mean, things were going so great between us, I really thought we had a chance at the whole happily-ever-after ending, but after Tag’s meltdown, it’s a no-brainer that we aren’t meant to be.”

“But you share a child,” Gabby, the Pollyanna of the bunch, whined. “Can’t you at least try working things out?”

“Like you did with Ben?” Olivia hated hitting her friend below the belt, but Ben was the biological father of Gabby’s son, yet Dane was the man raising him. Families all around the world worked in unconventional ways. To stay with her son, Olivia was prepared to do whatever it took to mollify Tag—even if that meant convincing him that she’d never been attracted to him. Just tipsy on a great bottle of wine.

“That hurt,” Gabby said, “but I guess I had it coming.
The difference is that from what you’ve said, Tag’s the total package.”

Olivia nearly choked on a spoonful of hot and sour soup. “If by total you mean that Tag comes complete with the ghost of his dead wife, then, yeah, he’s about as complete as it gets.”

“Can we at least try being civil until after my brothers leave?” Tag asked, standing on the threshold to Liv’s room. Since their fight, she rarely came out. As soon as she got home from work, she and Flynn did their thing and Tag did his. The tension was unbearable. But then again, so were the flashbacks of what had happened between them in the hot tub.

Not bothering to rise from her bed where she was stretched out, showing a picture book to Flynn, she said, “Why don’t you take our son, show him off, and I’ll stay up here. That way, I won’t embarrass you.”

Lips pressed tight, Tag counted to ten in his head. Lord help him, this woman would be the death of him. “You could never embarrass me, Liv. I know you must feel like everything’s changed between us, but nothing has. I still think of you as one of my closest friends. More than anything, I want you to meet my brothers. They’ll love you as much as I do.”

“Love me?” She laughed.

“Why is that funny?”

“If you can’t figure it out,” she said, “I’m sure not going to tell you.”

Trying to ignore the muscle ticking in his jaw, he asked, “Is that a dig about me not wanting to be with you? You know, in
that
way?”

“No, Tag. Just leave me alone, all right? You wanted us to lead separate lives, and now you’ve got it.”

“That was never what I wanted. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“Am I? Let’s go over—”

The door chimes rang.

Tag stared at her. His son. The two of them were beautiful. And he missed them with a physical ache in his chest that lately seemed to be getting worse instead of better. Why couldn’t she accept the fact that, as friends, they could have it all? They didn’t need anything more than that.

She might not need it, but did she deserve it?
All of him? Probably, but he’d already given himself to another woman, meaning he had nothing left to give.

“I have to get that,” he said, hitching his thumb toward the stairs. “May I take Flynn?”

“Be my guest.”

“I’d prefer it if you came with me. My brothers really want to meet you.”

“I might be down in a while,” she said, a cold edge to her normally warm voice. “There are things I have to do.”

He wanted to ask what was more important than being
introduced to his family, but the door chimes rang again. She was holding out Flynn but refusing to meet his stare, and the timing just didn’t seem right.

O
NCE
T
AG HAD LEFT
with Flynn, Olivia closed her bedroom door and indulged in a good, hard cry.

She hadn’t used to be the crying type, but the more time she spent in this home, the more that was starting to change. From downstairs rose the sounds and smells of an O’Malley family gathering in full swing. Cheers whenever the St. Louis Cardinals scored. The sweet smell of wood smoke from the smoker that Tag had started early that morning.

The thought of how differently their lives could be served as added torture.

When almost an hour later a knock sounded on her door, Olivia had nearly managed to drift off to sleep, but woke with a start.

“What do you want?” she called out to Tag.

The door opened, and in walked a petite, pretty version of Tag. With her big brown eyes, long dark hair and an easy smile it was eerie how much alike the two were. The woman carried Flynn.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said. “Tag told us you’re under the weather. But I’m Tag’s sister, Fiona, and I’ve been dying to meet the woman who dragged him out of mourning.”

Olivia was so caught off guard by not only the woman’s surprise appearance but her words that she sat up
abruptly enough to bring on a headache. Clutching her forehead, she winced through the momentary pain.

“I’ve come at a bad time,” the woman said. “Flynn needed a diaper change and Tag told me you wouldn’t mind if I popped in to change it.”

“Let me,” Olivia said, out of bed and tidying her hair. Crossing the room, she reached out for her child. “Hey, sweetie. I missed you.” And she had. The time without him had been short, though, compared to how often she’d lose him were she to move back into her own home.

“He’s perfect,” Tag’s sister said, hovering behind Olivia while she tackled the diaper. “My husband, Craig, and I have naughty twin girls who are off on a Scouting trip. They’re nine going on twenty-nine.”

Olivia wasn’t sure how to respond, so she flashed as warm a smile as she could muster. In the short time it took to finish diapering Flynn, nothing was said. For Olivia, the tension was bordering on unbearable. What had Tag told this woman about her? While Olivia had gotten along well with Tag and Fiona’s parents, that had been before the night that had torn them apart. She hadn’t a clue as to how they now felt about her.

“I’ve never been known for my tact,” Fiona said, “so I’m going to come right out with it. Before learning of you and Flynn, Tag reminded us of the walking dead. He went through the motions of life, but that was about the extent of it. Since being with the two of you, he’s come alive. Thank you for that.”

Obviously Tag was putting on a great front when it
came to the current state of their relations. “Other than telling you that I’m lying up here on my deathbed, Tag hasn’t told you anything?”

Eyes narrowed, Fiona cocked her head. “By
anything
, I’m assuming his sunshine-and-roses routine is for our benefit?”

Cradling Flynn, Olivia made a split-second decision to take a chance. “If you have time, would you mind talking with me for a bit?” She gestured to the cozy sitting area nestled into a bay window.

“Sure.”

Once they were both seated and Olivia had Flynn cradled against her for strength, she said, “I don’t know how to put this delicately, so I’m going to come right out and say it. Your brother’s regressed.”

Fiona leaned forward. “What does that mean?”

Smoothing Flynn’s hair, Olivia chose her next words carefully. “I’ve also had a rocky past. Before meeting Tag, I didn’t believe it was possible to have a second shot at the whole happy ending. Up to a week ago, I had never—and I’m talking in my whole life—been more content, but…”

Groaning, Fiona said, “Say no more. You got too close and Tag spooked?”

“That pretty much sums it up.”

“Mom and I have worried about something like this.”

“You’ve actually discussed me?” A hot wave of embarrassment shot through her.

“More like praised you and dissed my brother. We all loved Maria, but in Flynn—and you—Tag’s been given a second chance at having the family he’s always dreamed of, and he’s pissing it away.”

Olivia blanched at Fiona’s choice of words.

“Sorry. I was raised on the oil fields.”

“T-that’s okay.”

“All right,” Tag’s sister said, fingers at her temples, “I’ve got to come up with a plan. Think, Fiona, think.”

“I, um, appreciate your effort, but Tag’s a lost cause.” If Flynn and their one beautiful night and all the lovely moments in between hadn’t jolted him out of the past, nothing would.

“Please don’t give up on him,” Fiona implored.

“I don’t see what else I can do. Tag’s already given up on himself.”

“I
MISSED YOU
this afternoon,” Tag said, watching Liv raid the fridge late that night—no doubt because she thought he was already in bed. “You said you’d come down to meet everybody.”

“Sorry.” She had a plastic container of barbecued ribs in one hand and a baggie of corn on the cob in the other. She used her butt to nudge the door closed. “I got caught up in researching case law.”

Once she’d set everything on the counter, he got out a stick of butter and set it alongside her corn.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” To say this formality made him
want to scream was putting it mildly. The two of them used to have such fun. For the life of him, he failed to see how one mistake had fundamentally changed everything between them. “Flynn was a big hit.”

“That’s nice.” She’d taken a plate from the cabinet, and now set out her food to nuke.

“Liv…” He sighed. “What do I need to do to make things the way they used to be?”

“Not possible.” She put her plate in the microwave and set it for two minutes.

“Why?” He stepped up behind her, wanting to touch her, but holding back. “I’ve apologized. I explained why I can’t offer you more than deep friendship. When we first started this…I don’t know…
venture,
for lack of a better word, you told me you weren’t in the market for another man. I believed you.”

“That makes us even,” she said, her words laced with sadness. “Because until you started holding me, and kissing me, and making love to me, I believed you weren’t even interested in me. It wasn’t until you started sending signals that we might become something more than casual friends that I even considered it. But you know what? Once I did, it made sense. We…make sense. The only thing that doesn’t is your superhuman grip on the past.”

The microwave beeped.

Not sure how he was supposed to respond, especially since she’d made some valid points, he avoided the issue by removing her plate from the microwave.

When he grabbed it, the china was hotter than he’d expected, and the shock made him loosen his grip. The plate, ribs and corn cascaded to the floor, resulting in a greasy mess. “Damn.”

“I’ll clean it up,” she said, already kneeling.

“Let me,” he ordered. “I don’t want you getting cut.”

“Right.” She shook her head. “You don’t mind hurting me emotionally, but a cut finger would be a big tragedy.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” he said, using paper towels to scoop the food. “I genuinely care about you.”

“And I genuinely appreciate having the same position in your life as a cherished collectible or piece of pricey art. I’m something nice to look at, but never touch.”

“Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?” He threw the dripping wad in the trash.

“Interesting word choice,” she said, wetting a dishrag at the sink, then washing the floor. “Your sister accused you of pissing your life away. Guess that kind of talk runs in the family.”

“Leave my sister out of it.” He, too, grabbed a wet rag and began scouring the floor for stray bits of glass. “This doesn’t concern her.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Your family loves you, Tag. They’re tired of never having all of you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m tired of them butting into my business. With Flynn, I’m feeling bloody fantastic.”

“So what you’re basically saying is that if only I were out of the picture, your life would be perfect?”

He sat back his heels. It took every ounce of patience left in him not to rail.
“News flash,”
he said, mocking her earlier usage of the word, “but I’ve been under the impression that my life was perfect. You’re the one giving me the cold shoulder.”

“That’s right, Tag…” She opened the pantry and removed a granola bar and box of crackers. “Just keep burying your head in the sand and everything will work out fine.”

“You’re some piece of work,” he hollered after her when she left the kitchen and started up the stairs. He wanted to shout more, but she’d already slammed the door to her room.

A
T LUNCH WITH HER FRIENDS
on Tuesday at Farelli’s Pizza, Olivia took the cheesiest piece of pepperoni and crammed it into her mouth. It might not have been ladylike, but nothing medicated hurt feelings quite like mozzarella. The canned accordion music wasn’t conducive to peace, but it set a swift pace to eat by so she wouldn’t be late getting back to her office.

“Has it been any better between you and Tag?” Gabby asked, taking minibites of pasta with pesto. She’d been on a diet for the past two weeks, but had gained three pounds. Looked as if now she was getting more serious.

“Define better.” Mmm…the cheese was so good.

Steph said, “We want to know if you two are back to laughing and making out?”

After grabbing a third slice, Olivia signaled the waiter for a refill on her Sprite. “I stay in my room and Tag has the rest of the house. We split our time with Flynn.”

Nose wrinkled, Gabby said, “That doesn’t sound like fun. Don’t you feel like a prisoner?”

Laughing, Olivia said, “You should see my room. It’s amazing. Think superelegant hotel suite. Meaning, the only reason I need to leave is to forage for food.”

“Sounds doable,” Steph said, starting in on her second slice. “Are there servants?”

“A cleaning lady, but she only comes three times a week.”

“La-di-da.” Steph sprinkled dried hot peppers on her pizza. “I’d love to have someone help for even an hour. Seems like I can’t ever catch up.”

“You do have two times the mess,” Gabby pointed out. “Just wait until they’re walking.”

“Way to give me indigestion,” Steph complained.

Gabby used the Parmesan shaker as a gavel. “Back to the subject at hand. Olivia, please don’t take this the wrong way, but ever since you and Tag have been fighting, you look exhausted. Like you’re getting maybe a couple of hours’ sleep every night—if you’re lucky. Are you sure you’re so content being stuck in your elegant tower?”

“I’m fine.”

“Now that I’ve gotten a good look at you,” Steph said, “I think Gabby’s right.”

“Would you guys lay off? I’ve got this handled.”

“From what you’ve told us,” Gabby said, “in a certain sense, your situation with Tag is no different than the one you had with Phil. That can’t be healthy for you or Flynn.”

Ignoring her friend in favor of a fourth slice of pizza, Olivia chewed.

“Ignore me all you want,” Gabby persisted, “but deep down you have to know it’s true. Only, instead of cheating on you with a woman from the next office, Tag’s still essentially married to his dead wife. Her every photo is Tag’s declaration of love—for someone other than you.”

Hearing it put in terms like that sickened Olivia to the point that she dropped her pizza to the plate. Mind and heart spinning, she fought stinging eyes and a tight throat.

“Honey, I know you think you’re doing what’s best for Flynn, but pretty soon he’s not going to be just an easily fooled baby. He’ll sense the tension between Mommy and Daddy and take sides. For your sanity and your heart, get out now. While you still can.”