“If you don’t mind, let’s sit on the front porch.” He tipped his head toward the hall.

She got the message. Children had excellent hearing. “That’s fine.”

He opened the door for her, and she exited, purse in hand. “Take that.” He motioned to the single patio chair and leaned back against the railing, bracing himself on his palms.

Since it was either claim the chair, stand, or sit on the steps and invite him to join her—a far too cozy arrangement—she went with the chair.

Several silent seconds ticked by in the deepening dusk. The dead-end road in front of the apartments led to Starfish Pier, according to Beth, and tonight there wasn’t a car in sight. Nor were any of the apartment residents out and about.

It wasn’t as isolated and private as Sea Glass Cottage, but at least Jack should be able to tell his story without any interruptions.

Yet he didn’t speak.

Had he changed his mind?

If he had, she shouldn’t hold him to the spur-of-the-moment promise made in the laundry room in the midst of a crisis.

“Listen, I’ll let you off the hook if you’d rather not discuss this.”

“No. I was just trying to organize my thoughts.” He blew out a breath. “Let me give you the short version. Hannah was conceived the night I overheard you talking to Dirk Mason by the pool at your father’s house—after I’d downed one too many whiskeys at the bar and grill where I often ate dinner. Over the summer I’d gotten to know one of the waitresses there who had a kind heart and sympathetic ear. By the end of the evening, I was in no condition to drive—and apparently talking crazy. She took me back to her apartment to sleep off the booze and calm down. But I was hurting, she was willing to offer consolation, and under the influence of alcohol I behaved completely out of character. That’s a fact, not an excuse.”

As the implications of his confession sank in, shock reverberated through Christi.

She was the reason Hannah had been conceived. If she hadn’t hurt Jack badly, he wouldn’t have been desperate for solace.

Her stomach knotted.

How could she have been so shallow and cavalier in those days? How could she not have realized that playing with fire was dangerous? That people would get burned? Why hadn’t she seen that what had started as a lark . . . a game . . . a chance to have a bit of clandestine fun with a man outside her social circle . . . could escalate? That Jack would begin to fall in love with her?

As she’d begun to fall in love with him.