“Oh.” Easton watched me warily, as he skirted around me to the coffeepot and poured a cup for him and me. He turned back, handing me a cup. “Was it ugly?”

“Beyond ugly. I’m horrible. How quickly I forgot about them and about Mark. The guy I spent the last several Christmases with. Fran is hurt, and she has every right to be. The kids are talking to them now.” I sipped the strong coffee and avoided his gaze.

Easton’s troubled gaze flicked to the hallway, where the bedrooms were.

“I betrayed them all. I dismissed all my memories of them as if they never existed. What kind of person does that?”

“One who’s healing?” Easton offered lamely, uncomfortable with this subject.

“Or undeserving of such good people in her life?”

“No, Caro, you’re not like that. You deserve happiness, too. You forgot. There was so much going on. It’s understandable.”

“No. It is not. What I did is unforgivable.”

“I wouldn’t go that far—”

“You should leave.” The deadness in my tone surprised me, and the hurt in Easton’s eyes didn’t help my mood any. I’d been a selfish bitch yesterday and partially because of my infatuation with him.

“I want to stay.” Easton lifted his chin stubbornly. He wasn’t going anywhere. There was nothing that would defuse the bomb about to go off once the fuse was lit.

“You don’t belong here. You need to leave.”

My words were blunt and even cruel. I’d take them back if I could, but it was too late.

~~Easton~~

I don’t belong here?

I froze, unable to move as Caro’s words sliced deep, like a dagger to the heart. She didn’t waver. The coldness on her face didn’t thaw. She was upset and taking it out on me. I was the easiest target because of her guilt over what we did last night.

Understanding her behavior didn’t make me feel any better.

“They’re my children too.” If she wanted cold, I could do cold. My words dripped ice, and my face froze into an emotionless mask.

We stared each other down, both poised for battle, even if we weren’t sure what we were battling over. If this was how parenthood with her would be, we had a long way to go. With my parents, it had been a collaborative process, not a combative one. Caro hadn’t had the good examples I’d had from her own dysfunctional family.

“Not yet, they aren’t. They don’t know who you are. I’m sure they have questions, but as you can see, now is not the right time to introduce a new man into their lives. I knew better, and I let my own selfish desires get in the way of what’s best for my children.”

What was she saying? Was she telling me to butt out of her life and my kids’ lives? I wouldn’t do that. Not now that I’d gotten a taste of fatherhood. I didn’t care how uncomfortable my presence made her. My kids needed me, and I needed them. I wasn’t backing off. I wasn’t going away. They were my flesh and blood.