Chapters (38)
“You don’t know anything about Cody’s feelings,” Melissa argued, even though she had just seen with her own eyes that Cody did despise her. She didn’t want to believe he could be cruel enough to try to take their daughter away from her.
“Are you willing to take that chance?” her mother demanded.
The baby whimpered, either because she was picking up on the sudden tension or because Melissa was holding her too tightly. “No,” she whispered, fighting the sting of tears as she kissed her daughter’s silky cheek. “No, I’m not willing to take that chance.”
She had been weaving pipe dreams, just as her mother had guessed. The risk of trying to make them come true, though, was far too great. Rather than winning back Cody, she could very well lose her child. She would die before she let that happen. Sharon Lynn was the most important thing in her life.
All the way home she assured herself that she only needed a few days. If she kept the secret just a few more days, Cody would be gone and that would be the end of it.
Later that night she sank into the rocker beside Sharon Lynn’s crib and set it into motion, hoping to lull the baby to sleep and to quiet all those clamoring shouts in her head that told her she just might be making the second worst mistake in her life by keeping silent. As much as she hated to admit it, her mother was right about one thing. If Cody did learn the truth from someone else, there was no telling what he might do to exact revenge.
3
For the past two days Cody hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his brief meeting with Melissa at the funeral. She looked exactly as he’d remembered her, her long hair a tangle of fiery lights, her body slender as a reed except for the lush, unexpected curve of her breasts.
Even before he’d heard her voice, in that instant when he’d caught her to prevent her from falling, he’d known it was her just from the way his body had reacted to touching her. He had hated that reaction, hated knowing that his desire for her hadn’t waned at all despite the months of self-imposed exile. That seemed like the cruelest sort of punishment.
Late that night after the funeral he’d been pacing downstairs when his father had come out of his office and caught him. Harlan had guessed right off that his agitation had to do with Melissa, though he’d been uncommonly cautious in broaching the subject.