He glanced down at the bird, his muscles visibly relaxing. He appeared almost sad. “I was thinking that I like that idea . . . that everyone who’s here is here to serve a purpose.”
She nodded, her heart giving a sharp kick. She thought again of that night, how even with the fateful pull she’d just described, she’d almost talked herself out of it. She remembered how she’d gotten up the nerve by channeling Kandace, her free-spirited friend who she knew would tell her to throw caution to the wind and live.
Seize the day, Scarlett. She could practically hear Kandi’s voice in her head, even now.
The bird was asleep again, his ravenous appetite sated for the moment. Camden got up and returned his container to the dim corner of the counter. Scarlett took another sip of whiskey, enjoying the warm flush of relaxation as it spread to her limbs. She had to be mindful not to drink so much that waking up through the night would be difficult. When Camden sat back down, she nodded to the baby bird. “Seriously, I have a new respect for mama birds. Even Haddie didn’t wake that frequently when she was an infant.”
His lips tipped. He swirled his drink, silent for several minutes, his expression registering conflict. “Can I ask why Haddie’s father isn’t in the picture?”
She liked that he was curious about her too. But from the expression on his face, it almost appeared he didn’t want to be.
She took a quick sip of the whiskey. She’d been telling the truth when she said that the more you drank, the easier it went down. She was indeed feeling loose-lipped. Still, out of habit—and by threat of legal ramifications—she opened her mouth to give her stock answer, that Haddie’s father had been a one-night stand, that when she’d told him she was pregnant, he’d said good luck and goodbye, which was true. Mostly. Instead, she found she wanted to tell this man the truth. She didn’t even really know why. Maybe, like she’d just thought, it was the liquor, or the way he’d held the baby bird so tenderly in his strong, masculine hands. But now, she realized, even more than those two things, it was that he’d come so quickly to her rescue tonight. It was the way his eyes tracked over her features like for that singular moment, his world revolved around the mystery of her thoughts. Maybe all those things combined made Scarlett relax her shoulders and tell this man—this virtual stranger—the truth when she’d divulged it to no one else except Merrilee and her mother. “Haddie’s father is Royce Reynolds.”
He tilted his head slightly, no recognition in his expression.
“Seriously? You don’t know who Royce Reynolds is?” Momentary amusement bubbled up in her chest. She’d finally told someone her “big secret” and he didn’t even know who the mega-famous superstar was. Hollywood’s golden boy. People’s Sexiest Man Alive.
“No. Who is he?”
“He’s an actor. No, more than that. He’s a star. Big time. When I was twenty, I was working for a catering company that had been hired to host this party in LA. Royce Reynolds was there and he struck up a conversation with me. He was charming. I was star-struck. I knew he had a girlfriend—they were constantly splashed across the tabloids, but . . . he mentioned they’d recently broken up and I believed him.” She took a quick sip of her drink. She liked to think she’d have declined his offer to go back to his room had she known he was lying about the breakup, but . . . well, she’d been young and dumb and giddy over his attention. And like she’d said, there had been that pull. “He invited me back to his room and one thing led to another.” His jaw tightened for a moment and then loosened. If she’d blinked she might not have seen it. Had that been . . . jealousy? Or disapproval? It made her doubt her decision to be this open with him. She took a deep breath. She was already in the middle. May as well cross to the other side.
“Anyway, a couple months later, I found out I was pregnant and I called to let him know.” She cringed internally when she thought about the hoops she’d had to jump through just to get a message to him. She’d honestly been surprised he called her back at all. Or remembered who she was. “He seemed rattled . . . all but hung up on me. I was scared. Alone. But I thought, well, he doesn’t want anything to do with this and so I’m on my own. Next thing I know, though, his wife—the girlfriend he said he’d broken up with, who he’d married the week before in some secret ceremony—is at my door. She kindly requested that I sign a non-disclosure agreement saying I would never make Royce’s paternity public and if I did so, I would be sued.”
“He sent his wife to confront you?”
Scarlett nodded. Yeah, that had been humiliating. Royce hadn’t even had the balls to come meet with her himself, to look her in the eyes, ask if she was okay. She would have signed the paperwork either way. She was capable of caring for her baby, even if it meant barely making ends meet. She wasn’t going to try to force him to acknowledge their child if he had no interest. Yeah, she would have signed the paperwork either way. She just might not have taken the money if it’d been him who came to see her.
She didn’t tell Camden about that though. She still felt such deep conflict on that subject. He might look at it as selling out her own daughter. And why shouldn’t he? Wasn’t that sort of what she’d done?
He was looking at her in that way again, but now she didn’t welcome it. Now she wanted to hide.
“Is that why you moved?”
“No. Royce and his wife live in New York City. I only met him because he was filming a movie in California. I wasn’t . . . you know . . . running away from him or anything.” Although in a small sense she’d done just that. She refused to even glance at tabloids in the grocery store, she no longer watched shows that included entertainment news, and she rarely went to movies, and if she did, she made sure to show up after the previews had aired.
“Does Haddie know who her father is?”
“No, and now I have to swear you to secrecy, because . . . lawsuits and all. If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”
His eyes softened. “Scarlett, your secret’s safe with me.” He watched her for another minute before saying, “I should go.”
“Right. Yeah, of course. I should try to get some sleep anyway before . . .” She nodded back to the sleeping baby bird.
Camden stood, picking up their glasses and placing them next to the sink. Scarlett headed out of the kitchen toward the front foyer and he followed. When she got to the door, he was suddenly right next to her. Her breath stuttered and she looked up at him. He was so close, and though it was dim in the foyer, the flickering light of the gas lamps picked up the lightness of his eyes, mesmerizing her. Her gaze washed over his features, the perfect combination of hard and soft. She took in the rigid set of his jaw, and the fullness of his lower lip, the sharp line of his cheekbone, and the velvet fringe of his lashes. His eyes went to her mouth and for a heartbeat she swore he was going to lean in and kiss her. Her pulse jumped, her ribs tingling. She wanted it, his lips on hers. Instead, he took a small step back, though his gaze didn’t waver. “You won’t be able to let him go,” he said.
“What?” The word was barely breath.
“The nestling. He’s at the stage where he’ll imprint on you if you care for him.”