“Or that,” she conceded, scrutinizing his composed facial features. “Or are you just patronizing my hormonal ass?”
A smile teased the corners of his mouth. “Seeing how admitting to patronizing you or agreeing that you’re hormonal could possibly place me in imminent danger of injury, I plead the Fifth on both.”
“Very lawyerly,” she drawled.
“But as it happens, I’m not doing either. And it doesn’t really matter. It’s smart to prepare yourself for anything, especially when it comes to your welfare and your baby’s. Part of that welfare is finding out your legal standing when it comes to custody and your rights as the baby’s mother.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “All of that. Daniel isn’t a bad guy. Conservative and very firm in his beliefs, yes. Still, not bad or spiteful. But he’s also not used to people disagreeing with him or going against him. In his position as dean of a prep school, he’s accustomed to students, teachers and even parents deferring to whatever rule or decision he lays down.”
And for a long time, she’d been the same. He’d made it comfortable for her to do so by paying for most of their financial obligations, providing a well-off lifestyle, including a beautiful home in an affluent, upper-middle-class neighborhood. She hadn’t had to ask for anything.
And that’s where the problem existed. That’s why the blame could be placed squarely on her shoulders.
She’d stopped asking. She’d stopped demanding. She’d stopped speaking.
One day, she’d woken up and her voice had become his.
No, Daniel wasn’t guilty of silencing her. She’d been complicit.
Not anymore, though. She couldn’t afford to be quiet anymore. Because it wasn’t just her. She had to be her baby’s champion, their warrior. And warriors roared, they didn’t whimper.
“Anyway, all that to say, I never intended to keep the baby from him. This morning, he said he wouldn’t be kept out of the baby’s life. I want him to be part of our child’s life. Just because we’re no longer married doesn’t mean our child shouldn’t have him as a father. But I’m afraid...” She trailed off, twisting her fingers harder before forcing them flat over her thighs. “Can he force me to move back to Charlotte? So we can co-parent?”
“A judge can block a parent from moving out of state, but this is usually after the children are born and custody is being decided. Because you two are already divorced and you’re pregnant now, no one can stop you from relocating. Also, by the time the baby is born, a court will most likely consider your new residence as the status quo. In other words, the judge wouldn’t issue an order to disrupt the child’s daily schedule or existing residence if keeping the status quo is in the best interest of the child. This is especially true with a newborn.”
Relief flooded her, pouring through her like a swollen, unchecked river. If she hadn’t already been sitting down, her weakening knees wouldn’t have been able to support her.
“Thank you,” she said. “I really needed to hear that. I was so afraid...” She rested a hand over her stomach, closing her eyes. Tears pricked her lids, and she inhaled a deep breath, battling them back. After several seconds, she lifted her lashes, blinking rapidly. “Sorry,” she murmured.
“I’m glad I could ease some of your fears,” he said, nodding. “I need to caution you, though. This doesn’t mean he won’t still petition the court to adjudicate him as the father. If you two were still married, presumption would be that he’s the legal father. But you’re not, so he’ll need to request a paternity test. Once paternity is established, then he can ask the court for custody. But even then, a heavy burden would have to be met in order for a judge to change custody.”
“Okay, I understand.” Sydney leaned back against the couch’s arm, the sudden release of the tension that had been riding her since Daniel’s phone call leaving her tired. “I’ll keep that in—oh!”
A flutter. Like the softest brush of a butterfly’s wing against the wall of her belly. She’d felt it. Unlike the heat in Cole’s gaze, she hadn’t imagined it...right?
She stiffened, going still. Not even daring to breathe.
“Sydney?” Cole leaned forward, the concern coating his voice etched into the frown darkening his expression. “Baby girl, are you okay?” He settled a hand just above her knee, studying her. “What’s wrong? Is it the—”
She shook her head, not even concentrating on his murmured “baby girl” or how damn sexy that was. No, every bit of her focused on her body, on feeling that sweet sensation again. But, after several heartbeats, nothing. Disappointment rippled through her. Dr. Prioleau had assured her everything was okay, that this milestone in her pregnancy could come later. Still...
She stifled a sigh. “I’m good. I just thought—oh shit!” She pressed both of her palms to the slight swell of her stomach, eyes stretched so wide the skin pinched at the corners. Joy, indescribable joy, surged within her, pressing against her chest, her throat. And love. Jesus, how could she possibly love so much that her body almost seemed incapable of containing it? “I knew it! The baby. The baby just moved. Oh my God. Feel it!”
Without thinking, she grasped Cole’s wrist and lifted his hand from her leg and planted it over her belly. Only when his long fingers splayed wide over her did the impact of her impetuous actions slam into her.
“Oh God, I’m sorry, Cole. I’m so sorry,” she breathed, nearly shoving his hand away in her haste to undo the harm she might’ve unintentionally caused in her excitement. “I wasn’t thinking.”
His body had gone as still as the statue of W.E.B. DuBois outside of city hall. She couldn’t detect the whisper of a breath or the rise and fall of his chest. But his eyes. Jesus, his eyes. They flared wide, as if deep within the cage his body had become, he’d plummeted into a full-blown panic attack. And the amber depths swirled with so much pain, so much grief, that she couldn’t contain her gasp.
It could’ve been that soft sound that snapped him from his paralysis.
Cole slowly tipped his head down and inspected the hand she’d tossed aside as if it were a separate entity from his body. His fingers curled into a tight fist against the cushion. Then, slowly, he stretched them out.
And raised his arm until his palm hovered over her stomach.
“I’m...” He paused, swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his strong throat. “Can I?” he whispered.
The request sounded as if it’d passed through ten pounds of chewed-up gravel before it emerged, rough, jagged and worn. As if he asked, not because he truly wanted to touch her—touch the place where her unborn child lay—but more so to prove a point. Prove that he could.