Michael's father (23 page)

"Kurt and Melissa," she said impatiently. "She got pregnant and it was his responsibility to marry her. Remember?"

"I remember. What does that have to do with us?"

"They got a divorce, right?"

"Yeah. So what?"

**So Fm not puttmg myself or Nfichael through that/' she said adamantly.

Kel stated at her, trying to piece together what she meant, which he suspected had Uttle to do with what she was saying. Her eyes met his for a moment, then she turned and began throwing things into the suitcase again. She was really going to go.

Panic shot through him. He was across the room before he knew what he intended, picking up the suitcase and upending it on the bed, dumping everything out of it and then tossing the empty case on the other side of the bed, out of her reach.

"Stop the damned packing and talk to me."

"Why?" She offered not a word of protest but simply started to walk around him to get the suitcase. Kel grabbed her arms, holding her in front him.

"Just because Melissa and Kurt Anderson couldn't make their marriage work, it doesn't mean that the same thing will happen to us."

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Why would it? Damn it, Megan, you're acting like it's a foregone conclusion. Why won't you give it a chance?"

She was silent for so long that he thought she^as going to ignore the question, but she finally lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were bright with tears but they were steady, seeming to look into his soul.

"I won't be a responsibiUty for anyone ever again. And I won't let Michael be one, either."

Kel stared at her, feeling as if he'd missed another piece of the conversation. "K we were married, you'd

both be my responsibilities," he said slowly, trying to feel his way. "You're already my responsibility. Why is that such a bad thing?" He tried a half smile, trying to coax a lightening of her expression. But she continued to look at him with those lost eyes.

"When I was six, I heard my parents arguing about which one of them had to take me when they got a divorce. I can remember hearing them argue about whose responsibility I was. My mother lost the argument and I lived with her for a couple of years but then she met a man who wanted to show her the world." She was speaking rapidly but without inflection, as if she was reciting a familiar, not too interesting story. * *Only he didn't want to show it to a kid. So she dumped me on my grandparents and they took care of me because it was the right thing to do, because it wouldn't be fair to turn the responsibility for me over to the state."

She stopped speaking, her eyes seeing past him to memories he couldn't share. Kel had no trouble imagining how devastating it must have been to spend your childhood knowing that you were being cared for out of duty rather than love. At least he'd had his father, and no one who knew Patrick Bryan had ever doubted his love for his children.

**I won't ever be anybody's responsibility again," Megan said flatly, shaking herself out of her memories.

**It wouldn't be just that," Kel said, searching for the words to tell her that responsibility wasn't all he felt. **I care for you.''

He immediately cursed himself for the stupidity of that statement. Of all the yuppified, pantywaist phrases, that had to be the worst.

Megan seemed to agree, because other than a lift of her ^ebrows, she didn't lespond. She pulled loose from his slackened hold and walked around him. Picking up the suitcase, she put it on the bed and began heaping things into it.

He was going to lose her. If he couldn't get past his own demons and say the words she needed to hear, she was going to leave and take Michael with her. Oh, she wouldn't try to keep him away from his son. She'd be generous with visitation rights. But he didn't want visitation rights with Michael. He wanted him here, on the ranch, where he belonged. And he wanted Megan here, too.

"Don't go."

"I won't try to keep Michael from you," she said, stuffing a pair of shoes into the suitcase on top of a blouse. He saw something fall on the bright silk fabric and realized that she'd started to cry. The sad splotch of dampness gave him hope. "You're his father and you should be part of his—''

"Hove you."

* *—life. We'll work out something—''

"I said, I love you."

"—out." Her hands were shaking so much that she gave up trying to fold a pair of jeans and simply jammed them into one comer of the suitcase.

"Damn it, M^an. I'm telling you I love you." Kel's voice stopped just short of a roar.

"I heard you," she whispered. She leaned her hands on the edge of the suitcase, her head bowed and her shoulders hunched. "Thank you, Kel."

**Thank you?" He stared at her downbent head in disbelief. ''I tell you I love you and you say thank you?"

**I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make it easier for me. I—"

"I'm trying to make it easier for me." He came around the foot of the bed and caught hold of her shoulders, dragging her around to face him. The tears streaming down her face were nearly his undoing.

"Don't, Kel. Please. I know you're trying to do what's right, trying to live up to your responsibilities but-"

"To hell with my responsibilities," he snapped, but his hands moved gently on her shoulders. "This isn't about responsibility, Megan. I do feel responsible for you and for Michael. I'd be a pretty poor excuse for a man if I didn't. But I want you to marry me because I love you. I love you." Funny how the words got easier to say with each repetition. He smiled at her. "I love you."

She stared at him and he thought he saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes.' * You can't.''

"Why not?"

"Because... because it would be too perfect," she finished in a whisper.

"What's wrong with perfection?" He was suddenly feeling almost lighthearted.

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you."

**Oh." That one little exclamation seemed to say it all. He could see bdief sliding into her eyes. She set her hands on his chest and leaned forward until she could lest her cheek over his heart.

Kel slid his arms around her, drawing her close, savoring the feel of her against him, savoring the thought that she was his—this time forever. He bent to lest his cheek against the top of her head.

**Don't you have something to say to me?" he murmured, wanting to hear the words, even though he'd already seen the answer in her eyes, felt it in the soft curve of her body.

"I love you,'* she said softly, completing his world with that single phrase and all the promise it held.