All That Matters by Loralee Lillibridge Page A

Aw, shoot, now he’d made her cry.
    “ Darlin ’, don’t do that,” he said, and hurried to kneel beside her. “I shouldn’t have yelled, you being pregnant and all. I’m sorry.” He rubbed her hands between his. “Can I get you something? Water?” He glanced around the bare room. “More pizza?”
    “I really believe you’re more naive than I am, Buddy Lee.”   She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “Don’t you know pregnant women cry most of the time? And for no apparent reason?”
    “Now, how would I know anything about that?” Was he in for eight more months of her tears?
    “Isn’t this silly? Here I am, pregnant by a man I loathe, but married to my best friend who’s agreed to give my child his name, and I’m the one being a crybaby. I should be thanking you, not bawling all over you.”
    She sniffled and Buddy Lee automatically reached for his handkerchief, but he’d forgotten he’d used it on his battered nose, so he snagged a paper napkin from the stack next to the pizza box instead.
    He gave her the napkin. “Let’s start over, okay?”
    Faith blinked rapidly several times, then dabbed at her weepy eyes.
    “You’re absolutely right. We need to plan our strategy. Obviously we can’t live here.” She waved her hand at the empty room. “Living with Daddy and Mama is out, too.”
    Damn straight. Buddy Lee nearly laughed out loud at that astute observation He kept quiet because he’d just discovered that as long as Faith stayed busy making plans, she forgot to cry.   And if that’s what it took to make her happy, he was willing to put up with a truck load of plan-making. He reckoned that before long there’d be a baby to take over the crying business when Faith finished with her part. He wasn’t sure just how that was going to work out.
    A reckless thought about needing a bigger house darted across his confused mind. Just as swiftly, he rejected it.   Shoot, he could barely afford the one he had, even if it was small. At least he owned it free and clear after years of scrimping and saving, so old man Morgan’s bank couldn’t put a claim on it. The house was the only thing his no-account daddy never got his hands on.
    “Where do you want to live, darlin ’?” Might as well ask, but the way he had it figured, there was only one answer to that. His place or no place.   He had a business to run and he sure couldn’t do it from Granite City.
    Faith gave him a thoughtful appraisal, then said, “I guess we’ll have to live in your house. I’ll never go back to the other one. I don’t care how much Daddy paid for it.”
    “What about your job?”
    “I’ll keep it for a while. I can commute.” She clapped a hand to her chest. “Oh, my gosh, I just remembered my car is still at the subdivision–at the other house.”
    “No problem. We’ll get it tomorrow,” he assured her.
    She shook her head, her cinnamon locks swinging wildly.   “No, no, you don’t understand. We can’t go back there. Not tomorrow. We can’t show up in town or even near that house for a few weeks, at least. Didn’t you hear me tell Daddy we were going on a honeymoon?”
    “Honeymoon?   But I have to open my shop, Faith. Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ve got customers waiting for their cars.” No customers, no income. Simple math. “I need the money,” he said, feeling like a jerk but knowing that now he would have to count pennies even closer than ever.
    Admitting his shaky financial condition was humiliating, but Faith had a right to know they weren’t likely to be living in high cotton. Not on what he took in repairing cars. Besides, it wasn’t like this whole thing had been his idea.
    His knees ached from kneeling beside her for so long, but he was reluctant to let go of her hands. Just holding them created a warm sensation around his heart. An anchor to reality. The enormity of all that had transpired between them in the last few days was almost more than his poor brain could