Mad About You

stirred in her heart with the fierceness of a drowsy giant awakening.
    "I wondered if you'd gotten my letter."
    She swallowed hard. "I got it."
    He opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill beep of the coffee-maker downstairs interrupted. Suddenly exhaustion weakened her limbs. She lifted her gaze to Bailey, and attempted a weak smile. "I'm sorry, Bailey, but I have to get some rest."
    "Sure," he said agreeably. "I'll take a rain check on the coffee."
    They walked wordlessly down the stairway together, her heart tripping double time as she stopped to let him move ahead to a safe distance.
    He turned to stare at her, filling up her entryway with denim and attitude. "Well, I guess I'll say good night."
    "I'll see you tomorrow at the airport," she said.
    He nodded. "Tomorrow."
    She stood awkwardly, not knowing the proper ex-spouse etiquette for late night departures after earth-shattering news. "Good night, then."
    He turned and opened the door, giving entry to a warm, fragrant breeze that teased the ends of his ponytail.
    Virginia stepped to the door and held the knob as he walked out. At the last second he turned back and lifted his hand to rub a rough thumb over her cheekbone. The intimate contact startled her, and she instinctively drew back. He dropped his hand and smiled.
    "Tomorrow we see our son, Ginny." Then he was gone before she could reply.
    She closed the door, but waited until the sound of his rumbling engine faded before she moved.
    No, no, no ... she couldn't have feelings for him still. She'd been down this road before and heartache lay at the end. Tomorrow she would be thinking more clearly. Tomorrow she would be strong and resistant to his charms. Tomorrow she would have enough to worry about just being a mother. Virginia climbed the stairs, weak-kneed and light-headed.
    She didn't dare think past tomorrow.

    * * *

    "Bailey, are you drunk?"
    He whooped and lifted Rita off the floor, whirling her around. "Stone sober since Ginny told me the news."
    His sister’s look of disbelief transformed into pure delight. "Oh, Bailey!" She clasped him in a tight hug. When she released him, tears shone in her eyes. "After all these years... this is incredible!"
    He laughed with her, his happiness mushrooming. "It's a miracle all right."
    "Virginia—oh, she must be beside herself! Will she... will the two of you... how is she?"
    "She's fine." He grappled for some detail that wouldn't betray the revived emotion he felt stirring in his swollen, stupid heart. "She works in computers and is doing well for herself. Has a town home in the Village."
    "Does she have other children now?"
    "No, she never remarried."
    One graceful black eyebrow shot up. "Really."
    "Don't start, sis."
    "What?" she asked, bringing a hand to her chest, her eyes wide in innocence.
    "You know what," he admonished with a stern look. "Don't get any romantic ideas about me and Ginny picking up where we left off. We're completely different people now." He hoped some of his logic would sink into his own hard head.
    "Which is precisely why your relationship might work this time."
    "Rita—"
    "Bailey, you share an eight-year-old son, what better reason could you have for getting back together with Ginny?"
    "I know it would be better for him if we were still married," he admitted, "but our marriage wasn't that great, and after all these years she's not going to just welcome me back into her life with open arms, not the way we left things." Guilt stabbed him, and he averted his eyes.
    His sister smiled, and touched his hand. "Ginny's a good woman, I'm sure she'd want what's best for—"
    "Trust me on this one," he said abruptly. "She wouldn't want me."
    Rita blinked, then narrowed her dark eyes at him. "Is there something I don't know? Was there another woman?"
    He frowned. "Of course not. I partied a lot, but I was never unfaithful."
    "What, then?"
    Bailey turned away from her piercing gaze, shame burning in his stomach. "I said some hurtful things to her after the baby disappeared."
    "What kinds of things?"
    He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "That... that she was careless—"
    "Oh, Bailey—"
    "—and not a good mother."
    "Oh, God, no, Bailey."
    The sorrow in her voice increased the pain swirling in his gut. "I know." He sighed. "It was... unforgivable."
    Her arms wrapped around him from behind, and she pressed her cheek against his back. In a soft voice she murmured, "You were hurt and angry and young—"
    "And stupid and thoughtless." He ground