Mad About You

the silence between them ballooned.
    After a full minute he reached forward to cover her hand with his, then wet his lips. "There could be an us." He angled his head, his eyes disarmingly hopeful.
    Tiny hairs sprang up on the back of her neck as his words sank in, then a slow burn started in her chest. Bailey Kallihan had more nerve than ten men to think he could erase years of hurt with a charming smile and a soft touch. She must look like a fool if she seemed that desperate.
    Humiliation bloomed and spread to the ends of her tingling fingers as she carefully extracted her hand from his. She struggled to keep her voice even as she gripped the cloth so hard, water dripped onto her shirt. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Bailey—if our son had not been found, I would have had no reason, and no desire, to see you again." He shrank back from her a few inches, and she felt a bite of satisfaction, a dimension of control returning. "I love my child enough to make the best of this situation, but don't try to turn this into something it's not."
    Bailey shrugged. "Okay, I didn't mean to—"
    "Yes, you did mean to," she cut in, then held up her hand to bring the subject to a halt. She closed her eyes and sighed. "I called an attorney this morning, Bailey, and we've got a lot to discuss before we land, so let's just get through this, okay?"
    A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Sure."
    Another flight attendant stopped to take their drink order and Virginia gratefully accepted a glass of ginger ale. She longed for the mild sedative her mother had offered her earlier. Her stomach pitched and rolled with a myriad of emotions she tried to pin down. In only a few hours she'd be face-to-face with her son... her son. She worried her bottom lip and dug her fingernails into her palm.
    "What things?" he asked, jarring her out of her racing thoughts.
    "What?"
    He pushed his hair back from his forehead, looking frustrated. "What things do we have to discuss?"
    "Oh." She straightened in her seat. "Well... the custody arrangement."
    His brow furrowed. "What's to discuss? We'll both have custody—he can stay with me on the weekends."
    "Stay with you? You mean on your couch in an apartment above a bar?"
    He flushed angrily. "We'll stay at Rita's so he can get to know his cousin."
    Virginia had two panicky visions—her son alone with her in a stifling town home, and her son with Bailey's rowdy family on a farm; it didn't take a child psychologist to guess where the boy would prefer to spend time. "I work during the week, I'd like to spend weekends with him too."
    "Can't you cut back on your hours?"
    Anger flamed through her, but she fought to keep her voice calm. "I arranged for a month of leave, which should take me up to the start of school, but after that I'll be back to working at least forty-five hours a week. Raising a child is expensive, Bailey."
    "I'll help," he declared hotly.
    She averted her eyes so he couldn't read her doubts. Ever the good-intentioned, Bailey's fault lay in his follow-through. His idea of savings used to be buying old cars, hoping they'd appreciate in value. He'd let her down before in a big way—she wasn't about to sacrifice a portion of her income on the basis of a verbal promise. "I'm not cutting my hours. He can stay with you at Rita's every other weekend."
    "Wait a minute!" P assengers around them turned to stare. He leaned toward her and lowered his voice, his eyes still flashing. "Four or five days a month isn't enough. He's my son too, and I want to get to know him just as much as you do."
    "Well," she said coolly, "we seem to be at an impasse."
    His eyes narrowed, then his face relaxed as if a solution had occurred to him. "Not necessarily."
    She angled her head toward him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
    "In the beginning we can both spend time with him... we can all do things together."
    Virginia frowned, wary.
    "It's only fair to Bailey, Jr.," he asserted, "that he get to know both of us. We both want to spend time with him, and we can't split him down the middle." He flashed her a charming smile. "You can't convince me you've grown that tough, Ginny."
    Her stomach contracted at his reminder that he used to know her well, that he used to know her intimately. "What about holidays and school vacations?"
    He shrugged. "We'll work it out when the time comes."
    "I think we need to get this down on paper," she insisted.
    "Ginny, for God's sake, you make this sound like some kind of business deal. You