The Seven-Day Target by Natalie Charles Page A

up. She wondered if he’d been doing it to impress another woman and was startled at the stab of jealousy the thought provoked.
    “Your dad never liked me. He used to pull me aside when we were dating to cut me down, try to humiliate me. He’d quiz me on obscure political events or books just to prove I wasn’t smart enough. I think you knew about that. There was no stopping him, anyway.” He released a deep breath. “At the time I was angry. I imagined marrying you would be the best way to stick it to him. To win. But I’ve spent a lot of time thinking in the past few years. I tried to understand how a father would feel about his daughter, and how your father had wrapped up his dreams in you. Now I see that if he never thought I was good enough to be with you, it’s only because he saw how brilliant you are. Every man would fall short.”
    She felt her throat tighten and her eyes stinging again. “Nick.”
    He looked down at his feet, suddenly seeming far away. “I meant it when I said I was sorry about your dad. I know how much he meant to you. That’s why I was at the funeral.”
    If she’d been standing up, she would have fallen over. “Wh— You were?”
    “In the back. Where you wouldn’t see me.”
    The weight of the confession pressed Libby against the back of her chair. And here she’d been on the verge of lecturing him...maybe he’d avoided her on Friday for a good reason. “I didn’t know.” The image of him paying his respects to her father anonymously touched something raw and painful. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
    He avoided eye contact as if the subject was painful for him, too. “I’ve tried to understand him and why he thought I was so wrong for you. Maybe when I have kids I’ll understand. Revenge is the wrong reason to get married, anyway,” he continued. “That’s not how I want to live.”
    He didn’t elaborate and she didn’t bother replying. There was nothing more to say.
    They ate dinner at the small table in the dining room, exchanging pleasantries they would have exchanged with any other casual acquaintance. Libby inquired after Nick’s family, and he inquired after hers. “Sam is adorable,” he said. “He has your dark hair and blue eyes.”
    She couldn’t help but smile. “Nick, all infants have blue eyes.”
    “They do?” He shrugged. “I just learned something new. But he does look like you. I remember seeing your baby pictures. You were a cute baby.”
    She clenched her napkin in her fist. “Thanks.”
    “So the father is completely absent? I can’t imagine. Even if it was an accident, I’d step up. I’d want to be a part of his life.”
    Libby dragged a slice of wilted tomato across her plate. “Not accident. Surprise. And that puts you in a better league than some other men. Poor Cassie. She hinted that it was a one-night stand. She was inconsolable when she found out.”
    “I can imagine. I wouldn’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby. I’d be so lost.” He shot her a small smile. “You’re a natural, though. How’d you know how to do that?”
    She froze. “Do what?”
    “Get him to sleep like that. Is that maternal instinct?”
    Her heart flipped. Was he really complimenting her mothering skills? No, she was not having this conversation now, and not with Nick of all people. “I guess.” She put her fork down. “It’s been a long day.” She stood and cleared her plate.
    Nick looked at her with alarm. “Did I upset you?”
    “No.” He would have no way of knowing that she couldn’t have children, and she couldn’t be angry with him for giving her what he considered to be a compliment. But the conversation could lead them to a place she didn’t want to tread, or stir up emotions she’d settled already, and the day had been too long for any of that. “You didn’t upset me. And I appreciate everything you’ve done today. I mean it.”
    She washed her dishes and set them in the drying rack. She was aware of