by Leslie North
“No, no.” The apartment above Rebecca’s garage wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t the type of rental unit you’d photograph and put on the internet, inviting guests from all around the world to stay there. But that didn’t matter. It reminded Claire of the apartment her mother had first stayed in when she’d left Claire’s father. She’d seen the pictures. If that was good enough for her mother, this was good enough for her. “I’m glad to have a little space of my own.”
Rebecca shifted from one foot to the other. “Does Archer know you’re here?”
“He’s—yes. He knows I’m here.”
“Is he okay with it?”
“It doesn’t matter if he is.” Claire sighed. “He came home as I was leaving. His mom had followed me out to the garage, and even his sister-in-law was trying to interject. Archer and I had a conversation right there about how all the family togetherness was too much, and...I needed a break.”
“Take a break,” said Rebecca, gesturing to the perfectly made bed in the tiny bedroom across from the living room. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Claire had just put her feet up when her phone rang.
Archer sounded tense. “Are you all moved in?”
“I put my suitcase in my bedroom.” She gave a weak laugh. “I’ll unpack later.”
A beat of heavy silence rode the connection. “Come back, Claire. I can fix things for you, I promise.”
It tore at her heart. “Part of me wants to,” she admitted. “But we both know this wasn’t supposed to be forever. We’re parents, not romantic partners. We can’t combine our lives so completely.”
“We can try,” Archer said. “We can—”
“We can raise the babies together, and that’s all. I can’t get involved with you so...so emotionally. I shouldn’t have started to rely on you like that. I don’t want to spend my life pining over you because you’re always away.”
“I can cut down on traveling.”
“You really can’t.” She shifted on the bed, the twins kicking. “I don’t want to be a source of resentment for that, either. It’s not going to work out between us that way.” Even her heart felt weak, each beat painful and pathetic. “I have to go, okay? Don’t call back for a while.”
12
Archer rubbed a hand over his eyes and tried to focus on the phone call. Midnight in California meant three in the afternoon in Guangzhou, so he’d scheduled the late-night call to make it more convenient for the Lis. He’d hoped coming to his office would help him focus—the house was too empty now, without Claire—but he couldn’t follow the echoey voices coming through the headset attached to his desk phone. His mind kept wandering back to Claire’s departure, her pale face, her retreat from his mother, even as she refused to cede any control over her pregnancy and life. His mother hadn’t stopped talking, hadn’t stopped trying to take control over everything she thought was available to manage. He pressed the palm of his hand to a spot on his chest that ached like a dislocated rib. Five days. She’d been gone five days, and Archer had spent the entire time worrying about her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I missed that translation. One more time?”
The translator’s voice, deep and smooth, came over the line.
His cell phone rang. He sent the call to voicemail. He could not obsess over the non-breakup with Claire. It wasn’t like they’d officially been together. Why had he started to think of them that way? It was stupid.
His phone rang again.
Archer muted the call on his headset and picked up the phone. “I can’t talk right now,” he said without looking at the screen. “I’m on a call.”
“We’re going to the hospital,” said Rebecca, more than a little breathless. “Claire didn’t want to go, but she’s been throwing up all night, and I think she’s dehydrated. Meet us in the ER.”
“Which hospital?” He felt like he’d been plunged into an ice bath, skin tingling, goosebumps covering every inch of him.
“St. Lawrence. It’s closest. Gotta go.”
He stood up, and his phone jumped across the desk, yanked by the cord of the headset. He started to talk, then remembered he’d muted himself and jabbed the button. “I have to end the call. I’m so sorry. Mr. Li, my secretary will call to reschedule. It’s an emergency.”
The world seemed to be spinning out of control by the time he got to the ER parking ramp. Claire, Claire, Claire, his heart echoed. And with every downbeat—Babies, babies, babies. He found himself running through the cool night air, bursting in the ER doors, and going straight through the waiting room.
A nurse caught him by the elbow. “Sir, you can’t come running back here.”
“I’m here to see Claire Baldwin. She’s my—she’s the mother of my children. I want to see her now.”
The nurse frowned but took another look at him and seemed to make a decision. “All right. Back this way.”
The woman led him through a maze of counters and glassed-in rooms, and there was Claire, resting in a bed. She looked like she felt awful, and still, his heart skipped a beat at how gorgeous she was. Claire cradled a small basin in her hands.
“Hi,” she said. “What are you doing here? Rebecca brought me. She just stepped out to call her husband.”
“What do you even mean?” He came to her side and took her hand. “I got the news that you’re ill enough to need the emergency room. Of course I came.”
She gave him a tired smile. “I can handle it all by myself, you know.”
“Well, you don’t have to. I’m here.” He squeezed her hand. Claire’s chin quivered, but no tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She was obviously dehydrated and worsening by the minute.
An orderly came in and wheeled her away for tests. Archer’s hand felt curiously empty, so he filled it with his phone and called Drew. His brother answered right away. “What’s going on?”
“I had to end the call with the Lis tonight. Can you call them back?”
Drew sighed. “I figured something happened, because they called me a minute ago. They were insulted, said you were distracted and then abruptly cut off the call. I think they might pull out of the deal, Arch.”
Archer cursed under his breath. “Claire’s in the hospital. She got sick again. Dehydrated. They’re doing tests now.”
“Oh, no.” A rustling sound came over the line. “I can be right there. Which hospital?”
“No, no. Call the Lis back.” Someone had to call them back. “Try to explain what happened. Try to save it, Drew. I don’t ask for this often, but—” His voice rose in spite of himself.
“I’ve got it,” Drew soothed. “Don’t worry about it. Focus on Claire.”
“Archer?” Rebecca had appeared in the doorway without him noticing. “Are you okay to stay here a while? I don’t want Claire to be alone when she comes back. I have to get back for Henry.”
“I’m staying. Thanks for bringing her in.”
Rebecca leaned in and patted his arm. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Rebecca might be glad he was, but Claire? He wasn’t so sure. Maybe he should have demanded to go with her. Could he do that? They were his babies, too, and with every second that passed, he was more desperate to know how they were. How all of them were. He sat down on the plastic chair at the side of the room, his heart racing, and tried to visualize the climb up Mt. Fuji as a way of relaxing. He concentrated on each plunge of his hiking stick into the loose rock. Each pebble and curve in the path. His heart continued to race. The moments piled up until he thought he’d scream.
“Mr. Preston?”
A different nurse was at the door. He got to his feet, sick with the thought that she might have bad news.
“We’re going to keep Claire overnight in the OB unit. She’s all settled in her room and wanted me to bring you up.”
The OB unit was in a different wing of the hospital. Quieter, softer. More carpet. Claire was in the last room on the right. His phone started buzzing in his pocket as he crossed the thr
eshold. He sent the call to voicemail. It would have to wait.
Claire rested in the bed near the wide windows, her eyes closed. An IV ran into the back of her hand, slowly delivering fluids. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Just wanted you to see where I’m staying for the night. Everything’s fine. Tell him, Janine.”
Janine, the nurse who’d led him here, gave him a reassuring smile. “The doctor will be back to talk with both of you in a while, but for now we’re looking at a simple case of dehydration.” His phone was ringing again, buzzing against his leg. “She’ll need rest and plenty of fluids once she’s released. Someone should be available to care for her.” His jaw clenched, and he tried to cover it with a smile. “We’ll keep her overnight to get those fluids back up. Things should look much better in the morning.” Ring, ring, ring. Another call. “I’ll leave you two to talk. Press the call button if you need anything.”
They thanked her, and she left them in an island of stillness. The hum of the IV pump drowned out the soft voices of nurses from down the hall.
Claire looked at him in the almost-silence. “What’s going on? I can hear your phone from here.”
He hesitated. “It’s not a big deal.”
She shot him a skeptical expression. “Your phone ringing off the hook at midnight seems like a big deal. Is it work? Is it the Lis?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “I cut a call short with them earlier, and now they’re balking at the deal.”
“Really?” Her brow furrowed. “They were so understanding about the pregnancy earlier. They changed their minds?”
“I guess so.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “They must be feeling more stress now that they’re in China and I’m here.”
Claire pursed her lips. “You should get on the phone. Is that them? Just answer.”
“No, I’m not—you’re in the hospital, Claire. I’m here for you.”
“I’ll be fine. Step out and take the call. This is important.”
“I wouldn’t even be missing this call if you still lived with me.” Fury and fear mixed together in a whirlwind that gusted in from all sides. “I would never have let you get this sick.”
“Well, we know better now.” His phone buzzed and buzzed. “Rebecca will help me.”
“She’s got a child of her own and a job,” he shot back.
“You have a job, too. And you’re not doing it. Answer your phone.”
“You need to let me in,” he insisted. “Just let me into your life. Let me take care of you and the babies. Don’t shut me out because my family overstepped.”
“I can’t. I can’t let myself rely on you. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I’ve let other people dictate my life in exchange for being taken care of. But you can take your call and make sure your business is on track.” Her steely gaze refused any argument.
He grit his teeth and slipped his phone from his pocket. His temples throbbed—from worry, frustration, stress? He couldn’t say. He jabbed the phone’s screen. “This is Archer.”
The person on the other end of the line wasn’t the same translator from before. He started talking in a rush, almost too fast to Archer to hear. “Tell them I’m available for a call,” he said finally. “Can you get them on the line, or—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, you’re speaking too quickly. Slow down.”
Claire held out her hand for the phone. “Let me talk to them.”
“You’re sick. I’m not putting you to work in the middle of the night.”
She dropped her hands to the blanket. “Let me in,” she said softly. “You want to be in my life, but you won’t let me into yours. This is proof.”
He’d missed something else from the translator, and this was why. Love. Falling for her had distracted him. His feelings had gotten the better of him, and now, instead of making sure the business was thriving, he was arguing with Claire in a hospital room. They could lose the Lis company because emotion had chipped away at his ability to execute at the highest levels.
It couldn’t happen.
He swallowed the pain crowding his throat and left the hospital room.
“I’m here,” he said to the translator. “One more time. You have my full attention.”
13
The phone call came in early, and Claire hauled herself out of a restless sleep to answer it. She groaned as she maneuvered herself over toward the side of the bed. To think she’d thought her belly was big at twenty weeks. Two months later, and it was like constantly moving her own personal mountain around with her. A mountain that kicked and rolled and pressed against every available inch. “’Ello?”
“Claire, this is Monica Gotshall.” Claire jerked upright. Monica Gotschall was from the licensing association. Her application had been pending, but... Claire’s heart thundered in her chest. Was this good news? She’d taken the certification test, but it had been a bad nausea day. “Do you have a moment to talk?”
“Of course.” Claire eased herself back onto the pillows. She should stand up straight for this conversation, but her feet hurt even when she was lying down. And sitting up made her short of breath. Lying back it was. “I’ve been wondering about my test results.”
“You did pass the certification test.” The but in her voice made Claire’s stomach sink. “Unfortunately, you haven’t submitted enough hours to qualify for certification.”
“Hours,” she repeated numbly.
“It looks like you were on track with your work until...a few months ago. I’m calling to find out if you had a problem submitting the paperwork.”
“I—” Claire swallowed against a wave of nausea. “I’ve been under the weather. I can email you the paperwork today.” Might as well save herself another phone call in the future. “But I can tell you that I won’t have met the hours requirement yet. I’ve been working a reduced schedule.”
A paper rustled in the background. “All right. The hours requirement must be met by the end of the year. If you haven’t submitted final paperwork by then, you’ll have to restart the process in the new year and sit for the certification exam again.”
“Thank you so much,” said Claire. “I’ll have those documents to you right away and submit the rest of the hours in that time frame.”
They ended the call, and Claire let out a long breath. How was she going to pull this off? She shot off an email with the documents for the hours for the last few months. The total was appallingly low. If she was going to pull this off, she’d need 20 hours in....six weeks. Good. Great. At least she could look for work from bed. She’d find a few jobs and log the hours, sick or not.
Claire set herself up with a glass of water and a notebook. For the first hour, she took down the names of people and companies who’d posted jobs on the agency’s website. Then she did an additional search on a couple of job boards. When it was all written out she started calling.
And calling, and calling, and calling. To a person, they were excited to hear from her. But they needed someone who could travel.
“Could you be in Seattle tomorrow morning?”
“We have a job in Hong Kong.”
“There’s a summit in Washington, DC.”
Nothing felt worse than having to turn down every single opening. It took so much energy just to get out of bed and over to the kitchen. The thought of packing her too-tight maternity clothes and getting on a plane? Even if she felt up to it, her doctors wouldn’t clear it. Not at seven months pregnant with twins and teetering on the precipice of dehydration.
Twenty calls, zero jobs. On the final call, a voicemail came in. The name on the screen made every breath seem cold and clear: Archer Preston.
She called him back, ignoring the voicemail completely. Might as well get the call over with instead of ruminating on whatever he said in the message.
“Hi,” he said. “I called a minute ago and got your voicemail.” He spoke in a guarded tone, but there was still an edge of optimism that made her cheeks heat. “How are you today?”
“Come back to work for me,” he said instantly. “The deal with the Lis is about to close. If we can hold that up as a success, Preston will have lots of international business on the table.”
Visions filled her head of how easy it would be to work with Archer. He would understand about her pregnancy, about the twins. He’d give her as many hours as she needed and no more.
But then all of it crashed under the weight of...having to work with Archer. She would have to see him every day. And she’d have to spend all that time pretending that she didn’t still ache for him every waking moment. Like now.
“Thanks for the offer, but I just—I can’t do that.” Her voice trembled. She hated it. “I think we should just stick with co-parenting. That’ll be enough.”
“I know how much your certification means to you.” A heavy silence came over the line, as if he was holding back from saying more. “Just know you can always come back.”
“Hey, I’ve got to run,” she said quickly, tears threatening to overwhelm her. “I’ve got some setup to do around the apartment. I’ll be in touch.” She hung up before he could say any more.
Claire dragged herself out of bed and went into the other bedroom. It was just as tiny as hers but packed with things Archer had brought over. Tears burned in her eyes, and she ripped into one of the boxes. A bassinet. He’d wanted top-of-the-line bassinets even though the babies would only use them for a little while, and now they were here. She set them up and couldn’t help but admire them.
No, there wouldn’t be much room. She pressed a hand to her chest to quell the ache and took a deep breath. Space would be tight, but she’d get back on her feet. She’d have her career. She’d be independent. It would all work out in the end.
“Congratulations, Mr. Preston.” The head flight attendant, Mary, leaned down with a small tray. They’d just reached cruising altitude on the way back from China in the Preston private jet, and that had been the cue for his team to start the celebration. His brothers, two people from finance, and the translator they’d hired from the agency last minute all held glasses of champagne and wore massive grins.