On Second Thought

by Kristan Higgins

  I was pregnant.

  I called Daniel with the confirmation. He offered to come over, but I told him I wanted to be alone. Called Ainsley, who was working at the Blessed Bean, and told her, too.

  Then I went home, numb, and sat in the den (or study), watching Hector swim around his beautiful bowl, Ollie curled up on my lap, moaning with love from time to time.

  What would the Coburns say? What would Brooke say? She'd hate me. They'd all hate me. I didn't blame them.

  "Nathan?" I whispered. "Hey." I started to say the words, then stopped. Even his ghost didn't deserve to hear my news.

  My breath began to shake, and my hands tingled so hard it hurt, and the familiar dread rose up like a cold tide.

  But I couldn't have a panic attack. I couldn't. I was pregnant. What if hyperventilation was bad for the baby? Huh? What then?

  In for three, hold for three, out for three, hold for three.

  Ollie's tail wagged.

  What was I going to do? I kept breathing as best I could, Ollie's cold little nose burrowed in the crook of my elbow, grounding me. I should get a dog, probably. Or just steal Ollie.

  I'd have to move, for one. I couldn't stay here, in Nathan's house, percolating another man's baby. So yeah. I'd clean out his closet, finally. Get at least something in motion. Then, if I didn't lose the baby--already, even though it was about as big as a pen dot, I was thinking of it as a baby--I'd...I'd go. I'd tell the Coburns. There was no point in saying anything until after the twelve-week mark. Why break their hearts sooner than I had to?

  I closed my eyes and wished so, so much that I'd never asked for that second glass of wine.

  "I'm sorry, Nathan," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."

  *

  Of course, it was Ainsley who looked on the bright side. Ainsley, and Daniel. They double-teamed me the next night, Ainsley making grilled fish and spinach and rice pilaf for dinner, Daniel refilling my water glass so often I had to pee every fifteen minutes.

  "She always wanted to be a mommy," Ainsley told Daniel, who was helping himself to thirds of dinner. "And you know, call me a little ray of sunshine, but I kind of think Nathan had a hand in this."

  I flinched. "No, no. Don't go there. Please."

  "Seriously, Daniel," Ainsley said. "He died on her. He totally screwed up her life and didn't even get her pregnant. Um, may he rest in peace and all that. But is it too much to believe that he felt bad about all this and maybe used his influence to make sure you knocked her up? I don't think that's such a stretch."

  "What church do you go to?" Daniel asked. "Because I'm Catholic, and from where I sit, I'm going to hell, impregnating the poor widow here."

  "I'm still in the room," I reminded them. "Can you not talk about me like this?"

  "Fine, fine," Ainsley said. "But it's a baby, Kate! I'm pretty excited."

  "Me, too," Daniel said, grinning.

  I rubbed my eyes.

  "Aren't you? Even a little?" he asked, putting his hand over mine.

  "It hasn't really sunk in yet," I said. "I'm a little preoccupied with the shit storm part of this." I took my hand back. "So here's what I am thinking. I'll tell the Coburns I can't live here anymore. Because I can't. It was hard enough before."

  "You can move in with me," he said.

  "Or me," Ainsley said. "I was thinking of getting a two-family house with the money my mom left me. You can live downstairs, I'll live upstairs, I can watch the baby when you have to work."

  "Or I can. Because I'm the father," Daniel said.

  "Yeah, but you have a lot of girlfriends," Ainsley said. "Bad moral influence. So I win. I get the baby."

  "First of all, the baby is half mine. And second, I haven't slept with anyone since your sister."

  "Okay. I need a nap," I said. They both stood up, ready to tuck me in. "Stay here! I need some breathing space."

  I went upstairs into my bedroom. Sat on the edge of the bed.

  There was Nathan's closet. I hadn't been in there since he died.

  I guess it was now or never.

  It would be awfully nice--and very convenient--to buy into what Ainsley had said. That Nathan had magically pulled some strings and brought about this conception. But until my husband died, I'd had only a vague sense of the afterlife. It didn't seem fair to suddenly chalk this all up to divine intervention, to a husband who was beaming down at me, giving me a wholehearted blessing.

  I went into the closet and closed the door.

  The closet held a little bit of Nathan's smell, not as powerful as the milk shake night, but there just the same. Still, it was enough to make me sink to the floor. All Nathan's shirts. All his clothes. His shoes. His beautiful cashmere sweaters.

  Tears burned behind my eyes. I couldn't cry here. Not now. It wouldn't be right. But I missed him. I missed hearing his voice. I missed his whistling as he shaved. I missed what we never got a glimpse of--familiarity. The truth was, I was more comfortable around Daniel than I'd ever been around Nathan.

  If I had to pick a baby daddy, Daniel was probably a good choice. I wondered if it was true; that he'd left behind the False Alarms.

  And if he had, what that meant.

  I was pregnant. Right now, that little cluster of cells was growing like crazy. According to the best information I could find on the internet, that little cell clump had a 66:1 chance of being a healthy, normal baby.

  I'd take those odds.

  And suddenly, the guilt and shock were swept away as I sat in the dark, and a wave of love rolled over me like nothing I'd ever felt.

  I was going to be someone's mother. And no matter what, no matter if I miscarried or the baby had problems, I was going to love her with all my heart, without reservation, and I was not going to pollute my love for this little speck with anything negative. I could judge myself and deal with my actions.

  But my baby--my baby!--would feel only love.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Ainsley

  So I was going to be an auntie again. I thought it was pretty great.

  Sure, the timing sucked. But Kate had been so solitary for so long. For years and years. Then Nathan had come into the picture and made her into something else--a wife, half of a couple, something she'd never been before. His death was all the more cruel because of it; she'd been happy before she knew him, then reduced to a ghost.

  But now she had a new purpose in life.

  The three of us--Kate, Daniel and I--were going to keep this a secret until she passed the first trimester and felt safer about the baby's odds. But she'd already set some things in motion.

  Last week, a few days after she found out, she'd talked to Brooke and told her she wanted Miles and Atticus to own Nathan's house someday, and would set up a trust to cover taxes and upkeep until they were old enough. "It's his most beautiful work," she said, "and the boys should have it." Brooke had cried and cried, the poor thing, hugging Kate and thanking her.

  Kate was thinking she'd move back to Brooklyn. Let's face it; she'd never really loved Cambry-on-Hudson, and she still did have that great old apartment. There was a reason she'd never sold it.

  And she'd be close to Daniel. "He's the father, after all," she said. "He deserves as much time with the baby as he wants."

  "He really likes you," I said. "Do you like him?"

  "Sure," she said.

  "Do you love him?"

  She gave me an amused glance. "Not yet."

  "Give him a chance, okay? He's gonna be a great dad."

  She shook her head, smiling, no doubt thinking her dopey little sister was a hopeless romantic. She was right.

  My own love life was boffo, thank you very much. Not working for Jonathan had made him much more attractive. The feeling was probably mutual. We talked almost every night, and I saw him a few times a week.

  Also, I was crazy in love with him.

  But I'd done that total immersion relationship. And so had Jonathan, for that matter. I wanted to layer my life a little better than I had eleve
n years ago. I wanted to get my nursing degree. In a few weeks, I'd finish a class and become a certified nursing assistant. The Village of the Damned was hiring, and I could work there while I kept plugging away at a registered nursing degree.

  In the meantime, I worked at Blessed Bean, serving up coffee to Cambry-on-Hudson's stay-at-home mommies and teenagers. My boss, Rig (short for nothing), was twenty, tattooed and pierced with those hideous spacer earrings. He was also quite a sweetheart and viewed me as the authority on all things romantic. And hey, I was Dr. Lovely's daughter, after all.

  Speaking of, Candy had expressed the expected dismay at my change of career when I visited her at her beautiful new condo. "Nursing? Oh, honey. All you'll do is change old people's diapers."

  "Well, just think. I can change yours when you decide to let loose."

  "You'll have to change your father's sooner than mine. That man can barely dress himself as it is. We had dinner the other night, and he forgot his wallet, for the love of God."

  "Are you guys staying friends?" I asked.

  "Of course," she said in the voice that meant that's a good one. I felt for her, though. Somehow, I'd never known how much it had hurt her, being on the wrong side of unrequited love.

  "I have something for you," she said. "I found it when I was packing."

  She got up from the table and came back with a shoe box.

  Inside were a couple dozen photos.

  My mother, so young, younger than I was now, and so beautiful. Kate, holding me, smiling a gap-toothed grin. Sean, looking up from a book, his glasses smeared, a plate of cookies next to him.

  My mother and father and me at about two. I'd never seen a picture of the three of us together.

  "These were in the attic," Candy said sharply.

  "Thank you," I breathed, leafing through them slowly. My parents on a date night, dressed up and smiling. Me, asleep in a lawn chair, Pooh beside me.

  "Do you remember anything?" Candy asked.

  I wanted to. Maybe I would someday, maybe the pictures would trigger something. But for now, there was nothing. "No," I said, looking up at her. "I'm afraid I don't."

  But I remembered Candy, holding my hair back when I had the pukes. Showing me how to do long division. Sitting with me during a thunderstorm, not exactly happy that I was terrified, but there nonetheless.

  I got up and hugged her and kissed her brittle blond hair. "Thank you," I said again, and my voice was husky.

  She patted my hand, then pulled back. "Your father's dating someone about Sean's age," she said, changing the subject.

  "Yick," I said. "Wish I could say I was surprised. How about you, Mom? You know I found Gram-Gram a nice widower to date. I could do the same for you."

  She snorted. Didn't mention my little slip with the M-word. It wasn't really a slip, after all.

  One afternoon in September when I was grinding a freshly roasted batch of Arabica at Blessed Bean, the bell over the door jangled, and I looked up.

  Matthew Kent saw me and did a double take.

  He had his nieces with him. Jonathan's daughters.

  "Hello," he said, approaching the counter.

  Lydia was jumping up and down next to him. "I want a cookie! No, cake! No, I want a latte, Uncle Matt!"

  "Hello, girls," I said, unsure if they remembered me.

  "Hello," said Emily shyly.

  "I want a scone!" Lydia said. "Oh, hi, Angie! Hi! Hi! Can I have a scone?"

  "It's Ainsley," I said, smiling at her. She had her father's eyes.

  "So you're not working at the magazine anymore?" he asked.

  "What can I get for you today?" I kept my voice pleasant for the girls' sake.

  "Did you ever mention those things I asked you to?"

  "We have a fresh batch of Arabica. And some hot chocolate if you girls are interested."

  His jaw hardened, just like Jon's did.

  "Lyddie, Em," he said, squatting down to their eye level, "wouldn't it be fun to have Mommy and Daddy and me and you all get together? Wouldn't that be great?"

  "Yes, yes!" Lydia said, jumping up and down. Emily, who was wiser, just looked at me.

  "Rig!" I called. "I'm going on break." I turned back to the girls. "It was really nice to see you both. I hope you like your goodies!"

  Then I went into the back room where we washed coffee urns and took a few deep breaths.

  What a shitty man to use the girls to get what he wanted. Then again, this was the guy who'd slept with his brother's wife. I shouldn't be surprised.

  I stayed there until Matthew left and then got back to work, cheerfully serving coffee and cappuccinos, scones and slices of pumpkin cake. The second my shift was over, I bolted. It was a little chilly outside, and I hugged my denim jacket closer. A cold front had moved through the other day, and all of a sudden, the leaves were bursting into color.

  Blessed Bean was two doors down from Matthew Kent's restaurant. There was a bench across the street from both, excellent for spying. Was Matthew working now? Should I go in and say something? I wondered if Jonathan's ex-wife knew her boyfriend was campaigning for a family reunion.

  "Hey, Ainsley!" It was Jenny Tate from the wedding dress place, and the lovely Leo, holding hands.

  "Hi, cutest couple," I said.

  "We're going to Hudson's for a drink," Leo said. "Want to join us?"

  "Oh, that's sweet. But no. You guys are good?"

  "Jenny's a very lucky woman," Leo said, getting a punch on the arm from his beloved. "How's Kate?"

  "She's doing okay, I think." I'd let Kate tell them the details of her life.

  "Anytime she wants to call me, she can," Leo said. He had such a sweet smile.

  "I'll remind her," I said. "Have a nice night, you two."

  This was what I loved about Cambry-on-Hudson. This beautiful little downtown, the hills rising from the noble river, the people who walked around at night, holding hands. Regardless of my history with Eric, and no matter what happened with Jonathan, too, I wanted to stay here. This was my home.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse and called Jonathan. "Jonathan Kent," he said, caller ID or no caller ID.

  "Yes, I know," I said. "Listen. Can you come meet me? I'm on the park bench across from the Bean."

  "Are you all right?" he asked, and I loved that he always checked that first.

  "I'm fine," I said, my voice softer. "Come on down."

  Ten minutes later, he was walking down the street toward me, wearing a navy blue wool coat and a scarf that made him look very British. He kissed my cheek and sat down. "What is it?" he asked.

  "Your brother came into the Bean today," I said. "With the girls."

  He was silent as I told him what happened, but his jaw grew harder and harder until I feared for his teeth.

  I took his hand, needing to uncurl his fingers in order to hold it. "Look," I said gently. "The thing is, he has a point. The girls are caught in the middle. What if he and your ex get married? Then he's their uncle and their stepfather. He'll show up at school concerts and birthday parties. You're going to have to talk to him someday."

  "And say what, exactly?" There was that dragonesque growl that indicated high emotion, I knew by now. He stared straight ahead, and I reached up and turned his face to me.

  "Say that you forgive him."

  "I don't."

  My heart ached. "You can. You will."

  "Really. How do you know this?" His eyes were ice-cold, as we were apparently at the kill the messenger part of the conversation.

  "Because you're the better man, and you always put your children first."

  He looked down, then away. The wind blew, and some red maple leaves drifted down around us.

  "You're right," he said. Then he was pulling me across the street, his coat flapping, right past the Blessed Bean and up the stairs of Hudson's.

  "Are we, uh--Right now?" I asked.

  "Yes." His grip on my hand was nearly painful. We burst into the place. "I'd like to see Matthew Kent, pleas
e," he told the maitre d', who came into the Bean every afternoon. Eva.

  "Oh, hi, Ainsley!" she said. "Um, Matt is in the kitchen. I'm afraid he's really busy. You know, it's Friday night and everything."

  "Get him right now, please," Jonathan said in that you're in trouble, young lady voice I knew so well.

  "Tell him his brother is here," I added.

  Her eyes widened. "Oh. Oh, wow. Okay. Hang on." She rushed off.

  The restaurant was filled with patrons, even at six o'clock. We were hardly Europeans around here. There were Jenny and Leo at the bar. Jenny gave a little wave. I tried to smile back.

  Jonathan squeezed my hand harder. "Deep breaths," I murmured. He didn't answer.

  A second later, Matthew came through the restaurant. A few people tried to get his attention, but to his credit, he came right to Jonathan, who dropped my hand and took a step forward, stopping Matthew in his tracks.

  "Hey," he said. "Thank you so much for--"

  "Don't you ever use my daughters to further your own agenda," Jonathan growled.

  "I... Yeah. I'm really sorry about that. It was a bad move." Matt wiped his hands on his chef's jacket. "I regret that. But I was a little desp--"

  "I understand you want to say something to me."

  The restaurant was growing quiet.

  "Um, yeah. Jonathan." Matthew straightened up. "I...I miss you, buddy. I know I fucked up, and there's no excuse, but you're my brother, and I love you. And Laine really cares about you, too, and of course the girls think you walk on water."

  "And?"

  "I just hoped that maybe we could... I don't know. Put the past behind us. For the girls' sake. And mine. You were a good brother. You didn't deserve what I did."

  Jonathan looked at him with that ice-cold stare I knew so well, the one that used to be leveled at me.

  "I accept your apology," he said.

  "Really?"

  "Yes."

  Then Jonathan drew back and punched his brother in the mouth. Hard. Matthew fell to the floor, and there was an intake of breath and a few exclamations of Oh, my God! and Holy crap!

  Matthew lay there, looking up at his brother, then smiled, a little blood staining his teeth. "Thank you," he said.

  "You're welcome." Jonathan turned to me, and only then did some expression seep back into his eyes.

  "Well done," I said, and he kissed me, right in front of everyone. Took my hand, and led me out.

  "How are your knuckles?" I asked as we walked in the near-dark, the lights of the green making a pinkish glow.