On Second Thought

by Kristan Higgins

  *

  The next afternoon, I got a call from Kate. "Hey, I'm...I'm moving out. Sorry it's so sudden."

  "What happened?" I asked.

  "They know. The Coburns."

  "Oh, shit."

  "Yeah."

  "Want help?"

  "No, but you'll have to move out, too. Not immediately. But soon." Her voice was tight.

  "Sure, sure. I was planning to anyway. Um, Dad broke his leg, did you get that message?"

  "Yeah, sorry. Is he okay?"

  "He's fine. I'm gonna stay with him a few days, I think." I paused. "You sure you don't want help?"

  "Yeah, I'm good."

  I went over anyway, leaving Dad on the couch with a tube of Oreos and the remote control. His broken leg was all over ESPN, and he wanted to enjoy it. Gram-Gram was on her way over to babysit him.

  Kate had three suitcases on her bed when I found her, and was tossing things in a little wildly. "Oh, hey."

  "Sit down," I said, taking a pair of boots from her. "Have you had anything to eat or drink today?" Really, I was going to make an excellent nurse.

  "I did. See?" She picked up a glass of water and took a long drink, then told me what happened.

  I sighed. "Well, it was gonna happen sooner or later. Sort of ripped the Band-Aid off. You won't have to skulk around for the next few months, afraid that they'll find out."

  "They're really upset."

  "Of course they are." I sat on the edge of her bed and looked at her. "But, Kate, you loved Nathan. This baby doesn't change that fact. You took a little comfort with Daniel and now you're going to have a baby, and you always wanted that."

  "True," she said. She was quiet for a minute. "I'll miss you. I loved living with you."

  My heart swelled. "I loved it, too. And I'll come to Brooklyn and stay with you, I promise. And you can come up here when I get a place of my own."

  "I will," she said. "I don't want us to stop being close." Then she stood up and hugged me, long and hard, petting my hair the way she used to when I was little.

  "I don't know how I could've gotten through this without you. And don't think you're off the hook now."

  I squeezed her tight. Nothing she could've said would have made me any happier.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Kate

  It was funny how quickly my presence was erased from Nathan's house. Ainsley had taken Ollie with her when she left, and I was alone.

  My suitcases were by the door. My toiletries were cleaned up from the bathroom. Max was coming to pick me up after rush hour. Daniel had offered, but I put him off. It carried too much weight, him coming to take me away from Nathan's.

  Brooke had sent me an email, telling me not to touch any of Nathan's things. She would take care of that. It's very hard for us to believe you loved Nathan if you found it so easy to fall in with another man. I think it would be better if we didn't hear from you for a while, the email said.

  But I did take one thing. A navy blue cashmere sweater, tucked at the bottom of my suitcase. He had so many, and I wanted something that had touched him.

  I went into the cellar and brought up the Apple boxes. Into the den (or study) to pack up my equipment, the Apple, the cords and accessories, tucked back into their nesting foam.

  Otherwise, there were a few books on photography--Ansel Adams and Margaret Bourke-White. The photo of Nathan and me. And Hector, of course.

  Otherwise, there still wasn't much of me in this room. There never had been.

  Nothing of mine had ever made it from storage.

  Did some part of me know I wouldn't be married for long? Did I believe Nathan and I would last? Was the feeling of strangeness that permeated our marriage trying to tell me something?

  There was my Nikon.

  I guessed it was now or never.

  Slowly, I reached for the camera. The last time I'd held this was the last day of my husband's life, and yet it fit into my hands the same as always, comfortable, a solid, reliable workhorse of a camera.

  If I was going to do this, I'd do it right. I dug through my bag of cords and found the one that would download the photos onto Nathan's computer. Tapped the space bar of his computer. It took a minute to wake up, since it hadn't been used since I looked at his emails from Madeleine.

  And there they were, his neat folders.

  I plugged the cord in and waited. Looked at Hector as the photos loaded, my heart thumping.

  Then I looked at the screen. Import seven pictures? the computer asked me. I clicked Yes.

  Oh, God. There he was, that last morning, his face so dear, so plain and rugged and...and...loved that my knees crumpled, and I slid into his chair.

  Nathan. Oh, Nathan. How can you be gone forever?

  I drank in the details; the shape of his mouth, the freckle under his eye, the blond eyelashes, the sweetness in his almost shy expression.

  Thank God I'd gotten up early to see him that day. Thank God I had this picture.

  The next one was from Eric's party--my sister, lit up with happiness. Eric, that smug bastard.

  Jonathan Kent, looking intently at Ainsley as she talked to someone else. Another little revelation caught by the camera.

  The next one was of the back of Nathan's head. He'd turned at the last second, and there was his head, hiding that vascular malformation. His soft ginger hair.

  Ainsley with Eric's mother, both of them teary-eyed.

  It would be just a few minutes later that Nathan died.

  One picture left.

  I clicked, then sucked in a breath.

  It was us. Nathan and me. That's right, some girl from Ainsley's work had asked to see my camera and clicked a shot.

  It was a little off-center. But it didn't matter, because there it was, the answer.

  We were in love. I looked strangely sweet, my cheeks flushed, my arm around Nathan's waist, my eyes shining. And Nathan...

  I heard a noise just then. It was me. I was crying. Finally, I was crying. Gushing, really, and sobbing, the sound so strange and so wonderful, too.

  Tears made the picture go out of focus, but I dashed them out of my eyes.

  Nathan looked so happy. So...content. And God, there was nothing wrong with that. He had the look of marrow-deep satisfaction, and a little hint of pride, and love, yes, absolutely, love. The moment in time, stopped and caught forever.

  We had been so happy.

  I bent my head and cried. Cried and cried with happiness and loss and gratitude and grief. I had loved my husband, and he died far, far too young, and if he had lived, we'd still be together, pregnant or not, taking care of each other, the way people do when they love each other.

  "I love you," I whispered. "Nathan, I loved you so much."

  And there it was again. The wave of warmth, the smell of my husband, and such a sweet, strong pressure in my chest that I knew he was here.

  Here to say goodbye.

  Epilogue

  Kate

  On May 7, one year, one month and one day after I was widowed, I became a mother.

  The time had passed slowly, and also with breathtaking speed. My body flew ahead with pregnancy, but it seemed like the longest fall on record.

  I moved back to Brooklyn, staying with Daniel for two months until my apartment was once again mine. I slept in his spare bedroom and acted like a guest, keeping my room tidy, paying for half of the utilities, working as much as I could to save up for when I had the baby. Daniel didn't push things, but he jumped at the chance to do anything for me, whether it was pick up some food or rub my feet.

  We kept things platonic.

  During those eight weeks, I'd often go to Cambry-on-Hudson to stay with my dad and sister. In December, Ainsley put a down payment on a sweet little bungalow with three bedrooms, and I stayed there most weekends. She and Jonathan were in no hurry to take things a step further, she said; if she was going to be his children's stepmother, she wanted to do it right. Slow and steady seemed to be the plan.

 
On one weekend in COH, I saw Brooke leaving the cemetery. She didn't see me.

  Yes, I still visited Nathan's grave. Those pictures had shown me that despite being unsure and unsettled, I had also been happy in a way I'd never been until then.

  And I was happy now. Still in mourning, but moving forward. The two feelings didn't cancel each other out.

  Moving back into my apartment was odd; once, it had been so important to me. Now it was just a place. A lovely place, but I had learned that home had a lot more to do with the people than the floorboards and closets. Nathan's house had never been home. He, on the other hand, had been.

  My mother surprised me by sneaking a little closer. After she left Dad, the weight of bitterness had slipped off her shoulders. She called me every few days and had stopped reciting from her books, content just to talk. Dad remained his usual self, always one step removed.

  Sean and Kiara and their kids stayed where they were, on the fringes of our family, always around just enough, never so much that familial responsibility actually interfered with their perfect lives. It was okay. Now my family was my little bean. Ainsley and Jonathan.

  And Daniel, too.

  After I moved back into my old place, Daniel started coming over at night. We'd talk and eat and watch TV. He told me about the downside of being a firefighter--the bureaucracy's needless interventions, the bad calls, the lazy coworker, the hidden dangers, the uncomfortable hero worship. Seemed like the hot firefighter routine had been as much armor as a way to attract women.

  Sometimes he fell asleep on the couch, tired from his shift, and I'd look at his ridiculously handsome face and feel a rush of tenderness. He was a simple guy, was Daniel the Hot Firefighter, but in all the good ways. He loved his job, protected his woman, as he called me, and talked to our baby through my stomach.

  There was a lot to love there.

  Eventually, the nights on the couch morphed into him sleeping in the guest room a few times a week, then every other day, then most days.

  Then one night, when I was in bed, tossing and turning and occasionally chomping down a Tums, he came into my room in his boxer shorts. "Move over," he said and got in next to me, holding me in his big arms, one hand on my stomach, where our baby slid and flipped inside.

  When I was thirty-nine weeks pregnant, with swollen ankles and acne on my chin and a backache in its fifth week, he took my feet in his lap. "I love you, you know," he said, not looking at me.

  A beat passed. "Thank you," I said.

  He cut me a sideways look. "That's all you got?"

  "I love you, too." I smiled as I said it, because it was true. It was different from Nathan, but different didn't mean less.

  Then Daniel pulled me, bulk and all, over onto his lap, and we made out, our baby kicking him as well as me, making us laugh.

  Two days later, she was born.

  Our daughter weighed seven pounds, three ounces, had a tubular head from twenty hours of labor, a red, squishy face, and was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

  We'd ever seen.

  Daniel cried unabashedly when the midwife said, "It's a girl!" So did my sister, who was with us for eighteen of the twenty hours, never flagging in good cheer and words of encouragement.

  When the baby had been weighed and wrapped and handed to me, Daniel put his arm around me, and we just stared at her face.

  "She's so perfect," Daniel said. "Look at her. She looks just like you." He smiled and gave me a quick kiss.

  "Do you have a name picked out?" the nurse asked.

  "We do," I said, looking up at my sister, who had my Nikon and was snapping pictures. "Ainsley Noel."

  "Are you kidding me?" my sister said, bursting into tears. "Oh, guys! Thank you! Hi, little Ainsley! I love you, honey!"

  The next day, my parents came to visit, as well as Daniel's mother and four sisters and several of their kids, in addition to Sean and Kiara and Sadie, who was thrilled to have a baby cousin. Jonathan came to pick up Ainsley the Elder and brought a beautiful soft elephant stuffed animal.

  I was surrounded by love. By family. Tears filled my eyes, and suddenly, I yawned.

  "All right, everyone, get out," Daniel said, and I smiled at him gratefully. "I'll walk them out and come right back. You need anything, honey?"

  "Ice cream?" I suggested.

  "You got it. Ben & Jerry's Pistachio coming up."

  Our families were herded out of the room, and I snuggled little Ainsley closer, smelling her head, a smell I already recognized. I'd cheerfully kill for her, happily lay down my life for her without a second's hesitation and with a smile on my face. My beautiful baby. My gift.

  "Hey." Daniel stood in the doorway.

  "You forget something?"

  "You're gonna marry me," he said, and his voice was rough. "Whenever you want, but you are. I love you, Kate. Okay? You'll marry me?"

  My heart, which was already so full, threatened to overflow. "Yes, I'll marry you. Someday."

  "Don't make me wait too long." He came to my side, bent down and kissed me, then kissed Ainsley's head. "Back in ten with the ice cream, my beautiful girls."

  I lifted Ainsley into the clear plastic bassinet next to me. She gave a tiny snort--so cute!--and grunted. I touched her cheek. "Mommy's right here," I said, then closed my eyes.

  I'd be happy with Daniel. I already was. The fact that the universe had given me two lovely men and a baby in the space of a year...well, the universe was full of tricks and mystery.

  I opened my eyes to make sure my baby wasn't a dream. She was still there, pink and beautiful, eyebrows like her daddy, long, beautiful fingers. I smiled and closed my eyes again.

  It seemed like ten seconds later that a soft knock came on the door. I jolted awake.

  It was Eloise Coburn.

  My God.

  I scrambled to sit up, wincing at the pull of stiches.

  "I'm so sorry if I woke you," she said.

  "No, no. Please come in. How are you?" I adjusted my johnny coat and swallowed.

  "I'm doing well, thank you." She stood in the doorway. "Your sister called me."

  "Oh," I said. "Um...have a seat."

  As always, she was beautifully dressed, her hair whiter now than the last time I'd seen her. "How's the family?" I asked.

  "Everyone is doing well," she said. "The boys are growing so fast, and we finished the house expansion."

  "Great, great," I said. "Um...this is Ainsley. My daughter."

  Eloise looked, a soft expression coming over her face. "You named her for your sister. How lovely." There was a pause. A page for Dr. Somebody came over the PA. "May I hold her?" Eloise asked.

  Would she hurt my baby to get revenge? Would she bolt out of here with Ainsley in her arms?

  She wouldn't. Eloise Coburn had never done a cruel thing in her life.

  "Of course," I said.

  With great care, Eloise lifted the baby out of the bassinet and settled her in her arms. She looked down at her, and when the baby reached out a flailing arm, Eloise offered a finger for my baby to grip.

  "Aren't you beautiful," she murmured.

  This might have been her granddaughter, this child of her son's wife. Tears slid down my cheeks; crying had not been an issue since the day I left Nathan's.

  Eloise touched Ainsley's cheek and smiled just a little, and I saw Nathan in her face.

  "Well. Here you go," Eloise said, handing her to me. "She's just lovely. I brought her something."

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a little package. "Let me unwrap it for you," she said, doing just that, her movements brisk and efficient. It was a small box. She lifted off the top and showed me.

  It was a silver baby brush, the bristles as soft as rabbit fur. And it was inscribed: NVC III.

  "It was Nathan's," she said softly. "More of a showpiece than a practical gift, but...well. I wanted you to have it. I know he loved you very much."

  My breath shook out of me. "Oh, Eloise. I loved him, too." The words were ba
rely audible.

  "Yes," she said. "I believe you." She looked away then, at the room. "I should leave you. You need to rest."

  "Eloise? Would you like to...to stay in touch?"

  Her face didn't move. Then it crumpled for just a second, before she regained her composure. "Yes," she said. "I'd like that very much."

  Because we were two women who'd loved her son, and that was a bond that wouldn't be broken. Brooke would never forgive me, but Eloise... Eloise already had.

  "Hello." Daniel stood in the doorway, a pint of Ben & Jerry's in his hand. "I'm Daniel Breton."

  "This is Nathan's mother," I said, wiping my eyes with the edge of Ainsley's blanket.

  "Yes, we've met," Eloise said. "You came to Nathan's wake." Daniel nodded. "Congratulations on your beautiful daughter. Kate..." She turned to me. "It was good to see you, deah."

  Then she was gone, the strongest, most generous person I'd ever met.

  "You okay, sweetheart?" Daniel asked. He put the ice cream on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes worried.

  I looked at him, then down at our little baby. "Never better," I said. "Look what she brought the baby."

  He picked up the brush, tiny in his big hands, and glided it over Ainsley's thatch of hair. "That was very nice of her."

  I swallowed. "Yes."

  "The nurse says we can go home tonight if you want." He put the brush down and then placed one hand on our baby's head, looked at me and smiled. Daniel the Hot Firefighter was gone, and in his place was Daniel the Daddy.

  He put his other hand against my cheek, and I turned my head and kissed it. "Yes," I said. "Let's go home."

  *

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my editor, Susan Swinwood, who never fails to make my books better and is so much fun to work with. The entire team at Harlequin gets a huge shout-out for their encouragement, support, enthusiasm and talent, not just for this book, but for all my books.

  My agent, Maria Carvainis, gets a thousand thanks for so ably guiding my career, and thanks as well to Elizabeth Copps, Martha Guzman and Samantha Brody at Maria Carvainis Agency, Inc.

  To Kim Castillo, Sarah Burningham and Mel Jolly, thank you for helping me in the thousand ways that we authors need to be helped or we would otherwise wander around in the hallways, bumping into things.

  To Marie Curtis, an amazing photographer and, even better, an old friend, who advised me on Kate's profession, and who also has taken pictures of my family and me for the past few decades. Thank you, Marie!